"What if a prisoner declined the offer?" Curtis asked.
"If he or she was of value as a hostage, they were ransomed. If not, they were killed, not unlike any other civilized culture engaged in the uncivilized practice of making war. Savage and barbaric? No more than any other special interest group of our own fair Faerun."
"I'm hungry," Passepout grumbled to no one in particular.
"So I hear," Volo replied, pointing to the thespian's ample abdomen, whose rumblings were hard to miss. "As are we all."
"So what do we do now?" Curtis inquired.
"Just wait right here until that cloud of dust on the horizon catches up with us."
"Oh, great! A dust storm! Just what we need," commented the sarcastic thespian.
"Not a dust storm, my friends," Volo corrected. "That cloud is too self-contained to be a manifestation of nature's wrath. No, if I don't miss my guess, I'd say that's a Tuigan minghan-or, shall I say, raiding party-coming our way. No doubt they saw our rapid descent of yesterday and are on their way to lay claim to anything that has survived the crash. So the real question, gentlemen, is whether we prefer to be dead, new recruits, or hostages. Any questions?"
The horse-borne raiding party arrived within the hour and were shocked to find survivors from the ship that had fallen out of the sky. Volo, Passepout, and Curtis were taken prisoner, bound, and led on horseback back to the camp of the party's leader under armed guard, while the rest of the party proceeded to the mountainside to pick among the rubble of the Minnow for something of value.
The Tuigan camp was not far from the crash site, and in less than two hours, the three travelers found themselves in audience with the Horde leader Jamign, or as he preferred to be called, Aleekhan.
Aleekhan was a typical minor Horde warlord who had come to power after the western campaign. His minghan was composed of fewer than a thousand members, and his store of wealth was even less impressive. Like many other small-time warlords, he was just another tribal bully who managed to be in the right place at the right time to be named Khan. Dumb, maybe… but also dangerously lucky, as the numerous now-dead rivals for the khanship had found out.
"I am Aleekhan, Master of the Wastes, successor to the realms of Yamun Khahan, greatest of all Tuigan, and plunderer of the West," he bellowed in the common tongue used by most of the merchants of Faerun. "All who approach, cower in my wake. All who oppose me, die!"
Passepout, weakened from hunger, having not eaten in more than twelve hours, fainted as if on cue.
"We cower in your wake, O great Aleekhan," replied Volo in his most fawning tone, nudging Curtis to quickly drop to his knees. "We have traveled far to join the greatest of all minghans."
"You are the men who were dropped out of the sky?" the warlord inquired.
"Yes, O great Khan," Volo answered. "We have braved both air and sea to arrive in your presence."
"Well," replied the warlord, his ego fueled by Volo's blandishments, "you are now here. What do you have to offer your Khan?"
"Our undying gratitude, and our lifelong service!" Volo responded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Aleekhan stood up and approached the three travelers.
"What's the matter with him?" the Khan queried, poking the still unconscious Passepout with the toe of his slipper.
"He is the great warrior Passepout, bloodthirsty buccaneer of the Sea of Fallen Stars. No doubt you have heard of him," Volo replied.
"No doubt," replied the Khan in a noncommittal tone, "but why is he unconscious?"
"He was consumed by awe, almighty Khan, having never been in the presence of a warrior even mightier than himself."
"Quite," replied the Khan, returning to the makeshift throne upon which he had been seated before. "But enough about him. Tell me more about why you've come to join me on my quest for glory."
"Well," Volo replied, trying to think fast.
"No doubt, you have heard of my latest hostage," the Khan interrupted.
"But of course," Volo answered. "Further proof that you are indeed the heir to the glory of Yamun Khahan."
"But unlike him, I shall make the West cower at my feet. Even now, my name will inspire terror throughout Cormyr. What other warlord would have in his possession one of the most respected daughters of their greatest trading company, the Seven Suns?"
"You mean your hostage is the daughter of Lord Gruen Bleth of the Seven Suns Trading Company of Cormyr?" the master traveler answered. "I am in awe."
"But of course," the Khan replied. "Rouse your friend, and let us dine. Let it not be said that Aleekhan mistreats his minions."
With that, Aleekhan clapped his hands and was borne in his throne out of the reception tent, and into another even more tackily lavish tent, where a feast already seemed to be underway.
Volo and Curtis quickly roused Passepout with the promise of food and followed the Khan to the feast.
"Your friend the great warrior has the appetite of a dragon," commented the Khan.
"And the fearsome bravery to match, O great Khan," Volo replied.
Volo's fawning blandishments had secured himself and his companions places of honor at the great Khan's side during the afternoon's feast, which they learned was the daily occurrence that accounted for the Khan's massive bulk, which far exceeded that of Passepout, Curtis, and Volo combined.
"So how did you plan on serving me?" the Khan inquired. "What talents do you have to offer?"
