“I'll tell you one thing, you Harari scum,” he growled as he held his bastard sword low, two-handed, point turned towards the ground. “This is one scalp you're not going to take.”
He lifted the sword, then hunched over as he drove the point between his ribs. It emerged red from his back, where his heart's blood began to pump out of him. He crumpled to the ground like a scaffold with its supports taken away. I watched him shudder and die at my feet.
The fight was over. I wiped my sword clean, then knelt down to search his pockets. Old habit.
No matter how much time passed since my Army days, I enjoyed nothing so much as a good victory. The ambush had been a smashing success. I revelled in it, perhaps more than most, with the first fallen wineskin that met my eye. Tipping it up to my lips, I drank half the sour red in one gulp, then went in search of Yazizi. I wanted her again.
I wilted when I saw her sitting listless in the lee of a dune, haunted and hollow-eyed. She didn't even notice my presence. Instead I sat down beside her and put an arm around her unresisting shoulders.
“Anyone could've missed,” I told her. “I know I was shaking.”
No response. For a long time she did nothing but stare out across the sand. Suddenly, a dry sob shook her skinny body. She croaked, “I didn't miss by accident. I... I didn't want to go.”
I ought to have been surprised, but I wasn't. A dark knot twisted in the pit of my stomach. “You like it here.”
Silent tears ran from her eyes, carving long trails down her dusty face. “Faro is here. You are here. Zayara is here, somewhere.” She struggled to swallow. “I never told you. The first few times Faro whipped me, I imagined him making love to me instead, and the marks he made did not hurt so much. Then I imagined him making love to me while he did it. And I began to like it.”
It took me a few speechless seconds to think of something to say. “Why tell me?”
“Because,” she sniffed, “you made it clear for me. You made me stop and listen to what I've known all along.”
“Don't say that,” I protested weakly.
“You don't understand. Every night after he hits me, I have to touch myself for relief. Sometimes the pain alone is enough.” Mechanically, she wiped away her tears. “This is all there is for me, and I can live with that.”
I clutched her arms and made her look at me. “Listen to me, girl, you should never abandon hope.”
She shrugged me off, a lethargic roll of the shoulders. “It's not about hope, Karl. Life and pain are the same. To enjoy one you must enjoy the other.”
I could see her mood change. Something went out her eyes, and her lips twisted into a strange smile. The next moment she lunged at me, pushing me down with her deceptive strength, lips locked against mine. She pulled my hands around to her back and worked them into the sensitive flesh until I could feel the raised lines of her scars.
I tried to push her away. This wasn't what I wanted. She held on, laughing as we rolled around in the sand. I grabbed her arms, so she pinned me down with her sinuous legs alone, rubbing herself against my crotch. She giggled in savage joy when I hardened underneath her.
My hand snapped out. Yazizi yelped and hit the ground, lay stunned for half a moment.
Looking up at me, she raised herself to her hands and knees and let her tongue explore a freshly split lip. Bright eyes challenged me as she made a spectacle of licking the blood. I balled my right hand into a fist. It didn't intimidate her; she only crawled forward and rubbed her body sensually against my leg.
“Come on, Karl,” she murmured, squirming for effect. “Every man likes a woman on her knees. You can hit me again if you want.”
“Don't ever touch me,” I said icily, and left her there.
Only once my blood cooled down did I begin to think of the captives we took, and my duties according to the contract. I went to rejoin the others, staying as far away from Yazizi as I could.
Two men surrendered, although one had had the added incentive of an arrow in his ribs. He wouldn't live out the day. The other man, uninjured, knelt under the watchful eyes of Aemedd, Sir Erroll and the woman. The children busied themselves tending to our new horses and supplies. Yazizi's palfrey wasn't there.
The woman crossed her arms loosely under her full breasts and addressed the prisoners. “There are rules in the Kingdom about the treatment of war prisoners. But we are far from the Kingdom, and I am at the end of my patience. No one would find your body. No one would care.”
