Kragen knows the curtain wall cannot hold, but he is still hesitant to attack. For one thing, the lady Elega’s attempt to poison the people had failed; also, there is the matter of King Joyce’s threat: King Joyce intends to unleash the full force of the Congery against you and rout you from the Earth! Kragen knows that if the Congery attacks his army, they could destroy it.
The lady Elega came to his side while the most powerful of the catapults was being loaded. His mind was preoccupied; but she had the capacity to get his attention at any time, and he greeted her with a smile that was warmer than his distracted words.
Kragen:“My lady, we are about to begin”
Elega:“What will happen, my lord Prince? Will the curtain-wall hold? The Castellan is a cunning old veteran. Surely he had done his best for Orison.”
Kragen:“Oh, the wall will fall. We will have it down before sunset-perhaps before noon. It was raised in winter. Let Lebbick be as cunning and experienced as you wish. He has had nothing to use for mortar. If he took all the sand of the Congery-and then butchered every Imager for blood-he would still be unable to seal those stones against us”
Elega:“And when it comes down? What then?”
Kragen:“When ths blow is struck, there will be no turning back. Alend will be at war with Mordant. And we cannot wait for thirst and fear to do our work for us. The Perdon is all that stands between us and High King Festten. We will make the breach as large as we can. Then we will fight our way in. Orison will be given every conceivable opportunity to surrender. I want no slaughter. Every man, woman, and child there will be needed against Cadwal.”
Elega:“Castellan Lebbick will never surrender. My father has never surrendered in his life.”
Kragen:“Then they must begin here.”
Kragen orders the captain to launch the catapult. It misses, and Kragen takes the mss as a bad omen.
Before he can order a second shot, a trumpet sounds from the castle. A lone man rides out to talk with Kragen. It is Master Quillon, which strikes Elega as odd, since Quillon has never been an important Imager, at least in her opinion. Kragen himself has no problem respecting Quillon, though; he is quite aware of the abilities of Imagers.
Quillon has come to warn Kragan that the catapult will be destroyed, as will any other catapult that so much as aims at Orison. Quillon says he is giving this warning because king Joyce doesn’t want him killed. Kragen is a bit miffed at the apparent arrogance, but keeps cool as they continue the verbal jousting. Kragen remarks about Quillon’s own safety being quite compromised, what with him standing here alone against the Alend army, but Quillon acts unfazed.
That gets quite a response out of Elega, Kragen’s men, and Kragen himself.“Kill me or not. But do not make the error of believing you will be permitted to enter or occupy Orison. Rather than surrender his Seat and his strength, King Joyse will allow you to be crushed between the hammer of Cadwal and the anvil of the Congery.”
The lady Elega couldn’t restrain herself. “Quillon, this is madness.” Her protest sounded at once angry and forlorn. “You are a minor Imager, a lesser member of the Congery. You admit that your life has no importance. Yet you dare thereaten the Alend Monarch and his son. How have you gained such stature, that you can claim to speak with my father’s voice?”
For the first time, Master Quillon looked at her. Suddenly, his face knotted, and an incongruous note of ferocity sharpened his tone. “My lady, I have been given my stature by the King’s command. I am mediator of the Congery.” Without moving, ho confronted her as if he had abruptly become taller. “Unlike his daughter, I have not betrayed him.”
Elega flinches as if she were struck. Quillon looks as if he is scared, but his voice sounds fearless as he says:With difficulty, Prince Kragen checked his anger. The Master’s attitude infuriated him because he understood it too well. Nevertheless he resisted the impulse to have Quillon struck down. Instead, he murmured through his teeth, “You risk moe than you realize, Master Quillon. Perhaps you do not consider death to be of great importance, but I assure you that you will attach more significance to pain”
With that, Quillon mounts his steed and returns to Orison. Elega, quite upset, asks why Kragen threatened to torture Quillon. Kragen explains:”Is that your answer to what you do not understand, my lord Prince? Torture? Or do you inflict pain for the simple pleasure of it? Be warned again, son of the Alend Monarch, you are being tested here, as surely as you were tested in Orison, at the hop-board table – and elsewhere. I do not advise you to prove unworthy.
