Oh, no, make no mistake. Delia of Delphond, Delia of the Blue Mountains, did not tolerate unkindness although she would be the first to forgive and start afresh. I thought: If I don’t see Delia again soon I shall do more than swear at the Star Lords!
Speaking more calmly I told Mevancy of the situation in Makilorn. “San Chandro seems a decent old buffer. I thought spying for him would prove an excellent opportunity—”
“I see. It is a pity I was not there to do the thinking for us, as usual. Now you have unwanted explanations to offer.” Her voice rang tartly.
I ignored that. I wondered if I’d asked her what she would have done in the circumstances what her reply would be. I went on carefully: “The queen’s Chief Repositer is Nath the Uttarler and it seems he is not a strong personality. Two of the queen’s Repositers, Yango and Shang-Li-Po, stand directly in opposition to Chandro. It is possible they ordered the queen’s death.”
“You were much taken by this Queen Leone, Drajak. That is clear.”
“There is also a matter of the queen’s necklace. Her bumptious wizard, Chang-So, is a fellow to watch out for.” I told Mevancy what had transpired and finished: “Whatever is the secret of the queen’s necklace, it seems to me nothing to do with our duties to the Star Lords.”
“I shall make that decision, cabbage. Now we must turn in to make an early start tomorrow.”
She was back in command again, poised, ready to be cutting or gracious to me. I didn’t smile. This whole imbroglio looked to be far more complicated than anything Mevancy could dream of.
I said: “Better not say anything about the queen. We’ll—”
“Quite, cabbage!”
By which she meant I ought not to have got myself embroiled with Chandro and spying and the queen to the detriment of our work for the Star Lords.
She went on in a different tone of voice: “This reminds me of the time when Rafael and I had a child to care for and there was a hue and cry for a thief down the aracloins up in Shangsha — terribly hot and humid — and we had to lie our way out of it.” She pursed up her lips. “Well, we had to, cabbage, you see that? So I fancy we’ll forget about the queen’s necklace if I say so. All these baubles are overpriced, anyway.”
There seemed little to say after that so we went off to our respective bedrooms and I, for one, slept soundly. A stout old campaigner has to get his hours of sleep in when and as he can.
As she was in the habit of calling me cabbage, because of my helpless paralysis after the fire, I called her pigeon, because of the way she’d been overcharged by the ferryman. I realized I’d not called her pigeon once during our charged conversation.
The morning and the first breakfast brought news of an unwelcome kind.
Chiako the Gut sweated as he told us. I eyed him with some disfavor. He had been Mishuro’s guard captain and whilst you couldn’t blame him for Mishuro’s death, unfortunately for him mud sticks. As a cadade he had the safety of his master in his care. His master had been murdered — ergo, Jiktar Chiako the Gut, cadade, was at fault. As he told us the news he was, I am sure, sweating over what Lunky’s decision would be. Lunky, I felt, was too gentle a soul to sack the cadade on the spot.
Just before we’d gone in for breakfast Mevancy had told me in her decision-made-no-argument manner that we must get back to Makilorn as soon as possible. That way, she reasoned, we might be able to avoid awkward questions about my being in two places at the same time. As I’d been lost in the palace labyrinth I could say I’d been knocked on the head by someone and only now found my way back. I’d said: “Lunky—” and she’d said: “Leave Lunky to me.”
So now, unhappy about her so-called plan, I listened as Chiako the Gut said: “The Glitch Riders have been reported moving south. It is not yet known if this is a raid or a nomadic movement.”
As the Glitch Riders inhabited a stretch of land to the north of Tsungfaril and were nomads and reivers, this news was not good. Chiako went on: “It would be wise to delay our return to Makilorn for a few days until we know how dangerous a threat the Glitch Riders are this time.”
That made sweet sense. Not to Mevancy, though — oh, no!
If she wanted to smuggle me back into the city and bluff it out then this interruption was fatal to her scheme.
She did take things with intense seriousness!
“This is a nuisance,” said Lunky. He shook his head. “I really do wish to return as soon as possible. There are many things to be done now that San Mishuro is gone, things I would rather do sooner than later.”
