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The waiting began. Anen appointed Gholi commander in the castle, with Bubov under him; Benix commander of the surface defenders of the castle; and an older troopleader named Borizz and himself to lead the two attacks from the foothills. Since soldiers on both sides would be wearing white survival suits, Anen ordered reversible collars made for his men so they could reverse the collars to Kurharay purple in close fighting and distinguish friend from foe. House Bubov promised more troops if the weather cleared enough to fly transports in. Only the few soldiers chosen to be part of the secret force knew about the attack on Moaekod's rear from the foothills.
The first little thaw of Erozai, the Day of the New Year, came and went, uncelebrated. All the New Year meant this year was descent weather for the engineers to construct shelters in the hills. On 6 Erozai, Borizz, Anen and their troops set off for their shelters. Borizz went east to a shelter built among the protective rocks near the village of Tzinn. Anen, Stanis, and Yen Churkin took Benix's troop to the shelter below Durov Peak, north of the castle, at the foot of the high pass. Each man in each troop carried a pack with two weeks' supplies of thermo-fuel and dried food, plus a nightbag. Benix also carried the troop's medpak.
They reached their shelter in half a day, near evening. The shelter had been built of pinkpine logs and camouflaged with branches the engineers had trimmed off. Snow on the roof glistened in the sunlight and the shelter's eaves dripped quietly. Anen hoped that when Moaekod's pilots flew over, none of them would notice the newly-cut branches. The men filed into the shelter and dropped their packs on the floor. Anen set an observer on the tall boulder flanking the building. Benix appointed two cooks, who began preparing an early nightmeal.
During the first night, a storm came howling down the pass. The pinkpines roared like a waterfall as the wind whipped their tops from side to side as if they were blades of grass. Icy air seeped through the cracks between the shelter's wall logs. The night guard set up six extra thermoes to keep the room temperature above the fatal mark. Anen did not sleep, only partly from the cold, for now he was out and away from the castle, his plan seemed thin and weak and without a chance of succeeding. He imagined their shelter discovered immediately, attacked, and overwhelmed by superior numbers. He pictured his men, Stanis and Benix especially, dying in a hopeless fight.
He was up as soon as the wind stopped screaming around the building and was outside at first light. In the cold, trees were popping with sharp, crackling sounds. Huge snowflakes floated through the air, powdering the trees, blurring the view of the manor grounds, settling into and filling up the tracks the troop of men had made. Anen felt a little of his tension ease. They could not now be tracked, and the big snowflakes told him the upper air was warmer; there would be another thaw along soon. Other men came out, too, to see what, if anything, was happening. Some of them swore at the cold.
"Lord Anen! A fighter, coming low. There. To the west!"
Anen stopped at the foot of the observation rock and looked. The soldier who shouted had been on his way to the lookout post on top of the rock. He silently handed Anen the observer's distance glass. The craft was definitely a fighter, marked with the crimson-and-gold Masxad checks. Everyone except the observer ducked into the shelter, out of sight. The observer flattened himself against the boulder until the fighter could no longer see him, then climbed up the rock.
"I thought they'd be early," Churkin remarked sourly from his place in the doorway.
Anen stepped past him and watched through the glass. "Transports and fighters from Moaekod and Zizranski have landed on the plain south and west of the manor grounds," he reported. "They're unloading about nine Millenniums. They must have risked flying above the storm," he added conversationally to the men in the shelter, "just to escape being seen by any of the Holdings they passed over. Gaito must be sure no one's going to live to report this second violation to Congress. Those transports also mean he's had our coms jammed---no, look!" He pointed across the plain to one of the Moaekod com dishes. A sole man in Moaekod silver ducked under the rim of the dish and out again, then the rest of a troop attacked the dish with pipes and zapper butts until it hung shattered and useless. "He's had the wires cut, then his men disable the dish, just in case we send anyone up to try to fix the wires." Anen made no attempt to hide his rage. "By my Sire's Blood! I'll wager the castle had no time to send a protest. Maybe nobody yet knows how the siege is set." Anen swore feelingly, then turned to his men. "Moaekod seems to be assuming no one in the castle will live to inform on him. Some of us must survive to tell Congress what happened here, no matter what happens to the rest of us. Stanis," he called, "come out here a minute, will you, bring two nightbags for our watcher. That rock's got to be cold."
Stanis came, ducking his head to avoid hitting the lintel. He backed far enough from the shelter that he could see the man lying on the rock and then throw two nightbags up to him. The soldier immediately unrolled one and lay down on it.
Anen climbed partway up and handed the soldier the distance glass. "Put the other bag on top of you. Insulation." Anen then Stanis to a spot in the lee of a clump of pinkpines. He put an arm across Stanis's shoulders, as if they were talking merely about friendship matters, and spoke very quietly. "Moaekod's three days early, with about nine Millenniums. I think Gaito plans to batter his way in and take the manor before anyone off-Holding learns what's happening. What do you think?"
