Hans leaned on the parapet with his one hand, counting the approaching column by its banners.
"Eleven hundred... plus as many again who won't make it to the wall," he said, spitting over the parapet.
"Sir, that's more men than the Sixth has farmers," Jonas whispered, gripping his spear with both fists.
"Count banners, lad, not men, the banners tell you who gives the orders."
"Pass the word down the wall, arrows stay in the quivers, mouths stay shut, nobody leaves a post," Hans told the runner at his elbow.
The freckled runner saluted with her whole arm and sprinted down the line, scattering the message like seed.
Below the Winter Gate the Frozen Basin spread out white and flat, a bowl of ice a mile wide. Across it crawled Dreth's column slowly, a long black snake with sparks glittering along every inch of its spine.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs as Hajin reached the rampart with Juna at his heels.
"Tell me what I'm looking at, Hans," he said, still catching his breath.
