She hugged his head to her breasts. “Well, we’re still alive. No reason we can’t reach for some more of those high points.”
His sly smile grew as he put his hand back on her bare bottom and gave it a squeeze. He had that lusty twinkle in his eye.
“Let me dispense with this bit of business, and we’ll see about getting our money’s worth out of that big bed.”
With a diminutive copper spoon, he scooped little nuggets of red wax from a tin and dumped the tiny spoonful on the folded letter.
“Nathan, silly, you’re supposed to melt the sealing wax onto the letter.”
One of his eyebrows arched. “You should know by now, my dear, that my way is better.”
She let out a throaty laugh. “My mistake.”
He twirled a finger over the nuggets of wax. Sparkles of light danced from his finger onto the lumps of wax. They glowed briefly and then melted into a red puddle on the letter. She gasped with delight. Nathan was one never-ending little surprise after another. She felt her cheeks warm as she remembered that his fingers were magic in more ways than one.
She bent and whispered intimately in his ear. “I’d like you and that magic finger of yours back in bed with me, Lord Rahl.”
Nathan lifted his magic finger in proclamation. “And it shall be, my dear, just as soon as I send this letter on its way.”
He again twirled the finger over the letter, and it lifted off the desk as if of its own accord. Clarissa’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. The letter floated in the air ahead of him as he walked to the door. He twirled his other hand dramatically, and the door glided open.
A soldier, sitting on the floor in the hall, leaning against the opposite wall, rose to his feet. He saluted with a fist to his heart.
Nathan, standing there in only his trousers, with his white hair hanging down to his shoulders, had the look of a wild man. She knew he wasn’t, but standing there, as tall as he was, as commanding as he was, she knew he must look that way to others.
People were afraid of Nathan. She could see it in their eyes. She could understand their fear, though; she remembered how much she had feared him, before she had come to know him. She could hardly remember, now, just how much the sight of the towering prophet had terrified her.
When he turned those azure eyes on people, and his hawklike brow lowered in displeasure, she thought he could make a whole army turn and run.
Nathan stretched his arm out, and the letter floated to the grim-faced soldier. “You remember all my instructions, don’t you, Walsh?”
The soldier snatched the letter out of the air and stuffed it inside his tunic. This soldier, though respectful, didn’t seem intimidated by Nathan. “Of course. You know me better than that, Nathan.”
Nathan lost a bit of his lofty attitude and scratched his head. “I guess I do.”
Clarissa wondered where Nathan had found the soldier, and when he had had time to give him instructions. She guessed he must have gone out while she was asleep.
This soldier looked to be somewhat different from most of the others she had seen. He had a traveling cloak, with leather packs at his belt, and his clothes were of a higher quality than those of the regular soldiers she was getting used to seeing. His sword was shorter, too, and his knife longer. He was not a small man, either. He was as big as Nathan, but Nathan’s bearing made him seem bigger than anyone to her.
“Give the letter to General Reibisch,” Nathan said. “And don’t forget, if any of those Sisters start asking you questions, you warn them about what I said, and tell them that Lord Rahl ordered you to keep what you were told to yourself. That will keep their jaws locked tight.”
The soldier smiled knowingly. “I understand . . . Lord Rahl.”
Nathan nodded. “Good. What about the others?”
Soldier Walsh gestured vaguely. “Bollesdun will be around to let you know what he finds out. I’m pretty sure it was only Jagang’s expeditionary force, but Bollesdun will find out for sure. Large as it was, it wasn’t much compared to the main force. I don’t see any evidence that his main force down near Grafan Harbor has come north yet.
“From what I’ve heard, Jagang is content to sit and wait for something. I don’t know what that something is, but he’s not rushing troops north, into the New World.”
“He thrust the army I saw deep into the New World.”
“I still think it was just his expeditionary force. Jagang is a patient man. It took him years to conquer and consolidate the Old World under his rule. He used much the same tactics: sending out the expeditionary force to take a key city, or capture information of one sort or another, mostly records and books. Those men are brutal, that’s part of their purpose, too, but it’s the books they’re sent to get.
