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Lochan had seen to it that his people had
remained unarmed, fearing their uprising
should they learn the true Heir to Perranth had
been held captive in the highest tower of the
castle.
But the people of Perranth already had
enough of their puppet lord, it seemed.
And at least they had blankets and food to
spare. Wagons hauled them in hourly, along
with healers—none magically gifted—to
patch up the wounded. Those who were too
injured to fight were sent on the supply
wagons to the city, some piled atop one
another.
But a warm blanket and hot meal would not
add to their numbers. Or keep Morath at bay.
So Aedion planned, keeping his Bane
commanders close. They would make this
count. Every inch of terrain, every weapon
and soldier.