by Andre Norton
as all preferred to do whenever possible. That reduced the chance of
accidentally reverting to them in moments of stress or illness.
Murdock's expression darkened. "I bear my father's name and the
name he gave me at my birth. If the Commandant has a problem with
that…"
"Not at all," his host told him hastily. His voice gentled. "You are
usually not so quick to take offense, my Friend."
"I was being a buck's tail," he apologized. "I'm sorry, Ton I Loran."
The other chuckled. "At least, you can admit it."
A flagon of wine stood on a small table near the Ton's hand. Luroc took
it up and handed it to his companion along with one of the horn cups
conveniently placed beside it. "Come, drink that to wet your throat and
then give me your report. This proved a singularly profitable raid, and I
would like to hear the details."
Murdock complied readily, concluding his account with his own
speculations about the significance of all they had seen and taken.
"You talk of victory," I Loran said when he had finished. "Do you see it
as coming?"
The Terran nodded. "Yes. I don't deal in hope and wishful thinking,
especially not with you. I believe the crest has come in Condor Hall's war.
Unless we fall under some ghastly cast of fortune or are guilty of an almost
impossibly gross blunder ourselves, we'll conquer."
"You have not mentioned this before."
"No. It was the discovery of the gold that made me feel sure enough to
speak about what had been only a thought. Token payments are frequently
made to mercenaries during the course of an exceptionally long campaign,
but never anything on this scale." He smiled grimly. "For one thing, the
dangers inherent in transporting large sums of specie are normally too
great."
"Yet Zanthor did risk it."
He nodded. "To quiet his troops, I believe. He depends heavily on
hirelings and must keep those he now has with him. He knows he won't be
getting any more."
The older man frowned. "He has had no trouble thus far in drawing
columns to his standard."
"That will no longer be true. He'll continue to pick up companies,
individuals, right enough, but he can't reward any additional columns
amply enough with gold or with land even in the event of total victory, and
that's been uncommonly slow in coming. Those already with him will have
secured full spoil-rights to whatever domains he can expect to seize and
can spare. The peripheral profits which remain simply aren't sufficient to
bind potential newcomers to what still promises to be a long and arduous
campaign."
"By the same token, his current commanders and those with them are
beginning to tire and to grow impatient for their long-deferred reward?"
"Even so, unless I'm reading it all wrong, which I very much doubt. The
cheaper, more basic foodstuffs and the alteration in the frequency and the
manner of their delivery give evidence of difficulties that weren't present
at the outset of his assault, and, as further evidence that he's in some
trouble, many of our prisoners seem more disgruntled than angry now."
He paused to refill his cup and to pour one for the Dominionite. "All
this is based on what I've observed in the Sapphirehold area. Conditions
could be enough different on the front to alter the accuracy of my
conclusions. What does Ton I Carlroc say?"
"He sees it as do you, although he is a trifle less optimistic. He believes
there is still a hard campaign before us."
"Hard and probably long," the agent agreed. "I said we'll conquer, not
that we have done so. Condor Hall isn't going to lie down before us."
Luroc detailed what the Confederate commanders had told him of their
plans and repeated their plea that Firehand's partisans continue their
efforts, increasing them if possible.
The older man's eyes glowed as he relayed the latter request. "It
appears that they regard Sapphirehold's contribution to the war as
greater than even we had imagined."
Ross's head lifted a little. He was proud of his command's
achievements, and it pleased him to know that the Confederate leaders
respected them as well. "We'll keep the pressure on Zanthor," he promised.
"As for increasing it, that depends on him. If he provides us with
additional targets, we'll attack them. We have the capability of doing so."
"We can be fairly assured of ample prey these next couple or three
months."
"Very likely," Murdock replied. "The Ton of Condor Hall has to have
realized by now how little will get past both the snows and our people.
With fall already on him, he'll have to move fast to send down all he can of
warriors to replace those he'll lose in the final spurt of fighting and goods
enough to maintain the whole lot during the winter halt. We should have
excellent hunting right to the first blizzards."
"Your targets may be well guarded," he warned.
"No doubt. We'll still do well enough to multiply his troubles for all
that."
The gray eyes sparkled as they swung toward the packs now resting on
the floor not far from them. "Don't count on many more prizes like this
last, though."
Ton Luroc chuckled. "I shall excuse you from producing that,
Firehand."
"You'll have it removed to the village?"
"Yes, as soon as possible. We have other work here besides minding
treasure. —How would you like to have your portion stored?"
