"You, too, then," said he, "are, as charged, an agent of Cos."
"No," I said.
"Where lies your allegiance?" asked he.
"I am of Port Kar," I said.
"There is no love lost between Ar and Port Kar," he said.
"We are at least at war with Cos," I said.
"We will continue to move westward," he said.
"It is a mistake," I said.
"Our orders are clear," he said.
"What of the rencers?" I asked.
"I do not understand their apparent numbers," he said. "A village was destroyed, only a village."
"They have apparently been gathered for some time," I said.
"But why?" he asked.
"You are in their country," I reminded him.
"But surely they understand we seek only to close with Cos."
"As I indicated earlier," I said, "they will find that very difficult to believe."
"Why?" he asked.
"Do you really not suspect?" I asked.
"Why?" he asked.
"Cos," I said, "is not in the delta."
"Impossible!" he said.
"Perhaps there are some Cosians in the delta," I granted him. "I do not know. Perhaps enough to leave sign, enough to lure Ar further westward. It is a possibility."
He regarded me.
"But have you," I asked, "who are the commander of the vanguard, you who are in the very best position to do so, detected any clear evidence as yet of even so minimal a presence?"
"There has been broken rence," he said.
"Tharlarion can break rence," I said.
"The expeditionary force of Cos," he said, "entered the delta. We know that."
"I do not doubt it," I said. Ar, too, of course, would have her sources of information, her spies. Her gold could purchase information as well as that of Cos. "What I do suggest is that the columns of Cos did not remain in the delta, but, after perhaps a day or two, after having clearly established their entry below Turmus, withdrew."
"Absurd," he said.
"Do you really think Cos would choose to meet you in the delta?"
"They fled before us, in fear of their lives," said he, angrily.
"I was with the expeditionary force," I said, "for several days, until north of Holmesk. I assure you their march was leisurely."
"Then you are Cosian," he said.
"I was there with a friend," I said, "one who was seeking to be of service to Ar."
"The Cosians must meet us," he said, angrily.
"They will meet you," I assured him, "but when they wish."
"I do not understand," he said.
"They will meet you when you attempt to extricate yourself from the delta," I said.
"They are ahead of us," he said.
"No," I said.
"Lies!" said he.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Would that we might meet Cos soon!" he said.
"In a sense," I said, "you have already met her."
"I do not understand," he said.
"The delta itself is her weapon," I said, "and the rencers."
The captain stood up. He looked down at me. "Your supposed conjectures," he said, "are the vain lies of a squirming spy, attempting to divert from himself the legitimate wrath of outraged captors. Your supposed speculations, moreover, are absurd. Perhaps if you had given them more thought, you might have come up with something more plausible. Too, I find your impugning the integrity and honor of Saphronicus, general in the north, to be odious and offensive. Your insinuations, moreover, on the whole, are preposterous. If true, they would suggest a treason of almost incomprehensible dimension."
"There is treason, in high places, in Ar," I said.
"To what end?" he asked.
"To political realignments," I said, "to the supremacy of Cos."
"And Saphronicus is involved?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. I did not wish to speak beyond this. There was one whose name I sought to protect.
"Absurd," said he. He lifted his hand, summoning my keeper. "Replace his gag," he said.
The keeper removed the wadding and binding from my neck rope.
"Captain," said a fellow, approaching. "We hear something now, a sound from beneath the water."
"Its nature?" asked the officer.
"It is hard to tell," said the fellow. "It is like a clicking, a cracking."
"It is done with rocks!" I said.
The officer looked at me, sharply.
"It is what I said!" I said.
The informant looked at me, puzzled.
"Is it far off?" I asked.
"It is hard to tell," said the man. "I think so."
"Is it rhythmical?" I asked.
"It is regular," said the man.
"Bring in your defense perimeter," I said to the officer.
"You jest," he said.
