Kiteman of Karanga

by Alfred Reynolds

  "Well," Zanzu said, "we've got to talk about our negotiations with Murthdur. It may be the hardest part of our struggle."

  "Why is that?" Karl asked. "Can't we just tell Murthdur our terms?"

  "Yes, we could," Zanzu replied, "and he might give us what we wanted. But it's just as likely that he wouldn't. Remember, Karl, we can't defeat the Hrithdon Empire. We can only make it costly for them not to deal with us. And we've accomplished that because Murthdur has asked to sit down with us. We'll gain the most for Karanga and Eftah now with skillful negotiation."

  "But I have no experience at negotiation," Karl said.

  "Athgar does," continued Zanzu, looking at everyone. "He'll do the negotiating; the rest of us will go as advisers. Karl will advise on flying, I'll advise on money, and Rika will advise whenever she notices something that the rest of us may have overlooked. We meet Murthdur at his castle in the morning. And since we don't want to go looking like beggars, I got us some new clothes for the occasion."

  Zanzu gave a shout, and two of his men appeared, one bearing a green and white silk gown embroidered with gold threads. The other carried a large suit of deep blue decorated with white velvet.

  "For Rika and Athgar," said Zanzu.

  "And what should I wear?" Karl asked, puzzled as to why he had been left out.

  "What would a Karangan chief wear if he wanted to impress a gathering?" replied Zanzu.

  "He'd wear a soft leather suit and beaded sandals. But most important, he'd arrive in a new kitewing with colors as bright as the sunrise," said Karl.

  "So I've been told," said Zanzu. He sprang atop the cabin and with several quick pulls unfurled the mainsail and out fell a kitewing in a new cover. Zanzu caught it and carried it to Karl. "Take a look."

  Carefully, Karl and Rika unwrapped the kitewing.

  Even in the lamplight they could tell that they were looking at the most brilliantly decorated, most painstakingly crafted Asti kitewing they had ever seen.

  "Zanzu, this is amazing!" Karl cried.

  "I was thinking ahead for once," Zanzu said with a pleased grin. "I knew we'd need it, so I bought it at the council meeting in Karanga. I carried it on my lizard inside an old cover all the way across the desert, and nobody noticed. They just thought it was an extra, I guess."

  "But, Zanzu," said Rika as they folded the kitewing back up and put it away, "how can Karl arrive at the negotiations in a kitewing?"

  "I've given that some thought too," said Zanzu, and with sparkling eyes and table-thumping gestures he explained how he had planned for them to meet Murthdur.

  The next morning dawned crisp and clear. A cool breeze from the north made ripples on the river as a small procession, escorted front and rear by Hrithdon guardsmen, made its way across the bridge toward Murthdur's castle. In front were Athgar, Rika, and Zanzu, followed by fifteen of Zanzu's men, clean-shaven and dressed in red, loose-fitting servant's uniforms. Beneath their uniforms they concealed an arsenal of daggers and swords, just in case Murthdur broke the truce and tried to imprison them.

  His Excellency, Murthdur, Magistrate of Ithdon, did not meet them at the entrance. Instead, as Zanzu had previously arranged, they were shown through the corridors and up the staircases and onto the roof of the castle.

  "Murthdur will be here soon," Athgar whispered to Rika. "Zanzu chose this spot for the negotiations for two reasons. We want Murthdur to remember how Karl rescued me, and to think that a force of kitemen might be able to take over his castle. And it's a high place with room enough for Karl to land comfortably. It's important to our negotiations to make an impact and to let Murthdur see Karl as a powerful adversary."

  As Rika glanced around she saw that the guardsmen were all in dress uniform and that the castle had been decked with banners and flags. Perhaps Murthdur was trying to make an impression too, she thought. Then she felt a throb of happiness when she noticed a small dot high above them.

  At last, Murthdur arrived. As always, the Magistrate wore his guardsman's uniform with the white lizard breastplate. Several high-ranking Hrithdon officers were at his side, and behind them a dozen guardsmen stood at attention.

  "Well," barked Murthdur with irritation, "where's the Karangan?"

