Giraldi bowed his head and nodded to the young legionare. “Furies know we need the help. Do it.”
The holders moved into Garrison in short order, and Isana noticed that adult men — the veterans — drove all the wagons. They pulled into the fortress as though part of the Legion on duty there, lining up their wagons in neat rows in the westernmost courtyard. Men started caring for the horses at once, unhitching them and leading them to be watered and sheltered from the winter winds. Every Legion camp was laid out identically, enabling veterans and newly transferred units to be exactly aware of the operations and layout of any camp they came to. Even as some men picketed the horses, others began forming up the veterans into files outside the armory, and Giraldi and another young legionare began to outfit them with shields, swords, spears, breastplates, helmets.
Isana stepped down from the wagon, holding Odiana’s hand and leading the dazed woman, who kept the blanket wrapped around her like a sleepy child. “Harger,” Isana called, spotting the healer supervising a number of young women, barely more than children really, who were shredding bedsheets into bandages.
The old healer turned when he saw her, a tired smile touching his face. “Help,” he said. “Well, maybe we can make a fight of it after all.”
She moved to him and embraced him quietly. “Are you all right?”
“Tired,” he said. He looked around them and then said, “This is bad, Isana. Our wall isn’t high enough, and our Knights went down in the first attack.”
Isana’s throat tightened. “My brother?”
“A little banged up, but well,” Harger said. “Isana, we’ve got less than an hour. By the time the sun rises, you’ll be able to walk from here to the watchtowers on Marat shoulders.”
She nodded. “There, see Steadholder Otto? He’s a strong crafter. Not too delicate, because he mostly crafts injured livestock rather than people, but he can mend broken bones better than anyone I’ve ever seen, and he can do it from dawn to dark. There are one or two other men at least as skilled as a Legion watercrafter, and many of the woman are better. You have injured?”
“Plenty,” Harger said, his eyes calculating. “Really? Women better than a Legion watercrafter?”
“See Otto. He’ll get our healers over to help yours. You’re in the eastern courtyard?”
Harger nodded, blinking his eyes a few times. Then he clasped Isana’s shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t know if it will do any good in the long run, but there are men dying who won’t have to now.”
Isana touched her hand with his and said, “Where can I find Bernard?”
“On the wall above the gate,” Harger said.
Isana nodded to him and started toward the far side of the fort. She passed the commander’s quarters and the officers’ barracks at the center of the fort, then walked briskly past barracks after barracks. She found the first bodies at the near side of the eastern courtyard, in the stables. Dead horses lay inside, crows already darting in and out of the stable’s doors, their raucous cries rising from their darkened interiors. More bodies littered the courtyard around her — Marat, and the great predator birds had been tossed into a rough heap at one side of the courtyard, where they would be out of the way of the troops moving about inside. Legion casualties were laid out in neat rows on the other, troops wrapped in their cloaks, heads covered to keep the crows from their eyes.
The rest of the courtyard was filled with the wounded and the dying. A bare scattering of legionares stood watch on the walls, but there seemed to be so few of them.
Isana walked forward, stunned at the carnage. She had never seen anything like it. Pain pressed on her, sensed from the wounded like heat radiating out from an oven. She shivered and folded her arms. Behind her, Odiana, still following closely and holding her hand, let out a small, frightened whimper and did not lift her head.
“Isana!”
She looked up to see her brother running toward her, and she didn’t fight either the tears that sprang to her eyes or the smile that touched her mouth. He embraced her, hugging hard, and lifted her up off the ground as he did it.
“Thank the furies,” he rumbled. “I was so afraid for you.”
She hugged him back, hard. “Tavi?” He froze for a moment, and the motion sent ice running through her. She leaned back, taking his face between her hands. “What happened?”
“After the flood, I lost him. I couldn’t track him in the storm. I managed to get the Cursor girl out of the water, and then we came here.”
“Was he alone?” Isana asked.
“Not entirely, if you count that Fade was still with him. I thought you’d have found him after the flood.”
She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t. Kord pulled me out of the river, Bernard.”
Her brother’s eyes went flat.
“It’s all right,” she assured him, though she folded her hands over a little quiver of fear in her belly at the memory of Kord’s smokehouse. “His son, Aric, helped us escape. I got away from him.”
“And came here?”
“Not alone,” Isana said. “I had just reached the causeway when Warner and the rest came down the road. I rode here with them.”
“Warner?” Bernard said.
“Warner, Otto, Roth. They brought all their holders here. Yours too. They’ve come to help.”
“Those idiots,” Bernard sputtered. But his eyes glittered, and he looked back toward the wall and the shattered gates leading into the fort. A rough barricade had been shoved into place, consisting of a pair of wagons upended, barrels, and bunks. “How many did he bring?”
“Everyone,” Isana said. “Nearly five hundred people.”
“The women, too?”
Isana nodded. Bernard grimaced. “I guess we’ve got it all resting on one throw, then.” His eyes went past her to Odiana. “Who’s this?”
Amara swallowed. “One of Kord’s slaves,” she lied. “She saved my life. That’s a discipline collar on her, Bernard. I couldn’t leave her there.”
He nodded, glancing back at the walls again, and let out a slow breath. “Might have been kinder to. It’s not going to be good.”
Isana frowned at him and then at the walls. “Bernard. Do you remember when we had our holdraising?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Everyone in the Valley helped with that. Brought up the whole steadholt, walls, all in one day.”
He blinked and turned to her, his voice suddenly excited. “You mean that we could make the walls higher.”
She nodded. “If it would help. Giraldi said they weren’t high enough.”
“It might,” Bernard said. “It might, it might.” He looked around. “There. That centurion there, he’s the engineer. See the braid on his tunic? We’ll need his help. You tell him, and I’m going to round up our earthcrafters.”
Bernard hurried off. Isana approached the man, who glanced up, blinked at her, and then scowled at her from over a bristling grey mustache. He listened to her without speaking while she told him of her plan.
“Impossible,” he said. “It can’t be done, girl.”