Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City by K. J. Parker

Author:K. J. Parker
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2019-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

I put on my armour. Complete waste of time. Yes, it protects you when you’re on your feet, up to a point, but not if you’re down on the ground. Also, it really slows you up when you’re running away. But it’s expected of you if you’re in command, so I tied myself in knots squeezing into the scale cuirass on my own—it’s a two-man job, you just can’t reach the straps, let alone tease them into the stupid buckles—snapped the greaves round my legs and whimpered as the bottom front edge dug into the top of my instep; the helmet came down over my eyes, so I fiddled with the liner laces, and then it just about balanced on the top of my head, and fell off as soon as I moved. Fine, I decided, I can carry it under my arm. Then down two flights of stairs, realised I’d forgotten my sword, trudged up the stairs again (it’s misery walking upstairs in armour that doesn’t fit; the neck of the cuirass crushes your windpipe and the greaves shred the skin all round your ankles), couldn’t find it, found it, back down the stairs—exhausted, like I’d done a day’s work, and I hadn’t even left the house yet.

Lurking by the door was an ominous dark shape. Lysimachus. You’ll recall he’s a Green.

“Clear off,” I told him. “Won’t be needing you tonight.”

He gave me a grave look. “Reckon you will.”

“You do know—”

“Yes. You can trust me.”

God, I thought. Just when you think it can’t get worse. For some reason, though, I believed him. “Fine,” I said. “Though I’m not going anywhere near the fighting.”

He grinned. “Suits me.”

There was a two-porter chair waiting for me in the courtyard. The porters would be Themesmen, of course. Everyone is, in this town. But it was that or walk in those crippling greaves. We set off at the run, with Lysimachus loping alongside like a horrible dog, the sort that won’t go away even if you throw stones at it. I tried to think serious tactical thoughts, but my mind was a complete blank.

Everything depended on the element of surprise, which I was convinced—treachery, or just blundering about like fools in the dark—we wouldn’t have. But the chair stopped three blocks short of Goosefair, and Lysimachus and I walked smartly up as far as South Parade, where I hoped to God Artavasdus would be waiting, his men all neatly hidden in the shadows. No sign of anyone, until I was nearly skewered by a Parks and Gardens man who jumped out of nowhere with a bloody great pike. Lysimachus took it away from him before he could hurt anybody, and then he recognised me, so that was all right. He led me into a building, in the back and out the front. In the porch, Artavasdus was crouched down, gazing at the front door of the Blue House, directly opposite.

“Nothing yet,” he whispered.

“Is Nico—?”

He shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”

The Blue House door was shut, all the windows were shuttered.

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