Dark Foundations (86 page)

At the far end of the room, Warden Enatus stood in conference with a number of people, all of whom were taller than him. The warden, dressed in a green armored jacket rather too tight for his ample stomach, bore a sheathed sword at his belt that heightened his rather ludicrous figure. He brushed free of his entourage and walked over, his rolling gait exaggerated by the jacket.

“Delighted to see you,” Enatus said, beaming. “Delighted. We need all the help we can get, really.”

“I brought only 150 soldiers,” Merral said.

“Hmm.” There was no hiding the spasm of disappointment that crossed the warden's face. Then he brightened. “Better than nothing, though. I gather you are all we can expect?”

“I'm afraid so. And I'm unauthorized.”

“Hmm.” The warden wiped his brow. “Well, take a seat, Commander. We need to talk. . . . Coffee, tea?”

“No, thanks. Oh, and technically, Warden, I'm now a captain.”
In fact,
I'm probably not even that by now
.

“Oh, nonsense. I heard about that from Isterrane. Clemant's a fool. That man has spent far too long staring at screens. You
are
a commander—commander in chief of Ynysmant defenses, if nothing else.”

Enatus lowered himself carefully onto a chair and grimaced. “To tell you the whole truth, I can't get used to sitting down in this jacket,” he confided with an apologetic look. “And it's so hot. And I keep tripping up over the sword.”

Merral smiled. For all Enatus's ridiculousness, his genial and self-deprecating openness was rather likable.

Merral noticed on a large wallscreen map of the area an angry red line heading from the Camolgi Hills toward Ynysmant. It needed no explanation. “So, Warden, can you give me an update on the defenses?”

Enatus paused before saying, “There are three facts you need to know.” He ticked off a stubby finger. “One, we predict the first Dominion units will reach the causeway by three or four this afternoon. That is in five or six hours' time. However, they seem to have these mobile artillery units—cannon insects, I believe the intelligence people call them—so we could get fired on sooner.” He ticked off another finger. “We had thirty thousand people here at dawn. We're getting as many vulnerable people as we can out by boat from Vanulet Pier and by road and will continue to do so until it is too risky. There are three freighters at the airport being emptied as we speak and we hope to fly out a thousand or so children and old people on them in an hour's time. They'll be the last flights out. The best guess is that will still leave us with twenty thousand people by the time we close the gates.”

He paused, frowned, and touched a third finger. “And third, with your people and the irregulars we have only a little over twelve hundred defenders. Most of the irregulars have no armor.”

He stared at the map and then looked up, pain apparent in his blue eyes. “In short, Commander, we have the makings of a disaster. Any comments?”

“No,” Merral answered, impressed by the succinctness of Enatus's assessment of the situation.
Perhaps
I have misjudged this man
. “Tell me about the defenses.”

Enatus motioned for a projector system to be brought over from the next table and switched it on. A three-dimensional model of Ynysmant appeared above the table, and as Merral stared at it, he saw the new walls.

“Of course, you know the town as well as me. Yes, well, we have a big defensive wall at the Gate House with some rather experimental artillery. The causeway has been mined. . . . I think that's the word.” Enatus frowned and muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I hope you've mastered all this military language. I haven't.” He pointed at the causeway. “This has been mined—that
is
the word—by your uncle, Barrand. Anyway, that's the first line of defense. There are firing points on the streets up and then the next defensive line is at the third circle.”

“Makes sense.”

“I'm glad you think so. And the final defensive line is around the square and the main refuge. What do you think?”

Merral stared at the model of Ynysmant. “The hospital?” He asked, suddenly realizing how vulnerable it was so close to the lake.

“We have already flown the most seriously ill patients out. The medical supplies and movable equipment are being relocated higher up.”

“Good. Warden, I will have a look around, but I think you've made the best of an impossible task.”

“Thank you. All advice will be accepted.”

Merral was suddenly aware that his low opinion of Enatus was being replaced by a new respect.
And why not? If this crisis might be the breaking of some, might it not also be the making of others?
“I have only praise.”

“Thank you. I am honored. Incidentally, I have sent Clemant's police to supervise the evacuation. It gets them out of the way. I also had the jail opened.”

“The jail? I had no idea we had one. Who was in it?”

“Only the Hanston Road gang. I let them out this morning on the condition that they offer to help the irregulars. I gave them a pardon.” He looked embarrassed. “I hope you don't object?”

“Hardly.”

“Good. Now, what do you want to do with your soldiers?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Me? Well, I'd say put them all down by the Gate House. After all, if that's breached, we're in really big trouble.”

“I agree.”

“You do? Very well. Take them down there. But talk to Balancal first. He's probably in his office two doors down.”

Some people hovered nearby with pieces of paper.

“Do excuse me,” Enatus said as he stood up and signed a few sheets. “Do you know,” he said in a low aside to Merral, “I'm completely out of my depth here? I'm having to make it up as I go along. Isn't that a terrible admission?”

Warmed by the warden's frankness and gritty determination, Merral felt his last resistance to Enatus fade away. “Warden, that's the policy I've been operating on ever since the first crisis occurred.”

