were well away from the exit passage before searching us," Omnathi said, nodding behind them. "By letting us first get out of sight of the subcity exit, they were able to avoid the risk of a coordinated attack from that exit or others nearby."
Daulo thought about that. "Unless they happened to pick a spot for their search that was in view of another exit, one they knew nothing about."
"At which point such an attack would have given them the location of another exit," Omnathi said. "All warfare involves risks. The goal is to balance potential losses with potential gains."
"I see," Daulo said. Jin Moreau, he remembered from all those years ago, had also been able to think that way. So had he, once, at least to a limited degree.
Right now, though, that gift seemed to have deserted him. Probably it was the medication still flowing through his not-yet-healed body.
Maybe that was why he couldn't figure out why the Trofts hadn't plucked Haafiz from the midst of the group.
"Tell me, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi said into his thoughts. "When we leave the city, where would you recommend we go?"
Daulo felt his eyes widen with surprise. "You're asking me, Your Excellency?"
"I am," Omnathi said, and Daulo was startled by the sudden dark edge to his voice. "Our friend up there, he whom we will not name in public, may think nothing of a brisk walk to the next town down the road. He might even make it all the way to Purma before the supplies ran out. Unfortunately, for some of us that isn't a practical solution."
Belatedly, Daulo noticed the slight limp in Omnathi's step. How old was the man, anyway? Somewhere in his eighties, certainly, possibly even in his early nineties. A long, wearying trek to the next major town or minor city along the Great Arc was out of the question.
There were, of course, a number of smaller towns along the road that would be much easier to reach. But given the quiet and apparent lifelessness of the Sollas neighborhoods around them, Daulo suspected that all of those towns were already filled to capacity with earlier refugees.
"The problem is that all the towns along the main road will probably have all the newcomers they can handle," Omnathi continued, echoing Daulo's own unspoken musings. "In addition, the invaders will most likely maintain a presence there, certainly in the larger towns. I'd prefer to avoid any additional scrutiny."
"Understood," Daulo said. "I suppose that leaves only the outlying villages. But travel through the forest carries its own set of risks."
"True," Omnathi said. "Though the forests are safer than they were even ten years ago. So you think one of the forest villages would be our best hope?"
Daulo frowned. Had he said that? "They'll certainly be less crowded," he said cautiously. "Though I'm not sure how many of us a single village could take. Even this close to Sollas, most of them are pretty small."
Omnathi was silent for a few more steps. "Do you know anything about a village called Windloom?"
"Yes, I think so," Daulo said, searching his memory. "It's about thirty kilometers northwest of Sollas. Decent-sized place—maybe nine hundred residents—on the bank of the Westfork River."
"That sounds correct," Omnathi confirmed. "I gather you've visited the place?"
"A few times, but the most recent was several years ago," Daulo told him. "They support a small artists' community which makes metal and carved wood jewelry and trinkets, mostly for sale to the citizens of Sollas. At one time they bought some of the more exotic metals from our mines."
"Do you think they'd accept strangers into their midst?" Omnathi asked. "Especially city dwellers?"
"No," the doctor pushing Daulo's wheelchair said.
Daulo twisted his head around to look up at the other. "Your pardon?" Omnathi asked.
"If you're thinking of dragging us all into the forest, the answer is no," the doctor said firmly. "We have women and injured men who need the kind of medical facilities that can only be found in a town.
Daulo thought about that. "Unless they happened to pick a spot for their search that was in view of another exit, one they knew nothing about."
"At which point such an attack would have given them the location of another exit," Omnathi said. "All warfare involves risks. The goal is to balance potential losses with potential gains."
"I see," Daulo said. Jin Moreau, he remembered from all those years ago, had also been able to think that way. So had he, once, at least to a limited degree.
Right now, though, that gift seemed to have deserted him. Probably it was the medication still flowing through his not-yet-healed body.
Maybe that was why he couldn't figure out why the Trofts hadn't plucked Haafiz from the midst of the group.
"Tell me, Daulo Sammon," Omnathi said into his thoughts. "When we leave the city, where would you recommend we go?"
Daulo felt his eyes widen with surprise. "You're asking me, Your Excellency?"
"I am," Omnathi said, and Daulo was startled by the sudden dark edge to his voice. "Our friend up there, he whom we will not name in public, may think nothing of a brisk walk to the next town down the road. He might even make it all the way to Purma before the supplies ran out. Unfortunately, for some of us that isn't a practical solution."
Belatedly, Daulo noticed the slight limp in Omnathi's step. How old was the man, anyway? Somewhere in his eighties, certainly, possibly even in his early nineties. A long, wearying trek to the next major town or minor city along the Great Arc was out of the question.
There were, of course, a number of smaller towns along the road that would be much easier to reach. But given the quiet and apparent lifelessness of the Sollas neighborhoods around them, Daulo suspected that all of those towns were already filled to capacity with earlier refugees.
"The problem is that all the towns along the main road will probably have all the newcomers they can handle," Omnathi continued, echoing Daulo's own unspoken musings. "In addition, the invaders will most likely maintain a presence there, certainly in the larger towns. I'd prefer to avoid any additional scrutiny."
"Understood," Daulo said. "I suppose that leaves only the outlying villages. But travel through the forest carries its own set of risks."
"True," Omnathi said. "Though the forests are safer than they were even ten years ago. So you think one of the forest villages would be our best hope?"
Daulo frowned. Had he said that? "They'll certainly be less crowded," he said cautiously. "Though I'm not sure how many of us a single village could take. Even this close to Sollas, most of them are pretty small."
Omnathi was silent for a few more steps. "Do you know anything about a village called Windloom?"
"Yes, I think so," Daulo said, searching his memory. "It's about thirty kilometers northwest of Sollas. Decent-sized place—maybe nine hundred residents—on the bank of the Westfork River."
"That sounds correct," Omnathi confirmed. "I gather you've visited the place?"
"A few times, but the most recent was several years ago," Daulo told him. "They support a small artists' community which makes metal and carved wood jewelry and trinkets, mostly for sale to the citizens of Sollas. At one time they bought some of the more exotic metals from our mines."
"Do you think they'd accept strangers into their midst?" Omnathi asked. "Especially city dwellers?"
"No," the doctor pushing Daulo's wheelchair said.
Daulo twisted his head around to look up at the other. "Your pardon?" Omnathi asked.
"If you're thinking of dragging us all into the forest, the answer is no," the doctor said firmly. "We have women and injured men who need the kind of medical facilities that can only be found in a town.
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