The supposed mercenary shook his head. "Let it be. You have greater
need of it. Sapphirehold must not only be free but prosperous as well. If
you don't rebuild quickly, you may be seen as a potential prize by some
other land-hungry would-be Ton. This'll go far in helping you to
reestablish yourselves." I Loran studied him speculatively. "This is a small
portion compared with what we will get once Condor Hall falls.
Sapphirehold shall have full compensation then and an equal war share
with the Confederate domains besides. That, too, was affirmed in our
meeting."
"Treasure possessed is worth many times that held only in hope," he
quoted the Dominionite proverb.
Luroc smiled. "You are a cautious man, Firehand, though I cannot fault
a trait that has done us such good service."
He grew grave once more. "Understand this, Rossin, I will not see you
ride from my domain poorer than when you came. Your swordbelt was
well crusted with jewels then. It is plain now."
Murdock straightened, his eyes flashing. "That was a loan given in our
mutual need…"
"And as such must be repaid."
"Not at the cost of risking again everything we've all fought so hard to
save! When you can cover your contract with me and your debt without
injury to yourselves, you'll do it. I'm not going to be a drain on you before
then."
The Ton's eyes narrowed, but he raised his hands in surrender. "Peace,
Warrior," he said with a trace of exasperation. "I consider myself a
stubborn man, but in you, I have met my equal… Very well. Since there is
little opportunity to spend gold on thes
e slopes, I yield to you for the
moment."
Ross laughed softly, so that the other looked at him in surprise. "Peace
indeed, Ton Luroc. We've been arguing as if we were sitting safely in
Sapphirehold's reconstructed hall instead of still hiding out in the
mountains. We may believe victory will be ours and be right in so
believing, but we're a long way yet from achieving it. At this point in time,
Zanthor I Yoroc has no intention of ceding any of his hoard or his ill-won
lands to us. My portion will do little good until he does."
Now I Loran laughed as well. "I am glad no other was present to hear us
just now! —Thank you for that, my Friend. Your work and my people's has
often given me good news to savor, but a chance to laugh is a rare
treasure."
He sobered once more. There might be the shade of a bright dawn
glimmering on the future's horizon, but the present remained stark and
hard, and its demands pressed sternly upon them. They would have to
keep their attention fixed on the war that had become the central focus of
their lives for the foreseeable time to come.
9
THE SUN WAS setting by the time Murdock quitted the Ton's quarters
once more. There had been a great deal to discuss as they laid their plans
for the coming weeks and for the following year's campaign should the
conflict not be resolved before then.
Both were determined to strike again very quickly and to keep as much
pressure as possible on the invaders throughout the weeks to come. The
war would probably not end with this season, but if they could so disrupt
Condor Hall activity that its army would be forced to take to the field for
the spring campaign less than perfectly prepared, Zanthor might well then
be on the full defensive, maybe battling entirely within his own borders, or
have gone down in defeat before the arrival of another winter.
The evening chill was rising, but it felt good to him, and he resolved to
remain outside a while rather than seek his cabin immediately.
He did not want company, and the Terran moved away from the
campground into the trees beyond. He wanted to think a little after that
strange interview.
Ross had said a great deal, too much, maybe. Mercenaries were one
breed, whatever their world of origin. They did not make a habit of
refusing gold or its equivalent, or of postponing getting a sizable hunk of it
into their possession, either.
His pace slowed, and his eyes lowered to the already leaf-strewn
ground. He had taken oath to Sapphirehold as part of the role he was
playing, but he had realized in there as he had attempted to renounce his
share of the war prize that he had meant that vow in fact. He cared deeply
about this domain and its cause, not merely for its eventual effect upon
Dominion of Virgin's history, but for its own sake and that of its fine,
valiant people. He had not been able to bring himself to claim a resource
he knew would be needed, maybe desperately needed, in the hard work of
rebuilding that must follow the war.
A strange tightening tugged his chest and throat, and he increased his
pace once more, instinctively hoping activity would dispel the unwelcome
emotion gripping him.
The Time Agent continued walking for some minutes longer, slowing
again as he gradually slid back into deep thought.
Suddenly, the sound of loud cheers brought him to a halt.
Ross realized he had been circling the camp rather than moving away
from it and had nearly come upon the training field, the large natural
meadow his comrades had set aside for working with their springdeer. He
hurried toward it, curious to learn who was using it at this late hour and
in what manner that such enthusiasm should be roused in what sounded
like a good number of people.
He had his answer in another moment as he stepped from the
surrounding forest to find the open place occupied by a sizable gathering
of his partisans.