"I am learned in the ways of many nations," Volo replied. "In addition to warfare, I can also advise you on politics, customs, cultures…"
"Can you help me get a better price on my hostage's ransom?" the Khan interrupted.
"Sure," Volo replied, "but…"
"Good," the Khan interrupted. "Then tomorrow we head westward to Cormyr."
"No!" Volo exclaimed, then adding quickly, "almighty Khan."
Aleekhan began to become enraged, his bloated body turning red in fury. "You dare to contradict your Khan?"
"No, almighty Khan," Volo obsequiously replied, trying to backpedal as fast as possible. At the same time, he plotted to discourage the Horde leader from causing him and Passepout to double back and risk the mortal consequences that had been promised. "What I meant to say was that perhaps you should consider another destination."
"Why?" the Khan demanded. "Would not her value be the greatest in her homeland?"
"In most cases, almighty Khan, yes," Volo conceded, adding, "but because she is a merchant's daughter, perhaps a higher price can be fetched by selling her to a rival merchant house, like those that exist beyond the Dragonwall in Kara-Tur."
"I know of no such rival merchant houses," Aleekhan interrupted.
"But I do," Volo countered, "and I am sure Lord Gruen Bleth's rivals would pay a handsome sum to keep him in check by holding his daughter ransom."
Aleekhan fingered his beard the way he had seen Volo do, in hopes that it would make him appear to be as intelligent as the quick-witted master traveler appeared to be.
"You may have a point," the Khan said. "Originally I had contemplated making her my consort, my Reeta. That is why I originally bought her from my cousin Sammhie."
"You bought her!" Curtis exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought you had…"
Volo gave Curtis a sharp elbow to the ribs that more than succeeded in hushing him.
"Of course I bought her, and at the time I thought it was a bargain. We had just seized a caravan laden with feed for horses. Sammhie's band had fallen on hard times. He lacks the necessary qualities to be a great Khan and busies himself with collecting tapestries and sculptures."
"Sort of a Khan artist you might say," Passepout offered before being encouraged to silence by the master traveler's inconspicuous pinching of his portly rump.
"Exactly!" the Khan agreed. "He was never much of a warlord, and now his mounts were starving, so I agreed to trade a supply of hay, which I now had in excess, for the lovely hostage he had picked up on one of his bazaar raids. I intended
for her to be my bride. All were to know the price I paid for her. She was to be known as my Reeta-hayworth. Unfortunately, she turned out to be more trouble than she was worth. I mean who wants to lie down with a raging wildcat? You see these scars?"
The Khan pointed to a series of scabbed rake marks on his cheeks.
"I thought they were a sign of bravery," Volo answered.
Aleekhan laughed. "No," the Khan retorted, "they are the sign of an uncooperative consort. That's when I decided to ransom her."
Volo sensed that the feast was coming to an end, and decided to make his move.
"O great Aleekhan, I and my companions are at your disposal. Why don't you let us proceed to Kara-Tur to make the arrangements for the ransom? With four of your best-fed steeds at our disposal, we will be back in no time, with arrangements made and booty in hand. Then both east and west will know of the great exploits of Aleekhan, the Khan who dared to ransom the daughter of Lord Gruen Bleth, causing all of Cormyr to quake in his wake."
"Catchy," Passepout commented to his former master, adding, "and don't forget to ask for food."
"All we will require is provisions for two weeks, and the horses."
The Khan briskly rubbed his hands together in anticipation of his upcoming booty.
"So let it be said, so let it be done," the Khan replied. "You will leave at first light."
The Khan then clapped his hands, and the banquet was over.
For the rest of the afternoon, the three travelers went about putting together the provisions for their trip eastward. At sunset they convened at the outskirts of the camp.
"Once the camp is asleep, we will leave," Volo instructed.
"Do we have enough supplies?" Passepout asked.
"The four fastest stallions of the tribe, each packed with provisions," Curtis replied.
"Perfect," Volo commended, adding, "but did you say four?"
"Of course," Passepout answered. "One's just for my lunch, right?"
"Wrong," Curtis replied. "I just assumed that we would also rescue the daughter of Lord Gruen Bleth. Right, Mister Volo?"
Volo shrugged. "Why not?" he agreed. "And now that I think of it, I have a plan in mind, too."
"But why do we have to?" Passepout whined.
"We are just following orders," Volo replied.
The three travelers had arrived at the tent where the Bleth heiress was being held captive.
"She'll just slow us down," Curtis interjected. "Couldn't you talk the Khan out of it?"
"The Khan's will is our command," Volo replied, then turning to the guard who stood at the tent's entrance, added, asking for corroboration, "Right?"
"Khan's will be done," the guard replied in the high voice that bespoke a eunuch.
"Uh, right," Volo replied. "You see the Khan instructed us to take the hostage with us so that we could get a better price for her." The master traveler then elbowed the guard in the ribs. "I think he also wants to be rid of her as soon as possible. I understand that they didn't really get along."
"Khan's will be done," the guard replied.