“They would send back whatever they captured, and wait to go wherever Jagang sends them next. Bollesdun has some of our men checking into it, but they have to be careful, and it may take them awhile, so just enjoy the wait.”
Nathan stroked his chin as he pondered. “Yes, I imagine Jagang isn’t eager to send his army into the New World, yet.” He returned his gaze to Walsh. “You’d best be on your way.”
Walsh nodded. His gaze shifted and his eyes met Clarissa’s. He looked back to Nathan, a small smile coming to his lips. “A man after my own heart.”
Nathan chuckled softly. “One of nature’s wonders, matters of the heart.”
The way Nathan said the words made Clarissa’s own heart swell with pride to be included in matters of his heart.
“You be careful, here in the rat’s nest, eh, Nathan? I’d not like to hear that you don’t have eyes in the back of your head, after all.” He patted his tunic where he had put the letter. “Especially not after I deliver this.”
“I will, lad. You just be sure you get that letter delivered.”
“You have my word.”
After Nathan shut the door, and business was finished, he turned to her. He had that twinkle in his eye. That lusty twinkle. His sly smile returned. “Alone at last, my dear.”
Clarissa squealed and ran for the bed in mock fright.
Chapter 45
“What do you think is going on?” Ann asked.
Zedd stretched his head up to try to see. It was hard to get much of a look past the wall of legs around them. The Nangtong spirit hunters jabbered orders, which he couldn’t understand, but some of the spears pointing down from the circle surrounding them settled on his shoulders, delivering an unequivocal message that he had better stay where he was.
He and Ann sat cross-legged on the ground, guarded by a ring of Nangtong, while others of them were sitting in conference a ways off with a party of Si Doak.
“They’re too far away to hear clearly, but even if we could hear them, it probably wouldn’t help much. I only speak a few words of Si Doak.”
Ann plucked a long blade of grass and wound it around a finger. She didn’t glance over at Zedd. They didn’t want to give their captors the idea that they were sane and capable of plotting.
Ann let out a high-pitched cackle, just to keep up appearances. “What do you know about these Si Doak?”
Zedd flapped his arms like a bird about to take to wing. “I know they don’t sacrifice people.”
A guard thunked a spear shaft on Zedd’s head, as if to discourage him from any ideas of flying off. Zedd howled with laughter, instead of cursing, which he was longing to do.
Ann glanced over out of the corner of her eye. “Beginning to reconsider your attitude about letting these Nangtong live as they wish?”
Zedd smiled. “If I wanted to let them live as they wish, we’d be in the spirit world by now. Just because you believe in letting wolves be, that doesn’t mean you have to let them eat your flock at will.”
She grunted to concede the point.
Off in the distance, beside a slight rise, the negotiations dragged on. About ten of the Nangtong and an equal number of the Si Doak sat cross-legged in a circle. The Nangtong counted out loud, accompani
ed by exaggerated arm movements. They pointed Zedd’s way. They made unintelligible but seemingly heartfelt speeches.
Zedd leaned toward Ann and whispered, “The Si Doak are peaceful enough, as far as I know; I’ve never heard of them making war or using force against neighbors, even weaker neighbors, but when it comes to matters of trade, they’re ruthless. Most people in this part of the wilds would just as soon bargain with a wolf. Other peoples teach their young people to fight: the Si Doak teach them to barter.”
Ann looked off in the other direction, as if disinterested. “What makes them so good at it?”
Zedd glanced up at their guards. They were all watching the bargaining, and paying little attention to the helpless prisoners.
“They have the rare ability to walk away from a deal. Others get their mind set on something and soon start settling for less, just to have a deal. The Si Doak won’t do that. They’ll simply walk. When need be, they’ll cut their losses without regret and move on to something else.”
One of the Si Doak, the one wearing a rabbit fur over his head, slapped a pile of blankets in the center of the circle. He pointed off to a small heard of goats and made an offer Zedd understood to include two of the animals.
