'It's a term of great respect,' Shukin told him.
'Great respect,' Shigeru confirmed.
Horace's gaze switched back and forth between them. 'That's what makes me uncertain about it.'
Shigeru grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. 'Let's get back to the horses. As you say, we're not getting any closer to Riverside Village while we stand here talking.'
They reached the village in another two hours. As they rode in, a familiar figure strode out from one of the cabins to greet them. Horace recognised Reito, the Senshi who had brought them the news of Arisaka's rebellion. He glanced around the village and became aware that there were other Senshi there, the survivors from Shigeru's army in Ito. Many of them were injured, with bloodstained bandages on their wounds. Some were moving around the village, often limping heavily. But too many of them were lying still on rough stretchers and litters. He heard Shukin heave a deep sigh.
'We're going to be moving a lot more slowly from now on,' the Senshi leader said.
There was a lone horseman riding along the northern bank of the Assaranyan Channel, keeping pace with the ship, parallel to their course. The man wore white, flowing robes and a white turban on his head, with a wide tail of material that protected his neck from the sun. It was similar in purpose to the kheffiyeh that Selethen wore, Will guessed.
'Now where do you suppose he came from?' Gundar asked, squinting to gaze more closely at the newcomer.
'There's probably a wadi just behind that crest,' Selethen told him. Gundar looked at him, uncomprehending, and he explained, 'A shallow gully.'
Earlier, they had been able to see for some distance across the desert on either side of the channel. At this point, though, the bank rose a little, so that it was several metres higher than the water level. Now, they could see no further than the elevated banks.
'Oh…yeah. I see.' Gundar paused. 'What do you think he's up to?'
'I should imagine nothing that's good for us,' Selethen told him. 'Hello. He's got friends.'
Three more riders had appeared, seeming to rise out of the ground at the top of the bank. They joined with the first rider in a loose formation. None of them seemed to show any interest in the ship that continued to glide along the channel, sixty or seventy metres away from them. Selethen had been right about the quicksand, Alyss thought. The riders stayed well back from the crumbling, darker-shaded ground at the edge of the channel.
Halt studied them and could make out the short cavalry bows slung across their backs. Selethen's people used such bows. They were effective at close range but lost power after fifty or sixty metres. Still, there was no harm in being prepared.
'Will,' he said quietly, 'fetch our bows, would you?'
Will gave him a quick glance, then nodded. Their bows were stored in the low, enclosed sleeping quarters in the stern of the ship. He hurried away to get them.
'Expecting trouble, Halt?' Evanlyn asked.
The Ranger shrugged. 'It'd be silly not to,' he said. 'Unless you can suggest a reason why those four riders just happen to be riding along beside us.'
'Seven,' Evanlyn told him.
Halt looked again to see that their number had indeed grown. He also saw that Evanlyn's sling had appeared in her hand and was swinging slowly back and forth in a pendulum motion. There was obviously a missile loaded into the pouch at its centre. He smiled grimly at her.
'Bit far for that stone chucker of yours,' he said and Evanlyn shrugged.
'You never know. Besides,' she pointed past the bow, 'the channel seems to be narrowing.'
They all looked forward then and they could see that she was right. Sandbanks had formed on the northern side of the channel, cutting the width down considerably.
Halt rubbed his beard as he studied them. 'Hmmm. Not sure that they'll be able to come any closer, even with that. Those banks look pretty soft to me.'
Will returned and handed Halt his bow and a quiver of arrows. He had his own quiver slung over his shoulder and both his bow and Halt's were already strung. Halt nodded his thanks and flexed the bowstring experimentally.
'Maybe we should edge over to the south bank anyway?' Selethen suggested. That side, they could see, was significantly clear of sandbars. The bank itself seemed to be cut straight and clean, rising almost vertically from the water to a height of five or six metres.
'It's very inviting,' Halt said. 'Perhaps too much so.'
