by Simon Hawke
“I escorted her home,” said Kieran. “And I have no particular opinion of Cricket, one way or the other. I acknowledge that she is young and beautiful and a skilled dancer. Otherwise, I know nothing of her. She claimed to be a virgin, which seems unlikely, but I did not dispute the issue. Neither did I press it. I walked her home, then said good night and took my leave. So you may spare me your disapproving looks. I have done nothing to deserve them.”
“I stand corrected,” said Ryana. “It is just that men often lack respect for women, yet that does not prevent them from enjoying their favors.”
“Just as women often lack respect for men, yet still eagerly accept the contents of their purses,” Kieran replied. “Cricket may indeed be what she claims, and she may have chosen her occupation out of sheer necessity, but mark my words, she will yet cause trouble on this journey.”
“What makes you say that?” Ryana asked.
“Experience, my lady. There isn’t a roustabout or mercenary on this caravan who hasn’t seen her dance. Now she travels with them, with no bouncers to look out for her, and that limp-wristed elven bard she rides with will not be much protection.”
“Is it not part of your duties to keep order among your men?” Ryana said.
“Officially, I have not yet assumed my duties,” Kieran replied with a shrug. “And keeping order on this journey is the caravan captain’s job, not mine. But if it were up to me, I would have left her behind.”
“Would you have left me behind, as well?” Ryana asked.
“No, my lady. An attractive, unescorted woman on a caravan is always trouble,” Kieran said. “You have an escort, and a highly capable one, at that. Aside from which, you are a priestess, commanding respect, and the fighting prowess of villichi are well known. A woman like Cricket, on the other hand, commands little respect, if any, and is unable to protect herself. And her chosen escort is scarcely better than nothing. So… there will be trouble. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will ride down the line and observe the captain’s disposition of his guard.”
He wheeled his crodlu and urged it to a fast trot, leaving the formation.
“What an infuriating man!” Ryana said.
“I thought you said he was handsome and dashing,” Sorak replied, with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“He is all that,” Ryana conceded grudgingly, “but he is also very irritating.”
“He merely speaks his mind,” said Sorak. “And I cannot say I disagree with anything he said.”
“So you think a woman is merely an encumbrance unless she has a man to protect her?”
“That is not quite what he said,” Sorak replied. “He said that an attractive, unescorted woman on a caravan brings trouble. Roustabouts and mercenaries are a rough lot, and they are not known for their gallantry.”
“So women must be penalized for men’s failure to control their impulses?”
“I admit it is unfair,” said Sorak, “but that is the way of things.”
“Spoken like a true male,” said Ryana with a grimace. “I never thought to hear you of all people speak like that.”
“I do not think that is the way things should be,” Sorak replied, “but regrettably, it is the way they are. Certainly in Cricket’s case. After all, she makes her living by arousing men.”
“Then it’s all her fault, is that it?” Ryana said irritably. “You are beginning to sound like Kieran.
What would the Guardian have said if she could hear you speak like this?”
“I suspect she would have said that Cricket made her own choices. She was born with the gift of beauty, and she chose to exploit it by dancing in a pleasure house.”
“What if she had no other choice?”
“There are always choices,” Sorak said. “They may not be pleasant ones, but they exist. Suppose you had not been born villichi. You are also beautiful, and your family was poor. Knowing how much money you could make at a place such as the Desert Damsel, would you have chosen to work there?”
“No,” Ryana replied at once. “I would dance for you, if I knew how, but that is hardly the same thing.”
“I do not dispute that,” Sorak said. “But what might you have done, instead?”
“I would have found a job that I could do without taking off my clothes for strangers and then I would have searched for some way to improve my lot in life.”
“Even if it only paid a small fraction of what you could make by dancing in a pleasure house?”
“Even so. I would not wish to spend my days with men leering at me and offering me money to gratify their lusts.”
“Then there are other choices,” Sorak said. “Not easy ones, perhaps, and not as profitable, but choices nonetheless. I do not hold men blameless, mind you. If there was no demand for pleasure houses, then they would not exist. But at the same time, so long as there are women willing to work in such places, the attitude men have toward them will not change.”
“You mean as long as there are women who need money, it is all right for men to exploit them?”
“I never said that,” Sorak replied. “It seems to me that both men and women are exploited in such places. The women exploit the baser instincts of the men, and the men exploit the beauty of the women. But in the long run, I think the women get the worst of it.”
“I wish I’d never gone to that place,” said Ryana. “I was curious to see it, but the more I think about it, the more angry I become.”
Sorak nodded. “For a short time, before you joined me after you left the convent, I worked in a gaming house in Tyr. The Crystal Spider, you remember?”
“In the elven quarter?”
Sorak nodded. “I was hired to keep watch for cheats and cardsharps, but gaming was not their only trade. There were girls like Cricket there, as well. People went there for a good time, but there was a feeling of desperation in the air, and hunger.” He shook his head. “A lot of money changed hands in the Crystal Spider, but I don’t think it ever made anybody happy.”