"Rencers sometimes use such rocks," I said, "struck beneath the surface of the water, the sound detectable by holding the side of the head under water. They can be used to convey signals, to communicate. I do not know their codes."
"We are speaking of simple fishermen," said the officer, "of hunters of birds, of harvesters of rence."
"But the striking is now rhythmical," I said. "It is not now being used to communicate!"
"We have not been troubled with rencers in several Ahn," said the officer. "I think that danger is passed. Indeed, I regard it as quite possible, given the rapidity of our march, that we have passed beyond them. They have perhaps now disbanded, returned to their villages. Surely, by now, they understand we mean them no harm."
"The sounds will now be closer," I said.
"I grant you that they may have observers in the marsh," he said.
"The sounds are regular," I said. "They are not now being used to communicate. They are being used otherwise, to irritate, to drive."
"But nothing can hear them, or feel them," said a man. "They are under water."
"They will be on all sides of the bar," I said. "They are coming closer, they will grow louder."
"They are under water," said the man.
"Bring in your pickets!" I said.
"The spy wishes us to bring in our pickets," said my keeper, to another fellow.
"We are not fools," said a man.
"Are your friends out there?" asked a fellow.
"Or lose them!" I said.
"What of the rencers?" asked the officer.
There was a sudden thrashing out in the water, some yards away.
"What was that?" asked a man.
"Two tharlarion," said a fellow.
"It is nothing," said another.
"Surely you know the hunting of larls, the beating of game," I said.
"Surely," said a man.
"The ring can be pasangs in width," said a man.
"So, too, it is here!" I said.
In such drives, the ring growing smaller and smaller, hundreds of animals can be brought together at a given point. Peasants from different villages sometimes combine forces to engage in this form of hunting. Sometimes, too, animals desired for the arena are hunted in this fashion, usually to be driven, at last, by fire and spears into nets or cages.
"And that is why," I said to the officer, "you do not need to fear rencers now. They are not so stupid as to be within the ring. It is not rencers who are within the ring, it is we who are within the ring! They will come later. Then you will fear them and well!"
"Aii!" cried a man, wading onto the bar, wildly.
"It is one of the pickets!" said a fellow.
To his right, a few feet away, not following him, there suddenly emerged a long-necked tharlarion from the marsh, half out of the water. To the man's left, not following him either, as far as I could tell, there suddenly emerged a short-legged, long-bodied tharlarion. We could see the irregular backs of other beasts here and there breaking the water.
"Bring the pickets in!" cried the officer.
"Bring fire!" cried a fellow.
"No!" I cried. "Not fire!"
The wadding was thrust rapidly in my mouth, and bound in place. I was then thrust back to the sand and, the neck tether considerably shortened, fastened down, between the two mooring stakes. My keeper left me, to rush to the aid of his fellows. I tried to pull free. I could not. My hands fought the manacles, foolishly. I tried to turn my head, to rear up a little, as I could, to watch. Men were hurrying about with torches, with spears, striking at tharlarion. The shore seemed alive with them, and the marsh. I heard screams coming from all sides of the bar. Nearby several men were thrusting spears into the body of a huge tharlarion. Other fellows were thrusting torches down at others. More beasts clambered from the marsh, driven by those behind them. The bar seemed alive with men and tharlarion. A fellow might be attacking one beast with a torch while others crawled past him. The beasts swarmed on the bar. Few attacked men, except, here and there, to react, or snap at them. More injuries, I think, were suffered as the result of their thrashing about, the swift movements of those gigantic tails, the strokes of which could break legs, and hurl a fellow yards away, than from the laceration of numerous, white, curved, hooklike teeth, than from the pounding closings of those mighty jaws. These animals had not ascended the bar in aggression or menace. They had not come to attack. They had not come to feed. They moved about, here and there, twisting, turning, moving in one direction, then turning back, milling, confused, uncertain. Nothing in their experience, any more than in that of the men of Ar, had prepared them for this chaos, this tumult. Surely they, no more than the men of Ar, had anticipated it. If anything, if it were possible, I thought the beasts to be more distressed, agitated or confused than the men of Ar. I lay back, suddenly, as a long, heavy, scaled shape, on short legs, crawled over my body.
