by LeRoy Clary
They had come quickly. Their arms would be tired from rowing so fast.
Tyler imagined a Cabot attack using the ladders, with Judge’s men behind them from the darkness as Cabot’s men climbed the ladders. He moved to the edge of the roof closest to Judge and his men, holding his finger to his lips to keep them quiet, then motioning to spread apart and wait. But the hand signals were confusing, so Tyler shrugged and leaned forward, hands to his mouth to funnel the sound.
He pretended to shout to the attackers, “Hey, you men down there, pay attention. If you attack this building tonight, you will die.”
One or two glanced up. The rest ignored him. Tyler called again, “Did the Cabots tell you we have fifty archers inside here? Probably not, but with our archers, do you think those ladders you’ve brought will ever reach us?”
While shouting at the soldiers on the street, he was trying to tell Judge and his men what was happening. Then he called, “Just stay there, I’ll be right back.”
Tyler raced for the hatch and found Girt on the third floor speaking quietly to his men. “We have help out there, and also the Cabots are bringing ladders.”
Girt turned to face him without expression. “Tell me.”
Tyler did. Girt instantly realized the value of surprise and catching the enemy between two forces. He turned back to his men. “Change of plans. I want barricades built to cover each window on the third floor. We won’t open fire until a minimum of two Cabots are inside. Then you’ll stand up, and fire. The men on the ground outside will prevent them from escaping.”
Tyler said, “Build the barricades waist high so you can hide until ready, and no candles or light inside to backlight you. I’ll have a bonfire on the roof to provide light from outside. You’ll see them, but they won’t see you.”
The faces of the archers told all. Instead of being trapped inside, they were setting the trap. Tyler realized he wouldn’t want to be one of the attackers tonight. But few, if any, would be named Cabot. The Cabots were paying for the fight, not taking part in it.
He found Bender sitting on a chair, Lucky spread out at his feet. The dog had healed remarkably, and while he still looked a little ill and ugly, his missing ear gave him a vicious appearance. But Lucky couldn’t be friendlier to the three of them. Nobody else seemed to have the nerve to attempt petting him. Most would rather take their chances with the dragons.
Thinking of the dragons, Tyler went downstairs and found them fast asleep. Franklin was still curled into a ball in a corner, his head resting on his backpack. A boy of twelve used a shovel to scoop up messes the dragons had made, and then he used buckets of water to rinse the tile floor, but the stench of dragon shit and rotted meat remained. Tyler barely managed to keep from puking each time he paused on the second floor. And the smells were getting worse.
Flies had appeared. Thousands of them buzzed the floor until a steady drone of sound vibrated the air. They concentrated at the far end of the floor, a place Tyler intended to stay away from.
Thunder opened an eye, spotted him and stood. Tyler held his arms out, and the dragon extended its wings and used them for balance as it charged. However, Thunder pulled up just before he knocked Tyler over and waited for the man to touch him, first. When Tyler did, the dragon shivered as if touched by a cold wind, then moved closer and rubbed against Tyler’s leg while making small but satisfied noises.
“You’re the ugliest dragon I’ve ever seen up close,” Tyler said as he stroked the ridged back of the animal. He left it to go back onto the roof where the last of the day’s light was fading.
There were five archers looking over that parapet, each with quivers full of arrows in front of them. One turned to Tyler. “Do you think they’re stupid enough to attack, sir?”
He’s calling me sir. Tyler found he liked the deference and respect the men paid to him. He said, “Why stupid? We don’t know if, when, or how many will attack.”
The man stood a head taller than Tyler, with massive biceps and shoulders built from pulling bows for years. He snorted, then stood straighter and said, “Sorry, sir. I thought you were making a joke.”
“I don’t understand,” Tyler confessed.
“I can draw my bow, fit an arrow to the string, aim, and release in the time it takes you to draw a single breath. Then another and another. And I’m the slowest archer on the roof.”
Tyler placed his fists on his hips and used his most sarcastic voice, “If you’re that fast and accurate, we probably only need you up here, and none of them can climb to the third floor.”
“That’s what I’m saying, sir.”
The simplicity and honesty of the response caught Tyler off guard. The man told the truth, as he saw it. Tyler said, “You’re really that fast?”
“Not compared to these men.” He waved an arm to encompass the others. “But if they bring four ladders and try to climb them and I’m the only archer up here, none will ever reach the third floor.”
Tyler realized he wouldn’t wish to trade places and attempt to climb any of the ladders tonight. Not with them waiting on the roof, arrows ready to draw and fire at their top speed and optimal distance.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Someone had placed a few sticks of kindling in the copper tub, and on the floor beside were small containers of lamp oil. A lamp glowed beside a large pile of broken furniture and scrap wood hauled up from the lower floors to be used for firewood. Tyler poured oil on the kindling and placed a few larger pieces of wood on top, then used the lamp to start the fire. The flames licked the wood and climbed. The rooftop and front of the building became bathed in orange light.
