by Mick Farren
‘Lissen fellas, I jus’ heard somethin’ tha’s gonna make gettin’ them guns one whole lot easier.’
‘Yeah, what?’
‘Well, I jus’ met this solja boy who tol’ me that they been ordered t’ ride for Afghan Promise right away. Two hunerd from th’ palace an’ another two hunerd from the Quarter. It seems like if’n yous guys wait awhile you’ll be able t’ walk in with your hostage an’ take what you want; only be a handful of retainers t’ guard th’ palace.’
Grinning, Frankie Lee turned to the frightened little merchant.
‘You hear that, Mistuh Ardbrass; seems like our li’l plan’s gonna work out fine.’
XIV
It was hot early afternoon and flies plagued Jaybee and Slick as they crouched in the clump of thorn trees on the hill overlooking Afghan Promise. They had been there since early morning, riding close to the town under cover of darkness, and then, as the sun had come up, settling in to watch and estimate the strength of the outlaws. The morning had passed slowly but both men, experienced scouts, dealt with the passage of time in their own way. Slick with his bottle and his covert pipes, and Jaybee with the almost inanimate stillness so characteristic of the tribesmen of the far hills.
They were an unlikely pair: the fast foxy little city man who had seen a hundred towns and a thousand bars, and the slow solid hill man who rarely spoke and moved with the maximum economy. Some chemistry had just seemed to happen and they had been partners for many years, working together and hiring themselves out as a team to anyone who would pay for their services.
This job for Valentine was, as far as they were concerned, just another gig.
As usual it was Slick who eventually broke the silence.
‘So how many you reckon they got in there? It’s hard to tell with so many comin’ in all th’ time. There’s been tribesmen an’ drifters ridin’ in all mornin’.’
There was a long pause while the big hill man considered.
‘Many ride in this day. I count ten times seven. Maybe ten times ten times six already in the town. Maybe there more; doubt if there less.’
‘You hill boys got a helluva waya reckonin’.’
Slick paused for a moment to count up.
‘So you reckon there’s—mebbe about seven hunred ri’ now?’
‘Reckon.’
‘An’ about a third of ’em with horses?’
‘Some ten times ten twice.’
‘Two hunred horses an’ five hunred foot: tha’s what I figured an’ they’re streamin’ in alla time. It don’t look good f’ Festival. I ain’t seen an army like this gettin’ together before. You recognise any of ’em?’
‘Many tribes, many men without tribe. The totem of Oltha’s tribe is raised but Oltha not plan this alone.’
‘It’s too big for Oltha to put together on his own, I keep seein’ guys look like they could be Iggy’s bunch. You reckon Iggy could a dreamed up this deal? He’s mad an’ mean enough.’
Jaybee shrugged.
‘Maybe Iggy. I can think of no other.’
They lapsed into silence again and scanned down into the town.
‘Whoever’s behind it they sure got the place sewn up tight. My token says Iggy’s behind it.’
Again the hill man shrugged.
‘We wait for dark and carry word to Festival? I see enough.’
Slick sucked on his pipe.
‘Yeah, le’s get back’n’ get paid off. I wouldn’t take no bets on how long Festival’s gonna last.’
* * *
Once the defences had been completed, there was little left to do around the fortified town apart from hauling firewood and checking in the new arrivals. The time passed with endless knife games, gambling and drinking. Occasionally a group of men would take one or two women prisoners to a secluded spot but even the rough sex play was becoming routine. Only the odd fight punctuated the waiting while the outlaw army grew to full strength.
For Nath the time dragged unusually slowly. Normally he would have welcomed a few days spent lazing around in camp but his introduction to crystal had put a tense, waspish edge on his ordinarily solid personality. His paranoia was even more increased by the fact that he was out of crystal and it seemed that Iggy was deliberately avoiding him and leaving him to hurt.
He sat alone in the tent he shared with four more of Oltha’s mounted guns. It was hot and stuffy and he brooded, turning over his dark thoughts and fighting the edge of crystal sickness that left him weak and sweating with a knotted stomach.