  Just then a shadow swept across the castle roof, and Murthdur had his answer. Spiraling slowly, with perfect grace so that the whole extent of his wing could be viewed, Karl started down for a landing. In the sunlight the kitewing's vivid design of orange and yellow and pink was almost too bright to look at. On the right side of the wing was a small but clearly visible round painting of a ferocious terry holding a squirming lizard by the throat. On the other side, a similar roundel depicted an oja bean being consumed in a circle of flame. Rika glanced at Zanzu and smiled. No Asti craftsman had thought up those pictures.

  Flaring his wing, Karl touched the roof as gently as if he had descended a single step. He wore a tightly fitting suit of leather and sandals stitched with gold. As Karl and Murthdur stood staring at each other, Karl sensed the Magistrate's surprise. He knew the stunning effect a kite wing could have upon onlookers.

  "Kiteman," Murthdur said, "I should have you arrested and killed this instant."

  "And seal your own doom by doing so," retorted Karl. "If I do not return to my force of kitemen in three days, they have orders to destroy every oja field that is still unburned."

  "Don't be rash, Karangan. We Hrithdon are a mighty empire; already, shipments of oja are arriving from the west. You and your kitemen are a momentary irritant. If we choose to, we can crush you like insects."

  Before this exchange could become any more heated, Zanzu moved Karl toward the long table that had been set up at the center of the castle roof. Athgar, Karl, Rika, and Zanzu sat on one side; Murthdur and three of his aides sat on the other. Zanzu's men and an equal number of guardsmen stood behind, glaring across at one another. Murthdur did not waste time with formalities.

  "The Emperor's position is that these attacks on our oja fields in the Province of Ithdon constitute an unwarranted, outrageous revenge for minor incidents arising from our explorations in the desert. I am referring to certain skirmishes in the south of Karanga. The Emperor demands that these attacks stop at once and that all Karangans leave Hrithdon territory within the week. If these conditions are met, we are prepared to offer certain generous concessions."

  "And what concessions do you offer?" asked Athgar.

  "These," continued Murthdur. "We will allow Karanga to become part of the Hrithdon Empire by peaceful means, and we will spare the Eftians the punishment they deserve for aiding the Karangans in the attacks on our oja fields."

  "And if we do not meet your demands?" inquired Athgar.

  "If you do not accept these generous terms, a massive invasion of Karanga involving fifty thousand guardsmen will be launched immediately. Furthermore, every house, barn, and shed in the Province of Eftah will be razed while on the march to Karanga. Every sheep will be slaughtered, and every Eftian man, woman, and child will be sent into slavery." Murthdur smiled, as if he relished the idea of invading Karanga and destroying Eftah.

  Karl's spirits fell. Fifty thousand guardsmen! That meant five lizard riders for every Karangan hunter!

  "This is no bluff," Murthdur added. "Preparations are already under way." He gestured toward the grassy parade field beside his fortress where nearly a thousand mounted guardsmen had gathered for maneuvers.

  For a moment both Karl and Athgar stared in shocked disbelief. It was Zanzu who broke the spell.

  "What a wonderful spectacle!" mocked Zanzu. "I commend the Magistrate on his foresight, because if the Karangan attacks do not cease, he will surely need to send all his thousands of lizards to some safe place far away before the oja runs out."

  Zanzu winked at Athgar and Karl.

  "Now, these are our terms," Athgar said. "Peace between all parties concerned. Freedom for Eftah. No more Hrithdon attacks on Karanga. And an agreement forbidding kitewings anywhere in the Empire except as owned by Karangan
s and Eftians."

  "Ridiculous," snorted Murthdur. "A handful of barbarians and a tiny province want to be treated equally by a great empire. Be grateful for my generous offer."

  "Your terms are nothing but self-serving Hrithdon bullying!" shouted Karl, rising to his feet. "You haven't made one sincere offer." He turned to Athgar and Zanzu. "We'll stop these negotiations right now! Tonight I will resume the attack." Karl turned to leave the table.

  "Belay that!" bellowed Zanzu, jumping up and pressing Karl back into his seat. "My young friend, this is negotiation, not warfare. Now take a breather."

  Reluctantly, Karl remained in his seat, though he was so angry that he could barely control himself. Slowly his breathing returned to normal.

  "Murthdur, I've known you for twenty years," Athgar was saying. "You don't really care whether Eftah is free or is a Hrithdon province. You're really concerned about a steady supply of sheep for your lizards. What if that were taken care of?"