The archers complained that the backlight would make them stand out, but Tyler said, “Knock it off. The fire lights them more than you, and besides, you know as well as me how hard it is to accurately shoot an arrow up four floors to the roof. If you don’t know to duck and fire by now, stay down behind the parapet and let the better archers do your job.”
Tyler watched them accept his statement. Most nodded in agreement or smiled. It showed them he knew what he was talking about. But moreover, it showed he was in charge, a change in status that again took him by surprise. Only a few weeks ago, he’d been a foot soldier assigned to the front lines, a soldier who devised plans to remain at the rear during confrontations.
His most important activity had been avoiding the normal assignments of soldiers while inventing methods to go into town to spend his meager pay on whatever entertainment he could afford. But now, he commanded a small army by virtue of the gold he’d taken from opponents. Bender and he were fighting for control of many of the most desirable and valuable buildings in a city larger than any he’d ever heard of, more valuable than any of the king’s holdings.
A secondary thought entered his mind. He wanted, or wished, none of it. His goal had simply been to float a rowboat down the Middling River far enough to escape the wrath of the army he deserted, then find a home to live a peaceful life. That didn’t seem too much to hope for a dozen days back, or now.
Tyler hadn’t set out to be wealthy, or a leader of an army. He never asked for a dragon to imprint on him, or a young girl to attach herself to him as much as any sister. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted a one-eared dog. But there were other things his gold could change too. As he wiped stinging tears from the corner of his eyes, he vowed that if they won in their fight against the Cabots, his first act as the owner of the properties would be to shut down the foundries and charcoal plant, as well as the other businesses that fouled the air.
Girt eased to his side with the grace of a dancer and leaned close to speak directly into Tyler’s ear so softly none of the others could hear. “Something is happening. The men down there are disappearing.”
“The ones the Cabots hired?”
Girt nodded once, curtly.
Tyler went to the front edge of the roof and peered over the side at the street below. There were far fewer men than before, and as he watched, another pair passed the building and
continued down the street until they were out of sight. More were leaving, too.
He spotted Judge and his men, but the street below was almost deserted of Cabot soldiers. “What’s happening? Is it a trick?”
Girt said, “I don’t see how. We knew they were there and more were arriving all the time. An attack on an undefended building was an assured victory unless they found out about my men, and I see no way that could have happened. But, now, they’re gone.”
“Could the Cabots have called them off?”
“If they did, all would have left at the same time,” Girt said, as a few more pairs of men disappeared into the darkness. “I think this must be something else.”
“It makes me nervous. Could they be heading for the other end of the tunnel so they can attack us from there?”
Girt said, “I have men at the entrance with instructions to let us know if they do that, but there is no sign of the signal we agreed upon.”
Tyler watched the few remaining men and saw a pair of them stop near a narrow alley and speak with someone hidden in the shadows. The pair turned and departed. He looked at the dark windows of the nearby buildings, and then at the many lighted ones in the distance. Word had spread. Those nearby had known of the coming battle and departed for safety, leaving the buildings looking deserted. Only the single window of the messenger across the street remained dimly lighted.
“I don’t understand,” Tyler said.
Bender climbed through the hatch and stood with them. He said to Tyler, “I think you scared them all away. I told you not to eat onions and garlic in the same meal.”
“Maybe they saw your ugly face and ran off.”
“Maybe they. . .never mind,” Bender said, worry evident in his sudden lack of the ability to insult Tyler. “This feels worse to me than an outright attack. At least we could have fought back.”
“I think we were prepared for a battle and would have held out, but we can’t prepare for the unknown.”
Bender said, “I want Prim up here, or wherever we go. She stays near us.”
“The dragons?” Tyler asked.
“Warn the men to stay on the third floor or roof, but tear down the barricades so they can roam the first two floors,” Bender said. “And pity anyone who goes there.”
Tyler motioned with his chin to Girt, who leaped to obey. He said to Bender while gripping the short sword at his side, “I admit I’m worried.” He looked at the street again and found it totally empty of people.
The city had turned silent as a hundred-year-old tomb.
Even the crackle of the flames in the copper tub could be distinctly heard. An archer cleared his throat as Tyler tossed more wood on the fire, but none spoke. They felt it too. The flames licked the new wood and rose, illuminating the buildings surrounding the armory, as well as the street.
“Sir,” one of the archers called to him, then motioned over the side, to the street. A lone man was walking nearer in the center of the street, not dressed like the men the Cabots had sent, and certainly not one of Judge’s men.
This man was dressed in pale green, the material so fine the firelight reflected off it. His hands were held high, in the traditional surrender pose, and he displayed no weapons. His head was turned up to the roof, but even in the reflected light of the fire, Tyler read a confidence in the face and manner he’d only known a few times.
“Hold your fire,” Tyler called, loud enough for those on the roof, as well as the archers on the third floor to hear.
The man pulled to a halt and waited. Tyler leaned over the parapet and called, “Who are you?”
“I was sent by King James the Righteous to speak with you. I am his brother, Givens.”
Tyler chuckled, then growled, “No king knows me, let alone sends his brother to speak with me. Who are you trying to locate? Jenkins? Girt?”
