Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [277]
"Good work," the captain said laconically. "Next!"
Another guard took a post on a different limb, and between the two of us, we managed to get all twenty sacks of assorted bows, arrows, torches, and pitch across the moat. Vague figures scrambled to retrieve each one as it landed, melting away into the night. I lay along the tree limb for a moment, gazing out at the darkness.
Over at the gatehouse, the trebuchet was still thumping sporadically, but Valpetra's troops had retreated out of range. From this height, I had a clear view of their abandoned campfires and the milling mass of soldiers beyond. Here and there, riders peeled away, torches streaming with sparks as they began to scour the perimeter of Lucca. Either Valpetra or his condottiere was growing suspicious. I thought about our twenty soaked, shivering conscripts lugging heavy bags of weapons, and I liked their chances even less.
Somewhere behind me, I heard slow, plodding hoofbeats and a scraping sound. Something heavy was being dragged along the streets of Lucca on ill-made skids.
"All right, lads." Captain Arturo's voice was low and grave. "Get it in place."
I didn't want to look. The rough bark was oddly comforting beneath my cheek. It made me think of happier times, like Queen Ysandre's Festival of the Harvest. And then I remembered that I'd promised Anna Marzoni's daughter Belinda that I'd teach her to climb a tree and the feeling vanished, so I climbed back down to the wall.
Below, the boy with the bucket-helm was stroking his lathered plowhorse's neck and praising him. Captain Arturo's guardsmen were rolling a massive millstone into position at the edge of the canal. One careful shove, and it effectively would seal off the sluice gates.
I looked wordlessly at the captain.
"Gallus Tadius' orders." His face was stoic. "We'll wait as long as we dare."
Deccus Fulvius was watching the fields. "There!" he said suddenly, pointing. "Fire!"
It was quite a distance away; farther than I would have thought anyone could have gotten on foot carrying such a burden. I wondered if Gallus Tadius had chosen his twenty recruits for fearlessness, loyalty, or merely foot-speed. A low orange-red blossom of fire, blooming and spreading. It hadn't rained since we'd arrived. I reckoned the wheat fields were good and dry.
"There!" someone else cried as another bloom appeared.
Two… five… a dozen. There, a blazing arrow arched across the night like a shooting star, and fire bloomed where it landed. There, an unseen figure raced along a furrow, lit torches in both hands, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The red blossoms took root and spread.
And Valpetra's cavalry responded, trying to outrace the flames, trying to ride down the perpetrators. The infantry was in retreat, horns blowing, organizing a swift march toward the river. The cavalry was in pursuit.
Dark figures on dark horses, silhouetted against a rising sea of fire. They cut down anyone on foot. They cut down Gallus Tadius' conscripts; they cut down folk from the outlying villages, fleeing for the river.
I felt sick.
Luccan riders within the walls came with reports from the north and east; the vineyards were burning. Atop the walls, we watched as the olive grove to the west was set alight. For a time, it seemed as though the ancient olive trees would withstand their efforts, but Gallus Tadius had armed his men well. They flung oil-filled bladders which burst against the bark, and the fire clung and spread until the gnarled trees were engulfed in flame.
"Firestorm," Deccus Fulvius murmured.
I glanced at him, remembering how he had spoken against this. He looked old; old and weary. He met my gaze and forced a smile, laying a hand on my shoulder. "Is it worth destroying a thing to save it?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said humbly.
Deccus squeezed my shoulder. "Nor do I."
Beyond the walls of Lucca, everything was ablaze. The burning fields flung a roaring blaze of heat and light upward, as though night had become day and