‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Nakor. ‘A good builder, he’ll find a way.’
‘Certainly a dwarf would know a way,’ said Greylock.
Calis showed a small flash of irritation. ‘Whatever. We take a risk of getting killed no matter what we do. That’s not the point. It’s wasteful getting killed to get into a city that has no way out, and we don’t know there is a way out of the Western Precinct. We know that across the river is Maharta, and we don’t know if there’s a tunnel on this side.’
‘What if I go and find one?’ said Nakor.
Calis shook his head. ‘I don’t have any idea how you plan on getting in there, but the answer is no. I want every man ready to move out at midnight.
‘Word’s been passed there’s some sort of celebration on tonight. The Pantathians and Saaur are making some sort of battle magic, then tomorrow the northern elements are supposed to hit the city.’
Nakor scratched his head. ‘There are some men building bridges north of the main camp, but they are not finished. Why this? And what tricks do the serpent men have to get this army across that river? They’ve been conjuring something all day long.’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Calis, ‘but I plan on every man being on the other side when the sun’s up.’ He turned to Erik. ‘That’s your job. Those men from Nahoot’s company.’
Suddenly Erik’s stomach tightened. He knew what Calis was about to say. ‘Yes?’
‘Put them around the horses and give them this to drink.’ He handed Erik a large wineskin that sloshed. ‘Nakor’s dosed it so they’ll be unconscious for a while.’
Erik felt himself grin as he took the skin. ‘For a minute’
‘If Nakor hadn’t given me this drug, I would have told you to kill them,’ Calis finished. ‘Now see to it.’
Erik turned away, again chilled and, for a reason he couldn’t put any name to, feeling shame.
The camp rang with alien sounds, music from distant lands, screams of joy and pain, and laughter, swearing, and, most of all, drums.
Saaur warriors pounded on large wooden drums stretched with hide. The sound echoed across the river like thunder, and rang in the ears like the blood’s own pulse. Bloody rites had concluded and now warriors readied themselves for the morning’s battle.
Horns blared and bells rang, and on and on pounded the drums.
Hatonis and his men stood near the horses, and Erik quickly saw that all eighteen of Nahoot’s men were unconscious. He knew that had any avoided the drug’s effect he was to kill them.
Erik returned to Calis and reported, ‘All eighteen are truly asleep.’
Praji said, ‘If they can sleep through that racket, they are indeed senseless men.’
Calis stuck out his hand. ‘Good-bye, old friends.’
First Praji, then Vaja, then Hatonis took it and shook. They and the eight remaining men from their companies would make their way up the river, trying to position themselves to get across the river over one of the northern bridges while the main band attacked. In the confusion of battle they were going to try to slip away and head east, making for the City of the Serpent River. Whatever occurred in the coming days, eventually the City of the Serpent River would have to face the Emerald Queen’s might. Hatonis would ready the clans; once they had been nomads, like their cousins the Jeshandi, and if need be, they would roam the hills near the city again, striking at the host, then fleeing into the high forests. For Hatonis knew that this struggle would be settled far from his native city and more than mere strength of arms was needed.
The night was dark, as swift clouds from the ocean blew in to the shore, keeping the moons’ light masked. Only those of especially good vision might notice someone moving along the river’s edge from any distance away.
Nakor sniffed the air. ‘Rain coming, I think. Tomorrow, almost certainly.’
Calis motioned and Erik turned and signaled the first company into the water. The plan was simple: swim across the swift-running but shallow delta to one of the tiny islands near the city wall and look for a way to climb the southern breakwater and slip along atop it into the greater harbor. They would still strike for the southernmost quarter of the harbor, the shipbuilders’ estuary. That small firth fed off the main river and joined with the larger harbor, to form a natural launch point for ships. Calis had complete intelligence from agents who had been on this continent for years, but he knew little about the harbor beyond that. It had never occurred to anyone else that the Emerald Queen might need a navy until Roo brought it up.
After the burning of the shipbuilding facilities, the plan was still simple: steal a boat and sail up the coast to the City of the Serpent River. Erik thought, not for the first time, that simple didn’t mean easy.
The water was chilly, but Erik quickly got used to it. The men had wrapped their swords, shields, and armor for quiet, and some of the men had abandoned their heavier arms so as to be able to swim better.
The path taken brought them perilously close to both a picket of the Emerald Queen’s host and lookouts in the suburb fortification. Torches on the walls showed clearly that the ruckus from the Queen’s camp had alerted the garrison that something was up. Erik hoped they were all watching the lights on the top of the hill and not the rocky shore below their walls.
Every man in the company was a competent swimmer. Those that hadn’t had the knack had been trained at the camp outside of Krondor. But when they reached the distant spot that marked their first meeting point, a small sandy island in the mouth of the river, three men were missing. A quick head count showed thirty-two men on that island, exposed to view save for some tall grass and one lone tree. Calis signaled back into the water and Erik waited until everyone else was in before taking one look around for the three missing men, then he followed after the others.
The channel deepened and the current got stronger as they neared the city, and the water tasted saltier. A cough, sputter, and splash nearby were followed by a choking sound, and Erik knew someone else was in trouble. He swam toward the sound of splashing in the darkness, but as he reached the spot only silence met him. He glanced around in the gloom, then listened, and finally started swimming toward the distant shore.
Suddenly he skinned his knee and found he was clambering across an underwater islet. Then he was suddenly sucked downward and pulled back into a deeper, swifter current, and struggling to keep his head above water.
His armor weighed him down and Erik had to will himself to keep his head above water. He had trained for hours to swim with his sword and shield on his back, but nothing in training had prepared him for this nightmare of laboring through a wet inky darkness.
His chest burned and his arms felt leaden and he had to force himself to move forward. Lift one arm and throw it forward, and kick, lift the other and kick. He moved forward, with no idea how far he had come and how far he had left to go.
Then he heard a change in the sound before him and realized it was water lapping against rocks. More, he heard men quietly coughing, cursing, and blowing water from their noses. He lashed out with his last vestige of strength and hit a rock face first.
Red light exploded behind Erik’s eyes, then collapsed into a ball that receded away from him in a tunnel of inky blackness.
Erik choked, spewed water from his mouth and nose, then vomited. He turned over and struck his head against a large rock. Roo’s voice sounded in his ear. ‘Don’t! You’ll knock your wits out of your silly head again. Lie still!’
Erik hurt. His body felt like one large cramp and he had never felt so foul in his life. ‘You drank a lot of ocean,’ said Biggo, nearby. ‘If I hadn’t been standing on the rock you swam into, I don’t know if we’d have found you to pull you out.’
‘Thanks,’ said