“Either man called Tyler or Bender, it matters not.”
The revelation stunned Tyler. The king knew his name and Bender’s. He doubted if the company commander in the Unity Army knew their names, but this man claimed the king of this vast city, and the province that lay beyond, knew them. His reaction was doubt.
His second reaction was to question the doubts and wonder. If the king didn’t know their names, why would he send the man in green to them? The answer formed swiftly in his mind. Jenkins. Their solicitor. Or the Cabots.
He didn’t know how, but one of them had to be behind the reason the man who stood below with his hands raised asked to talk with one of them. He called, “Okay, I’m Tyler, speak what you came here for.”
“Must I shout? I’ll be hoarse for days.”
Tyler glanced at Girt, who now held a coiled rope in his left hand. At his nod, Girt tossed one end over the side of the building, and Tyler watched it uncoil as it fell.
The voice below called, “Really? Is this really necessary? The building has a front door, you know.”
“Only use the rope if you want to come inside,” Tyler called back, drawing a few guffaws from the men on the roof.
But there had been no humor intended. The iron doors of the building would remain closed. He’d heard too many stories of a door opening and the wrong people rushing inside. He glanced down and found the man had already tied the end around himself, with the loop positioned high up, just under his armpits. He held onto the rope for balance and waited for them to lift him. He was not going to attempt climbing.
At a wave of Girt’s hand, the men took the rope and slowly drew him up, as the man tried to walk on the bricks as he rose up the side of the building managing to appear superior the whole time. Several hands helped him over the parapet searching him for weapons.
He allowed the inspections without protest, not that they would have prevented the search. Tyler and Bender stood aside and made their own inspection. The rich material of his outfit took their attention first. The shiny green material was so thin a small breeze rippled it. Pale yellow piping trimmed the outfit, a pair of loose pants with a matching blouse. Even his shoes matched as if made for the set of clothing and nothing else. He also noticed the bottoms of the shoes were built up in several layers to make the man look taller. He was not short, but the little extra allowed him to look down on other men.
The man inside the clothes was of normal height, a little pudgy but not fat, and his beard trimmed close to his cheeks. He eyed them with obvious distaste. If not for the superior way he held himself, Tyler decided he could pass him on the street without giving him a second look, if he wore normal clothing.
The confident manner continued, as he waited for them to speak first. However, his eyes took in everything on the roof, and he gave the impression he was somehow in charge of the situation. The confidence oozed from his every movement as if his actions should be respected.
“I’m Tyler.”
The man gave a half smile. “I suspected as much. The man beside you is called Bender for some ungodly reason I don’t care to know. Also, standing beside you, is the girl called Prim. I confess I know nothing about her except she travels with you and cares for your unusual animals. Again, I really couldn’t care to know why.” His eyes shifted. “And you are Girt. I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a few years, but I fear Jenkins has kept us apart intentionally. What little I do hear is impressive.”
Girt said, “We’ve never met.”
“Still, it’s not that you’re unknown in your capacity of working for the lawyer called Jenkins. Your name and various occupations have been the subject of several conversations in the palace.”
Girt didn’t react. “You are here at the request of King James?”
“I wish to speak for him. Perhaps we should gather closer and talk, but I see we’ll sit on the roof because you seem to be burning all of the furniture.”
Girt turned to his men. “We need five chairs up here.”
“If you prefer, we can all go below,” he said, sounding eager to leave the roof.
Thinking of the barricades and defenses, alon
g with the number of archers, Tyler didn’t wish to broadcast their strengths and weaknesses. He decided to keep the man on the roof. He said more sharply than intended, “We’ll stay here.”
“If you insist. I notice that while I have identified each of you, none has returned the compliment. Must I introduce myself?”
Bender said, “You talk and act as if we should know you.”
“I am Givens, the king’s brother, and next in line to the throne. However, I have no desire to sit upon that ungrateful seat and attempt to rule a kingdom of peasants that cares only for themselves. Ah, the chairs have arrived. I suppose refreshments are out of the question?”
Tyler and Bender exchanged glances. Bender mouthed a single word: hostage.
The man waited, then sat after all the others were seated and said in an even voice, “No, I will not be your hostage. I have come with a proposal, and I suspect you will be satisfied with my visit. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Lord Givens, protector of the realm, Hand of King James the Second also known as Righteous, and financial executor for the city, among half a dozen other impressive titles. In other words, I do as my king demands, but otherwise, I oversee the royal finances, which have not been as. . . shall we use the term ‘robust’ of late?”
They were all sitting in a small circle, the archers patrolling the perimeter of the building and indicating that they saw no danger below. One tossed more wood on the fire, and Tyler flashed a thankful smile in his direction.
Bender said, “That concerns us, how?”
Tyler noticed Givens' voice sounded exactly like Bender’s. He’d heard Bender use the same expression and tone of superior voice a hundred times. A thousand. The king’s brother was observing them and learning as he set the terms for the talk, much like Bender did before a game of Blocks with new recruits.
