Free The Dark Defiles by Richard K. Morgan

squinted against the rain. “They’ve not even started lowering a boat.”
    “No.”
    “But … what would they be waiting for?” wondered Barla.
    Shanta and the Dragonbane traded glances. Shanta nodded. Egar felt a sickly weight settling in his guts.
    “Should I tell him?” wheezed the naval engineer. “Or will you?”
    The doctor blinked in the rain. “What?”
    “Encirclement,” said Egar grimly. “They’re not here to send anyone ashore, they’re here to plug up the harbor. Stop us getting out. While the rest of the flotilla lands an assault force somewhere up the coast, and they come overland to fence us in.”
    “Then—but, then …” Salbak Barla gaped back and forth at the two of them. “Well, we have to warn captain Rakan. And the marines. We have to … to …”
    “Forget it.” Egar gripped the rail in front of him, tightened his hands on it with crushing force as the anger swept through him. “Way too late now.”
    Can’t believe we’ve been this fucking stupid.
    But who would have looked for it, Eg? Here, at the damp arsehole end of the world? Why would they fucking bother?
    “What do you mean too late?” The doctor’s voice, plaintive now, like a child tugging at his sleeve. It seemed to be coming from a long way off.
    “He means,” explained Mahmal Shanta patiently, “that if they’ve chosen to show themselves in the harbor now, it’s because the land forces are already in place.”
    Egar made an effort, reeled himself back in. He scanned the rise of the town where it backed up the hill above the bay, the briefly seen winding of streets and alleys between the dark stone houses, the crappy little watchtower on the ridge to the north. All harsh and alien now, and just to really crown it, a thick fog had settled in on the upper reaches of the hill. Half the fucking town was gone into it already.
    Steep ground, hostile forces closing from all sides, and a local population we’ve just succeeded in pissing off.
    “Gentlemen,” he said flatly, “we are royally fucked.”

CHAPTER 6
    he house Tand’s men took her to was on the upper fringes of the town, just before Ornley thinned out into a scattering of isolated crofts. It was high ground, and there would have been a great view back down the slope of the bay to the harbor, if the air below hadn’t been quite so clogged with drifts of murky, low-lying cloud.
    At least we’re out of the rain.
    It was something Tand appeared to take comfort from as well. As they walked the last couple of turns in the street, he put back the hood on his cloak and nodded approvingly up at the sky. He was doing his best not to look smug.
    “Seems to be clearing,” he said.
    She tried not to sound too bad-tempered. “You really think we can trust this confession, Tand?”
    “Oh, most certainly. Nalmur’s a good man, one of my best. He knows his work.”
    Nalmur was leading the group. He glanced back at the mention of his name.
    “I’d stake my life on it, my lady. We got at least three other squealers leading us to this bloke by name, and when he talked, well—you know it when a man cracks, you can almost hear it happen. Like a rotten tree branch going, it is.”
    She masked a desire to bury one of her knives in his throat. “Right. And have you left this cracked man in any fit state to talk to us?”
    “Oh, yes, my lady. Didn’t need to rough him up much past the usual.” An opened palm, explanatory. “He’s a family man, see. Good lady wife, a pair of strapping young sons. Plenty to work with.”
    Smirks edged the expressions of the other men in the group.
    “Yes, thank you Nalmur.” Perhaps Tand saw something in her face. “You can spare us the details, I think.”
    “Just as you like, my lord. My lady. But that confession is rock solid. You could build a castle on it, sir.”
    Tand tipped her a told-you-so look. She worked at not grinding her teeth.
    They took the final turn in the street, found themselves facing a short row of