To the High Redoubt (45 page)

“They are good fighters,” Surata declared, in Arkady's defense.

“That is one of their few abilities. They make good cloth, some of them.” Vadin reached over and thumped Arkady's load. “You like to fight?”

When Surata translated this latest barb, Arkady said, “No, no good soldier likes to fight. A good soldier will not enter battle unless it is necessary. That is not what they teach men when they train them to fight, but no man who has been in battle more than three times seeks it without cause unless he is mad.” He paused, “Or in love with glory.”

“Were you?” Surata asked, and it was a question that had occupied much of her thoughts about him for some time.

“I suppose I was, before that third battle. I was always told that retreat was worse than death, but that was before seeing what death was. After that, I did not want to have my men suffer for my…vanity. It wasn't even pride, just vanity.” He hefted his load to a more comfortable position. “About an hour before sunset, I'll see what I can arrange. I would do it sooner, but that might get their attention too much. At that point, they will probably be glad for the chance to stop. They're carrying packs themselves.”

Surata thought briefly, then said to Vadin, “Arkady-immai is worried that he is not used to this height. We have been crossing plains and lowlands for many weeks, and neither of us is used to the mountains.”

“You will become used,” Mayon said with great certainty. “You will learn to walk in the pure air.”

“I will,” she said at once. “But Arkady-immai was born on the plains of the West and he is not one who has learned to live in the mountains. He is strong, but his stamina is not as great as you might think. I do not want you to expect him to be a mountain goat.”

Vadin reached over and cuffed her lightly, almost playfully. “You may delay our arrival as long as you like, it will still come to pass and you will fall at the feet of the Bundhi and do him honor before he kills you.”

Surata lifted her chin. “If that is what karma has willed for me, then it will be so, but neither you nor I can say until it has happened.” She turned toward Arkady. “Be careful; they will be watching you. I have said that you are not used to the mountains. You may use this as best you can.”

“I will,” he assured her.

Behind them, the sky faded from blue to pink to orange, and as the sun dropped into the end of the river canyon, the air appeared to be lavendar. The gentle warmth of the afternoon gave way to the thin chill of evening.

“It should be now,” Arkady muttered, alerting Surata. He deliberately let his heavy pack slide so that he could no longer keep it balanced. “God!” he shouted, getting the full attention of the three disciples of the Bundhi. “My packs!”

“You are a great fool!” Mayon upbraided him as he tried to keep the watersacks from pulling Arkady over. “Stupid and foolish!”

“Stop him from falling. If he hurts himself, he will slow us down and we will have to leave the water sacks behind.” Vadin came up and railed at Arkady, showing him clenched fists and an angry, distorted face. “Ignorant foreigner. Scum. Excrement of adders.”

Arkady did not know the words, but he recognized the tone well enough, and he felt an odd satisfaction at this outburst. “Tell him I have hurt my shoulder, Surata. Say that I can't carry these sacks any more today.”

She did as he told her, elaborating on the injury. “His bones have been pressed too much, and the ligaments are in fever,” she informed Vadin. “If you force him to go on this way, surely his bones will become inflamed.”

“He has been reckless,” Vadin growled. “It is not acceptable that he should have such troubles.” He looked up at the sky, then pointed at Arkady. “You are fortunate that your injury came late in the day. If it were earlier, you would have to go on, no matter how much your shoulder ached, or how your bones fared.”

Arkady lowered his burden carefully, moving as if he were stiff and sore.

“There is a place ahead, a clearing, level enough,” called Mayon, who had gone ahead to scout on Vadin's order. Hara, who had brought up the rear, stopped walking and lifted his foot, inspecting his sandal.

“I have a broken strap on my sandal,” he complained to the air. “I do not want to walk on until I have fixed it.”

“This incompetent barbarian will have that task,” Vadin said in disgust. “Very well. Let us go on to the clearing. Hara, take the water sacks. Surata, since he is your champion, you may carry the rest of his load, the food and the tent.” He took great delight in tieing these to her shoulders.

