Conspirators of Gor (63 page)

Before us the trail had disappeared.

“We shall have to make our way around this,” shouted Desmond of Harfax, trying to wipe rain from his eyes.

“I have had enough,” shouted Trachinos. “I am going back.”

“I wish you well!” called Desmond of Harfax.

“What?” shouted Trachinos.

“I wish you well,” called Desmond of Harfax, again.

Trachinos cupped his hands to his mouth. “We must all go back!” he shouted.

“Come closer,” called Desmond of Harfax.

A cold wind began to blow.

The free persons gathered together. There was a wide spot on the trail here. It had a fair steepness on one side, a chillingly sharp drop on the other. Jane, Eve, and I, shivering in our soaked tunics, our sopped burdens tied to our back, stood to the side. As animals we must wait to see where we would be taken.

“The weather must break,” said Lykos.

“A Voltai storm can last for weeks,” said Trachinos.

“That is rare,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You are not out on Thassa.”

“It has rained for three days and three nights,” said Trachinos.

“I think the weather will break,” said Lykos. “It must break.”

“The wind is rising,” said Astrinax. “It will move the storm to the west.”

“Ah!” said Lykos.

“And there is a greater darkness in the east, yet to come!” said Trachinos.

“We are going forward,” said Desmond of Harfax. “The mountain is less steep ahead. Climb carefully. Do not slip. We will go above the slide and around it.”

“You are a fool,” said Trachinos.

“You are free,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You may depart when you wish.”

“Alone?” asked Trachinos.

“Be patient,” said Akesinos. “We have come a long way. The weather is sure to break.”

“It is dangerous to go alone,” said Trachinos.

Desmond of Harfax scrambled up the side of the mountain. I gasped, as I saw his foot slip.

In a moment he had rejoined us.

“Rope,” he said to Astrinax.

“Go back,” said Trachinos, angrily. “You do not even have the trail of Pausanias.”

“How is that?” asked Astrinax.

“The trail is too narrow for wagons here,” said Trachinos.

“Not when Pausanias passed,” said Astrinax.

“How do you know?” asked Trachinos.

Astrinax was silent.

“The trail is narrowed,” said Desmond, “slides, the rains.”

“They would be insane to have ventured here,” said Trachinos.

“They have directions,” said Desmond.

“How so?” inquired Trachinos.

“It has to do with a deck of cards,” said Desmond.

“You are mad,” said Trachinos, against the rain.

“One man might be mad,” said Lykos. “It is unlikely that some twenty men with ten wagons would be mad.”

“How could they get back?” asked Trachinos.

“Easily,” said Desmond. “They might no longer need the wagons. They could return on foot. If they wanted them, they could return differently. There is no dearth of routes. Too, with the men they have they could fell trees, bridge gaps, smooth passages, widen trails.”

“You have lost them,” said Trachinos.

“No,” said Astrinax. “Did you not note evidence of their passage just this morning?”

“No,” said Trachinos.

“A mark on a boulder to the right, a fresh mark, the mark of a wheel hub scraping the stone.”

“Absurd,” said Trachinos.

Desmond fastened the rope about his waist, and then about mine. I looked at him, but his eyes did not meet mine. Next came Astrinax, and then the Lady Bina and Jane, and then Lykos and Eve, and then, however reluctantly, Akesinos, who looped the extra coils about his shoulder. In this way, if one member of the party fell, there would be others to draw him to safety. The women were largely centered, and staggered with the men, who were stronger. This was clearly done with the safety of the women in mind. This solicitude was interesting to me, considering that three of us were slaves. Women are special to men, it seems, even when they are in collars. To be sure, the free woman is priceless, and the slave does have a value, as she may be sold.

“I am leaving,” shouted Trachinos.

Desmond of Harfax waved a farewell to him, and turned, bracing himself, into the wind and rain, and then, slipping some, began to ascend the mountain. I followed, the rope grasped in two hands, the pack on my back, Astrinax and the others, on the same rope, following. Shortly thereafter, in a momentary stop, steadying myself on the slope, my left foot lower than my right, I turned to look back. I shook my head and hair, and tried to wipe the rain from my eyes with the back of my right hand. It was hard to see, for the rain, and the shadows, but there was a new last figure on the rope. Trachinos was now behind Akesinos, and the coils of rope were now slung about his shoulder. So Trachinos was again with us. He had not left. He had one of the two spears tied across his pack. The other spear was similarly borne by Lykos. The spear is the weapon of choice against a charging larl, or, I suppose, Kur.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Dear Trachinos,” said Desmond of Harfax.

Trachinos, who had gone a little ahead, about a bend in the trail, spun about, wildly, almost dropping the mirror he held.

It had rained for two more days, and then the weather had cleared.

“I would discontinue your signaling,” said Desmond of Harfax. “You will endanger your cohorts.”

“I saw flashes in the hills,” said Trachinos. “I know not their source. I thought them possibly those whom you might be seeking. I responded.”

“The signaling,” said Desmond, “was from your band, from Venna, who have been with us for some time, at least since the six hundredth pasang stone of the Aqueduct Road.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” said Trachinos.

“There are nine in your band,” said Desmond.

The right hand of Trachinos moved to the hilt of the blade slung at his left hip.

“There is an informant,” said Desmond.

“A spy!” exclaimed Trachinos, angrily.

“No,” said Desmond, “not as you would think of a spy.”

“How long have you known?” asked Trachinos.

“For days,” said Desmond.

“Akesinos!” called Trachinos.

Akesinos, then, like a sudden shadow, was at his side.

“We are discovered,” said Trachinos.