Suddenly through the tent flap he saw Iggy saunter past. Quickly he rose and hurried after him. Hearing footsteps behind him, Iggy turned.
‘Hey there, Nath ol’ buddy. You don’ look too good.’
‘Why you not come see me? No crystal, I hurt.’
Iggy stared coldly at the tribesman.
‘You think I got nothin’ to do but run round after dumb hillbillies who can’t handle a li’l bit o’ crystal? I got a fuggin’ army to take care of, sonny boy.’
Nath’s hand shook.
‘I… I hurting. You give crystal.’
‘You got a whole bunch yesterday, ol’ pal, so you jus’ gonna hafta wait. So jus’ fug off an’ don’ bother me.’
Nath’s hand crept slowly towards his knife.
‘You give crystal.’
Iggy stood quite still.
‘Don’t try nothin’ boy or you won’t get no crystal, never!’
He reached into his pouch and tossed Nath a small package.
‘Here, but tha’s gonna be the last if’n that chief of yours don’ get off my back. He don’ seem to like his boys doin’ crystal.’
‘Chief like mother hen!’
Nath spat and turned away to hurry back to his tent. Iggy watched him go, a grin stealing across his face. That should start something moving, he thought.
* * *
After three hits of crystal Nath began to feel more alive; the cramp left his stomach and the tension that had made him shake started to relax its grip. For a while he lay on the pile of furs that served him as a bed and watched the flies that buzzed in their ceaseless dance on the sickly air of the tent.
Soon, the crystal began to take hold and his thoughts started to flow as though on well oiled bearings. He sat up. Just one more hit and he would go out and check what was happening. Maybe find a woman or take his place in a round of the knife game.
He reached into his pouch, pulled out the package of crystal and unwrapped it. Just as he was raising the hit to his nose, the sound of the tent flap opening made him start, spilling the crystal down the front of his rawhide shirt.
‘Curse on you, you…’
He stopped dead when he saw that the intruder was Oltha. Oltha stood in front of him scowling grimly.
‘You take the crystal, you destroy yourself. There is no place for one who takes crystal in this tribe.’
Oltha’s foot lashed out and the packet of crystal went flying, scattering its contents over the floor of the tent. Nath’s surprise turned quickly to fury. He leaped to his feet.
‘Tribe, tribe is nothing, you fool! I ride with Iggy. He deal with you!’
Oltha snarled and struck Nath across the face with the back of his hand.
‘Out, pig! Leave this camp. I settle with Iggy!’
The force of the blow spun Nath round but he swung on Oltha and seized him by the throat.
‘You wrong. I settle you! Now!’
Swiftly Oltha chopped him hard in the ribs. Nath lost his grip and doubled up in pain. Oltha stepped back and drew his knife.
‘Crystal turns warriors into weaklings. Weakling must die!’
He raised his knife to finish Nath. There was a flash of light as a figure came through the tent flap. He turned to see Iggy standing just inside the tent, his face twisted into an evil smirk and a gun in his hand. Iggy shook his head.
‘Too bad, chief. Too bad.’
Oltha took a step towards him, his knife raised. Then the gun exploded and,
to Nath, it seemed as though a section of the back of Oltha’s head just fell apart. His round spiked helmet rolled across the ground.
Nath gawped at Iggy in surprise.
‘You kill chief.’
‘Sho’ kid, he was gettin’ together t’ waste you. I take care of my buddies, ain’t I always tol’ you that?’
Nath looked puzzled.
‘But you kill chief. That could start war right in camp.’
Iggy shrugged.
‘Maybe, unless…’ He looked sideways at the tribesman. ‘You tell everyone you done it.’
Nath became alarmed.
‘Then tribe kill me.’
‘Not if it was a fair fight. The way I heard it, if’n you kill the chief inna fair fight, you get t’ be chief unless some cat challenges you, ri’?’
‘Ri’, but Oltha die by gun, and he only have knife.’
‘Catch!’ Iggy tossed his gun to Nath. He then pulled a second gun from inside his shirt and threw it on the floor beside Oltha’s body.
‘Now it looks like a fair fight, don’ it?’