  "If the supply of sheep were guaranteed," replied the Magistrate, "we could talk about it."

  Then Athgar and Murthdur entered into a long discussion of sheep and shepherding. Seeing that they weren't needed for a few moments, Karl and Zanzu walked to the edge of the castle rooftop.

  "I'm sorry I blew up," Karl said.

  "Don't be too sorry," said Zanzu. "You did it at just the right moment to call Murthdur's bluff." Zanzu ran his eyes over the thousand lizard riders maneuvering beneath the castle. "Let's hope he's bluffing. If he isn't, that lizard force could mean the end of Eftah and Karanga."

  After Karl and Zanzu had returned to the table, they came to what Karl knew would be a difficult part of the negotiations—the terms between Karanga and the Hrithdon. To Karl's surprise, Murthdur quickly agreed to Karanga's remaining free and independent. He also agreed to giving Zanzu the exclusive trading franchise between the Hrithdon Empire and the Karangan tribes. But when he insisted that the Hrithdon own the entire desert, Athgar, Karl, Rika, and Zanzu could make no progress.

  "The desert rightfully belongs to Karanga," said Karl, standing up. "It doesn't even border on the Hrithdon Empire."

  "Barbarian!" shouted Murthdur, also rising. "Either the Hrithdon Empire will own the desert or there will be an invasion of Karanga. I've given up too much to you already. Take what I've offered or leave it."

  Before another word could be spoken, Zanzu jumped up and addressed Murthdur's aides. "We request a five-minute pause," he said quickly.

  The pause was granted.

  "We can't let them have the desert," whispered Karl to Athgar, Rika, and Zanzu. "If we did that, we'd never be able to fight back again if we had to.

  "Then offer him half the desert," suggested Rika, "and in exchange for that, the right for Eftah to keep a force of kitewings."

  "Karanga could live with that," said Karl, "but Murthdur will never agree to it."

  "You don't know till you ask," said Zanzu. "Let's try."

  When they returned to the negotiating table, Karl made the proposal as Rika suggested, and to his astonishment Murthdur accepted it. For a moment there was silence. Then Rika jumped up and gave Karl a hug. It was over. The months of danger and incredible striving, the daily fears and doubts, were over. Eftah was free from Hrithdon rule. Karl would be restored to his full rights as a Karangan. Karl felt as he had the first time he had flown—free, exhilarated, and a little unbelieving.

  "By the Lizard!" boomed Zanzu. "This treaty should be launched with a toast."

  Eight small glasses were brought, and Zanzu uncorked a tiny bottle. Karl didn't know what was in it, but he gladly touched his glass to the others and drank off a half inch of sweet, amber beverage.

  "I'll have the agreement transcribed tonight and send copies for all parties to sign in the morning," said Murthdur as he set his glass on the table. "Kiteman," he continued, "you've come a long way from being lost on the desert. Just don't go getting a swelled head. You Karangans can always be put down if necessary." Murthdur grasped Karl's hand and leaned closer. "If in the course of time you find yourself wanting the means to lead a civilized life, we can still do business."

  "This is all the business I'll ever do with you," said Karl.

  "Never be too sure," said Murthdur with a grin. Then, snapping his fingers at his aides, he turned and left the castle roof.

  21. Into the Sunshine

  The following week, the shepherds of Eftah looked with apprehension down the valley, in the direction of Ithdon. Flying toward them at great speed was a force of kitewings such as they had never imagined. To the skeptical shepherds, who knew well the vagaries of oppression, it could mean but one thing—Karl of Karanga had been forced to teach the Hrithdon his craft, and they were returning on kitewings. For the past few weeks, rumors had run wild in the mountain country—and then all at once the locally stationed Hrithdon had left without explanation. So now, as they watched the approaching wings, the shepherds shut their barns and herded the children inside and barred their doors.

  Gardo also closed his barn and shut his doors, but not before Rolf escaped into the yard.

  "Get back in here!" Gardo shouted. "You go meddling into Hrithdon business, and you'll get your throat cut."

  "It's Karl and Rika, Grandfather. I know it. I'm sure."

  "You know a lot less than you think, youngster. Now get in here."

