Some time after noon he turned to face Arrow.
'Have you seen them?' he asked. – Arrow looked at him disinterestedly. Will frowned.
'Not talking, eh?' he said. 'Maybe you're a little hoarse.'
He cackled briefly at his own wit and for a moment, he had that uncomfortable sensation again – that he was standing to one side watching himself and the horse stumble across the desert. He became aware of the water skin slung across his shoulders.
'Need a drink,' he said to Arrow. Irrationally, he told himself that the water skin was weighing him down. If he drank some more, it would be lighter. And he would move more easily, he decided.
He drank deeply, then became aware of Arrow's accusing eyes on him. Guiltily, he re-stoppered the skin and set off again.
It was then that the realisation hit him. Selethen had given him a false map. There were no cliffs pockmarked with caves. There was no flat-topped hill. Of course, the Wakir wouldn't hand him such a valuable strategic document! Why hadn't he seen it before? The swine had given him a false chart and sent him out into the desert to die.
'He tricked us,' he told the horse. 'But I'll show him. We must be close to that soak by now. We'll find it and I'll go back and ram his map down his lying throat.'.
He frowned. If the map were false, there would be no water soak just a few kilometres away. He hesitated. Yet there must be a soak. There had to be! Then his thoughts cleared.
'Of course!' he told Arrow. 'He couldn't falsify the whole thing! Some of it must be true! Otherwise we'd have seen right through it straight away! That's real cunning for you.'
That problem solved, he decided that he could afford to give Arrow some more of the precious water. But the effort of untying and assembling the folding bucket seemed too much. Instead, he let the water trickle into his cupped hand, laughing softly as Arrow's big tongue licked at it. Some of it spilled, of course, soaking instantly into the baking sand. But it didn't matter. There would be plenty more at the soak.
'Plenty more at the soak,' he told the horse.
He replaced the stopper and stood swaying beside Arrow. The problem was, he thought, without another drink, he might not have the strength to reach the soak. Then he would die, all because he refused to drink the water he already had. That would be foolish. Halt wouldn't approve of that, he thought. Coming to a decision, he removed the stopper and drained the last of the water. Then he set off, staggering, beckoning Arrow to follow.
'Come on, boy,' he said, the words sounding like the harsh croaking of a crow.
He fell. The ground burnt his hands as he tried to break the fall and he didn't have the strength to rise. He lifted his head and then, wonder of wonders, he saw it!
The balancing rock, just as Selethen had drawn it! It was only a few hundred metres away and he wondered how he could have missed seeing it before this. And just beyond that would be the soak, and all the water he could drink.
He couldn't stand. But he could easily crawl that far. He began to crawl towards those beautiful balancing rocks.
'How do they do it? Why don't they fall over?' he marvelled. Then he added, with a chuckle, 'Good old Selethen! What a map!' He looked behind him. Arrow stood, feet wide apart, head hanging, not following.
'Come on, Arrow!' he called. 'Plenty of water this way! Come on! Just to the rocks! The wonderful, wonderful balancing rocks! How do they do it? Step right up and see!'
He didn't realise that his words were an indecipherable croak. The water he'd just drunk hadn't been enough to compensate for the amount he had lost in the past five hours.
He continued to crawl, dragging himself over the rough, stony ground – the stones cutting his hands and the heat burning them. He left bloody handprints behind him – handprints that quickly dried to a dull brown in the insufferable heat. Arrow watched him going with dispirited eyes. But the horse made no move to follow him. There was no reason to.
There were no balancing rocks and Will was crawling in a giant circle.
Chapter 26
Selethen looked up quickly at Halt's words, a frown creasing his forehead.
'Who would pay them to do such a thing?' he asked. 'And why would they do it?'
Halt met his gaze evenly. He knew the Arridi was angry and emotional over the death of so many of his men – and he sensed that his feelings were fuelled by a longstanding hatred of the Tualaghi tribesmen. The situation was a dangerous one and he would have to choose his words carefully. The more he knew about what had gone on here, he reasoned, the better he could convince Selethen of what he was about to say. He turned and spoke quietly to Gilan.