Stanis looked down upon his boots, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. "Sounds likely. They can't mean to feed that many men for long and, from what you say about Erozai, he can't count on being able to fly food in."
Anen sensed his friend was giving him support but no advice. He was the Kererr, the decision had to be his, and he did not want it. The weight of his inexperience pressed upon him. Below on the plain, the besiegers were setting up barracks-domes in a circle around the castle.
"Maybe they plan to forage." Stanis's mouth twisted to one side. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Svarog only knows what they could find in this godforsaken cold." Stanis beat his hands against his arms. "Even your thermal mittens don't keep my hands warm enough. How do you expect your men to fire their weapons in mittens?"
"They have liner mittens warm enough for a few minutes in the cold. The outside mitten hangs by a clip while the man is firing. There may be frostbite, but no frozen fingers. I hope. Sentinels! Why do I have to make such decisions!"
"Because you're the Kererr," Stanis answered simply. "It's too late to change that."
"It was too late the day I was born." Anen's tone was bitter and hopeless.
Stanis put a hand on Anen's shoulder. "Let's go back to the shelter and get warm, brother."
Anen paced slowly back towards the shelter, head down, face thoughtful. He stopped several meters away from the shelter door. "Benix won't know right away what's happening out there, and we have no way to Churkintell him. That means we have one or two days more to watch the enemy and do nothing. And that could be an advantage--or a disaster if we have a bad storm."
Stanis squeezed Anen's shoulder. "You're thinking well. Just believe in yourself."
Anen looked up. "How can I believe in myself when no one else does?" The question came out rough and hard-edged.
Stanis looked thoughtful. "Because you're right most of the time and eventually everyone on Mirl'da V will know it." He shoved his hands into his armpits to warm them and looked out across the plain.
Anen started at his friend's broad back. There was truth in him. Anen Kurharay could not go back to being like the Puredorv had always been. He would try new ways when they were better than traditional ways and when he knew the new ways, even on his tradition-bound planet, could work if only they were given the chance. Anen's determination firmed. It would be better to be dead than to be one with the cruel, arbitrary rulers who had always controlled the Ten Families.
The night was calm and next morning the observer reported the enemy was making feints at the escape entrances. The observer also reported a few motionless bodies beside several of the domes.
"Some soldiers got up in the night and your Elites got them," Churkin commented, with some satisfaction.
"So Benix now knows," Anen said, more to himself than anyone else. He turned to the observer just leaving the shelter for duty. "Keep your eyes peeled for a rush from the main stairwell. That's our signal to start back down." He turned to the rest of the men. "Gaito's friends are going to think they can beat that rush back and Benix will let them do it. We're to be at the perimeter of Moaekod's camp just after dark the same night. We have to drive our enemies back to their fliers that night and early morning, with help from our allies, God willing. Benix planned to wait until Bubov, at least, arrived, but nobody expected the siege to be set early. Benix can judge what's happening down there better than we can. If his Elites say 'go,' we'll all go."
A young soldier touched Anen's arm. The boy licked his lips. "I've---I've never killed anyone before, lord."
Anen smiled at him crookedly, reassuringly. "Neither have I, soldier, but Gaito Moaekod has promised to destroy my House to the last stone and has brought his friends to help him do it. We're here to stop them." Anen put a hand on the youngster's shoulder. "How old are you?"
"Sixt---fifteen winters, lord." He rushed on, afraid now he had told the truth. "We needed the money, milord. My mother's a shrubber and there are five of us..."
Anen looked at the boy, wondering if he, himself, was ever that young. Two years' difference in their ages and it felt like it was twenty. "I'm assigning you to guard the shelter when we go down to the castle. We might have to fall back here, and I want the supplies protected. Understand?"
"Y-yes, milord."
Anen watched relief flood the young soldier's face and envied him. There's no way I can avoid the fighting, he reminded himself. I have to be out in front and I don't want to die, either way.
Anen went to a rock beside the shelter dome and sat down. He looked towards the castle. A stiff wind blew from the mountains. Anen heard the inside proudly asking Churkin for a double ration of zapper bolts to protect the shelter.
Does he know what those do to a man? Anen twitched his shoulders, remember. I don't know whether I can ever use one again. He brought his mind back to the plain below him. Where, oh, where is House Bubov? You'd think they'd come a day early to set up.
The skies stayed clear all day and the temperature dropped. No friendly fliers appeared. Anen sat on the observation rock and stared out over the plains.
"Why don't they come?"
The soldier lying beside him on the rock put down the distance glass and looked up. "Storms usually come out of the west, lord. Probably Bubov's Holding is in one now. Temperature's been dropping."
