Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [302]
It hit hard.
From our vantage point, we saw it all. We saw the wall shudder, we heard a deep cracking sound from somewhere within it. For the space of a few heartbeats, it held. A few men cheered. But the water kept coming and coming, an unbearable pressure mounting.
"Name of Elua!" I whispered.
There was a sound like a groan. The wall sagged, and then it simply burst. It burst, collapsing onto itself. The sentry-oak fell, taking its sentry with it. The painstakingly constructed bulwark burst in a furious hail of bricks and debris. A torrent of grey water surged into the city.
There was so much of it!
It was like a living thing, an invading army. It kept coming and coming. It ate away at the breach in the wall, tearing down its edges. It took possession of the city, spreading and dividing, flowing down every street, every alley, every nook. It battered down doors and splintered shutters. If the populace hadn't been warned, scores of them would have been washed away and drowned. It happened that fast. We stood atop the basilica and stared, aghast.
And the water continued to rise.
"They think to flush us out like rats," Eamonn murmured. "And it looks like they're doing a fair job it it."
We traded glances.
"Straight to hell," I said. "Now's the time to believe."
He nodded and raised one hand. "Barbarus, hold."
Although we had little choice—after all, where would we go?—his firm command heartened the men, and I heard other squadron leaders echo his lead. Far across the fields, Valpetra's camp was in disarray, his men scattered by the flood's backwash. I daresay the force of it had overwhelmed them, too. The lower dam gave way almost languidly, packed earth dissolving into a swirl of muddy water. The surging river forked, half of it returning to its proper course, the rest continuing to flow into Lucca, although its force had lessened. It would take some time before Valpetra was able to get his army sorted out and ford the river, let alone take advantage of the breached wall, through which half a river still flowed. I said as much to Eamonn.
"He never meant to." Eamonn nodded toward the south. "Valpetra expected us to fling open the gate and wash out into the arms of the cavalry in a great, half-drowned tide of surrender. He reckoned he'd keep his infantry safe and dry on the far side of the river." He grinned. "Buys us some time, anyway!"
I peered over the edge of the roof. "We're going to need it."
It looked so strange to see the city half-submerged, all its buildings rising out of the water. I hoped the Bastard was all right. We'd determined the highest point on the Tadeii grounds, but it was a fairly shallow rise.
Something was happening in the bell-tower, though it was hard to make out what. I sat down and straddled a rain-spout, dangling my legs over the edge. It felt good to lay my buckler aside. I studied the tower.
Water lapped at the step on which the flamen dialis stood. He held his hands extended over the rising water, his white sleeves trailing. The faint sound of chanting reached us, too faint to make out any words. From time to time, one of the other priests would hand him an object; a smoking incensor, a pitcher of wine, a dish of grain. The flamen dialis poured libations and offerings into the water above the mundus
manes and the chanting continued, punctuated by the occasional clash of a bronze cymbal. Gallus Tadius stood beside him, still as a statue.
It went on for a very long time.
The water continued to rise. Trapped within the city walls, it had nowhere to go.
The men began to mutter. I kept silent, but I didn't blame them. Despite my bold words, I was filled with doubt. It had been a lot easier to believe before the flood hit. Why had we taken Gallus Tadius at his word? Why hadn't we questioned him? When all was said and done, it was a piece of madness. We'd