The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (31 page)

Dtain hadn't lied, not once, but he had kept one thing to himself. One thing that could save the prince. That could save Ximerion.

In half an hour it would be light, but as yet the burning arrow, shot high in the air, was clearly visible. A second and a third followed.

Lee-Lack and his brother waited just outside the forest. It was around nine in the morning when they saw a cloud of dust in the distance. Norri-Nack shifted nervously. Lee-Lack stood rigid as a statue, putting his weight on his good leg.

Shigurtish jumped off his horse and went up to Lee-Lack without looking back. One of his companions took the reins.

“Everything went well?” he asked without introduction.

“It did,” Lee-Lack answered.

“You're certain these were the only ones the little devil has sent?”

“Of course. They're all dead. Except their captain.”

“Good.”

He made a sign to one of his men, who turned his horse around and rode off.

“No time like the present,” the Mukthar prince said an he grinned.

“You're moving into the Plains today?”

“As soon as my man reaches them and gives the word.”

Lee-Lack didn't permit himself to shudder. It took some effort.

“How many?” he asked casually.

“Enough,” Shigurtish replied. “More than enough. Lead me to him.”

They went into the forest, to where Dtain lay moaning softly. Shigurtish looked around with a satisfied expression on his face.

“You've been thorough, my friend.”

Lee-Lack felt suddenly very cold. Being called ‘my friend’ by Shigurtish wasn't as reassuring as it should be.

He felt like a rabbit about to be slaughtered and prepared for dinner.

“
What is he planning? Why can't I shake off this feeling of impending doom?”

“I'm always thorough, Shigurtish. So, what's the plan?”

He tried to make it sound off-hand, as if he wasn't really all that interested. Shigurtish answered in the same vein.

“The usual. Dermolhea has had thirteen years by now to recuperate. We're going straight for the richest price.

In and out, as fast as lightning. You, in Mirkadesh, won't even know we've been anywhere around.”

“The prince and his army?”

Shigurtish laughed softly.

“He will come too late. If he knows what's good for him. Maybe a reassuring message from the good captain here will lulreassu wiHe l him to sleep some more.”

He kicked Dtain in the ribs with the tip of his boot.

“Perhaps it would be better to send nothing. Leave him waiting and wondering, you know.”

“And run the risk he dispatches another patrol? I don't think so. He's inexperienced. Inexperienced leaders tend to get jittery when they don't know what's going on.”

“He's no fool. He got Damydas.”

“Damydash,” Shigurtish spat. “It was Damydash who was the fool. Thinking he could pull one over him and use us, all at the same time.”

He suddenly realized he might have let himself get carried away.

“We would have stood by our agreement with him, of course,” he added in a more placating tone. “He underestimated his opponent. Clearly. I don't. You and your people all over Amiratha have done an admirable job, and I have made my plans accordingly. Never fear.”

He smiled at Lee-Lack, who again had to suppress a shiver.

“Untie the captain's hands,” Shigurtish ordered one of his men. “He's going to write a little message to put his frishiu at ease.”

It was almost midday when the robber chief took his leave of the Mukthar prince. With his small band he rode westward, and halted on a little hill where he had an excellent view of the Queneq pass.

“
The barbarians are swarming into the Plains like locusts. What is Shigurtish planning? Look how many of
them there are already, and still they keep coming in their hundreds, their thousands. This is no mere raid.

This is an invasion. This is a flood.”

He frowned. The important thing was to keep Mirkadesh out of the melee. The rest wasn't his concern.

A lone rider neared the little hill. The robbers relaxed as soon as they saw it was one of their own.

“Trouble, Chief,” the new arrival shouted, jumping from his horse and running up to Lee-Lack.

“What?” Lee-Lack barked, annoyed.

This was no time to bother him with trivialities.

“We've got a strong complaint from one of the Ghiasht merchant firms. They paid their dues and yet they were robbed. Their caravan was attacked and more than hundred seventy horses were stolen,” the man panted.

“I did not order such an attack,” Lee-Lack said.

“No, Chief, it wasn't us. It was some other group. But the Ghiasht merchants say they pay us for protection.

They don't care it wasn't us. We should have prevented this from happening, they say. They threaten to stop all payments if we don't guarantee their safety. And they want their horses back.”

Lee-Lack Scarminckle cursed, long and loudly.

Strictly speaking pages weren't allowed to visit The Cranky Goat, but, as the landlord had pointed out to one of Anaxantis's guards, he couldn't chase them away, could he? They were young lords after all, and well, how was he to know which of his many patrons were pages? The guard, who wasn't too interested in the matter, had shrugged and told Unny to just not let them get drunk. Unny had agreed to let them not get too drunk.

Eynurm never got drunk, because he only drank very weak ale, or cow's piss as the other pages called it, and even so he made do with one tanker for several hours. Lorcko never got drunk, because instinctively he knew when to stop.

They and a few others were sitting at a table, talking and watching the other patrons.

At their usual table, in the corner sat a bunch of Mukthars, shouting at each other, laughing boisterously and demolishing a plate of spicy chicken wings. Two tables further, Timishi and Rodomesh sat by themselves.

“Sooner or later you'll have to come clean with him, Timi,” Rodomesh said.

“I agree,” Timishi answered. “I just wish we had something to offer him. He's a Ximerionian, Rodo, and I am not all that sure he will be very happy with a Mukthar tribe in his backyard. We still don't know what his final plans are. We don't know if he can win this war. There's so much we don't know.”