The offer seemed to incense the Nangtong. Their chief negotiator leaped to his feet and stabbed his spear at the sky repeatedly, apparently to express his outrage at the low price. Zedd noted that he didn’t walk away. There was honor involved; the Nangtong had that much invested.
Zedd nudged Ann. He tilled his head back and howled like a coyote. Ann, getting the message, joined in. They both yelped and bayed as loud as they could.
The negotiators fell silent as they all looked toward the prisoners. The head Nangtong negotiator sat back down.
A thunk on both their heads silenced Zedd and Ann. Talking resumed over at the bartering session. A Nangtong emissary was sent to have a better look at the goats.
Zedd scratched his shoulder. The dry mud was getting uncomfortable. He guessed it was less uncomfortable than having his heart cut out, or his head cut off, or whatever it was the Nangtong did to sacrifices.
“I’m hungry,” he muttered. “They haven’t fed us all day. It’s near to mid-afternoon, and they haven’t fed us.”
He barked at his captors to show his displeasure. The negotiations halted for a moment while they once again looked toward the prisoners. The Si Doak all folded their arms and remained silent as they stared at the Nangtong.
The Nangtong quickly resumed talking, their tone changing, becoming conciliatory. Chuckling interspersed their casual chatter. The Si Doaks’ response was short and curt. The one with the rabbit skin on his head gestured toward the afternoon sun and then off toward his home.
The Nangtong man in charge pulled a blanket from the stack in the center and inspected it with grudging admiration. He passed the blanket to his fellows. They nodded with appreciation of its worth, as if just discovering it. The man sent to have a look at the goats returned with two. He showed them off to his associates, and they oohed and aahed, as if realizing for the first time that these goats were much more impressive than they had at first thought, and not at all the scraggly animals they had expected to find.
The Nangtong had apparently decided that, no matter what, they didn’t want to return home with the prisoners. Any useful commodities were better than two crazy people. They couldn’t very well send the spirits two crazy people. Any exchange for them was better than nothing, especially in view of the waning interest of the Si Doak.
The Si Doak remained stone-faced. The Nangtong had made a mistake; they had betrayed their need to sell what they had. There was nothing the Si Doak valued more than a motivated seller.
A price, whatever it was Zedd couldn’t tell, was suddenly agreed upon. The head Si Doak and the head Nangtong stood, hooked arms at the elbows, and turned around each other three times while so locked together. When they parted, both sides fell to happy chatter. A bargain had been struck.
The Nangtong started lifting blankets. The goats were tethered. The Si Doak headed for their prizes. The guards thunked Zedd and Ann on the head as the Si Doak approached, apparently in warning not to spoil the deal.
Zedd had no intention of spoiling the deal. The Si Doak didn’t sacrifice people. As far as he knew, they were gentle people: the worst punishment they dispensed to someone who committed a grievous wrong was banishment. A banished Si Doak sometimes starved to death because he was so heartsick at being sent from the only home he knew. A misbehaving child was set straight by everyone ignoring him for a day. It was a horrifying punishment to a Si Doak child, and resulted in best behavior for a good long time after.
Of course, Zedd and Ann weren’t members of the Si Doak community, so it was entirely possible, in fact probable, that such treatment didn’t extend to them.
Zedd leaned toward Ann and whispered. “I don’t think these people would hurt us, so keep that in mind. If they decide not to take us, the Nangtong may just slit our throats rather than have to suffer the humiliation of having to return with two crazy people.”
“First you want me to play in the mud and now you want me to be a good little girl?”
Zedd smiled at her sarcasm. “Just until our new keepers take us away from the old.”
The Si Doak elder, the one with the rabbit fur over his head, squatted before his new acquisitions. He reached out and felt Zedd’s arm muscles. He grunted disapprovingly. He felt Ann’s arms and made a sound as if pleased at what he found.
Ann lifted an eyebrow to Zedd. “Seems I’m more agreeable to them than a skinny old man.”
Zedd smiled. “I think they find you better suited as a human oxen. They’ll give you the hard work.”
