Page 111 of City of Stone and Silence

It’s been nearly a week since Garo left for the Royal Ward and his negotiations with Kuon Naga and the Imperial authorities. I’ve received two letters from him since, both in his handwriting, both urging patience and promising to return soon. In the meantime, Hasaka has taken charge of organizing our defenses, while Hotara works on training and equipment and Jakibsa tries to keep everyone fed, clothed, and sheltered. And for some reason, all three of them insist on reporting to me, though I’m not sure what they expect me to offer. Maybe I’m just a proxy for Garo until he returns.

“For the most part, I’m not worried about a direct assault,” Hasaka says, as we approach the looming bulk of the outer wall. “It’s still too soon for the closest Legion force to arrive, and the Ward Guard doesn’t have the equipment for an attack on the wall.”

“What about the Immortals?” I ask.

He makes a face, but shakes his head. “If they had the strength, I have to imagine they’d have done it already. Maybe there aren’t enough of them left. We don’t have a good idea of their numbers.”

More information it might be worth extracting from our prisoner, if only she would talk. Unfortunately, she still remains obstinate, naked and chained under the old safe house.

“There are two weak spots I’m worried about,” Hasaka goes on. “The first is up in the Third Ward. That’s an interior wall, not part of the outer defenses, and it’s not as high or as well fortified.”

“If they attack there, though, the fighting will be all over the Third, and maybe into the Second.” Where people who mattered lived, in other words, and held property that could be damaged.

“Exactly,” Hasaka says. “That’s why I don’t expect an assault there, though we still have to be careful. More than likely, though, when they attack, it’ll be right here.”

We come out of the last alley, and into the clear space at the foot of the wall, kept free of encroaching shacks by Imperial decree. Kahnzoka’s outer fortifications are several times my height, and broad enough at the top for three men to walk abreast. We’re at the very end of the line of walls, where the circumference of the city meets the shoreline, and a massive round tower with its footing in the surf guards the boundary. I can see people in red sashes walking on top, and more volunteers carrying bags and boxes up the narrow stairs built into the inside of the wall.

“It looks solid enough,” I say.

“It is, as far as it goes,” Hasaka says. “The problem is that the walls were never intended to be a complete defense on their own.”

He turns, and I follow his gaze, looking out to sea. The shoreline of the Sixteenth Ward is a solid mass of piers and quays. At night, Kahnzoka’s fishing fleet crowds against them two or three deep, but now they’re deserted, with only a few untended boats riding the surf. Farther out, fishermen work with lines, nets, and traps, oars splashing as they move from spot to spot. Beyond them, larger ships have sails raised, tacking on the morning breeze. There are many fewer of these, now, most of the merchant ships having fled on the news of the revolution.

None of these are where Hasaka is looking, however. Well out in the harbor, cutting through the water with the sleek grace of predators, a squadron of Imperial war galleys flash in the sun, black sails trimmed with gold. I can see a half-dozen ships, and I know there are more, off beyond the horizon.

Halfway along the harborfront is the Navy dockyard. It stands empty now. The entire naval contingent lit out to sea soon after the Sixteenth Ward rose.

“Some of the fishermen told me the Navy has made a new base on the other side of Dragonback,” Hasaka says. “Too exposed for a winter mooring, but it’ll serve them for now, and we have no way to get at it. They can control the harbor just fine from there.”

I imagine war galleys drawn up on the pleasant beaches, the nobles’ cabins commandeered by Imperial officers. At least we’ll have cut some vacations short. Not much of a victory. I shake my head and try to focus.

“What can they do to us?” I ask.

“If they started attacking the fishing fleet, they could starve the city,” Hasaka says bluntly. “My guess is they haven’t done that because they’re worried it’ll turn more people against them. I’m sure they’re blocking incoming merchant ships, though. And…”

“And?” I prompt.

He hesitates, glancing around. Only our two guards are near enough to hear, but he lowers his voice anyway.

“I don’t want to lower morale,” he says. “But if those ships come up in close support, there’s no way we can hold the wall here.” He gestures to the open space around us. “Their archers can sweep this whole area, and keep us from bringing food or reinforcements to the wall itself. And a quick landing here by a couple of companies of marines could push all the way to the closest gate.” He shakes his head. “Like I said, the walls were designed on the assumption that the defenders would control the harbor, too. Without that…”

“What about the small boats?” I say. “Could we use them to attack the fleet?”

“Those are fishing smacks and cargo haulers,” Hasaka says. “A proper galley would tear the whole lot to pieces, assuming you could find people suicidal enough to try to attack in the first place.”

Boats are not something I have any experience with, outside of books, so I have to concede the point. I wonder how much of this Hasaka really knows, and how much he’s pulling out of thin air. He was a Ward Guard, and certainly has more military experience than the rest of us, but I somehow doubt his expertise extends to naval strategy. But he seems determined to project an air of confidence, albeit somewhat gloomy confidence, so I go along with it.

I’ve been keeping my Kindre senses tightly closed, of late. The fear in the city is building to the breaking point, and trying to see-hear-smell-taste through it has become overwhelming. The rebels, our people, are bad enough, with their worry tempered by excitement, duty, camaraderie. Out in the streets, the vast bulk of the people are simply hunkered down and waiting for the storm to blow over, and from them I get nothing but sickly fear.

“So what can we do about it?” I say.

“I’m not sure,” Hasaka says. “I’m thinking of trying to establish a secondary line, a block inland, so we have somewhere to fall back to when the time comes.”

“What would that involve?”

He grimaces. “Pulling down some houses, essentially, and building a barricade out of the rubble.”

There’s a sour taste in my mouth. We’re supposed to be fighting for these people, not tearing their homes apart. “Let’s talk to the others about it.” Which isn’t an answer.