To the High Redoubt (3 page)

The woman next to last was the one who held Arkady's interest. She was young, certainly not yet twenty, with a strong and lithe body under the swathes of stained silk she wore. Her skin was a light shade of bronze and her hair was black as onyx, without a trace of red or blue in its shine. Her face was unusually tranquil, and a moment later Arkady realized why: she turned toward him, and he saw that her eyes were a strange, light shade, like frost-blighted leaves. The dark blue mark in the center of her forehead seemed more truly an eye.

Arkady was not aware that he had come to the foot of the platform and was staring up at the woman, but the little slaver was, and he hurried over to the soldier, a fawning grin on his grizzled features. He bowed ingratiatingly and began to say something that Arkady could not understand.

“Be quiet, you,” Arkady snapped, his eyes fastened on the young woman. He had the oddest feeling that blind as she was, the woman was
looking at
him. “How much?” he asked the slaver.

Although the slaver did not understand Arkady's words, he had been a merchant long enough to know when someone wanted to buy. He held up both hands and flashed his fingers twice, then touched the gold earrings he wore.

Arkady shook his head, and held up all the fingers on one hand and two of the other, thinking as he did it that he was being incredibly foolish. He was a soldier without employment. To buy a slave was a ridiculous extravagance, and when that slave was a blind girl…

They compromised at fifteen gold coins, and Arkady gave them to the merchant with an expression of distaste, and watched while the woman was unfastened from the chain. The assistant started to drag her forward; she missed her footing and almost dropped to her knees.

“No!” Arkady ordered in the same tone of voice that he used with his troops. He clambered onto the platform and took the chain, shoving the assistant aside. The merchant and some of the men in the crowd laughed; Arkady ignored them.

The young woman turned her face toward Arkady and said something in a low, musical voice, extending her hand.

As Arkady closed his fingers around hers, he had the oddest sense that a current had run down his arm, and he looked at her, startled. He still did not know why he had brought her and, now that he had her, what he would do with her. He decided that he was mad. He said to the young woman, “Come with me. This way.” Gently he led her toward the stairs, then checked her. “You have to step down here.” He knew that she did not have the words, but he felt her hand tighten, and she went down the stairs carefully, feeling her way with her slippered feet.

At the foot of the steps, she faced him again and murmured something more, touching his arm uncertainly. There was a question in the words she spoke.

“Take my arm; it's all right,” he assured her as he went back toward his horse. What on earth was he doing, he asked himself as he guided her to his mount. What possessed him to purchase a slave like this one? “Stay with my horse,” he said to her, feeling helpless to make himself understood.

“N'yeh,” the young woman said, taking hold of the stirrup as soon as Arkady put her hand there.

“Uh…good,” he said, having no idea what she meant. “You…stay here…I…
I
”—he pointed to himself and spoke very slowly, finding the whole situation too absurd to deal with—“have…to get food.”

The young woman nodded, taking hold of the stirrup with both hands. She said something more that sounded like “simbruk” to Arkady and made an attempt at a smile.

“I'll…be back…shortly. Shortly.” He took a few steps away from her, half expecting to see her run off or be taken by one of the other men in the crowd. He looked around and decided that she might not be safe, even if she remained where he had told her. He went back to her side and said. “Look, I'm going to take you and the horse with me.”

She ducked her head, but whether it was a nod or a bow, Arkady had no way of knowing, and this was more frustrating than complete and stoic silence would have been.

One of the men in the crowd pointed at Arkady, laughing and saying something to the men around him. The others glanced toward the two strangers—not only different from the people in the market square, but different from each other as well—and joined the first man in laughter.

“Don't mind them,” Arkady said grimly as he led both the horse and the young woman through the crowd toward the farmers' stalls. “We'll be out of here in a little while.”

“N'yeh,” she said with great serenity.

“Right,” he agreed, still trying to figure out why he had let himself become caught by her and her plight. He might as well have joined forces with the soldiers of the Chinese for all the good he was doing, and now to have this slave as well!