Her satisfied expression vanished. “What do you mean?”
He shushed her. Another Si Doak squatted down beside the elder. He had goat antlers fixed to his head. He wore what had to be a hundred necklaces over his buckskin tunic. The necklaces, some hanging to his crotch, others tight at his throat, and the rest every length in between, held teeth, beads, bones, feathers, pottery shards, metal disks, gold coins, small leather pouches, and carved amulets. He was the Si Doak shaman.
The shaman took Zedd’s hand and gently held his arm out. He released it. Zedd let it drop. The shaman chattered his disapproval. Zedd understood enough to gather that he was supposed to hold his arm up. He didn’t let on that he understood any of the words, and instead let the shaman lift the arm out again, and use a hand signal to indicate he meant Zedd to hold it there.
While the Nangtong guards still held spears on the two prisoners, the shaman retrieved long, coiled stalks of grass from one of the pouches at his waist. He chanted as he wove the grass around Zedd’s wrist. When finished, he wove the grass around Zedd’s other wrist, and then did the same to Ann.
“Any idea what this is about?” she asked.
“It binds our magic. The Nangtong need do nothing to render our magic useless, but the Si Doak have to use some kind of magic of their own to suppress ours. This shaman is a man of magic. He has the gift. He’s something like the Si Doaks’ wizard.” Zedd glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Or maybe you could say he’s like the Sisters of the Light, with their collars. Like the collars, we won’t be able to get these wristbands off.”
Once they had the grass woven around their wrists, the Nangtong withdrew their weapons, picked up their portion of the blankets, collected their two goats, and quickly made good their escape.
The elder, the one with the rabbit skin on his head, leaned toward Zedd and spoke. When Zedd frowned and shrugged that he didn’t understand, the man added sign language seemingly invented on the spot. He indicated chores to be done, and time, by showing the seasons: digging at the ground and pretending to plant, the heat of summer, and the freezing of winter. Zedd couldn’t understand a great deal of it, but he understood enough.
He turned to Ann. “I believe that these fellows here have purchased us out of our death sentenc
e. We are to be in servitude to them for a period of about two years, to repay them for our cost, plus a profit for their trouble.”
“We’ve been sold into slavery?”
“It would appear so. But only for a couple of years. Quite generous of them, actually, considering that the Nangtong were going to kill us.”
“Maybe we could buy our way out.”
“To the Si Doak, this is a personal debt we owe them, and can only be repaid with personal servitude. To their way of looking at it, they have returned our lives to us, and so we must use part of those lives to show our gratitude. And to clean up after them.”
“Clean up? We’re to scrub floors to repay our debt?”
“I imagine they’ll want us to cook, carry things, sew, care for their animals, those sorts of things.”
As if to confirm what Zedd had told her, the Si Doak began pulling the thongs holding their waterskins off over their heads and passing them to Zedd and Ann.
“What do they want?” Ann asked him.
Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “They want us to carry their water.”
Three more of the Si Doak appeared with the remaining blankets, divided them, and handed them to their new bearers.
“Do you mean to tell me,” Ann growled, “that the First Wizard of the Midlands and the Prelate of the Sisters of the Light have been sold into slavery for the price of some blankets and two goats!”
With a shove from behind, Zedd staggered after the departing Si Doak. “I know what you mean,” he said over his shoulder. “For the first time I know of, the Si Doak have overpaid.”
Zedd stumbled and dropped half his load of waterskins. As he regained his balance, he stepped on one that had snagged a thorny berry bush. Bending to retrieve the waterskins, his stack of blankets toppled into the mud puddle created by the burst waterskin. He put a knee to the ground to regain his balance as he gathered up the scattered waterskins. His knee squashed the berries under the blanket. “Oops.” He waved an apology to the Si Doak. “Sorry.” The Si Doak leaped about in agitation, demanding he pick everything up at once. The man whose waterskin Zedd had ripped open over a thorn bush pointed angrily at his damaged property while jabbering demands of recompense.
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