The uninjured man pissed his breeches and began to sob.
“We spoke to Colm,” I added, seizing his attention as I came forward. “He told us everything. Lie, and I promise you'll spend the rest of your brief life as a eunuch.”
“Please! Please, I'm just a conscript, I never wanted to be in the Duke's service. I'm a King's man! Loyal!”
Sir Erroll twirled his sword in his hands, the blade still caked with sand and blood. It made him look as savage as any Harari horse-lord. “A raw conscript in the Duke's cavalry? Preposterous.”
The prisoner clutched his hands in the traditional begging posture as if it were his only remaining defence. Tears of terror rolled freely down his cheeks.
“You must believe me. My name is Penn Saldette, my family are horse breeders for the nobility. I knew how to ride and fight a little so the Duke's press gangs put me with the likes of these...” He turned his head to spit on the dying soldier beside him. A gob of saliva landed on the man's chin, but he was too far gone to do anything about it. “These animals.”
“Why were you heading this way?”
“We were tracking a group out of Farrowhale, but the Harari have been raiding us since the day we rode onto the steppe. They killed our leftenant and most of our packhorses and then drove us into that blasted sandstorm. They attacked again and again until a few of us got separated from Sergeant Arravis's column. We were lost in the storm. Without our packs, we didn't have enough supplies to get out of the desert.”
“So you stumbled onto our camp by luck.”
“Yes, Milady. We were going to attack a Harari village not far from here, to take enough food and water to get us back to the Kingdom. We found you instead.”
I pressed, “What about the rest of your column?”
“I swear to you, I don't know what happened to them. They could be alive or dead, lost in the desert somewhere. We haven't seen them in days.”
“Lies and treachery,” Sir Erroll declared. “Why are we listening to these fairytales? Look at him. A creature like that would say anything to save his own skin.”
“With respect, Sir Knight, perhaps there is something useful to be gleaned,” interjected Aemedd. Despite his words, his tone held a pronounced lack of respect. “We should inquire about this village.”
The prisoner clutched Aemedd's comment like a lifeline. “Not far! It's only a small trading post, I can guide you, I'll even help to fight if you would.”
Sir Erroll again. “I don't believe we'll put a fresh weapon in the traitor's hand so he can stab us in the back with it.”
“Gentlemen,” said the woman. One simple word brought the conversation back under her control, like magic. How did she do it? “Save your spirit for the Harari. I want this man freed immediately. See to it that he's fed and given a change of clothes. A horse, too. I'd like to reach this village as soon as we can.”
There were no outbursts. Nobody dared to go against her orders. She had every damn one of us wrapped around her little finger, each in our own way.
I cut the ropes on the prisoner's wrists and let him change into a cleaner set of breeches. He then helped to get a campfire going in a little hollow carved out of the canyon wall, sheltered against the Tzan, and soon we had a pot of salt beef in beans bubbling away. Our supplies wouldn't last, but I was happy to have food and water again. The only thing I didn't like was the company. He kept up his beaten-dog routine, but the tension between us felt like a duelling ground.
“Your name's Penn, is it?” I ask
ed, trying to sound nonchalant while I sized him up. “Where are you from?”
“Yes. Penn Saldette. My home's in Ilbaster, about a week's ride north of Saltring.” He watched me for some emotional response at the name, but I kept my face still. Saltring was the Duke's ancestral castle and the seat of his power. “I know what you must be thinking. The truth is... My father's influence kept me out of the Army for a long time. He pulled strings, greased palms, did everything in his power.” He looked down, full of regret. “At the end I was the only man of soldiering age left in Ilbaster.”
I gave him a cool smile. “So you're a King's man who stayed at home these past eighteen years, eh?”
“I never claimed to be brave,” he said placidly. My comment washed off him like water. “I'm a horse breeder, not a killer. I'd rather be at home right now taking care of the family herd.”
“What about duty? Don't you have a responsibility above your own life?”