'Take a look around. See if you can figure out what happened.'
The young Ranger nodded and moved off. Only then did Halt address Selethen's question.
'I'd say that whoever betrayed Erak to you in the first place is behind this,' he replied.
'That'd be Toshak.' Svengal had approached unnoticed. He had been searching the scene for his Oberjarl's body and had come to the same conclusion as Halt. 'It'd be exactly the sort of thing he'd get up to.'
Selethen looked from Halt to Svengal, then back again. Now there was another emotion showing on his face – suspicion.
'Who is this Toshak?' he challenged. 'I've never heard the name. And why would he pay to have your Oberjarl abducted?'
'For the same reason he betrayed Erak to you in the first place. He wants him out of the way,' Halt said. He saw Selethen was about to ask another question but he continued, talking over the other man. 'It's politics,' he said. 'Skandian politics. There's a small group of Skandians who resent Erak and would like to see him deposed.'
He saw a first glimpse of understanding in the Arridi's face. Arrida was rife with political intrigue and Selethen accepted this as a plausible explanation. But he wasn't fully convinced.
'I repeat. I've never heard of this Toshak person. I take it he's a Skandian, like you?' He addressed the last question to Svengal, whose face darkened into a scowl.
'He's a Skandian. But he's nothing like me.'
Selethen nodded, accepting the distinction. Svengal's anger, matching his own, was possibly the most convincing aspect of Halt's argument. But Selethen had seen a flaw.
'If this Toshak wants your leader out of the way, why bother to have him captured and abducted? Why not simply kill him with the rest of these people?'
But Halt was already shaking his head before Selethen finished voicing the question, as if he had foreseen it.
'He needs time,' he replied instantly. 'I said his group is a small one. Most Skandians are content with Erak as their Oberjarl. So Toshak and his friends need time to build resentment and uncertainty. A dead Oberiarl wouldn't serve their purposes. The other Skandians would simply elect a new one straight away – probably one of Erak's friends. Maybe even Svengal here.'
'Gods forbid that,' Svengal said earnestly. Halt allowed himself a grim smile at the big Skandian.
'But if Erak is missing, held prisoner somewhere – and it can be claimed to be the result of his own incompetence then Toshak and his group can start a whispering campaign to get people doubting his ability, and his suitability to be their leader. Particularly if, at the same time, his captors are demanding a large ransom from the Skandians. Skandians don't like that sort of thing.'
'Indeed we don't,' Svengal agreed. 'That's why the chief told me to go to Araluen for help in the first place.'
Selethen looked around the group and nodded. He was still unconvinced. But he had wondered why Svengal had returned with a group of foreigners to pay the ransom. So far, the only reason he had been given was that Erak was a friend of the Araluans. Now he could see a more plausible explanation for their involvement. A quick resolution to the problem would act in Erak's favour. The more the situation was dragged out, the more opportunity there would be for his enemies to sow dissent among his countrymen.
'Given enough time, the dissenters could create the right conditions to put forward their own candidate as Oberjar
l – probably Toshak himself,' Halt said. This time Svengal's only comment was a low growl of anger at the idea.
Selethen paced back and forth, stroking his beard with one hand as he considered Halt's arguments. Abruptly, he stopped and turned to Halt again.
'It's possible, I suppose… ' he said. The word 'but' was left hanging, unsaid, in the air by the tone of his voice. Halt waited, determined that he wouldn't be the one to voice the obvious doubt. Like Selethen, he could see another possible explanation for the carnage around them. But before he raised that, Selethen had another question.
'You say your countryman Toshak is behind this. That he betrayed your leader in the first place?' he questioned Svengal. The sea wolf nodded and Selethen continued. 'Yet I have never heard of him. Our informant was a fisherman from a small village down the coast. More of a smuggler than a fisherman, as a matter of fact,' he added. 'He's accustomed to moving unseen through the waters around our coast. He saw your ship and brought word to us.'
