The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (38 page)

third of your men, probably half?”

“Frankly, no. Can you afford to die?”

Timishi shrugged, at the same time grinning broadly.

“All things come to an end eventually, Ximerionian. So must our

existence one day. Today is as good a day as any. Don’t expect that

our lives will come cheap, however. Perchance we will continue this

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conversation in Murokthil.”

“Why not live? You have fought bravely. You have done all you

could. There is no shame in surrender in the face of overwhelming

odds.”

“Not for Ximerionians maybe. There is for Mukthars.”

Anaxantis smiled.

“What if I were to invite you to follow me. As my guests? My

honored guests?”

Hemarchidas couldn’t believe his ears. Was he going to invite

these barbarians?

“Anaxantis, no,” he said, exasperated.

“Timishi, don’t believe him. He’s but a Ximerionian liar. They’re

known the whole world through for their treachery. Don’t fall in his

trap,” Rodomesh hissed.

He glared at Hemarchidas, who returned the compliment with

an angry stare of his own. Timishi seemed to hesitate.

“No surrender?” he asked.

“No surrender,” Anaxantis answered evenly.

“We keep our weapons, of course,” Timishi probed.

“Of course, because you will promise to only use them in self-

defense.”

Hemarchidas shifted uneasily in his saddle.

“And to defend our hosts, when necessary.”

The Cheridonian looked at the sky, as if help against this folly

could come from there.

“You will not try to terminate your stay with us in a one sided

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manner?” Anaxantis continued.

“You will treat us with respect?”

“As I said, you will be treated as honored guests.”

Timishi looked deep in Anaxantis’s eyes.

“On behalf of myself and my men, I accept your hospitality.

The bonds between host and guest are sacred to us, Mukthars.” He

turned around to his men. “You heard me: sacred.” Then he looked

at Rodomesh. “Sacred,” he repeated once more. “You will not shame

my given word.”

Rodomesh averted his eyes downwards under his prince’s stare.

“No, Timishi, you know I won’t,” he said meekly.

Anaxantis turned around to his men, to Hemarchidas’s horror

exposing his back to the Mukthars.

“Hemarchidas, Iftang, I expect you to extend the utmost courtesy

to our guests.”

Both men looked at each other. For a moment it looked as if

Hemarchidas was going to say something, but then he thought better

of it. They both nodded.

Anaxantis mounted Myrmos.

“Where are your horses,” he asked Timishi. “Or did you come on

foot?”

“They were grazing peacefully when that one came and for no

reason at all fell down upon us,” Rodomesh bit at Hemarchidas.

“They startled and ran away. Who could blame them? They saw his

ugly face.”

“You call being shot at with at least a dozen arrows nothing at all,

you little fu—”

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“Hemarchidas,” Anaxantis interrupted him with raised voice.

“The utmost courtesy,” he added in a softer voice. “Please.”

“Yes, of course, Anaxantis. Sorry, I forgot,” he grumbled.

Anaxantis sighed. Then he smiled and extended his hand to

Timishi.

“Please, ride with me,” he offered.

He had meant for Timishi to sit behind him, but the Mukthar,

using his arm as support, jumped upon Myrmos and landed in the

saddle before him. It was only in the nick of time that Anaxantis

leaned back to make room for Timishi’s right leg which would have

hit him in the face.

Timishi looked back and grinned while shrugging by way of an

apology.

“No offense, but I’d rather look at the landscape than at your

back.”

“But it’s all right for me to have to stare at yours,” Anaxantis

muttered, leaning sideways, so as to be able to see where they were

going.

Hemarchidas looked at Rodomesh and pondered if he should

make the same offer. One look at the Mukthar’s face told him he

needn’t bother. Rodomesh preferred walking beside his prince, his

sword in its scabbard, but his hand on the pommel.

While they returned to the camp, Anaxantis tried to engage

Timishi in conversation.

“I know you can’t tell me anything, and I don’t want to press you,

prince, but I wondered—”

“You can call me Timishi,” the Mukthar said. “After all you’re also

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a kind of prince, albeit only a Ximerionian one.”

“Ah, good. The first foot in the door. So sorry, my barbarian

friend, but I owe it to the army and the people to try to gain as much

information from you as I can.”

“Very well, Timishi, then you should call me Anaxantis.”

“I was planning to, Anashantish.”

“Anaxantis. My name is Anaxantis.”

“I know. Anashantish,” Timishi said, looking left and right, taking

in the landscape.

“No, no. Anaxantis. A-nak-zan-tisss.”

“Yes, yes, A-nash-shan-tish. I heard you the first time.”

Anaxantis decided exasperated that it was no use. The wind blew

strands of the Mukthar’s long hair in his face.

“He smells funny. It’s not exactly unpleasant. It’s... it’s wild,

somehow. Exciting.”

Timishi suddenly turned around and yanked the reins out of his

hands.

