They reached the main door of the citadel only to find it closed. Styke rode Amrec right up to the door and gave it a shove. It was locked. He craned his neck, looking up to the murder holes for some sign of a guard detail.
“I say there!” Willen called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I say there! Colonel Willen to see General Dvory. Open the doors!”
They were greeted by silence. Jackal rode back fifty yards, looking toward the top of the walls. “I don’t see anyone,” he shouted.
Willen scowled at the door as if he might open it by annoyance alone. “Everyone must be at the general’s meeting.”
“Strange,” Styke muttered, feeling his uneasiness deepen.
They waited for a sign of life from within the citadel for nearly fifteen minutes until Willen finally shook his head. “I’ll send men around to the other gates to find a way in,” he assured him. “Dvory’s damned bodyguard are too good to open the door, and they’ll hear it from me. Can I escort you back to your men?”
“We’re camped down the coast,” Styke said. “To the east. I can find my own way back.”
“Of course.”
Styke raised one finger, turning Amrec this way and that as he examined the city-fortress. “How many scouts do you have out right now?”
“You’d have to ask a dragoon company.”
“Do you have any dragoons attached to your brigade?”
“We do. My sister is their commanding officer.”
“Do me a favor. Get them out into the countryside. The Dynize might have sailed away, but they might also be lurking out there somewhere.”
Willen sucked on his teeth, obviously reluctant. “General Dvory gave the men an informal leave while we wait for our new orders. My sister won’t be eager to send her boys out too early.” He paused, looking up at the citadel. “I’ll convince her,” he added.
“Good.”
Styke nodded good-bye and turned Amrec back toward the mainland. They were out of earshot when Jackal said in a low voice, “You told him we were camped to the east. You don’t trust him?”
“I don’t want Dvory to know where we are,” Styke replied.
Ibana met them about a mile outside the curtain wall. “I was just about to come looking for you. Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure,” Styke said with the shake of his head. “I want you and Gustar to send out our best scouts. Scour the area.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Dynize.”
“A lot? A few?”
Styke glanced back toward the citadel one more time. He thought he spotted someone in a yellow jacket on the walls of the citadel, but by the time he found his looking glass the person had disappeared. “I don’t know. Look for anything suspicious. No fires tonight. Tell the men to be ready to fight or flee at a moment’s notice.”
CHAPTER 60
Vlora sat on horseback, watching as rows of Riflejacks marched past her along the winding, treacherous foothills of the Ironhook Mountains. Less than fifty hours had passed since Flerring had cracked the godstone, and even with a swift departure from Yellow Creek they were only thirty miles or so east of the town. Supply wagons—and the big oxcart carrying the capstone—slowed them down, as did the rough terrain itself. Their only saving grace was that the men themselves were relatively fresh from days loitering outside of Yellow Creek.
But an army could only move as quickly as its slowest piece, and in this case it was the capstone. Sixteen extra oxen and a whole company of soldiers and engineers stood by to push or pull the wagon through mud or up steep embankments, to repair broken wheels or switch out tired animals. They worked with efficiency found nowhere else in the world, and yet it still wasn’t enough.
“Where’s Colonel Olem?” Vlora asked one of her aides, eyeing a particularly steep part of the road up ahead. The capstone would be along soon, and the engineers would have to deal with that hill, slowing down the whole army even further.
“I think he’s coming up just behind us, ma’am,” the aide answered.
Vlora acknowledged her response with a nod and headed back down the column, where she found Olem conferring with several of their engineers, walking beside them as he led his horse. She caught his eye and he broke away, mounting up and coming over to join her.
“We just had word from our scouts,” he reported before she could speak. “The Dynize are coming up on us quickly—there’s a full brigade just a couple hours behind us.”
Vlora swore. “How the pit did they catch up so quickly? Didn’t they at least head to Yellow Creek?”
“They didn’t.” Olem unfolded a hand-drawn map of the region and held it where Vlora could see. “As far as we can tell, they changed directions at this road here, heading to cut us off. Either they had better scouts than we expected or their Privileged were able to sense the capstone moving east and they made some quick assumptions.”
Vlora tried to look on the bright side. “They’ve taken the bait.”
“That they have. By the time they catch us, Burt will have the rest of the godstone up in the Ironhook passes. No chance of the Dynize following them up there.”
It was, Vlora had to admit, a terribly satisfying thing to know that she’d outmaneuvered Ka-Sedial once more. It took an enormous amount of anxiety off her chest. However, she didn’t need to remind herself that the Dynize could still slaughter her and all of her men. Saving the world from a Dynize god had been her first priority. Now she needed to get her people back to Adro in one piece, and Olem had not said “if” they catch us, but rather implied “when.” “Do we have any chance of outrunning them?” she asked quietly.
Olem looked toward the engineers, his expression souring. “I think we can stay ahead of them if we keep moving, it’s just that …”
“Don’t lie to me,” Vlora told him.
Olem glanced away, grimacing. “Dragging this capstone with us, we have no chance of staying ahead of the Dynize. As long as we’re in the foothills, we can block the roads and keep them from flanking us, but as soon as we break out onto the plains, we’ll be surrounded by five brigades of infantry.”
Vlora tried to keep from spiraling into a well of despair. “I’ve gotten us all killed, haven’t I?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Olem said confidently.
“That kind of pressure isn’t exactly helpful.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before.”
She wanted to slap that reassuring grin off his face. “If we live through this, my love, please make me retire.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Vlora turned to watch as the cart with the capstone was manuevered up the steep hill on the road ahead of them, and was pleasantly surprised when none of the ropes snapped or the oxen stumbled. It was up and over the hill in just a few minutes, leaving her in a slightly more optimistic mood. She wondered what Tamas would have done in this situation, and realized she’d been with him in a tangle not so dissimilar during the Adran-Kez War. Had the odds been better, or worse? She couldn’t quite remember.
“How hard will it be for the Dynize to get around us?”
“While we’re on these foothill roads?” Olem asked. “Fairly difficult.”
“Good. Tell the engineers I want them to keep that wagon going as quickly as possible, no matter what the rest of the army does.”
“You intend to stop and fight?” Olem asked with surprise.
“ ‘Stop’ is a poor word for what I plan. We’re going to bloody their noses a little, and see what kind of sorcerous support they have. Fetch me Taniel, Norrine, and Davd.”
Vlora listened to the screaming of horses as she lined up her next shot.