"More fire! More torches!" cried a fellow.
I struggled in the manacles, the bonds. I tried to pull free, to rear up. I twisted about. But I remained as my captors had decided, absolutely helpless.
"More torches!" called another fellow.
I tried to cry out, to scream against the gag. I tried to work the wadding, the packing, from my mouth, but it was held back, over the tongue, deeply, firmly, in place by the binding. I tried frenziedly to loosen, to move, to dislodge the binding, rubbing the side of my face in the sand. Naught availed. I tried to attract attention, but none paid me attention. I could make only tiny noises. My tongue ached. The side of my face burned. I was covered with sand and sweat. Another beast crawled by, its long body lifted a few inches from the sand.
"Light more torches!" I heard.
I lay back, miserable, in the sand. The bar now, housing its menagerie of confused beasts, its numbers of angry, frightened men, blazed with light.
Fools, I wept silently, to myself, fools, fools.
I tried to dig myself down, lower into the sand.
In an instant I heard the first strike, a sound like a fist striking a chest, and saw a fellow reeling among the tharlarion. In a moment there were other sounds, similar. I saw a man raise his hands, his torch lifted eccentrically, then lost, turn and fall. Then like wind, swift, everywhere, as though the air were alive, shafts, in flights, from all sides, sprung from the darkness of the marsh, swept the bar.
"Down!" cried a voice, that of the officer. "Down! Take cover!"
Men were screaming.
"Put out the torches!" screamed the officer.
"Aiii!" cried a fellow.
"Down!" screamed the officer. "Down!"
"The tharlarion!" protested a man. Then he had been felled, falling among the beasts.
"Put out the torches!" screamed the officer. He himself had discarded his.
Arrows sped across the bar.
Tharlarion reared up, sometimes feet from the sand, their bodies, too, struck by arrows.
Torches, swiftly, men crying out with misery, began to be extinguished.
"Down!" cried the officer. "Down!"
I saw one fellow throw back his head in terror and scream, his torch clutched in both hands. He feared to retain it, and was terrified to let it go. Then he stood very still, and then fell forward, among the tharlarion, the arrow of temwood, fletched with the feathers of the Vosk gull, in his back. I saw another fellow, too, hesitate, confused, then struck by an arrow. Better would it have been for him, too, had he obeyed orders promptly.
"Down!" cried the officer. "Take cover!"
"Aiii!" screamed a man.
"Kill tharlarion!" called the officer.
"I cannot see!" cried a man.
"Take cover behind them!" called the officer.
I heard a hideous scream.
"Down! Down!" screamed the officer. "Get down! Dig into the sand!"
Then the arrows, I think, stopped. The bar, that island of sand in the delta, was dark. I heard some of the beasts moving about. Most, however, confused, not now troubled by the men, the torches, seemed to remain much where they were. I turned on my side, as I could. This would narrow the width of my body. Then, after a moment or two, I heard the sudden bellowing, again, the hissing and squealing, of tharlarion. Some began to move about, again, to leave the bar, to reenter the water. The arrows, for an Ehn or so, descended unto the island, like rain. I heard one drop into the sand a yard or so from me. It would be almost upright. In a bit no more arrows fell. Arrows, of tem wood, like the ka-la-na wood of their bows, not native to the delta, are precious to the rencers. They seldom fire unless they have a favorable target. Accordingly, like the men of the Barrens, they will often go to great lengths to approach an enemy closely. In the case of the rencers this is to conserve arrows. In the case of the men of the Barrens some think this is connected with their smaller, less powerful bow. Others think it has to do primarily with the desire of the men of the Barrens for glory, having to do with the counting of coup, and such. I was once in the Barrens. Although it is difficult to comment on such cultural matters, the origins of which are often obscure, I note that the two explanations are not incompatible. The small bow, incidentally, is designed in such a way that it may be fired, shifting rapidly from side to side, from the back of a racing kaiila. I then, after a time, heard various tharlarion leave the bar, returning to the marsh. In two or three Ahn it became dawn. The rencers had gone, at least for the time.