Svengal said nothing. But once again Halt had a ready answer.
'You'd hardly negotiate with a Skandian. If Toshak had tried to approach you, he wouldn't have got a word in before the first volley of arrows was on its way. Of course he needed a go-between. And it would have been relatively easy for him to make contact with a smuggler. Chances are, your informant was also the one who sold Erak the false timetable for the money transfers.'
'Yes, that's reasonable, I suppose.' In spite of his words, they could all hear the tone of doubt in Selethen's voice. 'But I keep coming back to another possible explanation for all this.'
He waved his arm distastefully around the scene of death and destruction. Halt waited impassively. Make him say it, he thought. Don't say it for him or you'll give it credibility.
'I agree with you, this could be the work of Skandians – or of Tualaghi in the pay of Skandians. But there's another possible reason why Erak's body isn't here. This was a rescue party. The people who killed my men did it to set Erak free. Even now, he could be heading for the coast and another ship.'
'Do you think we'd willingly put ourselves in your hands if we'd planned that?' Halt asked.
'I think it's exactly the sort of double bluff that you might consider,' Selethen told him. 'You negotiate with me while you organise for another party of Skandians to rescue your friend. If they're successful, you save sixty-six thousand reels. If they're not, you can continue as before, and deny all knowledge of the rescue attempt.'
Halt said nothing for a few seconds. As he had realised before, politics and plotting were very much a part of life in Arrida. And this was exactly the sort of convoluted reasoning that would seem logical to Selethen. He knew that his next words were going to be vital to the success of their mission. While he gathered his thoughts, trying to muster the best possible argument to restore Selethen's trust, Halt stepped forward. As Halt and Selethen and Svengal had been talking, Horace and Evanlyn had edged closer listening. Now the young warrior thought it was time he spoke up.
'One question.' he said. All eyes swung to him. Halt held up a hand to stop him going any further. The subtleties of negotiation, the fine cut and thrust.of complex argument was not the young man's strongest suit. Horace was a straightforward person, with a direct approach to any problem that faced him.
'Horace,' Halt said, a warning tone in his voice, 'this might not be the best time… '
But Horace was holding up his own hand to silence Halt. His face was determined and set in a tight frown. Halt knew he was angered by the suggestion that they had engaged in the sort of underhanded scheme Selethen had described. He didn't need Horace's injured sense of dignity muddying the waters here. But the young man was ploughing ahead, regardless.
'A question for the Wakir,' he said. Evanlyn, beside him, mirrored Halt's worried expression. Horace might be about to put his foot in it, she thought. But Selethen made a gesture for Horace to continue and it was too late.
'Your question is?' he said smoothly.
'How did we know?' Horace asked. His tone was blunt and challenging. Selethen frowned, not understanding immediately.
'How did you know… what?' he asked.
Horace's face was flushed now, partly with indignation but also because he realised that he was the centre of attention. He never enjoyed that. But he felt his point to be a valid one and deserved to be made.
'How did we know that Erak was with this party.'
For a moment, nobody understood. Selethen voiced a confused little gesture with both hands.
'I told you,' he said. Standing back and watching, Halt felt an immense surge of warmth for the warrior. Sometimes, he thought, the direct approach could be far more effective than a long, involved dissertation.
Horace nodded. 'You told us the night before we left Al Shabah. You told us when the negotiations were complete. Not before then. Up until then, you know we believed Erak was being held in Al Shabah. So, in the eight hours we had, how did we organise for this other group of Skandians to dash out into the desert, find the Tualaghi, And bribe them to intercept a caravan we had only just heard of?'
'Well… you could have… ' Selethen hesitated and Horace pressed his advantage.
'And you know that none of us left the guesthouse on that final night. So how did we do it? I mean, Halt's good at these things, but that's beyond even his abilities.'
Halt thought it was time he stepped back in. Horace had made his point and it was a telling one. Now was the time it drive it home, before he blundered.
