At each intersection of important streets Tennea halted and called out to the people who stared at her little cavalcade.
“People of Orzan! Arm yourselves! An ax…a club…a knife…even a pointed stick. Look to the west. The goblins will come at dawn. Block your streets! Stand and fight!” And then, at each intersection, she told a half-life lie to bolster their courage. “The Imperial cavalry is here to help you! Praise Quam and stand by Emperor Willard!”
They took the long way to the palace, passing through most of the town and swinging out to where a little fort overlooked the crumbling western gate of the city. Guttering torches revealed a rickety stockade and a gate of sticks sagging on its leather hinges.
“Who are you?” called a man from behind the gate. He was some kind of officer, with