“Yes, san,” said Chiako, sweating, “but—”
“And Mistress Telsi will be coming with us.” Lunky didn’t smirk — well, not exactly — but he looked like the little boy who’s found the biggest sweet in the jar.
Chiako half raised his hands from his leather-clad sides and let them drop. Clearly, he was saying, this is the last straw.
Mevancy said: “You are mighty tender about your lord now, cadade. Where were you and your men last night when the assassins struck?”
I held myself still. This was a sore point. Chiako’s heavy face blackened with anger. His gut quivered. Yet he controlled his manner so that his words sounded neutral. “The san slipped out without telling me. No one knew he had walked into the desert.”
I felt that to be the truth of it. And, yet— “It is your duty to watch the san at all times, cadade!” flashed Mevancy.
He wriggled in his armor, already hot in the growing heat of the day.
“You have had an easy life in your position as captain of the guard to San Mishuro. You oversee the slaves as they open and close the main doors. That about sums up your duties. Well now, cadade, life has changed. Now,” and here Mevancy rolled the words around, savoring them. “Now you will have to earn your hire. Your life is forfeit if harm comes to the san.”
“But—” began Chiako, blustering a little and yet with common use on his side. Some societies would punish guards who failed. “My contract—”
“May be terminated if you wish.”
Lunky said in a nervous voice: “Well...”
A change had gone on in the relationship of Mevancy and Lunky since I’d been away, that was crystal clear. She was acting with an authority that surprised me. She ought to have told me if Lunky had given her authority.
“We shall be leaving for Makilorn directly after the second breakfast.” Mevancy made it crisp. “Be ready. Now you may go.”
He gave her a sloppy salute, his face murderous, and took himself off.
“Gahamond-forsaken idiot!” she said. “By Spurl! That man needs a lesson!”
“You are sure, Mevancy? I mean, Mistress Telsi—”
“Quite sure, Lunky — san. You have power now. Don’t forget that. We’ll take good quality zorcas, travel light, and we’ll be there in no time.”
“If you say so, Mevancy.”
So that was the way of it.
I knew why I wanted to race back to Makilorn as fast as the fleetest zorca in all Kregen could carry me. I could still see the picture of the queen etched into my memory. She stood on the edge of the pool, the scented water running down her body, glowing, shining. Her fists on hips, her head high, she stared with contempt upon the assassins. Could she have survived, somehow still be alive? I did not think so.
San Chandro had said the queen’s Repositers must not be harmed for the stability of the state. I do not believe in blind revenge. But, if Yango and Shang-Li-Po had ordered the queen murdered... As our little party mounted up on blood zorcas I knew then I didn’t know what I would do.
So we rode back to Makilorn through the streaming mingled lights of the Suns of Scorpio.
Chapter eleven
We traveled light and we rode fast. Being what my Terran friends call an old hare I’d taken the precaution of taking along a bow. This was a splendid Lohvian longbow obtained by Chiako the Gut at Lunky’s orders. I hadn’t paid for it. The superb bow I’d bought from Master Twang remained among my pos
sessions with San Chandro.
Our small party rode fast but after a time it was necessary for us to dismount and walk along leading the zorcas. Zorcas are wonderful saddle animals, tall of spindly leg, close-coupled, full of fire and spirit; they are not magical and they need to be treated properly like any other riding animal. The desert about us drifted with an occasional lift of sand as a random breeze wafted. I had the uneasy feeling we might be in for a storm. If that were so then it was imperative our zorcas were kept fresh and strong.
So, walking along over the sand leading our mounts, we pressed on for the river and Makilorn. And, of course, it was as we were thus walking that the Glitch Riders struck. Naturally!
They came whooping over a dune off to our starboard bow. Clearly one of them had been lying invisibly there and watching us approach.
“Mount up! Mount up!” Chiako screamed it out. He was in trouble with his zorca, the animal rearing and lashing out with his hooves as Chiako held onto the leading rein. “Hold still!” he yelled, and: “Mount up!”