“I am so
very
glad to hear that. I was tempted to resign when I heard we were going to be attacked, but I felt that that would be cowardice and a lack of faith.”

“Warden,” said Merral, standing up, “thank you. I need to send my soldiers down to the Gate House. Then I must talk with Balancal.”

He glanced up at the map on the wall. In the time they had been talking, the red line had moved forward.

Enatus also looked at the map. “Yes,” he said in a quiet voice, “they are getting nearer. It promises to be an interesting evening.” He turned to Merral, a puzzled look on his face. “But I have a question for you, Commander: why are they coming here?”

“I don't know,” Merral replied. “And really, I wish I did.”

Back up on Congregation Square, Merral ordered the soldiers he had brought to make their way down to the Gate House. He then took Lloyd to find Vero and Balancal. Along the way, he spotted a short and slight blue-trousered figure with curly blonde hair carrying a large package toward a side doorway of the hall.

“Elana!” Merral called.

The girl smiled with delight, put the package down with care, and ran to Merral. “Merral!” she cried, with a fierce hug. “I knew you'd come!”

“I'd no option, not when I knew you were here.”

Elana shook her head, trying to free a strand of blonde hair that was stuck to her forehead with sweat. “I'll bet you say that to everybody.” She looked behind Merral and beamed again. “Hi, Lloyd. Welcome back.”

Lloyd gave her a relaxed salute and strolled out of earshot.

Elana's half smile seemed in conflict with her solemn blue eyes. “You can see I'm busy.”

“I was rather hoping you had left or were leaving. This may get messy later this evening.”

“I know. But I'm not a child. And I wanted to play my part . . . like Perena did.”

“Ah. I'm sorry you never met her,” he said softly, the wound of her loss opening again. “But I'd prefer it if you stayed safe. I've lost enough friends already.”
And
I may lose more in the next dozen hours.

“I want to be here.”

“Very well, but if it comes to fighting, you really ought to go into the refuge.”

They looked up at the massive frontage.

“Merral,” Elana said, twisting on her toes, “come on, you can be honest with me. If they get as far as here, the doors will not hold them for very long. I'd rather try to fight them out here.”

“There is that, I suppose. But don't fight unless you have to.”

“I know how evil these things are. You fought them at the lake and I want to fight here. I hate those things. And I'm not scared. Well . . .” She gave him a confiding look. “I
am
a bit worried, Merral.”

“That's understandable,” Merral said, glancing at the equipment of war all around.

“I'm worried . . . that I'm going to be scared.”

“There's nothing wrong with being scared.”

She pouted. “I know that. I'm worried that by being scared I will do the wrong thing.”

“I will pray you'll be brave.”

She looked back at the package she had put down. “I'd better do my job.”

“We all had,” he said, patting her shoulder. As she left, he said under his breath, “Keep safe, Elana. Keep safe.”

Battling with concern for her, Merral headed with Lloyd to the underground corridors where Enatus had said Balancal might be. They were shown into a cluttered room in which Vero and a tall, stiff-backed man with long black hair and wearing a brown jerkin were examining some maps.

The tall man looked up at Merral and a taut smile crossed his face. “Commander,” he said, as they shook hands. “You remember me?”

“Call me Merral. Yes, I do. I thought I recognized the name. We've played against each other before.”

“Indeed. I was a back with the Seagulls in the tournament last year—second round.”

“I remember. Happier days.”
Yes,
I do remember you—a careful, watchful defender who let nothing through. You will need all those skills today, and more.

“Indeed. Happier days.” Balancal's gray gaze hardened. “But we are now on the same side, stopping a plague of these Krallen.” Balancal's words were crisp and Merral took heart at the air of competency that he exuded.

“Yes. I've sent my soldiers to the Gate House.”

“Thanks. We can use them.”

“Enatus told me about the defenses.”

“
Tuh,
” Balancal grunted, a forceful exclamation that suggested irritation. He gestured at the map. “Merral, we've done what we can, but unless Isterrane relents and let's Colonel Thuron come to our aid, we're in trouble.”

There were hammering noises from next door and Balancal and Vero looked at each other. “We have just put Betafor there,” Vero said. “We're getting cabling installed.” He shook his head. “But she isn't happy.”

A few minutes later, Betafor herself confirmed that she was not at all happy. She was sprawled on a pile of cushions in the corner of a small, rather dusty chamber with a series of cables running under her vest like a complex umbilical cord. The Lamb and Stars glowed on her tunic flanks.

“Commander,” she said, swiveling her head, her peculiarly lifeless eyes on Merral. “I thought I might see you here.” As she turned to Lloyd, who stood by the door, Merral sensed he detected a look of dislike. “And Sergeant Enomoto.”

“I wanted to see where you are,” Merral said. “Is this satisfactory?”

“No. Not at all. It is too small. And there is too much dust. It gets into my eyes.”

“I will try and get you some water to moisten the air.”

“Thank you. But can I remind you that it is policy that Allenix units should not be exposed to danger? You seem to have brought me to a potential . . . war zone.”