“If you're right about Shigurtish's plans he'd better win or we're done for. We've got nowhere else to run to anymore.”

“I know, I know. But even about that I am not sure.”

“It's likely though. Shigurtish doesn't want plunder alone. He wants revenge.”

“All I know for certain is that we can't put the màhai through a second winter in the forest. Several of the girls are pregnant.”

“Which is a good thing. We need to grow.”

“We need decent places to bring the young ones up. We need an alliance with the Ximerionians. With the victorious Ximerionians.”

“Go to him. Explain. He'll understand.”

“What if he wants the Plains all to himself? Or what if his father, the quedash, orders him to chase us away?

What if he loses the battle?”

“We could help him. By now Navrisha should have captured enough horses.”

“She's a formidable warrior, but we need about three hundred of them. That's a lot. Even if she managed to get us that many, what will it mean to Anashantish? An additional three hundred young warriors. He might laugh me out of his war room.”

“He has seen us in action. I doubt he will laugh. Certainly not once he realizes what he's up against. He'll see he'll need all the help he can get.”

“Rodo, turn this around how you want, the simple fact remains that I've got next to nothing to negotiate with.

Why do you think I tried to connect with him on a more personal level?”

“I know, nagàrouwin. I know.”

At the other table, the Mukthar's tankards were halfway empty, which was why Shermy went to the counter to ask one of the girls to bring them another round. Mukthars didn't like empty tankards. Or half empty ones.

A lot of people thronged at the counter, and not being very tall, Shermy had to wrestle himself through the mass. Inadvertently he stepped on someone's foot. Unfortunately the foot belonged to some tall, husky fellow who had been drinking quite a lot. He turned to Shermy with an angry look on his face and gave him a push which almost knocked the little Mukthar over. Another man caught him and pushed him back. Soon the little Mukthar was punched around by four laughing men.

The other Mukthars weren'twidth=s whar paying attention to what was happening at the counter. Only Lorcko had seen the little brawl out of the corner of his eyes.

“Excuse me for a moment, guys,” he said standing up.

He walked over to the men.

“Stop that, please,” he said calmly.

If the men hadn't been drunk, they might have recognized him as a young lord, but they didn't, or if they did, they didn't care in their inebriated state.

“The little barbarian stepped on my toes,” the tall man said indignantly.

“I'm sure it was an accident. Now leave him alone,” Lorcko said.

“What business of yours is it anyway,” the man asked belligerently.

Lorcko drew his dagger and pointed it at an embroidery on his tunic.

“See that? It's the crest of my House. Now look at the silver brooch on his shirt. See the uncanny resemblance? You don't harass members of my House.”

The point of the dagger had suddenly shifted to the man's belly.

“You may think he's a barbarian, but I assure you it will be me gutting you like the pig you are. Call off your buddies. Now.”

The man took an unsure step backwards and raised his arms in an appeasing gesture. His mates thought it wiser to suddenly not know him.

“Come, Shermy,” Lorcko said, “I'd like you to meet some friends of mine.”

While they went over to Lorcko's table, the little Mukthar looked up with big eyes at him.

“Do you really think of me as a member of your House, Lorsho?” he asked.

“Eh, sure. Of course I do, Shermy,” Lorcko answered, grabbing him by the shoulder.

Shermy grinned. He had tried not to, tried very hard, but at that moment Shermy couldn't help himself anymore and fell hopelessly in love.

“
Look at that. He stands by his friends,”
Eynurm, who had watched the little scene, thought.

Timishi as well had seen what had happened. So had Rodomesh. Now he looked at his rouwin with a worried look. Timi was clearly impressed. More than just impressed.

“Maybe, just maybe there is hope for us, beddurouwin,” Timishi said softly.

Obyann had gone to bed early. Above his bed he had mounted a wooden peg, from which hung the scarf Nina had made for him. One side was in the colors of the House of Ramaldah, olive green and white, and the other in that of the House of Eldorn, crimson and yellow. It was already late in spring and it was warm most days, but Obyann was planning to wear his scarf whenever he could. And damn the regulations. Everybody else was wearing whatever they pleased as well.

He had been lying in bed five minutes, when it started to rain. Obyann knew that was only the beginning. He had smelled storm in the air. Muttering he got out of bed and checked whether his two door bolts were firmly in place. They were, he confirmed to his utter satisfaction.

Obyann actually liked a good storm. Especially when he was lying in his warm, dry, cozy bed. He had barely lain down again when the dry, cwhey lfirst thunder struck with a terrifying noise as if the heavens had split.

He turned on his side.

Moments later there was a fierce hammering on his door.

“Let us in, let us in,” he heard shrill voices calling.

Obyann rose halfway.

“No, go to Landemere. It's his turn,” he shouted back, keeping an eye on the two door bolts.

“Nulfie is at the castle.”

“He'll be back soon.”

“Soon is not now. We want in now.”

“Well, you can't. You'll just have to wait till he returns,” Obyann shouted back.

He lay down again.

“There's two of them now. Let them comfort each other,” he grumbled under his breath.

Just when everything seemed to have grown quiet again, and he thought they had gone away, he heard a loud thump on the door. And another whack. And yet another bang. The little weirdos were trying to break his door down.