Well, the cadade was trying to live up to his job and do what was required. No doubt he could still hear Mevancy’s stinging words sizzling his ears. Lunky was trying to help Mistress Telsi mount up, and Mevancy was interfering and trying to help Lunky. Some of Chiako’s guard detail were already in their saddles, others were unhandily trying to climb aboard.
Before I mounted up, I decided, I’d essay a shaft.
Because the longbow was of Lohvian manufacture and style it was first class. It was not in the same class as the bow I’d bought from Master Twang — that was premium class and no mistake. I nocked the first shaft and quite unselfconsciously thought of Seg. I said silently to myself: “To you Erthanfydd the Meticulous the cast,” and let fly.
The shaft flew true. It struck the leading Glitcher and with a wailing screech he flopped sideways out of his saddle. The next shaft was already winging on its way and the third was in my fingers. Compared to any normal archer, I suppose the shooting was quite good. Seg would have feathered four shafts before you could blink.
An unholy racket was going on at my side and between the soft shuffle of zorcahooves on sand and the stupid yelling I made out Mevancy calling: “Stop that at once, cabbage! Mount up instantly! Unless you wish to be left alone!” I loosed the third shaft.
Well, by this time she was right. There were about twenty Glitchers, and three were down. Had we all shot we could have drastically thinned their numbers. As it was — I stowed the bow, grabbed my zorca and swung up into the saddle.
Now we were going to gallop off, running for it. Again I suppose Mevancy was right, for we had Lunky and Mistress Telsi to concern us.
I anticipated no problems in running away. We rode zorcas and the Glitchers rode narrow-flanked, spiky-headed, six-legged saddle animals called wegeners, with desert-yellow hides and mean eyes. We could outrun these wegeners with ease — well, that is a foolish remark. As I believed then a zorca could outrun any animal on Kregen.
The Glitch Riders swung parallel, whooping and brandishing their weapons. They used the yellow wegeners on their raids because of their camouflage color. Their own lands were marginally desert and grassland and there they’d use any of the wonderful array of riding animals available to Kregans. One or two loosed off after us; no one was hit.
For all my joy in the longbow and my knowledge of its powers in the hands of a competent bowman, let alone the marvels a master like Seg can achieve, I am aware that there are cases where a shorter bow becomes useful. You see, even now I hesitated to say was better. The short composite reflex bow as used by Valkan Archers was the weapon from the saddle. What Seg might say about the large composite reflex with its cunning sinew and horn pulling and pushing I did not care to contemplate. But that was a thing for the future. Right now as we galloped over the desert with the shushing thump of hooves, the jingle of harness and the savage yells of our pursuers in our ears, was the time I fancied I’d try a few shots.
Mind you, all this smart talk about short bows for cavalry to use more easily than long bows — well, a cavalryman handles a long spear or lance well enough, and a bow can be canted to avoid hitting the animal — I dropped to the tail of the rout and nocked an arrow. Like your true Parthian I turned in the saddle and shot in the longbow. The leading Glitcher tumbled from his mount and I selected the next arrow.
“You fambly, cabbage — concentrate on riding!”
I picked the next Glitcher and loosed. As I could not think of anything polite to say to Mevancy I kept my old black-fanged winespout shut.
“Oh, you!” She was riding alongside now and a return shaft thunked into the sand between us. So, thinking of something useful to say I snarled out: “Ride further up the front and look out for Lunky.”
A single quick glance at her face showed me a Kregan sunset with the red sun dominating all the sky. She was spitting angry. My third shot knocked over a Glitcher and I reached for another shaft.
“You do not talk to me like that, Drajak! You forget, I am the one chosen by the Everoinye to lead—” She didn’t say any more because her zorca abruptly pitched over. The creature let out an agonizing sigh. He toppled over, sprawling forward and furrowing the sand. An arrow stuck up, ugly and obscene in that beautiful animal. Mevancy went head over heels in a flurry of garments and landed splat on her back.