Slowly Nath nodded.
‘It look, an’ that makes Nath chief of tribe.’
‘You reckon you can take care of any challengers?’
‘None challenge Nath!’
* * *
At the sound of the shot, Slick took his pipe from his mouth and squinted towards the city.
‘Those boys sure do argue some.’
He took another pull on his bottle and leaned back against the tree. Jaybee shaded his eyes to get a better view into the town.
‘Crowd gathers before one tent. You got glass-for-long-seeing?’
Slick rummaged in his pack and produced a battered pair of binoculars.
‘Here, you think somethin’ cookin’?’
Jaybee peered through the binoculars for a while; then he lowered them and glanced at Slick.
‘Shaman comes to tent. It means that a chief was in fight. Body brought from tent. Maybe chief, maybe Oltha.’
‘If th’ shaman’s been called, somethin’ up f’ sure. Take another look an’ see what’s happenin’.’
* * *
‘… And you bear witness that fight was fair?’ The shaman looked hard at Iggy who smiled and spread his hands.
‘Fairest I seen. Nath was jus’ too good £’ th’ chief, despite the fac’ tha’ th’ chief wen’ for his gun firs’.’
‘Then it is done.’
He turned to the crowd.
‘All respect Nath as chief of tribe. If none challenge, then he sing for Oltha. Who challenges?’
Nath scanned the faces of the crowd. No one moved; then to his surprise he heard Iggy speak softly.
‘If no one else’ll challenge, then maybe I will.’
Nath opened his mouth but a vision of the wrath of the tribe if he revealed the deception made him keep quiet. The shaman faced Iggy, gripping his staff tightly with his wrinkled, tattooed hand.
‘You are not of tribe. You have no right of challenge.’
‘I figure I gotta right, by way of th’ alliance I gotta right, an’ by the fac’ of we have fought in battle. Don’t that give me a right?’
The shaman pondered for a while and turned to the crowd.
‘Iggy claims right of challenge by alliance. Will any say him no?’
The crowd remained silent and the shaman again faced Iggy.
‘How challenge you?’
‘I challenge Nath to fight at sunset wi’ hand guns under the common rules of gun law, as set down in th’ texts of Cash.’
‘That a rule of Festival.’
‘Tha’s how I’m makin’ it.’
‘Ways of Festival not ways of tribe.’
‘Tha’s my challenge. Take it or leave it.’
Again the shaman paused for thought. Then he raised his carved staff, the symbol of his authority.
‘The challenge stands!’
Iggy looked at Nath.
‘Till sundown, kid.’
Then he winked.
As the crowd carried Oltha’s body away, Nath watched Iggy walk away and tugged his beard in bewilderment. Whatever Iggy was up to he could only wait and go along with it.
* * *
A fraction before sunset Winston pushed into Nath’s tent. Nath, who sat loading his handgun, looked up watchfully.
‘What want you?’
Winston studied the tribesman.
‘I’m coat-holdin’ f’ Iggy, an’ I jus’ come over to see you got things clear.’
‘I clear.’
Winston sat down opposite Nath.
‘Le’s jus’ go over it, though, so’s there’s no mistake, ri’? You start from either end o’ th’ strip. You from th’ east an’ Iggy from th’ west. Yous both walk towards each other until you think the moment’s ri’ an’ you draw an’ fire, okay? The one who draws first an’ shoots straight kills th’ other. Unerstand?’
‘I said I clear.’
Winston stood up and made for the door of the tent. Before he stepped outside he looked back at Nath and winked.
‘Iggy said t’ tell you things ain’t always what they seems.’
Then he left.
A little later, as Nath walked to the eastern end of the strip, he couldn’t shake the confusion that all the winks and the strange message had caused.
He took up his position at the end of the strip and suddenly realised that he had been manoeuvred into walking straight towards the setting sun. A hundred or more paces away, at the other end of the strip, he could see Iggy silhouetted against the glare. He was bareheaded, wearing only a shirt, trousers and boots. A heavy handgun hung in an ornamented holster. Nath stood still for a few moments, checked that his own gun rested easily in his belt and then, slowly and cautiously, began to walk down the strip. Squinting into the light he saw Iggy also start to move.