She touched his arm. “Tara manidatta.” She moved after him with unusual confidence, for although he chose their way carefully, she did not appear to falter as he led her. There was an odd half-smile on her full mouth.

Arkady found a seller of grain and had much to do to keep his horse from helping himself to the farmer's produce while he bargained for a price. At last he was satisfied that he had got the price as low as the farmer was willing to go for a stranger, and paid out the money. He noticed that his supply of coins had become dangerously low, and again he cursed the impulse that had caused him to buy the slave. Yet now that he had her, he could not stand to part with her. He gave her a puzzled look, then accepted the two bags of barley and oats the farmer held out to him.

Near the market two men in foreign dress stood, one of them holding a long staff of bamboo. They watched Arkady and his slave as they made their way through the crowd. Although they did not speak to each other, there was an air of communication about them, as if they had no need for words. One of them frowned, but the other wore an expression of satisfaction, if not pleasure; his bamboo staff seemed to twitch in his hands.

“The Bundhi will be satisfied,” the frowning one said at last, staring hard toward Arkady. “He is nothing.”

“Yes; he will be pleased,” the man with the staff said. He nodded to himself. “A mercenary soldier. I could almost feel sympathy for the girl if she were not so dangerous.”

The other laughed. “We need not concern our master about that now.” He stepped back, making a strange gesture before starting through the crowd.

Beside Arkady, his slave turned suddenly, as if she had heard something.

“What is it?” Arkady asked, cursing himself for not knowing how to speak even two words of her language. He felt more foolish than ever.

She shook her head slightly, motioning him to silence, and once again he had the eerie feeling that she was actually watching for…he could not guess what.

In the crowd, the two strangers halted. “We should not get closer,” the one with the staff told his companion.

“True,” the other whispered. “Move back. We must not let her know we are here.”

“What does it matter? That lout who bought her cannot understand a word she says, and if he did, he would do nothing. No more than a dozen men in this marketplace know our tongue, and they would not listen to her if she complained.” He folded his arms, holding his staff with care. “The Bundhi will want to be certain that the soldier will take care of her for us.” He sniggered, making a disgusting face. “If he knew what he had, I wonder what he would do with her?”

“Be cautious!” the other said sharply. “She might overhear.”

“Not in this confusion,” the first declared. “Still, no harm in watching at a distance. We've done it this far.”

Arkady's slave continued to stare, one hand raised to her mouth, and alarm in her large, clouded eyes.

They had reached two stalls where food-sellers had travellers' meats set out. Arkady, who had been trying to decide if he wanted goat cheese or a crude lamb sausage to take with him, noticed that his slave was still distracted and staring. “Is there something wrong, girl?” he asked, touching her elbow in the hope that he would not frighten her more.

“Salghi,” she told him, tears of vexation coming into her eyes. She shrugged, sighing. “Salghi, immai.”

The vendor in the nearer stall laughed and pointed derisively at Arkady, then pursed his lips toward the slave and laughed more loudly.

“Stop!” Arkady turned on him. “By Saint Michael, you will not—”

His slave took his hand and shook her head. “Vret, immai.”

Arkady listened closely to the words she spoke, knowing it was absurd to try, but hoping that if he gave her his full attention, he might yet come to understand what she was saying. “I did not buy you for that,” he protested. “This man is lying.” But what
did
he buy her for? he asked himself. Blind as she was, what other use might he have for her?

The vendor continued to laugh, and several of those around him joined him. They hooted and guffawed.

“Monsters,” Arkady muttered, turning away. “We'll get our food elsewhere,” he grumbled to his slave. He took her arm roughly and propelled her through the gathering crowd, away from the stalls and the mirth of the men there.

The stranger with the staff watched them go. “You see? He is not going to bother us.”

“Apparently not,” the other responded. “The Bundhi will be relieved.”

“Yes.” He touched his staff with respect but not affection. “We may start back today.”

“It would be best,” the other agreed, shuddering as the staff in his companion's hand moved slightly. “That…bamboo will need—”

“—Food,” the first man finished. “And soon.”

The second man shook his head. “It may be a mark of advancement, but…”

The first man nodded, patting the long, enveloping robes he wore. “It would not reach me easily, Mayon.”

