"Well-" Brocando began.

"Don't," said Bane. He slapped his hand on the table. "They're out there," he said, "and down there. I know it. Just waiting. After Fray strikes, they'll attack. That's how it'll happen. That's how they do it, if they can't worm their way in from inside."

Snibril had been listening to this. When he finally spoke, he felt as though he was reading words off a page. These were the words he had to say now.

"I can help," he said. They all looked at him.

"I can sense when Fray is coming," he said. "I'm not as good at it as the mouls, but I'm better than most animals."

"It's true," said Sergeant Careus. "I've seen him do it."

"Well, that'll be a help," said Bane.

"No, you don't understand," said Snibril. "What do the mouls do before Fray strikes?"

"How should I know," said Bane. "Lie down and put their hands over their eyes, if they're sensible. And then attack immediately."

He seemed to think about this.

"When they expect to find a crushed enemy," he said.

Snibril nodded.

Pismire said, "It might work, you know. Forewarned is forearmed."

There was silence. And then Brocando said, "Four armed? Does that mean we can hold twice as many swords?"

CHAPTER 20

They won.

And that was more or less all that the history books said, later, after New Ware was built out of the rubble of the city. They were more concerned with the election of Bane as President, since he was considered to be honest and brave and without any imagination. The Dumii distrusted imagination-they said it made people unreliable.

The people who wrote the history books weren't there. They didn't know how it happened.

And all the other ways it could have gone.

First, there was the question of weapons. Mealy took charge of that. Spears, for example. You tied a kitchen knife on the end of a stick and you couldn't tell the difference. Especially if it got stuck in you. And a handful of nails in a piece of hair made the kind of club that wasn't exclusive at all-you could hit anyone with it. The sergeants lined up every able-bodied man and boy in the city and gave them simple demonstrations.

Glurk spent a lot of time helping them. Mealy said he was one of nature's sergeants, whatever that meant.

Brocando was put in charge of guarding the women and children. Snibril thought he grinned too much when he agreed to this. And Bane was everywhere, giving orders. Making plans. Supervising the special work that was hurriedly being carried on just outside the walls.

Pismire and Owlglass played a game. It consisted of moving little models of warriors around on a board made of squares. Pismire said he played because it concentrated the mind, and also because Owlglass bet heavily and wasn't very good.

Snibril felt at a loose end.

Eventually he found Bane, who was leaning on the battlements over one of the main gates, looking out at the hairs. There were always guards here, with a bugle to warn the city in case of attack.

"Can't see anything," said Snibril. "We've sent patrols out. They didn't find anything."

"I wasn't looking for mouls," said Bane.

"What were you looking for, then?"

"Hmm? Oh. No-one," said Bane.

"A figure in white," said Snibril. "I've seen her, too."

"She has to watch, to make things happen ... " Bane seemed to pull himself together. "I don't like this," he said, briskly. "It's too quiet."

"Better than too noisy," said Snibril.

"How's your head?"

"Can't feel anything," said Snibril.

"Sure?"

"Feels fine."

"Oh."

Bane looked out at the special defences. Everyone who could be spared had worked on them, digging trenches in the dust and piling it up as a low wall. From the hairs, no-one could see anything.

"That's all Ware was, once," he said. "Just a ditch and a wall. And enemies all around."

"Glurk thinks the mouls have all gone. They must have heard us. Why do they attack us anyway?"

"Everyone's got to do something," said Bane, still gloomy.

"Look," said Snibril. "Everyone's ready. About as ready as they can be, anyway. We've blocked all the holes! What's going to happen next? You've got the Emperor in prison! What's going to happen afterwards?"

"Do you think there's going to be an afterwards?" said Bane.

"There's always an afterwards," said Snibril. "Glurk said that's what Culaina told you. The point is to get the afterwards you want."

He scratched his head. There was an itch behind his ear.

"There's a limit to how long we can stay ready, anyway," said Bane.

Snibril rubbed his ear again.

"Bane-!"

"If we're ready at all. I thought from what you said that the wights might help, but they just ran off-"

"Bane-!

Bane turned.

"Are you all right?"

Snibril felt that his ears were being pressed into the middle of his head.

"Fray?" said Bane.

Snibril nodded, and even that hurt.

"How long have we got?"

Snibril held out a hand, all fingers extended. Bane strode along the top of the wall to the nearest guard and picked up the bugle. Dust billowed out when he blew it.

It's a funny thing. When there's a warning signal, when people have known for ever that there's a warning signal, and that warning signal is sounded for the very first time ... people don't react properly. They wander out blearily saying things like "Someone's mucking about with the warning signal, aren't they?" and "Who's blowing the warning signal? That's for warnings, that is."

Which is what happened now. Bane looked down at the streets filled with bewildered people, and groaned.

"It's starting!" he shouted. "Now!"

A Dumii raised a hand uncertainly.

"Is this another practice?" he said. There had been a lot of practices in the last few days.

"No!"

"Oh. Right."

A moment later the air was filled with shouted orders.

Snibril sank to his knees as Ware emptied itself around him.

" ... squad three! Main square! Keep away from buildings! ... "

" ... bandages, bandages, who's got the bandages? ... "

" ... remember, they can come up from underneath! ... "

All Snibril wanted to do was crawl into a hole and pull it in after him. His head felt flat.

" ... OK, line up the pones! ... "

He could get away, anyway. Staggering, ignored by everyone else, he almost fell down the ladder from the battlements and groped his way towards the rail where he had tethered Roland. He pulled himself on to the horse's back and joined the flow of people leaving Ware.

Then the animals started to feel the effects of Fray. The pones, which were already outside the gate, started to trumpet. Horses neighed, and several bolted towards the hairs outside the city walls. Dogs and cats ran between the feet of the people.

They want to get away, Snibril thought dully.

The houses began to tremble, very gently.

Then, with no sound yet, the hairs that arched over the city began to bend.

Then came the creaking-long and drawn out, as thousands of hairs were forced downwards by the tremendous weight.

It's right overhead, Snibril thought.

The people leaving Ware didn't need any more encouragement. The hairs over the city were getting closer, groaning and creaking as the weight pushed them down.

We'll never do it all in time ...

Roland cantered through the arch of the gateway.

The walls collapsed. The ground moved like the skin of an animal, smashing the houses. Ware began to fall in on itself.

Snibril's ears popped. The relief almost made him want to cry.

He looked back at the city. Walls were still toppling as the Carpet itself bent under Fray, but nearly everyone had got out.