Mogaba received the news about the South Gate in grim, expressionless silence. He asked no questions, just looked to the west to see how much daylight he had left. He turned to Aridatha and Ghopal. The latter nodded slightly.
Once a messenger had departed, the Great General asked, “Are they continuing their attack on the waterfront?”
Aridatha responded. “At last report they were stepping it up.”
“Send another company. Their main force will head straight here. With all their sorcery supporting it. A counterattack down there should have an excellent chance of succeeding.”
“And what should I do about the invaders?” Aridatha asked.
“We’ve had that set for months. Just follow the plan. Let it unfold.”
Aridatha nodded, plainly wishing there was some way to reduce the bloodshed. He was less pessimistic about the outcome of this conflict than was the Great General. But he feared the price would be so crippling that victory would be the greater evil for the city as a whole.
Mogaba told him, “I want you to return to your own headquarters now. Continue to direct your troops from there.”
“But . . . ”
“If this goes badly and you’re here with me when they come you’ll have to pay a crueler price than necessary. Do as I say. Ghopal, you take over here. No one goes into the Palace. No one comes out. If the enemy gets this far make sure they know about the Khadidas and the Daughter of Night. I expect you to stay out of the way yourself. The best people to get the information to are the two wearing the fiery armor. Widowmaker and Lifetaker. They’ll listen to you. They’re the girl’s natural parents. Aridatha, why are you still standing there? You have your instructions.”
Ghopal asked, “What’ll you be doing?”
“Readying a pair of counterattacks that’ll make these strange foreign soldiers wish that they’d never left the land where they were born.” The Great General projected immense confidence.
He did not feel a bit of it inside.
Nevertheless, his stride was that of an arrogant conquerer as he walked away from the Palace, a gaggle of messengers and functionaries scurrying behind him. He spun off orders as he went.
Mogaba spotted the white crow watching from a cornice stone. He beckoned. “Come down here.” He patted his shoulder.
The bird did as it was bid, startling Mogaba’s entourage.
The Great General asked, “Are you who I think you are?”