"And the gliders?" Ward asked. "Are they returned? We have no information but the tales of two natives."
Tahn glanced at a water trickling, time-measuring device hanging from the overhead.
"Soon the gliders return, but...." He shrugged, somehow.
"And those are not rafts," Ward went on. "The natives said three, two and single gun rows. That means first and second-liners, frigates and probably corvettes. And they said 'many,' which means anywhere from fifty to two hundred."
Tahn coughed his agreement.
"But with Grimnal stupidity," he said, "they can do no more than run around in terror as we shell the city and fire their ships. We have this won."
Ward looked down at his bands, caught a deep breath, and continued.
"I have said before. We are not fighting just the Grimnal. We are fighting God Helpers too. Men like myself have come to help the Grimnal." He caught Tahn's flickering glance and added quickly, "Men who are probably better fighters than I am."
Tahn coughed and leaned his head sideways, fairly equivalent to a casual 'so what?'
"False Gods. False Helpers," he said.