'You're right, Ranger,' Gundar told him. His sailor's eyes, used to looking for signs of submerged obstacles, had detected several suspicious eddies on the surface on the southern side of the channel. 'I'd say there are obstructions just below the surface on that side, waiting for us to get tangled up on them.'
'Sandbars, you mean?' Selethen asked.
Gundar shook his head. 'More likely spikes and logs and heavy cables set to stop us and hold us fast.'
'So the lads beyond the ridge on that side can come visit us at their leisure,' Halt put in. He had been studying the south bank, suspicious of the fact that the riders on the north bank had revealed themselves, and that the southern part of the channel seemed to offer safety. A few seconds previously, he had caught a flash of light, as if the sun had briefly reflected off a sword or helmet. He was willing to bet there were several score of warriors concealed on the south bank, waiting for the moment when the ship became entangled in the underwater barriers that Gundar had detected.
He told the others what he had seen and they all looked carefully at the south bank. After a few seconds, Will caught sight of a small movement as well.
'There's someone there, all right,' he said.
'And there are quite a few of them,' Selethen added. 'There's just the faintest haze of dust in the air where they've been moving into position. Not enough wind to disperse it.'
'I guess they expected our attention to be focused on the riders,' Alyss said.
Even as she said it, the seven horsemen on the north bank spurred their horses to move a little ahead of the ship. Then they reined in and unslung their bows, fitting arrows to their bowstrings.
Halt glanced warningly at Gundar but the skirl had seen the movement.
'Shields on the bulwarks!' he called and the relief rowing crew clambered down into the rowing well and set eight of the big Skandian shields in brackets on the bulwark to cover the rowers. In many years of raiding and fighting, the Skandians had been shot at before and knew how to protect themselves.
'I doubt they have the range to reach us,' Halt said. 'But it never hurts to play it safe.'
They heard the familiar clatter and hiss of the arrows leaving the bows and arcing through the air towards the ship. As Halt had predicted, the range was too great for the short bows. Six of the arrows fell harmlessly into the water. The seventh struck the hull a metre above the waterline but, devoid of energy, it dropped away with a dull splash.
'Out of range,' Will said. 'You were right.'
'I'm not sure if they really meant to hit us or just divert our attention,' Halt replied. 'But either way, I think we might show them it's a bad idea to ride along there.'
He nocked an arrow to his own bowstring. Will did the same. The riders released another volley, which again fell short of Wolfwill.
'Take the one at the back with the purple turban, Will. I'll take the one beside him,' Halt said quietly. Will nodded.
'Now,' said Halt and they brought their bows up, drew and released in almost one movement.
The two arrows, one black and one grey, shot away, climbing into the hot air, then arcing down.
The riders Halt had singled out were in the act of shooting again when the two long, heavy arrows hissed down and struck them. Halt's target yelled in pain, dropping his bow and clutching at the arrow that had suddenly slammed into his upper arm. The man in the purple turban made no sound. He toppled sideways out of his saddle and hit the brown sand with a dull thud.
There were yells of confusion as their five companions scattered in panic. The message was all too clear. Th
eir own volleys had fallen short of the target, while the two return shots had hit targets at the rear of their group, farthest from the ship. Which meant all of them were within easy range. Suddenly, they felt very, very exposed. They wheeled their horses away from the bank and rode over the crest to safety, the riderless horse following them.
Only the man in the purple turban remained, lying unmoving on the sand.
A few seconds later, the men on the south bank seemed to realise that their ambush had been detected. They appeared above the crest of the bank, waving weapons and yelling insults and curses at the ship as it glided arrogantly by. There were over two score of them, raggedly dressed and armed with an assortment of swords, spears and daggers, with several short bows among them. The bowmen shot a few ragged volleys but they were all well short of the ship. Will looked at Halt, then glanced down at the bow in his hands, but the bearded Ranger shook his head.
'Leave them,' Halt said. 'They can't hurt us and now they know it's safer to leave us alone.' He turned to Gundar. 'All the same, it might not be a good idea to anchor anywhere midstream for a rest.'
