They send a small package of food up to Sunil in the balloon. He hauls up the string and cheers.
Darlana puts a wax record on a hand crank phonograph. Scratchy fast tempo music comes out.
"I thought some music would cheer us," she smiles at Pratima.
There is a large horn outside the cabinet. The tone arm with the reproducer sits in the grooves on the spinning disc.
"This player has a soft tone needle," she informs Pratima. "The record and needle both last longer." The sound output is not very loud, but Pratima does feel better.
"I never expected my first job with the libraries to get me killed," Pratima says.
"Are you willing to die for your job?" Darlana asks her.
"Yes." Pratima answers with surprise in her voice. "I suppose I am. But I expected it to mean something important, if I died." Darlana looks at her with puzzlement.
"I mean," Pratima pauses to think about her words. "I am completely willing to die in service to the libraries. It is something I have thought about. But, I imagined my death would be directly in defense of books. Not, defending a bridge." she finishes, and Darlana laughs.
"Our destiny is a funny thing," Darlana says.
"Talk about irony!" Pratima exclaims. "Here we are, a small group of people with no military training, planning to make a last stand." Pratima looks towards the forest and pauses. "It is strange how events have led us to this place."
Darlana hears the thud of a small rock. "What does it say."
"About 20 men come," Pratima answers.
"That's not too bad," Darlana relaxes.
"Swords and spears," Pratima continues.
"We better get ready," Darlana cries.
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