Kragen decides to heed Quillon’s warning, and orders all but those necessary to retreat form the catapult. He also orders those manning the catapult to resume the attack. Before long, Kragen sees a small brown puff of smoke come towards the catapult. As the smoke goes over it, it drops a large stone that destroys the catapult. He asks Elega if she had ever seen that before, but she just shakes her head, dumbfounded. This makes Kragen remember just how powerful the Congery is, and how disasterous it would be to allow Cadwal to capture it.”I said more than I meant. The Imager affronted you, my lady. I do not like it when you are affronted.”
After ordering another siege engine into place, Kragen goes to talk with his father, the Alend Monarch. Upon entering Margonal’s tent, Kragen reflects upon his father’s blindness, and the well-earned lesson his father told him many times, “Loss teaches many things”. And so does fear, thinks Kragen. Yet, Kragen also notes that amongst the lessons his father learned from Joyse, the best ones were learned well. Margonal is not a Monarch who rules fairly, and his people now serve him out of love and respect, instead of fear.”My lady”-he closed his eyes just for a moment and allowed himself to be appalled-“the Congery must not fall into the hands of High King Festten”.
Kragen tells his father of the day’s activities.
Margonal listens, asks a few questions, and listens to Kragens answers. The only logical conclusion is that Joyse is mad, and must be removed from power if Mordant and Alend are to save themselves from Cadwal. And yet, Margonal’s experiences with Joyse make him afraid that Joyse has tricked him one more time, and this time Joyse will destroy Alend. And yet, Joyse never seemed intent on harming Alend in the past. It’s enough to drive Margnal crazy, and he says as much to his son.”To my mind the great mystery is that King Joyse behaves as if he had not made himself weak-as if we were nothing more than an annoyance to a sovereign in an invulnerable position. And he is able to command men such as Castellan Lebbick and Master Quillon to preserve that illusion.
“Yet we know it is an illusion. Cadwal marches against him. He has a hole in his wall, few men to defend it, and no water for them to drink. Despite his control over the Congery, the Imagers who serve his enemies are more powerful. They are able to strike him at will anywhere in Mordant or Orison, passing through flat glass as if they were immune to madness. In addition, there are Masters on the Congery who would abandon his cause if they could. Men such as Eremis may be loyal to Mordant, but they are no longer commited to their King.
“His lords will not help him. The Armigite is a coward. The Termigan values nothing but his own affairs. And the Perdon resists Cadwal, not for Kng Joyse, but for his own survival. Of the Cares, only Domne, Tor, and Fayle are truly loyal. Yet the Domne does not fight. The Tor is old, sodden with wine-and here, where he is unable to muster his people. And the Fayle cannot come to Orison’s aid because we stand in his way.
“And still King Joyse treats us as if we lack the means to harm him.”
Margonal had said the one thing that Kragen himself had been worrying about since deciding to lay siege to Orison; namely that they had come here to their doom.”He has witched me. We have come here to our doom.”
Prince Kragen stared at what his father was saying and tried not to shudder. Softly, he answered, “My Lord, say the word, and we will retreat. You are the Alend Monarch. And I trust your wisdom. We will-
“No!” Margonal’s refusal sounded more like pain than anger or protest. “No,” he repeated almost at once, in a steadier tone. “He has witched me, I say. I am certain of only one thing-I cannot make decisions where he is concerned.
“No, my son, this siege is yours. You are the Alend Contender. I have given our doom into your hands.” A moment later, he added in warning, “If you choose retreat, be very certain that you can answer for your decisions to the others who seek my Seat.”
Kragen leaves his father’s tent in time to see another brown fog rise from Orison and wreck another catapult.When his father asked “What will you do?” he chewed his lip and replied, “I do not know.”
“Choose soon. Festten will not be patient with your uncertainty.”
In response, Fkragen stiffened his spine. “Perhaps not, my ord. Nevertheless our doom will be Cadwal’s as well. Until the issue is proven, I will do my best to teach the High King better uses for his impatience.”
Slowly, the Alend Monarch relaxed until he was sprawling in his chair once again. Unexpectedly, he smiled. “Festten, I have heard, has many sons. I have only one. I am inclined to think, however, that I have bested him in the matter.”
* 
