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perfect.’
    Brendan, Martin’s younger brother and his adjutant, had hurried from the heart of the city, dodging through the press of people who were waiting nearby to hear what news the scout might bring. He was almost out of breath when he stopped and gasped out, ‘A small band from LaMut has arrived.’
    ‘Some good news,’ said Martin, looking around. The two young men looked like twins, both with long brown hair to their shoulders and slender, agile bodies. Being only one year apart, the differences between them were growing smaller with each passing month. ‘How many?’
    ‘Forty,’ said Brendan. ‘Mostly men over fifty, but they seem fit: farmers and millers, loggers and the like. Twenty or so are bowmen.’
    ‘Good, we can always use more archers on the wall. See to their quarters.’
    ‘They’ve got this old—’ He laughed as he spread his arms widely, as if describing a fish he had caught. ‘A ballista that big . . . Maybe a bit bigger, but I’ve never seen its like. Said it’s been on the top of the gate in LaMut since . . . well, since anyone can remember. Some of the retired soldiers who came south thought it would be useful.’
    Martin tried to be amused, but failed. ‘Have them bring it here.’ He glanced around and saw a small patch of earth between two buildings, perhaps once a garden in better days, and pointed at it. ‘Move the wagon there. We might need to put the ballista up on the wall.’ He scanned the entirety of the battlement above, then said, ‘But I have no idea where.’
    Ylith held a unique position in the Kingdom. It was nestled in the north-eastern corner of a near-perfect but tiny harbour. Given the city’s position, the massive harbour gates were its main entrance. Away to the south-east, there was a small beach running barely a quarter of a mile between the southern edge of the city docks and the rocks along the quickly rising headlands. From there the coastline reared upward sharply to the promontory called Questor’s View, two days’ ride on a fast horse. A small village occupied the flat top of the promontory, and a small garrison was stationed there. The Duke had stripped it of soldiers as he marched south, leaving the village protected only by its surrounding terrain. From there, no safe landing existed until one was deep within the principality, near the town of Sarth, which currently was expecting the muster from Yabon.
    Shoals and rocks hidden just below the surface, to the south-west of the harbour, provided a natural defence against any nearby landings. The shallows created a tide race, and every experienced captain gave that part of the coast a wide berth lest they be swept onto the rocks and wrecked. It was over half a day’s ride by swift horse before a safe landing south of the city could be found.
    Between the city walls and foulborough beyond was an open plaza, giving archers on the wall a field of fire. The booths and stalls that on market days and holidays traditionally stood against the wall had been removed even before Martin and the Crydee muster had arrived.
    Three roads intersected at the centre of the plaza south-west of the harbour gates: the highway to the Free Cities and Natal ran south along the bay; the road to Crydee moved away to the north-west; and a small road led east, which rapidly turned into a farmer’s track. Here lay the heart of Ylith’s commerce, the busy port that was the gateway to Yabon.
    The city of Ylith had been seized by invaders once before, when the general leading the invading army of the Emerald Queen had set himself up as King of the Bitter Sea. Only a betrayal by one of his southern commanders in exchange for consideration from the Kingdom had allowed the tyrant to be dislodged. Martin had read the history of the Emerald Queen’s invasion and knew the vital part played by this city in protecting the principality, Yabon, and the passes to the Far Coast. The Kingdom might lose Crydee and recover, or even