He shrugged and gave the beans another push around the kettle. “I don't know. My father taught me there are many good reasons for a man to pick up the sword. I only know this war isn't one of them.”
A faint spark of sympathy stirred somewhere in my heart. I almost forgot who I was talking to. Then I shook my head clear of that spell and said, “Beg pardon. There's something I should attend to.”
I set Faro to watch over the prisoner while I crossed to the small lean-to which protected Aemedd and the woman from the wind. They sat on a small pile of books and scrolls, exchanging quiet words while they studied the texts. I cleared my throat to announce myself.
The woman looked up at me and smiled. “I expected you. Professor, would you give us a moment?”
Aemedd inclined his head to her, then to me, and made himself scarce. The woman invited me to take his place.
“Is there something I can do for you, Karl?”
I cleared my throat and forced myself to nod. Her closeness made me very uncomfortable. “It's about the prisoner.”
The mere mention of our captive brought a sharp gleam into her eye. “Oh? What of him?”
“Milady,” I said gingerly, “you do know he's a spy.”
“Oh yes!” she giggled. Elegant fingertips covered her mouth to protect her aristocratic composure. “God, yes.”
Staring into those unreadable eyes, I wondered if I'd ever really understand her. “You have a plan for him, don't you?”
“Just think of the possibilities, Karl. Our very own Ducal spy. We should be praising Lady Luck for our good fortune!”
“Milady, no one has ever used the words 'good fortune' to describe their encounter with a Listener. He must be here for a reason.”
“There's spies in every one of the Duke's battalions, always keeping an ear out. They would've given chase just to see what we were doing here. This one merely happens to be very good at staying alive.” She allowed herself another smile, covering her mouth again. “Do you know, for a moment there I almost believed him.”
I nodded. I felt the same.
“How do you expect to keep him under control?”
“I know how the Duke's Listeners think, Karl. He won't be able to resist the opportunity to figure out what our mission is. He should waste no time pledging his service to me, and request ‒ demand! ‒ to accompany us.”
I could only admire her deviousness. “You mean to string him along and use him to help us get through the North.”
Her eyes shone. “Oh, I do love that mind of yours, Byren. Yes. It will be to our benefit, and to the whole Kingdom. He'll assist us against any immediate threats. Perhaps even against the Duke's men, if he's as ruthless as his colleagues.”
“That's a dangerous bet to make. With respect, Milady.”
“Oh, Karl... Nothing is dangerous as long as you keep your eyes on the knife.”
She smiled then, and suddenly she was up close to me, one silky hand turning my face to hers. Her lips touched me. My heart leapt into my throat, pounding so fast I could barely breathe. The kiss lingered, and I longed for her tongue and her body with all my soul. My hands lifted to reach for her.
Yet she withdrew, a wicked smile on her lips. “Watch him for me,” she teased, her voice beyond sultry. “Hound him. Make him hate you. It'll drive him further into my hands.”
A casual flick of her wrist told me I'd been dismissed. I made a stiff bow and left in a hurry.
“Damn you,” was all I could think to whisper, erection throbbing against the laces of my trousers.
The meal didn't last long. We ate like starving men, saying little. A brief toast went out to our victory, but the prisoners dampened our will to celebrate. We weren't out of the woods yet. My mind kept coming back to what might happen at that Harari village, and whether or not I'd live to tell the tale. I kept expecting my luck to run out. On the other hand, I'd made it this far, and I had no intention of getting my scalp cut off under some horse-lover's knife.
Young Adar got the morbid job of spooning the dying man's last meal into his mouth. Still chewing my last bite, I watched the poor bastard twitch and spit up his beans until his final breath rattled out of his lungs. Adar's spoon froze in mid-scoop. He stopped altogether, and sat in that same pose until Faro got up to help him. Then, with Adar out of the way, I helped the squire dispose of the body before it started to decompose in the middle of camp.
We spent the remaining daylight resting, packing, and preparing for the journey. As dusk fell, we dug a shallow pit and pitched the Duke's man into it. Aemedd administered his last rites and said a few words as we heaped sand onto the silent body. None of us, not even Penn, had ever learned his name.