“You shouldn't have to do that,” Arkady told her in an undervoice. “It isn't right that you have such a…duty for me.”

“It is nothing. After tonight, we won't have to carry any of these things.” She was not cheerful, but her attitude was more positive than it had been that morning.

“I've been thinking about that, Surata,” he said, a bit more loudly. “I don't know what we're going to do for food and shelter once we get away from these men. We might be able to take the blankets, but they have the food, and even though they haven't found the gold, what good is it when there is no one to buy food and supplies from, in any case?”

“Do not talk!” Vadin ordered, kicking out at the back of Arkady's legs. “You will know the touch of the staves soon enough, you fool.”

“He wishes us to be quiet,” Surata explained unnecessarily. “We will have to wait.” She extended her hand so that it brushed his arm for an instant, then she grabbed her load, as if afraid of discovery.

“You two are not to walk together,” Hara yelled at them and forcefully stepped between them, shoving each of them roughly.

Surata and Arkady remained silent until they reached the clearing, where Mayon waited, an attitude of satisfaction about him. “There is a spring not far up the hill. We can drink something other than the swill from the water sacks tonight.”

Pleased to have the chance to rest, all three nonetheless protested that they were willing to press on until dark. Vadin finally ended their conversation and indicated to Arkady where the tent was to be pitched. “You are strong enough to do this. If you must be the cause of our stopping, then you can take care to aid us. If your shoulder and back hurt for it, so much the better.”

When Surata had relayed this to Arkady, he gave a tight half-smile. “One day soon, he will regret saying this to me. And he will regret abusing you, Surata. My word on it, more than my honor.”

“Hush, Arkady-immai. Do what they wish you do to. Then we will be able to have a little respite before we must flee.”

“It will be night when we go,” he warned her.

“For me it is always night. It makes no difference.” The bitterness was back in her voice.

“I meant that there are creatures abroad at night that are not friendly, Surata, nothing more.” He wanted to wrap his arms around her, put his face into the tresses of her hair, taste the sweet salt of her skin. He could not stand to leave her in the control of these three men for one hour longer, he decided, and he committed himself to exacting full price from Vadin, Mayon and Hara for all they had done.

When the tent was up, Hara had finished making a meal for his two companions. They sat and ate together, pointedly ignoring Arkady and Surata, who had been tied to trees on opposite sides of the clearing. Because of Arkady's claimed injury, he was lashed around the body rather than held by his arms, and for this he was grateful. As he watched the disciples eat, he waited for his opportunity.

“We will be underway at first light. If the barbarian's shoulder is not improved by then, he will suffer for it, and it will be more than an ache in his bones,” Vadin promised before retiring into the tent for the night.

Arkady waited for the three to fall asleep, fearing to move until he heard that regularity of breathing that would guarantee a margin of safety to him and Surata while they got away from their captors. He had not yet thought of where they might go, but that was a consideration for later, when they knew they were beyond the reach of the three men.

“Arkady-immai,” came her whisper, so softly that it was almost impossible to hear it over the sigh of the night wind.

“I know,” he answered. “Wait a little longer, in case.” He recalled one camisado he had been in when the commander of his troops had started the attack before the enemy camp was entirely asleep. Arkady's men had been in the van of the assault, and they had been met by a company of sleepy men with lances and bad tempers. He would not make that mistake again.

A little while later, Arkady twisted in the ropes that held him until he could slip his hand between himself and the tree, to reach under his belt for the cinquedea he carried. Slowly he worked the little leaf-bladed knife out of its hiding place. By the time he had the weapon free, he had skinned his knuckles, and his back felt sore from the unnatural posture he had had to maintain, but it meant little; his thoughts were triumphant.

“What are you doing?” Surata whispered.

“Getting out,” he said, sawing at the ropes that held him. The fibers were tough and resisted the bite of the knife, but at last the bonds parted.

