The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 6, Chapter 5

Valen

It was over.

Barleybarrel was safe. Whatever was left of the Gloamtaken was far enough away that no one could see them coming. Even Sergeant Lorec, rising up the small service elevator to the wall to see, was able to spy any more. Even the Gloam kept far from the pilot lights around the town.

It was over.

Thousands of people had already passed through Vincent's tunnel, waiting on the other side of the wall. A thousand more would pass in another few minutes. The entire town might cross through before the end of the hour. A silent migration from danger to safety, a pilgrimage through sixty feet of stone.

It was over. There was noting left, but to swallow this bitter brew called victory.

"Heard anything yet?" Gwendolyn asked from the doorway.

Valen was waiting in front of Barleybarrel's comm box, half a room of machinery to transmit and receive messages. The soldier normally posted to this office, who had stayed with the civilians in Barleybarrel to act as a last defence, was barely worthy of the specialist designation she wore. Valen had come close to throwing the poor fool out after watching her work.

"Nothing," Valen said. It had only been ten minutes or so since the original message announcing Barleybarrel's salvation had been sent.

"Lieutenant Volenski said to skip the First Stone and contact anyone you can think of directly for an answer," Gwendolyn said, with a smile that Valen didn't understand. Like the sun shining on a funeral, it seemed both entirely appropriate and insultingly out of place. "I told her the only person you'd think of would be Major Othwald back in Wanderwisp."

"He would be the man organizing the trains over here," Valen replied, as he pulled out several plugs and jammed them into different spots. "I doubt he will enjoy seeing my name again."

"Tough burning shit. The war doesn't have time for hurt feelings."

"I image Othwald would agree with you," Valen mused as he began to type.

Sgt Redgrave on behalf of Lt Volenski 1-1-1, direct for Mj Othwald 1-4. Barleybarrel evacuated. Moved south of wall through improvised tunnel. Safe. Request muster point for pickup. Under 27,000.

The response began before Valen's hand left the comm dial and picked up a charcoal stick to write with.

Mj Othwald, 1-4, direct. Muster at grain silo 3/4 miles SE of evac point. Trains inbound. Station has capacity for loading ten cars at a time. Short trip cars can hold 135 people comfortably, 160 less so. Prioritize wounded, elderly, families with small children for comfortable travel. Everyone else can get cozy. Haste is of the essence. Rangers to rejoin First Army at G-2-8.

G-2-8. G for Godichelli's Wall, and the number set was the eighth watchtower after the second causeway. Valen finished writing, ripped the message off the pad, and turned away just as the machine clicked to life again.

Further, direct to Sergeant Redgrave. Relay by direct wire, allow 45 seconds for transmission. Treat this as a sighting of a Crafter holding a shovel.

Valen's eyes were as wide as they could get. Direct wire was a comm connection that wasn't relayed by a person to check that the recipient received the message, left open and ignored for the time asked for. It was rarely done, Valen had never heard of anyone using it before. And the adage at the end, 'a Crafter holding a shovel', was army shorthand for something that should not be remembered.

As follows: Sergeant Redgrave. Please avoid hinting that Captain Dremora is anything less than well, even on a direct line. Comm discipline and City morale will suffer if anyone spreads it. Avoid making this information public until six hours after Colonel Alessandra Dremora has been informed directly. And I'll admit to having been needlessly overbearing during your disciplinary hearing.