As they drew closer he heard Iggy call out to him.
‘Hey kid.’
He halted and stood still, hand poised above the gun in his belt. Iggy kept on calmly walking.
‘Hey kid, they gotta text in Festival that goes: “He not busy bein’ born is busy dyin’,” you believe that?’
Nath felt himself slipping deeper into confusion. His brain whirled; what game was Iggy playing? Iggy stopped, some ten paces away. His eyes had formed coloured patterns from staring into the sun. Iggy’s long shadow reached almost to his feet.
‘They also got an old, old sayin’, kid: “Never give a sucker an even break”.’
Iggy’s right arm suddenly flashed into movement. Nath clawed frantically for his own gun but Iggy fired and a crushing pain smashed into Nath’s chest and he spun round and crumpled to the ground.
XV
A crowd, almost as large as the one for Celebration, gathered round the Highway Gate to watch Valentine lead his four hundred horsemen out to do battle with the outlaws. For the first time in many people’s memory a lord of Festival was leading his troopers out of the city against an enemy.
The crowd milled over the highway and a line of guards on foot struggled to keep the approach to the gateway clear.
Further down the road Frankie Lee and his companions, guns hidden under their coats and the merchant Ardbrass bunched up in the middle of them, were waiting, mingling with the outside of the crowd that stretched out to the North Gate of the Merchants’ Quarter.
Rank after rank of horsemen rode past, broadbrimmed bats shading their faces; guns bumping on the shoulders of their blue surcoats that carried the colours of the lord and the various merchant guilds. Fifty in all, eight abreast, they were the largest army to ride from Festival since Starkweather had disbanded his troops. Alone in front of the column, Valentine rode a large black gelding. Although unpopular he still managed to overawe the crowd, sitting upright on the big horse. His black leather tunic with its gleaming metal plates, and his high black boots and black helmet with the circular gold design made him look every inch the supreme warlord; he had even received a ragged cheer fro
m the press of spectators.
In the dust thrown up by the four hundred horses, the supply wagons and the carriages bearing the court ladies and textkeepers rattled out of the gates. When the last one had passed, the Highway Gate slammed shut and the crowd started to disperse.
Slowly, with their captive in the middle of them, Frankie Lee and his boys made their way towards the North Gate of the Merchants’ Quarter. Although the gate was, as usual, open to the milling traffic, it was surrounded by extra guards who looked round watchfully. Obviously, after the incident of the previous night, the merchants were taking no chances. Frankie Lee signalled to the group to halt and turned to one of the men near him.
‘Listen Ace, split back an’ get your wagon, okay? Th’ one wi’ th’ cover. We gotta be a bit suss about gettin’ inside the Quarter.’
Ace hurried off and Frankie led the group back the way they had come and along the north side of the Backstage wall. As they rounded the corner of the wall and started to walk towards the arena, Ace came into sight, driving his covered cart drawn by a single mule. As he reached the little group of armed men he halted the mule and leaned over the side of the box.
‘Wha’ now, Frankie?’
Frankie Lee turned to the men.
‘Yous all get inside an’ keep your heads down.’
Then, as the men hurried round to the back of the wagon, he jabbed his gun into Ardbrass’s ribs.
‘Climb up onna box, Mistuh Ardbrass.’
The merchant scrambled up beside the driver and’ Frankie Lee followed, stepping past him and squatting down out of sight behind the wagon’s cover. He looked round the men who crouched on the floor.
‘Okay yous men, jus’ keep it quiet till we’re through the gate.’
He turned and poked Ardbrass with his pistol.
‘Okay merchant, you jus’ sit there an’ act natural. Remember I’m behind you an’ if you yell you’re dead, got it?’
The merchant licked his lips and nodded. Frankie Lee crouched lower behind the box.
‘Ri’ Ace, take her away.’
The wagon bumped and rattled down the track that ran beside the wall, out onto the highway. Then it swung to the left down towards the North Gate of the Merchants’ Quarter.