Safa counted the reload by the movement of a man’s elbow.
From the high shoulder, she could see only part of the far firing screen. The first bolt thrower stood beneath its iron hood. A loader bent, rose, pushed, and bent again while the weapon crew brought the arm back to its catch.
She touched Iven’s sleeve when the elbow dropped for the last time.
“Ready.”
He marked the interval beside the little drawing on his knee.
The second crew was slower. Its loader had to step around a roof post before reaching the rack. The post had been put there to strengthen the screen. It also made the man’s working route longer.
Iven looked at the gap between the two firing openings.
“They can’t both cover the north stair without moving the first mount.”