The sun was setting astern of them, a giant ball turned blood red by the tiny particles of sand that hung in the desert air, when they slipped quietly out of the Assaranyan Channel into the Blood Sea – a narrow gulf that led eventually to the wide spaces of the Eastern Ocean.
'I guess that's where the name comes from,' Will said, jerking a thumb at the water's surface behind them.
The intense glow of the sunset was reflected in the surface of the water, turning it to the same spectacular red colour, shimmering and shifting on the waves as they trapped and reflected the last light of the day so that the water itself looked like a sea of blood.
A gentle sea breeze sprang up from the south once they were several hundred metres offshore. It was warm, but nonetheless welcome after the stultifying heat that had engulfed them as they rowed through the channel.
'Make sail,' Gundar ordered. In the absence of roaring wind and waves, he could give his commands in a much calmer voice than his normal bellow. The sail handlers hurried to unfurl the port sail and hoist the slender boom that supported it to the masthead. As the wind caught the canvas and it bellied out, he gave more quick orders.
'Sheet home. In oars.'
The long oars rose, dripping, from the water. There were a few seconds of clattering and banging as the rowers drew them inboard and stowed them along the line of the ship. At the same time, the sailing crew hauled in on the sheets controlling the triangular sail. Initially bellying out loosely in the wind, it now hardened into a smooth, efficient curve and the passengers felt the harnessed thrust of the wind take effect. Wolfwill heeled a little to port, then Gundar leaned his weight on the tiller, heading the ship at right angles to the wind.
'Loosen off,' he called. He could sense that the sail, sheeted too tightly, was causing the ship to heel further than was necessary and this was costing them speed. Wolfwill steadied, came a little more upright, then swooped over a long, slow swell like a gull.
Gundar looked around at his passengers and couldn't help grinning at them.
'I never get tired of that!' he said and they smiled in return. The ship's motion was exhilarating, particularly after the hours of heat and tension as they passed through the Assaranyan Channel.
'So what can we expect from the Blood Sea, Gundar?' Will asked the big, burly Skandian.
Gundar braced the tiller with his hip and spread the Genovesan sailing notes on the small chart table beside him. He consulted the carefully lettered script for a few minutes, then looked up at Will.
'At this time of year, we should have steady winds,' he said. 'Although in a month or two there'd be a good chance of being becalmed.'
Sailors, Will noted, always wanted you to know the worst news, even when things were looking good.
'And,' Gundar continued, 'the notes say to avoid other ships as much as possible. Apparently the sea here is crawling with pirates.'
'Pirates?' Halt asked.
Gundar nodded, jerking a thumb at the notes. 'That's what it says here. Pirates.'
Halt raised both his eyebrows for once.
'Pirates,' he said. 'Oh, goody.'
'Yes. I know the way to Ran-Koshi,' the timber worker told them. Shukin and Shigeru exchanged a quick glance. They had begun to fear that the fabled fortress of Ran-Koshi was just that – a fable. Now, it seemed, they might have found a guide.
'You've been there?' Shukin asked. It was one thing to say you knew where a place was, another entirely if you'd actually been there.
'It's where we get our supplies of the fragrant timber,' the villager said.
Shigeru frowned, wondering what trees he meant.
Seeing the expression, Shukin said quietly, 'Camphor wood.'
Toru, the villager, nodded. 'Yes. I've heard it called that.' He saw the relieved expressions on the faces of the two Senshi and added a warning. 'It's a difficult place to get to. You'll have to go on foot from here. Horses will never manage the mountain trails.'
'Then we'll walk,' Shigeru said with a smile. 'I may be the Emperor, but I'm not a fragile little flower. I've done my share of travelling hard.'
'You may have. But what about those?' Toru said, sweeping his hand around the cleared communal space at the centre of Riverside Village. The three men were seated on low stools on the polished wood verandah of the village headman's house. The headman, Jito, had summoned Toru to speak to the Emperor when he learned that the Senshi party were seeking the ancient fortress of Ran-Koshi.