“Give me those. I can’t have my men see me being driven around

like a little child.”

He once more produced his grin-and-shrug combination.

“But my men can see me being driven around. On my own horse,”

Anaxantis fumed. “And may I remind you, prince of the Mukthars,

that there are a lot more of my men than there are of yours.”

Timishi ignored him and didn’t look back. Anaxantis suspected

that he was grinning.

He looked the Mukthars over one by one.

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“They are so young. Not one of them can be older than twenty and

Timishi is my age. That isn’t strange in itself... but all of them? I have

Iftang who is more than ten years my senior and a lot of the cavalrymen

are even older. Maybe they’re on a reconnaissance assignment. A young

prince and his companions... Or maybe it’s a kind of initiation rite.”

He looked at their weapons. They all had a sword and a dagger.

About half of them carried short hand bows and arrows as well.

When they had almost reached the camp, while he was

surreptitiously studying the design of the hand bows, it suddenly

struck him.

“The arrow. If I had been a few inches to the right it would have

struck me in the face, in the eye or in the chest. I could have died. I

nearly did. And he is all alone in the tower. What would become of

him? He would be at the mercy... well, of anybody actually. I have made

no provisions for him in case something happens to me. The Gods only

know what they would do to him.”

One of the cavalry men was at the same time thinking back at the

events of the day as well.

“He almost got killed today. Just a hairbreadth, and the arrow

would have put an end to the career of the warlord, and my friend

would have been free. Guiltlessly free. Freed by the barbarians. In

two, three days at most I could have been back at Lorseth. It would

have been desertion, but who cares? Who knows what arrangements

he made for the event of his death? I wouldn’t be surprised that he

ordered a special squad to murder him in that case. I would have been

faster, though. I would have been in Lorseth before the news got there.

And this time I wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment. A big ax is all I

would have needed. Such a shame that Mukthar wasn’t a better shot.

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As soon as they had reached the camp, he took Hemarchidas

aside.

“I’m returning to Lorseth, first thing tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. You and Iftang take joint command for the

duration of this expedition. I’ll take twenty men and our guests with

me.”

“Twenty men and the barbarians? Anaxantis, those are not good

odds. If you run into difficulties — let’s say robbers — and they turn

against you...”

“Oh, they won’t. I have the word of their prince, and something

tells me that he was telling the truth when he said that for them the

bonds between hosts and guests are sacred. If anything, they will be

an asset should I run into robbers.”

“Your credulity and naiveté will never cease to amaze me,”

Hemarchidas grumbled. “You think everybody has your standards

of ethics, you little fool. You would never go back on your word. Him,

I’m not that certain about. Don’t even bother trying to convince me

of the contrary. You will do as you please anyhow. As usual.”

He had sounded annoyed, but he smiled indulgently at his friend.

He forgot to ask why Anaxantis wanted to return to Lorseth so badly.

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At evening Hemarchidas and Iftang tried to get better acquainted

with the Mukthars. They had decided that Anaxantis was right and

that they should learn as much as they could from their guest. Also,

they were curious, plain and simple.

At first it didn’t go very well. Rodomesh took a swig of the

watered down wine and promptly spat it out, declaring it was the

most disgusting brew he had ever tasted and accusing Hemarchidas

of trying to poison him. Iftang wisely opted not to offer him the jug

of weak beer he had brought. They sent for wine that hadn’t been

watered down, and that one got a far better reception.

Not that they learned very much, as Hemarchidas later explained

to Anaxantis. The young Mukthars drank copiously of the wine, but

they couldn’t hold their drink. Rodomesh had decided, after three

cups, that he liked Hemarchidas after all.

“Except he called me Emarshidash, and no matter how many

times I corrected him, he couldn’t get the correct pronunciation over

his soaked tongue.”

“What did they call Iftang?” Anaxantis asked.

“Ishtank, or something like that.”

“Just as I expected. Timishi, Rodomesh, Anashantish... I too tried

to correct Timishi. It was as if he didn’t even realize what he was

doing. I think they can’t even imagine a name without an sh-sound in

it. Timishi didn’t so much as hear the difference between Anaxantis

and Anashantish. It must be so deep ingrained in their language that

they automatically and unconsciously change the most likely letter

into an sh-sound. Another strange thing, they do it only with the

names of people. They’re perfectly capable of pronouncing Ximerion

or Murokthil as they should be pronounced. But I bet they will call

the king of the devils Shardosh, not Zardok. Their pronunciation

of Standard Palton is rather good. I’ve heard Zyntreans speak with

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thicker accents. It’s only names of people they have difficulties with.”

“Interesting as that is, it’s a shame that it is all we learned.”

“As long as they didn’t learn too much from you two,” Anaxantis

laughed.

“I can hold my wine,” Hemarchidas said indignantly. “Not that I

drank much anyway.”