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Without human flesh we will starve."
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"Then we must find another way, for before the humans, did not our fathers eat
the food they themselves created? Make terms. In exchange for the peace, they
will show us how to stop the pox racing before us.
"I do not say we shall be defenseless. We shall continue our ride about the
world, take our tribute, but no longer in human flesh, and then learn from
these creatures their secrets. In that is our only hope of final salvation."
Wearily, Qubata looked about the assembly.
"For surely if our fathers once walked the stars, perhaps someday we can learn
from these humans how again to make machines, and thus return to what was our
true heritage before we fell.
"For what are we now but a race that has slipped into decadence, slaves to the
very race we thought we had enslaved?"
Sad-eyed Qubata looked back to his old friend, who, rising, fixed him with his
gaze.
"I know this is where we have come to a path that parts, my friend,"
Qubata said evenly, and then looked back at the assembly.
"My words are my own, and not of my Qar Qarth."
"The cattle must be destroyed," Muzta said evenly, looking past Qubata.
"My friend is an old one who has led us well. But if we leave these
Yankees to live, surely when we return they will be too strong to destroy.
They must die now."
"Even though we shall starve if we stay," Qubata replied, "for if we advance,
the pestilence will still be before us. The Yankees hold the key to that. They
can show us how to stop it."
"They must all die and be thrown into the pits," Muzta said sharply. "We will
attack until they are dead. You have tried to spare the lives of our warriors
with this siege," Muzta continued. "For that you have done well, but each day
now we grow weaker. Snow is already in the air. There are half a million
undiseased cattle in that city, and I will have them!"
Nodding sadly, Qubata reached to his waist and unbuckled his sword belt,
letting the weapon drop to the ground, and then looked back at the assembly.
"My words were my own," the old warrior said sadly. "My Qar Qarth needs one to
lead who has the flame of youth in his blood. I retire now to contemplate my
final days."
The assembly was silent as Qubata strode from the tent, his head held high.
Many of the older clan leaders and warriors lowered their heads in respect as
he passed, but among most gathered at the meeting there was an air of
excitement and expectation.
Muzta watched his old friend leave and silently cursed. Something in his heart
told him that perhaps there was truth in his words, but to change course now
was to roar at the wind and expect it to turn away. His own position was far
too precarious now, for the bloody losses in the first attacks and the
tediousness of the siege were making tempers short. He could fall as well if
the situation was not soon changed. For weeks he had tried to argue that point
with Qubata, who grew more and more distant. When the clan leaders had called
for this meeting he knew that there would be this final parting of ways.
Muzta looked about the assembly, which waited expectantly.
Finally his gaze rested on Tula, and he nodded. The clan leader stepped
forward and eagerly swept up the sword, to the roars of approval of the
gathering. Muzta looked at his rival without expression. At least now if there
was a failure the blame could be shifted. If there was victory, he, Muzta,
could still take credit.
"It is time for feasting," Muzta announced, and growling with delight the
assembly streamed out of the tent. Two clean ones had been selected for
tonight. They were of prime breeding stock, young and full-fleshed, a meal
that would divert his quarrelsome nobles for at least a little while.
Tomorrow they could plan, and with good fortune this war would be finished
soon, no matter what the loss, which of course would be Tula's responsibility
as well.
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"It doesn't look good, does it," Andrew asked quietly, still sweeping the
enemy position with his field glasses.
"There's something big brewing out there," Hans replied. "All day long there's
been riding back and forth. Petracci reports that they've pulled back a lot of
them wheeled tents with their women and children there's not a single warrior
now in the upper camps.
"Down!"
The two ducked as a heavy bolt skidded off the roof of their shelter and went
careening behind the lines.
"Couriers seem to be doing a lot of galloping up and down the line,"
Hans continued, cautiously peering back over the rampart.
"I was hoping they'd just continue this damn siege."
"Even though we'll get starved out before spring?"
"Postponing the inevitable, but still postponing," Andrew said quietly.
"God knows if they attack it'll cost them."
"Apparently they've changed their minds."
"When do you think they'll hit?" Andrew asked.
"Too late today. First light tomorrow."
"If I were they, I'd push it along the entire line, all six miles of it. We'd
have to crack somewhere sooner or later."
Hans merely nodded in agreement.
"All right, then," Andrew said, his voice slow and deliberate. "All units to
stand to, two hours before dawn. We'll follow the plan as written.
Houston along with the 35th and a battalion of artillery in reserve. The other
three divisions on the outside wall, headquarters linked to each division by
telegraph. If they force a breech, we'll fight to contain it, but if it starts
to spread, we pull everything back to the inner wall."
Andrew looked over at Kal and Casmar.
"I want all noncombatants evacuated from the outer circle starting at dark."
"We'll lose nearly half of all quarters," Kal said softly. "The city will be
packed to overflowing."
"We knew that all along," Andrew said sadly. "They've got to stay out of the
way of the troops, and they've got to stay calm no matter what. Your holiness,
I hope you've got one powerful set of prayers to offer?"
Casmar forced a smile in reply.
"If it is the will of Perm, it is His will," the prelate said evenly.
Without trying to wake her, Hawthorne leaned over and gently kissed
Tanya on the cheek. She stirred ever so slightly and then curled back up.
Stepping to the cradle, he looked down lovingly at Andrea, straightened her
blanket, and then left the room.
Is this what I fight for? Hawthorne thought quietly. Is this what it finally
all comes down to in the end? Could I ever stand by and watch my family
disappear into the pits and not fight?
Reaching over to the corner, he took his sword and buckled it on.
Or is there more to it now? his other voice whispered. Have I become like the
wild beast after all and tasted blood? It was becoming all so easy now, all so
easy with the thrill, the cold-blooded thrill of facing death and dealing back
to it.
Could he ever forget the moment when he had formed the square, the terrified
men looking to him and taking something from him? Taking that something and
turning, fighting back. He had never felt so alive as at that moment, every
nerve tingling, exalting in life and the power it could give.
He tried to still the voice, but it would not go back to sleep as he wished it
would, for even now that feeling was stirring again.
Opening the door, he stepped out into the night and returned Dimitri's salute.
"Your regiment is formed and ready, sir," Dimitri said, smiling broadly.
He loves this as well, Hawthorne thought to himself.
"All right, major, now all we have to do is wait."
"I wish you'd go back into the inner city," Andrew said, a slight note of
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pleading in his voice.
Brushing the hair from her eyes, Kathleen looked up at Andrew and smiled.
"You know I can't do that," she said softly. "My place is here at the forward
hospital. Don't worry if anything happens I'll have plenty of time to get
inside."
Both knew the lie in what she said, but neither could admit it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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