RESAINA FALLEN TO THE YEZDA?” GAIUS PHILIPPUS WAS SAYING to Viridovix, astonishment in his voice. “Where did you hear that?” “One o’ the sailor lads it was told me, last night over knucklebones. Aye, it’s certain sure, he says. What with their moving around so much and all, those sailors get the news or ever anyone else does.” “Yes, and it’s always bad,” Marcus said, spooning up a mouthful of his morning porridge. “Kybistra in the far south gone a couple of weeks ago, and now this.” Resaina’s loss was a heavier blow. The town was perhaps two days’ march south of the Bay of Rhyax, well east of Amorion. If it had truly fallen, the Yezda were getting past the roadblock the latter city represented, in Zemarkhos’ fanatic hands though it was. And while the westlands were falling town by town to the invaders, the siege of Videssos dragged on. There were men beginning to slip over the wall at night now, and others escaping in small boats. They brought tales of tightened belts inside the city, of increasingly harsh and capricious rule.
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