Now, at Toru's gesture, Shukin and Shigeru looked at the rows of injured men gathered around the square. At least a third of the Senshi who had escaped Arisaka's army were wounded – some of them seriously. Many would have to travel on litters or stretchers, and even the ones who could walk could only travel slowly because of their wounds.
'Our village headman would offer to look after them here if you asked him,' Toru said. 'But you would be causing great hardship to the villagers if you did so.'
Shukin made an apologetic gesture, touching his hand to the money purse at his belt.
'Naturally, we would pay,' he said but Toru shook his head.
'Winter is nearly here. The villagers have stockpiled barely enough food to last them through the cold months. They can't eat money and there wouldn't be enough food in the local markets for them and these extra people.'
It had been a different matter at the previous village, Shukin thought gloomily. There, the villagers only had to provide for a dozen people for one night. He knew Toru was right. They couldn't ask a small village to care for and feed thirty wounded men for several months. And in any case, he was reluctant to leave the Senshi behind. Many of them would recover and that would provide Shigeru with a nucleus of trained warriors. Not an army, perhaps, but a start towards one. They couldn't afford to abandon such a potential force.
'The wounded will come with us,' Shigeru said, interrupting them. His tone showed that there would be no discussion. 'We'll just have to manage. And we'll have to move quickly.'
Toru shrugged. 'Easily said. Not so easily done.'
He was respectful to the Emperor but not in awe of him. The Kikori were practical people and he saw no reason to agree with Shigeru when he knew he was wrong. That would not be doing the Emperor and his men any favours.
'Nevertheless, we will do it,' Shigeru said. 'Perhaps some of the stronger men of the village would act as stretcher bearers for us. Again, we would pay.'
Toru considered this. The season for wood gathering was over. Some of the younger men might be willing to supplement their income. Hard cash like that could be set aside for the warmer months, when the markets would have more items for sale.
'That's possible,' he agreed. Ever the bargainer, he was about to add that the men would be entitled to charge extra for the hardship of leaving their homes and families and trekking through the mountains in the oncoming winter weather when raised voices from the edge of
the forest distracted them all.
They turned to look and saw a group of people emerging from the trees. Roughly twenty of them, and Kikori, by their dress, Shukin thought. Then he frowned. The thickset man leading the group, an axe held casually in his hand, looked familiar.
'Strangers,' Toru said. 'What brings them here, I wonder?'
He looked pointedly at the two cousins. His thought process was obvious. One way or another, they had brought the strangers to Riverside Village. Then Shukin recognised the leader of the newcomers and it seemed that Toru was right.
'It's Eiko,' he said, rising from his low stool.
Shukin and Shigeru stepped down off the verandah and walked towards Eiko and his companions. Toru followed them as other members of the village gathered around the newcomers. The Kikori weren't a particularly gregarious lot. Individual villages tolerated their neighbours but tended to keep to themselves. Each group had their own secret sources of timber and they guarded the locations of these resources from outsiders. The villagers greeted the strangers politely, but not effusively.
The headman stepped forward.
'I am Jito, headman of Riverside Village. What brings you here, stranger – and how can we help you?' His tone left no doubt that his offer of help was a formality only.
Eiko bowed politely – a quick lowering of the head that was all protocol demanded for a village headman.
'Greetings, Jito-san. My name is Eiko.' Then, looking past Jito, he saw the Emperor and Shukin, easily distinguished from the villagers in their Senshi robes. This time, he bowed more deeply. 'Greetings, Lord Shigeru.'
Jito looked sharply at the Emperor as he heard Eiko's words. He was not entirely happy to have even more strangers descend upon his people. The wounded Senshi had put a heavy strain on Riverside Village's resources. At a time when they should be making final preparations for the coming winter, the villagers were distracted by having to care for the wounded warriors.
'Good morning, Eiko. Is there some kind of problem?' The Emperor's keen eyes had noticed that some of the newcomers were injured. Half a dozen were bandaged and three others were being assisted by friends.
The Emperor of Nihon-Ja ra-10 Page 10
