The command platform was built into the upper wall of the gate court. A copper frame held a row of marked channels, each one linked to a different gun. Captain Rul sat bound beside the stairs while two guards watched him. The artillery crew continued to move below.
Yan examined the targeting slate. The western road and the valley each had a line. A third line passed beyond the lower settlements, toward the far ridge. The array could direct several guns at once.
“If I break this?” Yan asked.
One of the fortress engineers held up a hand. “The guns may fire blind if the command line collapses while the relay is charged.”
The engineer was older, with a silver strip at his collar. He looked from Yan to the open channels. “The targeting slate is not a switch. If you tear it down, the current will travel wherever the old lines take it.”
Yan lowered his hand. “What is the cutoff?”
The man didn’t answer. He looked at Rul, then at the workers waiting by the gate. “My family is inside the fortress. If the city loses its ward, they will be exposed.”
“I’m trying to stop the artillery from firing on the roads,” Yan said. “I won’t force you to damage the wall to help me.”