They made good time the first day, without any misadventures, stopping at midday for a rest break and a meal, then continuing on until they were halfway to the oasis called Grak’s Pool. The oasis was at the midpoint of their journey from South Ledopolus to Altaruk, a distance of about one hundred miles, though the caravan had already traveled an equal distance to South Ledopolus from Balic.
The plan was for the caravan to stop at Grak’s Pool for one day, to allow the passengers and their mounts to rest, relieve the cargo kanks of their burden for a while, and take on more water. But Grak’s Pool was still another day’s journey away, and they camped that night within sight of the banks of the estuary, which the trade route followed all the way to Altaruk.
They stopped about two hours before sunset to J allow light to pitch the tents, post the watch, and light the fires before darkness fell, and as the roustabouts pursued their tasks, Kieran asked Sorak what he thought of the caravan captain’s disposition of the camp.
“He has placed us with the estuary at our rear,” said Sorak, “which I would not do with troops, but it strikes me that for a caravan, it could have advantages.”
“How so?” asked Kieran.
“Is this a test?” asked Sorak.
“Merely an informal one,” replied Kieran with amusement. “I am curious to hear your opinion.”
“Well, we are not likely to encounter an opposing army,” Sorak said. “If we did, there would be no choice but to surrender. Raiders would be the most immediate concern, and we would not be able to outrun them. We would have to stand and fight. It is doubtful there would be enough of them to push us back into the silt, which would not be their intention, in any case. They would want the cargo. By disposing us with the estuary at our rear, the captain eliminates the possibility of raiders attacking from that quarter.”
“Good,” said Kieran. “What else?”
“He has placed the cargo in the center of the camp, where it can be most easily protected, and the passen
gers’ tents are pitched between the cargo and the estuary, with the roustabouts and mercenaries in the front and on the flanks.”
“Why?” asked Kieran.
“I can think of two reasons,” Sorak replied. “One is that with the passengers disposed behind the cargo, they cannot get in the way in the event an attack must be repelled, and the second is that if an attack takes place and the raiders happen to break through, they will reach the cargo before they reach the passengers. Since it is cargo they will want, they will seize that and leave the passengers alone, unless any of them are foolish enough to interfere.”
“Excellent. And what of the disposition of the watch?” asked Kieran.
Sorak looked out at the placement of the guards. “Triangular,” he said. “One outpost on each flank, two at the front, to the right and left, and one at point, between them and about fifty yards advanced. It seems a practical arrangement.”
“Could you improve upon it?” Kieran asked.
“I would detail roving pickets to ride along the left and right sides of the triangle, checking with each guard outpost as they pass. And I would give them watch words, as an added precaution.”
Kieran smiled. “I have already made that suggestion to the captain,” he said, nodding. “I see we think alike. I do not think I shall regret choosing you for my second-in-command.”
“While there is still time, you may wish to reconsider that decision,” Sorak said.
Kieran glanced at him inquisitively as they walked back toward the tents, but said nothing, waiting for him go on.
“For one thing, you have no evidence of my ability, or lack of same, to handle men,” said Sorak. “For another, while I am not ungrateful, I have never stayed long in any one place. I have a wandering nature. It would seem to mean that you would want someone who offers… greater permanence.”
Kieran smiled. “You need have no concern on that account,” he said. “When it comes to the ability to handle men, the foremost quality required is character, and I am a good judge of that. After that, a man requires intelligence and thoughtful-ness. When I asked you about the disposition of the guards, you observed, then you evaluated, and you considered before giving your reply. And I have noticed that you do not have the tendency to speak without thinking. As for permanence…” He chuckled. “What is ever permanent in this world? My own appointment shall not last more than a year.”
“Only a year?” said Sorak.
“That was the term of the contract,” Kieran replied. “I insisted that it be subject to renegotiation every year, and they immediately agreed to it, which tells me they have no interest in a permanent appointment. For that matter, neither do I. But had they wanted me as a permanent commander for their house guard, they would have bargained for a much longer term. They also would never have agreed to my salary demands. I asked for one hundred thousand gold pieces a year.”
Sorak stopped and stared at him with astonishment. “One hundred thousand in gold?” he said with amazement.
Kieran chuckled. “Yes, an obscene sum, isn’t it? The terms of the contract are supposed to be secret. No soldier in the history of the world has ever been paid as much. I named the figure because I was certain they would never agree to it. Only they did, and I found that fascinating.”
“Not to detract from your abilities,” said Sorak, “but why would anyone pay such a sum?”
“That is the same question I asked myself,” said Kieran. “Why? I have a well-known reputation, true, but only part of it is due to skill. Much of it was due to nothing more than luck. Even the best swordsman can fall in battle. I was merely fortunate enough to have survived more than my share. Ironic, when one considers that at that time in my life, I would have liked nothing better than to get myself killed. However, that is another story. I had retired to an estate outside the village of Salt View, and I had wealth enough to see me through the remainder of my days in reasonable comfort. I had no wish to return to the profession of arms.”
“So what changed your mind? The temptation of the salary when they agreed to it?”