I stayed close enough to Penn to watch his every move, but he played his part to the hilt. More than once I found myself wondering if we hadn't been wrong about him. Perhaps he really was the helpless idiot he claimed to be... Then I'd come to my senses again. I really wanted to slit his throat and be done with it, but the woman seemed confident in her ability to control him, and I believed her.
“According to Saldette, the village is about a day's ride south-southeast,” Aemedd announced at our meeting prior to setting off. “From the captured maps, I have concluded that he is both truthful and correct.”
Sir Erroll levelled his now-permanent scowl on the scholar. “And does the heathen girl agree?”
The woman cut him off. “She agrees. She knows the village and will help us find it, so I want everyone ready to leave in five minutes.”
And that was that.
I inexpertly fastened the saddle straps on my new horse, fighting to remember what Yazizi had taught me, and managed to climb into the stirrups without falling down. We formed a column with Sir Erroll and Penn at the front, Faro and Adar riding together behind them, and everyone else trailing behind in a raggedy-arse formation. Aemedd's beloved camel had been spared by the Duke's men and, now liberated again, still bullied any horse that dared to come close.
“This should be interesting,” Faro whispered to me. “What are the lot of us going to do against a village full of Harari warriors?”
Adar spoke without looking up. “Kill them all.”
I shivered. By God, that boy was starting to get under my skin.
The sun disappeared all too quickly as the Tzan redoubled its efforts. If anything it was worse than before, and I was scooping sand out of my lap again before we reached the edge of the canyon. Worse, even though the light went away, the heat didn't. Over the next two sweltering hours, the relentless onslaught of dust and sand kept getting darker and darker until I could barely see anyone anymore.
“This is dumb,” I shouted over the storm. “We'll lose each other before we ever get there!”
Penn came trotting back from the van and tugged his veil down with an ingratiating smile. “Don't worry, Sir. Here we are.”
He was right. I had to be in arm's reach of the sand-blasted palisade to recognise it, but it was there, a thick earthwork reinforced by scrawny wooden logs and stakes. The plinths were anchored in
sandstone and mortar, but everything had a worn look to it, stripped back to its core by the constant howling winds. Nobody was manning these walls right now.
We all came together into a huddle so we could hear each other without yelling. The Tzan was no more pleasant at night than it was during the day.
“The gate will be on the southeast side to cut the wind,” Yazizi said without emotion. “Thick bison hide stretched over wood. Hard to get through.”
Sir Erroll grunted. “Someone would have to go and open it for us. I volunteer.”
“You'll need help,” I pointed out. “I have past experience.”
He accepted my offer with a curt nod. I wiped away a faceful of sweat while the knight and his squire began to unload their equipment. Sand clung to my moist eyelashes and chafed every part of my body where I still had sensation. By now I was ready to do almost anything to get out of this damned storm. I struggled to buckle my breastplate on under the Harari-style desert wrap, and took up a spot behind Faro as he hurled a grapnel over the palisade.
“Farza yathil,” he told me. “Harari for 'open the gate'.”
I smiled under my veil. “How do you know that?”
“I asked.”
As the youngest and lightest, Faro went first up the rope. He hauled himself hand over hand, buffeted by harsh gusts of wind which battered against the palisade. It didn't deter him. He muscled his way to the top by sheer determination, then knelt on the earthwork and knotted our line around one of the poles. I was glad he'd be there to help us old men make the climb.
Sir Erroll and I went up one at a time, the storm whipping at exposed hands and eyes, and as we scrambled clumsily overtop the palisade I was convinced we'd be spotted. The earthworks were totally exposed from the inside. Not a hint of cover in sight. Visibility was better in the shadow of the palisade, but that made us more vulnerable as well.
As luck would have it, the Harari remained huddled in their yurts and tents and didn't spot us. Any guards in the courtyard were completely hidden by the raging sands.
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