Seasons of War

wouldn’t. Of course he would not. He would let every man and woman in the city die before he offered up his children to be slaughtered, but it meant that every one that died in the next few days would be doubly upon his conscience. Every life that ended here, ended because he had refused to be a sacrifice. He swallowed to loosen the knot in his throat and took a pose that dismissed the subject.
    ‘I had to say it,’ Sinja said, apologizing with his tone.
    ‘You didn’t say my name,’ Kiyan said. Her eyes turned to Sinja’s. ‘Why didn’t you say my name?’
    ‘Well, assuming that you don’t all opt for slaughter, there is one other thing we have in our favor,’ Sinja said. ‘They sent me here to betray you. Kiyan’s safety was my asking price. They expect a report from me when they arrive. If I give them bad information, we may be able to trap some of them. Thin their forces. It won’t win the battle, but it could help.’
    Otah raised his hand, and the mercenary stopped. Kiyan was the one who took a querying pose, and it was to Kiyan that he answered.
    ‘The general. Balasar-cha. He doesn’t want a bloody battle. He wants it over quickly, with as few of his men lost as he can manage. I agreed to come here and discover your defenses if he spared you. Gave you to me when it was all over with. Prize of war. It’s not all that uncommon.’
    Kiyan rose, her small foxlike face turned feral. Her fingers were splayed in claws, and her chest pressed forward like a bantam ready for the fighting pit. Otah’s heart warmed with something like pride.
    ‘If you let them touch Eiah and Danat, I would kill you in your sleep,’ she said.
    ‘But Balasar-cha doesn’t know that,’ Sinja said, shrugging and looking into the fire. He couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘He expects a report from me, and I’ll give him one. I’ll give him whatever report you’d like.’
    ‘Gods,’ Kiyan said, her eyes still ablaze. ‘Is there anyone you haven’t betrayed?’
    Sinja smiled, but Otah thought there was sorrow in his dark eyes.
    ‘Yes, there is. But she was in love with someone else.’
    Cehmai coughed, embarrassed. Otah raised his hands.
    ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got time for this. We may have as little as a day to get ready. Maati, you prepare your binding. Cehmai will help you. Kiyan. Liat. You’ve arranged food and quarters for two cities. Do what you can to arm them and keep people from panicking. Sinja and I will work out a plan to defend the city and a report to deliver to the Galts.’
    Kiyan’s eyes carried a question, but Otah didn’t answer. There was no reason to trust Sinja-cha. It was just the risk he chose to take.
    Servants brought maps of the city, of the low towns to the south, and the mountains and mines to the north. Machi hadn’t been built to withstand a war; there were no walls to defend, no pits that the enemy would have to bridge. The only natural barrier - the river - was already frozen solid enough to walk across. Any real defense would have to be on the black-cobbled streets, in the alleys and tunnels and towers. They talked late into the night, joined by the Khai Cetani and Ashua Radaani, Saya the blacksmith and Kiyan when she wasn’t out among the tunnels spreading the word and making preparations. Sinja’s shame, if it was still there, was hidden and his advice was well considered. By morning, even the Khai Cetani suffered interruption from Sinja-cha. Otah took it as another sign that the Khai had changed.
    If things went poorly, there was still the mine in the northern mountains. A few people could take shelter there. Eiah and Danat. Nayiit. If the binding failed, they could send Maati and Cehmai there as well, sneaking them out the back of the palace in a fast cart while the battle was still alive. Otah didn’t imagine that he would be there with them, and Sinja didn’t question him.
    Afterward, Otah looked in on his children, both asleep in their chambers. He found the library where Cehmai and Maati were still arguing over points of grammar so obscure he could hardly make sense of them. The night candle was guttering and spitting when Otah came at last to his bed. Kiyan sat with him in silence for a time. He touched her, tracing the curve of her cheek with the knuckles of one hand.
    ‘Do you believe Sinja?’ he asked.
    ‘What part of it?’
    ‘Do you think that this General Gice really believes the andat are too dangerous to exist? That he wants them destroyed?