Allran and Eveleen were among them with the two wardeer they had
taken in the raid. They were in the process of putting them through the
series of tests which would determine whether they were suitable for the
kind of service required by the hard-riding partisans or not.
That explained the crowd. If none of the raiding party exercised the
right of first claiming, the buck would be given to one of the other
Sapphirehold soldiers. The doe was already Allran's.
The latter had finished her course. The Lieutenant was standing beside
her, surrounded by a number of the other warriors, and their mood could
not be read as less than jubilant.
Murdock nodded appreciatively. She was a fine, clean-limbed animal.
He could well appreciate her beauty as well as her value as a war weapon,
although something within him made him hunger to see a horse there in
her place, a charger out of the past of his own kind.
The doe was not one of Terra's little white tails, of course, but she was
close enough in physical type for Terran minds to view her as kindred with
that species of the mother world. She had a deer's soft, large eyes and long
ears and ran with a leaping gallop peculiar to those three-toed hooves,
only the center of which came into play when she jumped or moved at her
top pace. There were no horns, and her head and neck were graced with a
ridge of short and very soft but amazingly strong hair. The tail was bovine
in form, a long, thin whip tufted with a brush of coarse hair at the end.
His attention flickered to the second deer. The weapons expert had
mounted him and was circling the hurdles, letting him see the lay of them
before she took him across.
The attention of the others had swung to her as well, for she was about
ready to begin.
Eveleen Riordan was worth watching when she sat a springdeer, her
fellow Time Agent thought. Her ability ranged well beyond even the
excellence that was the norm among their on-world allies, and she rode
with a grace particular to her which made her seem one with her mount.
That last effect was heightened by the fact that she had set aside her
saddle for the stirruped pad used in such testing, permitting her to feel
the wardeer's every movement, to sense when he hastened and when he
hesitated, to experience the rhythm of his gates, to detect any fault or flaw
in him, to recognize where he excelled.
They took the first jump flawlessly, so flawlessly that those watching
were stricken silent by the pair's perfection. Eveleen tossed her head in
exultation. Her usually tightly bound hair was flowing free. She had
apparently washed it since their return, for it wisped up under the teasing
of the sharp breeze, forming a marvelous halo around her as she passed
between her commander and the westering sun. He could see that she was
flushed with excitement and pleasure.
Ross stood perfectly still. She was beautiful, he thought, more beautiful
than any of those suddenly poor measurements by which the men of Terra
set their standards of loveliness.
He shrugged then and laughed at himself. Ross Murdock waxi
ng as
eloquent as an earnest but not terribly able young poet?
He shook his head in half amused, half really annoyed dismay. What
was the matter with him today? First, he had tried to refuse a battle-won
fortune—albeit one he could not have expected to keep in any event—and
now this sense of sudden revelation over his chief officer's beauty, which
had been open for the seeing from the first time he had laid eyes on her.
Eveleen, ignorant of the reaction she had provoked, saw him and raised
her hand in greeting.
Ross hastily composed himself and returned it but remained where he
was, watching while she completed the intricate course.
The buck performed well, very well. He finished in exceptional time
without mishap or refusal. Indeed, he seemed not troubled at all by his
trial.
When Eveleen at last drew rein, Murdock began walking toward her.
She saw him approach and, taking her leave of those gathered around her
and her mount, hastened to meet him.
Her step was both light and quick, especially so with the joy of the ride
still on her, and she had joined him before he had half crossed the big
field.
Both paused to look upon the chestnut buck, who was now in a groom's
care, before turning back in the direction of the camp.
"A fine deer," Ross commented. "He did remarkably well."
"Fine? He's no less than fabulous, a steed out of dream!"
"Take him."
Her head snapped toward him so that Murdock smiled. "Who's got
better right?" he asked. "You fought well in winning him. Besides, you're
perfect together. Everyone who saw you here has to confess that."
"I did want him," she admitted, "yet somehow I didn't think to place a
claim."
"That hasn't been your habit… Go on. You'll be using him to advance
our mission."
The large eyes twinkled. "I accept him most gladly, and since he's sort
of Firehand's gift, I think I'll name him Spark."
She was mildly surprised when the anticipated scowl did not follow that
announcement, but it faded from her consciousness even as it was born.
Other matters filled her mind, and now that they were well within the
wood, away from the others, she looked gravely up at him. "You were a
long time with Luroc. You were discussing what he learned in the south?"
He nodded. "And our own surmises. It's the general consensus that