I’d been using my knees to control my zorca, an old clansman’s habit, and now I reluctantly lowered the bow and gentled the animal with my right hand. I spoke to him as a clansman speaks to his animals and we skidded to a halt, and pirouetted, no doubt making a most pretty picture of fountains of sand and swirling draperies, and circled, heading back to where Mevancy was just standing up and pulling out her sword. The Glitchers whooped in triumph and came sweeping down, weapons glittering.
There was just time. It was going to be nip and tuck; but if she didn’t argue and if she climbed up directly, we should just get away in time.
Well, of course, as I reached her, being Mevancy, she wanted to argue.
Leaning over I clasped her around the waist and violently heaved her up. She was not light; but she was not as heavy as I’d expected. She nearly nicked me with her sword and she was swearing and yelling and generally carrying on dreadfully.
I slapped her face-down before me and started the zorca into motion.
An arrow whipped past my nose and another hit a stirrup.
The zorca responded strongly and we went bounding away.
He was a splendid animal; his name was Sandeater and he lived up to it in fine style, and we hurtled across the desert. The ferocious yells of the Glitchers bounced after us. Ahead our party still galloped on and not a single one of them had turned back to our assistance.
“Let me up! Let me up!”
She wriggled around and hit me a thumping great clout with her leg as she swung across to sit astride. She hadn’t dropped her sword and she scabbarded the blade; I wasn’t foolish enough to say anything about my approval of that excellent conduct. Now a zorca is very close-coupled. A single rider can sit comfortably in the saddle. When two ride fore and aft the limited space forces them to sit packed tightly together. This close and intimate contact didn’t bother me, and I didn’t really give it much thought. The Glitchers were still following and still shooting although their shafts were falling short, and what would happen if they hit Sandeater was uppermost in my mind.
Mevancy wriggled about.
“Try to sit still, pigeon. Sandeater—”
“Let me have the reins, then, fambly.”
They’d been hitched up out of the way when I’d been shooting. As she was sitting in front of me it seemed logical she should have the reins. She kept her balance superbly; but again she wriggled and swayed. I took my feet out of the stirrups and said: “Use the stirrups.”
After that we raced along in fine style. No more arrows dropped near us; but a cautious turn to look back revealed the Glitchers still stubbornly following. They were no doubt c
alculating that an animal bearing a double load would soon tire.
We weren’t out of the wood yet, no, by Krun, not by a long way!
Sitting this close to Mevancy enabled me to smell her perfume, subtle and rather nice. Perfume used with skill is charming; overdone it is repulsive. Again I looked back to see our pursuers riding on. Funny though she was, this Mevancy nal Chardaz, her fate would not be funny if she fell into their hands. Perhaps if I tried another shot...
“Sit still, cabbage! You’ll have us both off!”
Sandeater bounded along, it seemed effortlessly; but he’d tire in the end. And, then— “If you will lean forward, pigeon, I will try a shot at them. Every one less is—”
“Yes, yes, I know that. But you can’t shoot like this!”
Patiently I said: “If you just bend a little and give my right elbow some room. Yes, like that. Good.” I nocked the shaft, turned and loosed at the leading pursuer. I missed.
Mevancy’s eye gleamed as she looked back. She opened her mouth and just then Sandeater — who was clearly as much taken by Mevancy as was I — gave a sudden extra leap on and Mevancy gasped and clutched and nearly fell off.
By the time she’d got herself straightened up I had another shaft in my fingers. I said: “Hold still and bend over, pigeon!” and this time my shaft hit the fellow leading the pursuit. I heard his screech as he tumbled off. All the same, by Vox, the others continued to ride on.
Useless to think the obvious thought that occurred to me to enter my brain. How grand to have Seg riding alongside! He’d feather the whole bunch of ’em back there before you could blink. And Inch, with his axe, to lop a few heads of any who continued to hang about. Well, the Star Lords had snatched me away from home and comrades and I had to soldier on as best I could without them.
Mevancy, looking back over my shoulder, said with a very sharp snap: “You have only nine shafts left.”
Scorpio Assassin Page 9