“No,” said Kieran. “Once I had named the figure and they agreed to meet my price, it would have been bad form to turn them down. There was nothing to prevent me, of course, but my reputation was at stake. And then I was very curious. I felt certain that the House of Jhamri’s agents were not empowered to agree to so outrageous a demand, even had they been inclined to do so, but when they agreed I realized that they had been instructed to secure my services regardless of the price. Oh, they tried to bargain, mind you, but when I stood firm, they finally agreed.
“Now, I may have won considerable fame in my profession, but no man is worth that kind of money. They knew it and I knew it. So, I had to ask myself what possible reason they would have for doing such a thing?” He glanced at Sorak. “What would you think if you were in my place?”
Sorak thought it over for a few moments as they walked past the cargo area and approached the tents. “The sum itself would have to be the reason,” he said, finally. “The House of Jhamri must want it known that they will stop at nothing to hire the very best, and that they can afford to pay so high a sum. But then you said the terms of the contract were supposed to be kept secret.” He shook his head. “It makes no sense.
“It does if they never intended it to be a secret,” Kieran said. “Obviously, they plan to leak the information. That way, it will not be seen as ostentatious posturing on their part. But there is surely more to it than that. There has to be. Only for the life of me, I could not imagine what.”
“And so you took the job to find out.”
Kieran nodded. “I could not resist the mystery. And then, of course, there is the money.”
“Yes, there is that,” said Sorak with a grin. “You will be known as the highest paid mercenary in history.”
“I have just enough vanity to like the sound of that,” said Kieran, with a smile. “But something is surely afoot in Altaruk, an intrigue of some sort in which I am meant to play a key role. And it shall not take long to develop, because not even the House of Jhamri would pay me such a salary for a second year. Yes, something interesting is going on there, and I have to find out what it is.”
“They say curiosity killed the kirre.”
Kieran glanced down at his kirreskin breeches. “Yes, well, I plan to keep my own skin intact. It’s possible that someone may want me for a trophy for some reason. I have made my share of enemies. But they will find this cat difficult to skin.” He clapped Sorak on the shoulder. “Especially with a good fighter at my back.”
“Ah, so now it becomes clear,” said Sorak. “I am an insurance policy.”
“Paid for by the House of Thamri,” Kieran said.
“But with the money they are paying me, I can easily afford to add a bonus. You keep your eyes and ears open, my friend, and watch my back, will make it worth your while.”
“Well, now you have me curious,” said Sorak.
Kieran smiled. “I told you that we think alike.”
Chapter Seven
It was almost midnight, and outside the mansion headquarters of the House of Ankhor, most of the town slept. There were a few gaming and pleasure houses that stayed open all night, mostly catering to mercenaries and travelers passing through on their way to one of the seven city-states of the Tablelands. But for the most part, the residents of Altaruk went to bed early and rose early. The desert nights were cold at this time of the year, and there were few people on the streets. The night seemed quiet and peaceful.
Ankhor stood out on the open, moonlit veranda outside his private quarters on the fourth floor, in the west wing of the mansion. As he gazed over the town, it struck him once again just how much it had grown the last few years. Without turning, he spoke to the dark-robed guest standing behind him, in the shadows.
“You know, as a boy, I hated growing up here,” he said. “I dreamt of running away to one of the large cities, such as Tyr or Nibenay or Balic. Back then, Altaruk w
as little more than a fortress outpost in the middle of nowhere, at the tip of the estuary, a tiny, rough-hewn settlement sheltered by the mountains.
“But it was a choke point for caravans,” Ankhor continued. “South from Urik, southeast from Tyr, toward Balic, Gulg, Nibenay, from Raam and Draj—all these caravans had to pass this outpost.”
“It has grown quickly,” said the dark-robed figure in a deep and throaty voice hoarse with age.
“And is growing still,” said Ankhor, looking out over the town. “It went from being a miserable outpost fried by the sun and buffeted by windstorms to being a thriving village.
“My father—Lord Ankhor the Elder—saw the opportunities in Altaruk. His gaming house in Tyr bought him a merchant empire here—the House of Ankhor. He accomplished with grit and luck what young aristocrats did with blue blood. Aristocrats like the Jhamris.”
“And so began the famous rivalry,” the dark-robed figure said.
“Yes,” said Ankhor, turning to face his guest. “It grew as Altaruk grew, a rivalry between a commoner and an aristocrat. And that rivalry drove all other merchant houses in Altaruk into penury. My father had won himself a peerage, but the Jhamris never allowed him to forget his humble beginnings.
“By the time I was born, Lord Jhamri had also sired a son. They had competed even in that, striving to bear the first heir. But fate mocked them, for both Father and Jhamri repeatedly fathered daughters. The Elder Jhamri had eight, by three different wives, and I have seven older sisters. My father’s first wife gave him four daughters and died in childbirth with the last, and my mother gave him two more daughters before finally giving birth to me. I was given my father’s name as a sign of pride in the achievement, but by then, Jhamri’s third wife had already given birth to a son, a year earlier. And the two us were raised from childhood to loathe each other.”
Ankhor turned to look out over the town once more, with a proprietary air. “Both founders are old and frail now, unable even to get around without assistance, but the old hatred still burns between them. It is all my father ever talks about. The old rivalry.”