15
We Continue Westward
Again I struggled westward in the marsh, gagged, my hands manacled before me, tied at my waist, my body pulling against the harness. Too, I was now hooded. It had been a supposition of my keeper that I might, somehow, be able to communicate, perhaps by glances or such, with rencers. Perhaps, too, they now desired to conceal from me the wretchedness of their state. So I struggled ahead, closed in the hood, manacled, harnessed, drawing the weighty raft through the marsh, through the rence, through the mud, now with several men upon it, some wounded and sick, little more, if anything, than a beast of burden, a despised beast subject to the frequent blows, the lashings, of an impatient, hostile master.
It was now four days after the incident of the drive of the tharlarion.
We had continued to move west.
Rencers had now chosen to pick their targets with care. Sometimes Ahn would pass, and men would think themselves secure. Then an arrow would dart forth from the rence, the bowman unseen, his presence perhaps not even suspected, and another man, perhaps silently, would sink into the marsh. The officer no longer cared to assign men to point positions. Too often these scouts and flankers, and rear guards, failed to return. Now the men of Ar, I gathered, trod together, for many seemed close about. I think many from other columns, even, with their own tales of woe and terror, may have joined ours, or caught up with us. Perhaps they had been gradually moved toward us, by the rencers, in effect, their herdsmen. I wondered if many wished, somehow, if only half consciously, to use his fellows for cover. "Lines!" I had heard, often enough. "Lines!" I had supposed then that they must have again formed lines, now doubtless, given their exhaustion, staggering, straggling lines, yet lines th
at would provide at least an isolation, a separation, of targets. I could imagine weary, terrorized men looking fearfully to the left and right. Everywhere the rence would seem the same. As for myself I could concern myself with little but the weight of the raft, my footing, and the blows which drove me.
"Glory to Ar!" cried out a man, somewhere behind me and to my left.
"Glory to Ar!" wept others.
Bit by bit, from the reports of men from other units, sometimes coming across us, sometimes found wandering in the marsh, sometimes half mad, we had been able to build up a picture of what was occurring in the delta. It was not difficult to overhear these things, at night, and during the march. The rear column, interestingly, had been the first to break, but its retreat had been stopped by rencers, apparently in great numbers. The arrows of tem wood, it seemed, had chosen to close the return to the east. The rear column, then, had fled deeper into the delta.
"They want to keep you in the delta," I had told the officer two nights ago, when unhooded, ungagged, to be fed. "They want you here, all the more at their mercy, where they may deal with you at their leisure, and as they please!"
Labienus had looked at me, not speaking.
"You must try to break out of the delta!" I had said.
He had not responded.
"But what shall we do, Captain?" asked a man.
"We continue west," had said Labienus.
Other reports soon began to trickle in. Two columns had been decimated in rencer attacks. Hundreds of men had perished in quicksand. Many of these had apparently been lured into the mire by rencers who had permitted themselves to be seen, and pursued, rencers who doubtless knew their way through the area, perhaps even drawing up safe-passage markers behind them. Others had fallen to the attacks of tharlarion and the marsh shark, which becomes particularly aggressive early in the morning and toward dusk, its common feeding times. Sickness and infections, too, were rampant. Hunger, exposure, sunstroke, and dysentery were common. There were many desertions. Perhaps some of the deserters might find their way from the delta. One did not know. And always it seemed the rencers were about, like sleen prowling the flanks of a herd.
"Cursed rencers!" I heard a man scream. "Cursed rencers!"
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