“Why now have you signaled your people?” asked Desmond.

“You are unarmed, Metal Worker,” said Trachinos.

“It would seem so,” said Desmond.

“We have waited long enough,” said Trachinos. “We are far into the Voltai. The journey back will be difficult and dangerous. There seems to be no clear end to your journey. Perhaps you have no rendezvous in mind. Or perhaps it is with the wagons of Pausanias, or some fortress or lair shared with them, and, if so, we would be considerably overmatched. Should we not, by now, if it exists, have reached some cache, some horde, or mine? Perhaps you are mad. We do not know. We have waited long enough.”

“It was a mistake to signal your band,” said Desmond.

“We think not,” said Trachinos.

“Was there a response to your signal?” asked Desmond.

“Look!” said Trachinos, pointing to the mountains.

“I see,” said Desmond. “It is unfortunate.”

I could see a flickering for a moment or two, and then it ceased.

“We bear you no ill will,” said Trachinos. “We will spare you your lives. We will merely take what you have, your coin, your supplies, your weaponry, the women.”

“The Lady Bina,” said Desmond, “is free.”

“We will have her marked, collared, and sold in Venna,” said Trachinos.

“You would leave us here, defenseless, with larls and sleen about, and without food?” said Desmond.

“It would not do, to have you return to Venna,” said Trachinos.

“May I inquire the purport of your recent signal to your band?” asked Desmond.

“I told you,” said Trachinos. “We have waited long enough. Too, the band grows restless. That is clear in the signals. They wish to act. These are not fellows of the Scarlet Caste. Discipline is fragile.”

“Do not signal them to act,” said Desmond.

“It is done,” said Trachinos.

“I am sorry,” said Desmond.

“They will be here, within two Ahn,” said Trachinos.

“Lykos may be dangerous,” said Akesinos.

“I do not think he will attack both of us,” said Trachinos.

“He will not,” said Desmond. “I spoke to him of this several days ago.”

“He will be reluctant to be disarmed,” said Trachinos.

“He does not expect to be disarmed,” said Desmond.

“I do not understand,” said Trachinos.

“Let us prepare our noon meal,” said Desmond. “After that we will try to ascertain the fate of your band.”

“What?” said Trachinos.

* * * *

I later regretted accompanying our party higher into the mountains, not that I had any choice. Jane, Eve, and I had been roped together. Master Desmond thought this a wise precaution, given what might be found. Perhaps we might have scattered, or fled back down the slope. When we came over the rise, to a level place, where there were the ashes of an extinguished fire, and the signs of a small camp, I had quickly looked away. I do not think that either Jane or Eve were any more pleased. Trachinos was stunned, and white-faced. Even dark Akesinos had paled. The men examined the bodies, and parts of bodies, of nine men. The Lady Bina joined them. It seemed that she was less distressed than we. I sensed she might be familiar with such sights, from her former world. There had been, as I understood it, a revolution there, perhaps replete with such incidents.

“This is not the work of Grendel,” said the Lady Bina.

“Grendel?” said Lykos.

“My guard,” said she, “come with me from a far place.”

“Kur,” said Astrinax.

“In part,” said the Lady Bina.

“My informant,” explained Astrinax.

“What is Kur?” said Trachinos.

“A higher form of life,” said the Lady Bina, “compared to which we are but weak, disarmed beasts.”

“Surely not,” said Desmond.

“No,” she said, “it is not the work of Grendel.”

“Are you sure, Lady?” said Astrinax.

“There are nine men here,” she said, “and Grendel is but one, and it is daylight. He might kill nine at night, in the darkness. It is not likely he could kill nine in the bright day. Surely some would arm themselves, and manage to slay a single foe, or, at least, cry out, scatter, and escape, perhaps to be hunted down later.”

“He was with another, surely,” said Astrinax to the Lady Bina.

“The other,” she said, “would be left behind. It would be useless here.”

She referred, doubtless, to the blind Kur. Astrinax, I gathered, and perhaps Desmond, as well, did not realize the other Kur was blind. Desmond of Harfax had encountered it only in the darkness of the market of Cestias, long ago.

“This is the work of a larl,” said Trachinos, “a pride of larls.”

“Who did not eat the kill?” said Desmond.

“It must be,” said Trachinos, “heads bitten away, an arm gone, part of a leg.”

“That is not the way a larl kills,” said Lykos. “Commonly it pounces from behind, and bites through the back of the neck, or, approaching frontally, sinks its teeth in the shoulder, and, with its rear legs, disembowels the prey.”

“Kurii can do that,” said the Lady Bina.

“It must have been he whom you call your guard,” said Astrinax.

“You have that in your mind, my dear Astrinax,” said the Lady Bina, “doubtless from your night watches, so much so that you have not looked about you. Note some of the wounds here, the penetration and withdrawal of a single object. There is nothing of larls or Kurii there. Too, at the edge of the camp, and elsewhere, you will see tracks.”

Desmond and Lykos moved about.

“Tharlarion!” said Desmond.

“Tharlarion are not native here,” protested Astrinax.

“You are perceptive, Lady Bina,” said Desmond, admiringly.

I was suddenly jealous of the Lady Bina.

“A quality of perception is not involved here,” said the Lady Bina. “As I recognized it could not be the work of my guard, Grendel, I merely looked further.”

“Bipedalian tharlarion, hunting tharlarion,” said Lykos, “lancers.”

“I think now it is reasonably clear,” said Desmond of Harfax, “from the tracks, the grouping of the bodies, their attitudes. It was a simple closure attack. The lancers appeared there, and the men turned and fled, and encountered the waiting beasts.”