“Arkady-immai!” she exclaimed, hardly louder than before but with more hope than he had heard from her in days.

“Coming,” he told her as he stepped out of the ropes. He hurried across the clearing, crouching low out of habit. His cinquedea was ready by the time he got to her side. “Hold still,” he ordered her as he set to work cutting the ropes that wrapped around her wrists.

“Hurry,” she said, her breath quickening in her throat.

“God, I have missed touching you,” he said, feeling her closeness like wine in his veins. “It will not be enough to get away. I need more of you.”

“And I of you,” she said. “Don't talk now. Get us out of here.” She was straining against the ropes, her body quivering with the effort.

He pressed harder and felt the rope give way. “I'll get the other hand. It won't be long.”

She fretted while he worked on her other wrist, clicking her tongue with exasperation she was trying not to express. “They are still asleep,” she said, trying to assure herself as much as to give him information.

“Good,” he panted. “These damned ropes must be made of iron. They're blunting my knife.”

“The Bundhi makes his restraints with more than material power. You are cutting more than rope.” She closed her blind eyes, her face taking on the blankness he had learned to respect. “Cut slowly,” she said in a distant tone. “Cut as if you were taking meat from a roast. Long, slow, deep cuts. Think about how much you wish the Bundhi to fail at his plans.”

It sounded foolish to Arkady, but he did as she told him. To his surprise, the fibers were severed more easily. It took little time to get through the bonds. “There,” he said as he flung the ropes away from them as if they were the bodies of serpents.

Surata was rubbing her wrists, grimacing as she did. “My hands have no feeling and my arms are burning.”

“Keep rubbing them. You'll be all right.” He looked around them, peering into the darkness. “We'd better keep on the way we were going. They will expect us to try to return to Samarkand, since we do not know the way to Gora Čimtarga.”

“And they believe we would not be foolish enough to go there, in any case. And we will not be, not until we have broken the Bundhi's power in that other place.” Her determination was formidable, and as always, Arkady listened to her with a combination of respect and bafflement.

“Is there any way we can do that? Every time we have tried, there's been trouble.” He did not mind the battle, but he knew enough now of the ruin the Bundhi could bring and did not want to fall victim to it. “Surata? How can we…”

“I will tell you, when we are gone from here.” Numbly she felt for his hand. “We must look for a place to cross the river. If the Bundhi is in Ajni, then he will be on this side of the canyon. We should be on the other. It will give us a little time.”

Arkady had been watching the rise of the mountains around them and he could not help but wonder where they were to find such a place. “Is there a bridge that you know of?”

“I have heard that there is one just above the Jannur Rapids. I do not know for certain.” Her confidence faltered, then reasserted itself. “We will find it, or another one.”

It was not as simple for Arkady to believe this as it was for her, but he put his arm around her shoulder. “We'll find one. We'll get across.”

“Is it steep? The road ahead?” They had slipped away from the clearing, going into the undergrowth that ran up from the riverbank. “
Is
there a road?”

“A narrow one,” he said. “We will not stay on it. It would be too easy for those three to come after us. Anyone passing us will remember what they see and inform Vadin that we…If they do not see us, they will have nothing to report.”

“Good,” she said, lifting her hand to fend off the little branches that whipped into her face. “It is not as pleasant, but much wiser.” She stumbled and caught herself before he turned to support her. “Keep on, Arkady-champion. Only, warn me if the way grows rougher.”

For an answer he squeezed her fingers. He knew that their climb would be arduous, but did not want to say so.

Chapter 23

They kept on through the night and most of the day that followed, permitting themselves to rest only twice, once at a rivulet that splashed down from the peaks above them, and once at the edge of a long, narrow field where the last of a stand of soft-skinned gourds were planted.

“Take a couple with you, and so will I,” Arkady recommended when they had satisfied the worst of their hunger. “With this and water, we'll be able to keep going for a while.” He wanted to ask her where it was they were headed, but he hesitated, afraid that she would not have an acceptable answer.