'He's right, Selethen, and deep down, you know it,' Halt said. The Wakir's attention was back on him now and Halt knew it was time to settle this, once and for all. He knew it was time to force Selethen to either commit to them or to take a position against them. Very deliberately, he said, 'Tell me, Selethen, leaving aside the fact that we couldn't have organised this in the time we had, do you honestly believe that we are capable of that sort of duplicity?'
Selethen went to speak, then hesitated. He looked at the small group of foreigners. The warrior Horace and the raider Svengal were fighting men. There was no guile or deceit in either of them. They would be dangerous enemies to face on a battlefield, he knew. But they would fight honestly and bravely.
Then there was the Princess. During the negotiations, she had shown her courage and forthrightness as well. In fact, he thought ruefully, if there had been any false dealing at all, it had come from him. First in having his servant impersonate him and secondly in the fact that Horace had just pointed out – in his not telling them that Erak had already left Al Shabah.
That left the one they called Halt. Unmistakably, he was the leader of the group, in spite of the girl's rank. Undoubtedly, he was a thinker and a planner. Yet Selethen sensed a core of decency and honesty in the man. Instinctively, he found himself drawn to the short, grey-haired Ranger.
It was obvious that the others respected him and trusted him. And, perhaps most important, liked him. Horace and Svengal might be straightforward and uncomplicated but they were not fools. Horace had just proved that.
Selethen bit his lip thoughtfully, considering Halt's question. Then he replied.
'No. I don't think that.'
Halt was tempted to let go a huge sigh of relief. But he knew that would be a mistake. Instead, he simply nodded once, as if he had held no doubt as to what Selethen's answer would be.
'Then let's get on with it,' he said briskly. 'What do we plan to do about all this?'
'I'll send a party out after them once we reach Mararoc,' Selethen asked. 'For all the good it will do.'
Bitter experience had taught him how the Tualaghi operated. They would attack a caravan, then simply melt away into the desert. The Arridi were essentially town dwellers, without the skills in tracking and desert craft to follow the raiders. The Tualaghi knew these wastelands like the back of their hands and they knew how to disappear into them. Oh, Selethen would send a party in pursuit. But it would be a gesture only. After two or three days they would lose
track of the Tualaghi war party and return, exhausted, dusty and frustrated. It had always been the way, he thought. If he had some of the Bedullin with him, they would have a chance. The Bedullin were hunters and trackers and they knew the desert every bit as well as the Tualaghi, their sworn enemies. That was how he had defeated the Tualaghi some years previously – by forming a temporary alliance with the Bedullin. But they were a, proud, independent people and they wouldn't stay tied to the Arridi apron strings once the Tualaghi had been brought to battle and defeated.
'Why not go after them now?' Halt said.
Selethen smiled at the man's naivety. 'Because they will fade away into the desert. That's what they do.'
'Then we'll track them down. That's what we do,' said another voice.
It was Gilan. He had returned from surveying the scene of the one-sided battle in time to hear Selethen's last words. Halt turned to him. 'Find anything?'
Gilan pursed his lips, then pointed to each location as he mentioned it.
'They were hidden behind those rocks to the east,' he said. 'Maybe eighty or ninety of them. Most of them on horses but some on camels. They had a diversion party to the north – perhaps ten riders. They swooped in, feinted an attack, then turned and ran. When the escort broke ranks and went after them, the main party hit them from behind.'
Selethen looked at the young Ranger with new respect. 'You can tell all that just by looking at the ground?'
Gilan grinned at him. 'As I said. It's what we do,' he replied. 'So what do you say? Do we go after them or slink back to Al Shabah?'
His tone was intentionally provocative. He sensed that the Wakir was looking for a reason to go in pursuit of the Tualaghi – to teach them once and for all who ruled this country. And he was right. Selethen's mind was racing. This could be just the chance he had been looking for.
'We'll be outnumbered,' he said thoughtfully.
'But we'll have the element of surprise on our side,' Halt countered. 'You normally wouldn't go after them, would you?'
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