Anen curled the icy tips of his fingers against his palms to warm them. "No one expected Moaekod to attack before the legal time. Though after the last few months' experience, we should have," he added bitterly.
Anen slid off the boulder and returned to the shelter. Troopers sprawled on the floor and leaned against the walls. Someone had carved several pairs of dice from wood scraps left within the shelter and two groups of men with dice crouched in circles, playing. Stanis, a spectator at the edge of one of those circles, looked up questioningly.
"No sign of them," Anen answered. "I only hope the Gild satellites have been taking pix of this."
"How much longer?"
"I can't believe anything less than impossible flying weather would've kept Kosh from coming today. Benix won't make his charge until he knows Bubov is in the air. At least that was the plan before the com lines were cut. Who knows what he'll do now."
That night the wind rose. It sighed and whistled around the eaves and corners of the shelter. With morning came snow, hard ice pellets that clicked against the shelter's log walls and rattled on the ice crust covering the snow already on the ground. When the storm finally howled itself out three days later, an observer went to the rock again. He was back in less than 1 hour. He saluted Anen and reported, "There's such a layer of ice on the rock that I can't climb it, lord. I did climb the ridge behind us until I could see over the trees, but that's all I could see. There's an ice fog below."
Anen's lips tightened into a thin, straight line, but he said nothing for a time. Finally, he allowed himself a little sigh. "May as well sit down, soldier, we're not going anywhere until House Bubov does."
They waited, through fog, rain, sleet, high winds, and more rain, rain often accompanied by midday thaws that glazed and reglazed the fallen snow. On the 5th day of waiting, Anen ordered everyone onto half-rations. To the first man who grumbled, Churkin snarled, "You going to walk through Masxad's Millenniums to get more?"
"We get two weeks' rations out of one week's supply," Anen explained. "We'll need it if this kind of weather keeps up."
Inside of himself, Anen no longer felt confident even two weeks would see them back inside the castle. His plan for a surprise attack now seemed hasty and naive, his goal of driving his enemies back to their fliers, hopeless. He watched the food and fuel stores shrink and resolved that if no help arrived by 26 Erozai, he would try sneaking his men through the Moaekod lines and somehow get them inside the manor barricades.
24 Erozai dawned clear and cold. The sun appeared for the first time in 12 days and many of the troopers went outside to slither on the ice and enjoy the sunlight. An observer lay on the rock again. The pinkpines' pointed tops drooped with the weight of the ice and snow on them, and several times Anen heard trees crashing down in the forest, broken by the weight they carried. He checked over the food again---six- or seven-days' full rations left---and had the men check their packs to be sure all the emergency supplies and the ammunition were inside. The checking and double-checking finished in late afternoon. It was routine by now, this checking of packs every two days. There'd even been some mention from the back of the shelter, about old women and their constant worrying. The remark had been worth a chuckle.
Anen stepped outside the shelter to watch Stanis demonstrating the first moves of elementary Getha wrestling. Moves that looked graceful on Getha mats looked awkward demonstrated in a survival suit on packed snow. Others of the men crouched in the snow whittling or eating, or just enjoying sunshine. Anen noticed as he walked towards the demonstration that the snow no longer crunched under his feet. It compressed with a faint squishing sound. And melt was beginning to driop from the shelter roof.
"There they go!" the observer shouted.
Heads flew up from whatever had been occupying them.
"Silence!" Churkin ordered. "The echo!"
"Sorry, Lord Anen." The observer did not look very sorry; he looked jubilant now that the waiting was over. "Benix's men rushed a troop on patrol. They're being beaten back now, milord, just like you said."
Movement outside the shelter had stopped at the observer's shout. Now it began again. Men ran to the shelter for their packs. Others picked up whittling sticks, food wrappers, and other evidence of human passing. Anen stuck his head in the shelter door. "Up, everyone. We're on the road."
The men inside cheered. They flung on their packs and lined up in rows on the snow in front of the shelter. Churkin counted to be sure nobody had wandered off into the woods briefly, then twenty-five men, their troopleader, Anen and Stanis were slipping from tree to tree down the soggy slope. By the time they reached the edge of the plain, the sun had gone down. Fluffy snowflakes powdered the men's hair and eyebrows and laid a slippery layer over snow turning again to ice. Churkin directed soldiers to set up the thermoes behind the trees where their small glow wouldn't be seen. The troop settled down around the warmth to wait for lull dark.
"Flip your collars blue side out once the fighting starts," Anen ordered. "It'll keep your friends down there from killing you. We've got surprise on our side---no one on Mirl'da V has ever done this before---we have excellent castle defenses, and we have an experienced ground commander in Millen Benix. We'll break into Benix's zone tonight and from then even I follow his orders. Gaito Moaekod is brash and clever, but he has no more experience than I have in leading an army. We'll drive Moaekod off. We must!"
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