Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [275]
It was unlikely to do much damage, but in the darkness it would sow confusion. And while Valpetra's men were distracted, a detail of handpicked conscripts would exit the city by way of the dismantled sluice gate. Once they were out, guards atop the wall would lower bundles of weaponry—hunting bows, pitch-tipped arrows, torches, and oil-filled bladders.
"It's a dangerous detail," he said grimly, then raised his voice to a roar. "But there's gold and glory for any man who makes it back alive! What do you say, lads? Are you game?"
They roared back at him. "Gallus! Gallus! Gallus!"
He flashed a feral grin. "Then come forward and be anointed!"
Twenty men crowded forward, touching his stirrup, his saddlecloth, his booted foot. Eager faces strained upward. Dipping into a pouch at his belt, Gallus Tadius leaned down and smeared a dark substance on each face; a streak on both cheeks and one down the center of their brows. Ashes, I thought. Ashes from the burned bell-tower. Fire for fire.
"This is madness," Deccus said quietly. "Is it always like this?"
"No," I said. "This is new."
"Right!" Gallus straightened and pointed. "Off you go to await my signal!" He watched them pelt through the streets of Lucca, then turned to the rest of us. "Riders, heed. This mission's to be run from the walls. You'll patrol as usual, but your primary job is to carry orders; mine from atop the gatehouse, and Captain Arturo's from the sentry-point near the canal. The watchword is 'firestorm.' You hear it, you do whatever you're told and ride like hell. Understood?"
"Aye, sir!" we called.
He dispatched us in short order and headed off toward the gatehouse. Deccus was quiet as we set out on patrol together. It was a cold, cloudy evening. He wore a heavy wool cloak fastened with a gold brooch. I wondered if Claudia Fulvia had fastened it for him. It was the sort of Tiberian wifely gesture she did so well.
There were no orders at the first sentry-points we passed. At the canal, we found a throng of men clustered under the shadow of the wall, their soot-streaked faces eerie in the twilight. "Any word?" one called eagerly.
"Not yet," I said.
"Firestorm!" a voice hissed from above. "One campfire in range, a dozen of the enemy posted. No movement. Continue and report to Gallus Tadius."
I gave a wave of acknowledgment and we rode onward.
Presently, Deccus spoke. "They're dead men, you know."
My skin prickled. "You sense it?"
"What?" He glanced at me. "Oh, the lemures, aye. It's been turning my stomach long enough I'm nearly used to it. I meant those poor lads." He frowned. "Glory and gold! They don't stand a chance. They might get out safely, and they might even succeed. But there's no way they're getting back alive."
I didn't think so, either.
"And if Gallus Tadius is half as ruthless as I think he is," Deccus added in a low voice, "he knows it, too. He's sending those lads to their deaths."
We reached the gatehouse without event, although I could barely make it out. Full darkness had fallen. The moon was hidden behind clouds, and only a few stars were visible. I called out my report to the unseen faces atop the gatehouse. It felt as though I were talking to myself.
"Firestorm!" A voice floated down from above. "Report to Captain Arturo, now!"
Deccus grunted. "We can't damn well see!"
"Now!"
I leaned over in the darkness. "Follow me, my lord."
Without waiting to see if Deccus followed, I nudged the Bastard's flanks. His hooves rang on the cobblestones as he shifted into a smart trot. I could barely see, either; but I could hear. The nearer we were to the wall, the more muted the echo of his hoofbeats. Closing my eyes, I could hear the difference.
Behind me, Deccus huffed. "What are you, lad,