  Instead of obeying, Rolf turned and ran through the village and out into the pasture. Gardo followed him, shouting at him to get back in the house. As he ran, Rolf yelled to the other villagers that it was Karl and Rika returning, but nobody believed him. With joy and expectation he watched the force circle the village, then peel off one by one and descend into the pasture to land.

  As the first brilliantly decorated kitewing touched down, Rolf knew from the slow, perfect landing that it had to be Karl. And as he watched the others come, he could tell by their expert maneuvering that these flyers were Karangans. Rolf waited until they had all landed and then ran into the field, dodging among the fierce-looking kitemen until he came to the brightly colored wing in the center.

  "Karl! Karl!" he shouted.

  "Rolf." Karl grabbed Rolf and pulled him close and pounded him on the back.

  "Rika!" Rolf cried and ran to his sister.

  Rika gave him a hug.

  "Where is everybody?" Karl asked him.

  "Hiding," said Rolf. "They thought you were the Hrithdon coming back on kitewings."

  "Rolf, Eftah is free!" Rika cried. "The Hrithdon are gone. They won't be back."

  "Go tell the villagers to come to Athgar's house," Karl said to Rolf. "We should tell them what has happened."

  At that moment Gardo came up, amazed at all the kitemen and their wings.

  "Grandfather, Grandfather, we've done it!" Rika burst out. "Eftah is free now," she said as she embraced the old man.

  Later, Karl and Rika told their story and the villagers rejoiced, hardly believing that the harsh years of Hrithdon rule were over. At last, after they found beds for all the Karangan flyers, Karl and Rika returned with Gardo to his cottage.

  Rika lit a lamp, while Karl took out a leather pouch that had been given him as part of the final agreement with the Hrithdon.

  "Gardo, I think you might want to see what's in here," Karl said. He placed the pouch in the center of the table and tipped the contents out. Glittering gold pieces spilled out onto the tablecloth.

  Gardo's eyes sparkled with delight, but then a shadow of suspicion crossed his face. "Where'd you get these coins?" he demanded.

  "From the Hrithdon, Grandfather," Rika cried. "They are to replace the stones I took from you when we went to Ithdon."

  "The Hrithdon have paid back more than we took," Karl added.

  For several minutes, the old man said nothing. He examined the coins silently, picking them up and looking at them one by one. Finally, he looked up at Rika and Karl.

  "All my life, wealth has been very important to me," he said, "but now I know that freedom is more importan
t." He reached out and scooped up a handful of the gold pieces and put them back into the pouch. Then he handed the pouch to Karl. "Karl, I want you to have these because of what you've done for us. I also want to tell you that you have a home with Rika and Rolf and me if you decide you want to stay in Eftah."

  "Thank you, Gardo," Karl said. He took the pouch and hefted it. The gold pieces clinked gently together.

  "Grandfather, you're wonderful," Rika exclaimed, engulfing the old man in a hug.

  That night there was a celebration in the village, and the Karangan flyers were the honored guests. Several sheep were roasted whole outside on giant spits, something that had not been done since before the Hrithdon conquest. The shepherds brought out their mandolins and flutes and mountain horns and entertained the Karangans with Eftian songs and dances. Late in the evening, Karl and Lars sat down together near one of the roasting pits.

  "Karl," his brother asked, "are you coming back to Karanga with us?"

  "Not this trip, Lars," Karl answered. "Athgar has asked me to start a kitewing force here, and I'll be busy doing that for a while. But once it is started, I'll come back with one of Zanzu's caravans. I want to go back to the council and receive my Karangan rights. Then I'll try to talk to Father."

  "Maybe this time he'll be able to judge you fairly," Lars said. "When he hears of all the things you've done for Karanga, Karl, he'll want a reconciliation."

  "I hope so," Karl said. "The least I can do is give us both another chance."

  A few days later, a cry was given that a Hrithdon column was coming up the valley. The shepherds, who had not seen any Hrithdon for some time, watched the column with interest. But when it turned off and started up the winding mountain trail toward Eftah, they again shut their barns, shooed the children inside, and barred their doors, despite Karl's and Rika's assurances that there was nothing to worry about. Moments later the column halted in the village, and Zanzu slid down from the saddle. Behind him, Karl recognized some of the sailors from Zanzu's boat, who seemed ill at ease with their new mode of transportation.