“Still,” Mayon warned him, not quite concealing a shudder.

“The Bundhi carries a staff much more potent than this one,” the first reminded Mayon.

“I am aware of that,” Mayon said, plucking nervously at the patterned silk of his robe.

“It will be good to return to the Bundhi,” the first said, nodding to himself. “We have done the task he set for us. We will be able to tell him that his orders have been carried out as he wished them to be. That will bring us rewards.”

Mayon could not bring himself to be as pleased about the prospect as the other was. “I will settle for an uneventful journey and a return to my studies.”

“You're too cautious, Mayon, that's your trouble. You do not take advantage when it is offered to you.” He grinned. “I am not so reluctant. When the Bundhi tells me that he will give me what I ask for, I will speak of my desires.” He touched his staff again. “You could carry one of these, but you have not asked for it. The Bundhi does not give what is not sought.”

“Perhaps I do not seek that,” Mayon evaded. “You have what you want, Vadin. Be content with it.” He started away through the crowd. “I will arrange for mules.”

“Excellent. But choose them carefully. Not all of those animals can tolerate this staff.” Vadin took a last glance toward Arkady and his slave. “I trust that Surata is happy in her master.”

“It does not matter what she is,” Mayon snapped, ignoring the young blind woman. “She was the Bundhi's enemy and now she is a soldier's slave. That is sufficient.”

On the other side of the market, Surata made a strange, disturbing cry, gripping Arkady's arm with her free hand.

He stopped at once. “What is it?” he asked, startled at the strength she revealed. “Is something the matter?”

She stood still, her head slightly cocked, her blind eyes moving as if she could will herself to see. “Rillemata,” she said with urgency, making the sounds roll in ways he had never heard before.

“Do you have to stop? Is there something wrong?” It was fruitless to speak to her, but he could not stop himself. “Tell me, woman!”

She released his arm and touched her brow, a puzzled expression coming over her face. “N'yeh.” Her step faltered and she blundered into him.

Arkady took her by the shoulder. “Steady,” he said to her in the same quiet way he used to talk to his troops before a battle. “Calm down. There.”

Embarrassed, she tried to step back from him, but he would not release her. She lifted her head. “Toressu, immai.”

“That's better,” Arkady said. “You're proud enough, girl. That's good.” He drew them to the side of the broad road that led to the market square, slapping the horse close to the building to be out of the way of any travellers or merchants. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you, but don't worry that I might treat you badly. I still have a little honor left to me. I won't harm you while you are in my care.” He knew she could not understand him, that his reassurances meant nothing, but he went on, as if to convince himself that his disgrace had not ruined him completely. “I don't know what made me buy you, but now that I have you, I will use you well. I won't take you by force, or let you starve. I'm not so low as that.”

“Cherut, immai,” she said gently. Her eyes were lowered, but there was no shame about her.

He shook his head unhappily. “One of us is going to have to learn a few words from the other.” If he could not learn something from her, he supposed that he would have to sell her in time, and that realization made him cringe. It would be one more damning indictment against him if he removed his protection from this blind, foreign girl.

“N'yeh, immai,” she said, this time more confidently.

A party of men on stinking, mangy camels came by. Arkady looked at them in disgust while his slave simply held her nose.

“You'd think they'd do something about such animals. Horses and mules can smell pretty bad, but nothing like those beasts.” He sneezed. “Well, we should be away.” It did him no good to stand here trying to get her to comprehend his words. It was better that they go on, he knew that. “I'll get a hare for us, or some game birds. I can spare a few arrows for that.” He touched the small unstrung hunting bow that hung from his saddle. “I bought it yesterday, from a Turk with an eyepatch. I chose a dozen of his straightest arrows, so one or two for dinner won't trouble me.” That was not quite the truth, but he wanted to reassure his slave as well as himself. He took hold of her arm with one hand and the reins of his horse with the other, then led them both out of the market town on the smaller of two roads stretching out to east-northeast. “Once we're out of the town, we'll ride. By Saint Michael, I hope you can ride, girl.”