"Uh, right," Volo answered. "Now, if you will just fetch her for us, we will be on our way."
"No," the guard replied.
Okay, now what? Volo thought. The ruse hadn't worked.
"… I have no desire to dance with that wildcat," the guard continued. "Fetch her yourselves. I'll watch your horses."
"Of course," Volo answered, and the three travelers entered the tent.
The young woman was the perfect synthesis of eastern and western beauty. Dark eyes, auburn hair, and ample curves and calves, she was bedecked in the silks of a Tuigan princess, which did little to conceal her obviously pampered beauty.
Her full and luscious lips were interrupted by a silken gag, and she was bound both hand and foot.
"We've come to rescue you," Curtis said, as he undid the scarf that bound her mouth.
"Well, it's about time!" she scolded in none too discreet a tone. "Do you know who I am? I've been-"
"Quick! The gag!" Volo ordered, and Curtis immediately complied.
"Mmphgh!" she protested indignantly.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Passepout inquired. "I mean, ticking off an heiress and all. What if she tells her father, and he gets mad, and decides not to give us a reward…"
"Later," Volo instructed, silencing the thespian. "Curtis, escort the lady out."
"Aye, aye, sir," Curtis replied absently, forgetting that they were now off the ship. With that, he hoisted the young woman over his shoulder as if she were an extremely well-proportioned sack of potatoes and carried her out of the tent.
"Good luck," the guard bade them as they bound their burden to one of the fleet-footed steeds.
Volo mounted his horse, and replied, "Khan's will be done!"
The three travelers and their "guest" headed eastward under the cover of night.
Chapter 15
On the road in Kara-tur or Three Men, a Woman, an Old Coot, and a Baby
True to the words of Aleekhan's horse master, the purloined steeds were indeed the fastest that the encampment had to offer, as evidenced by the noticeable lack of a similarly mounted party dispatched by the enraged Khan to bring back the turncoats and his hostage. By noon the following day the travelers felt reasonably safe that they would not be further pursued. They had skirted the edge of a sandstorm, and warring dust devils had succeeded in crossing the path from whence they had traveled numerous times, thus obscuring any tracks or trails that they might have left.
As of noon that same day, they had also attempted no less than three times to remove the gag from the mouth of their rescued heiress, only to quickly replace it each time as she refused to listen to reason. The travelers realized that they needed to cover the greatest amount of distance between themselves and the Khan's Horde, and had no time for conciliatory explanations or deflections of insults. As a result, when the group finally stopped to eat later that afternoon (much too much later to suit the rumblings of the stout thespian's stomach), the heiress Bleth was still bound and gagged, and really quite ticked off about it, having now ridden more than twenty hours in a manner more suited to a merchant's pack than a lady of breeding.
In his own mind, Passepout had quickly resolved that the heiress Bleth would be his ticket to easy street, once his commitment to world travel was fully resolved, and therefore he committed himself to ingratiating himself with her as soon as possible-and what time could possibly be better than mealtime?
"We can't afford to tarry too long," Volo instructed, "so therefore, let's eat, be quick about it, and back in the saddle, and on our way."
"I hate rushing a meal," Passepout remarked sadly. "It's usually my favorite part of the day."
"If you had your way," Curtis jibed, "mealtime would be the whole day."
Passepout ignored the teenager's comment and began to press his case for getting on the heiress's good side with the master traveler.
"Mister Volo," he requested in as angelic a voice as possible, "don't you think we should offer some food to our new, uh, companion?"
Volo was stunned. Never before had he seen the pudgy thespian willing to share a meal with an extra mouth that might result in the diminishment of his own portion. He suspected Passepout had an ulterior motive and quickly decided that the situation might indeed prove to be quite amusing, particularly in view of his dubious success with the young lady from the Company of the Catlash.
"Good idea," Volo replied. "Curtis, why don't you bring a bowl over to our reluctant rescuee and see if her manners have improved any?"
Before Passepout could protest, Curtis had already objected.
"Meaning no offense, Mister Volo," the teenager replied, "but I'd rather not. Last time I tried to remove her gag, she almost bit off my fingers."
Passepout interjected himself into the discussion.
"Poor boy," he said, "obviously your, uhm, schooling has left you grossly ignorant of the ways and needs of the gentler
sex. Allow me to take care of her, Mister Volo."
"As you wish," Volo replied, and with a wink added, "just make sure you come back with all your fingers… and if she puts up a fight, feel free to accept her portion for yourself. It's the least reward you deserve for so hazardous a mission."
Passepout took the bowl and proceeded to the shade where the heiress now lay, still tied and gagged. Setting the food aside, he contemplated the girl, and then the bowl, trying to decide which was more important to him at the moment.
Possible future wealth, he contemplated, or an immediate second serving. Decisions, decisions.
His quiet contemplations were rudely interrupted by a quick kick upward by the heiress, who had managed to free one leg from its thong imprisonment, and whose contact with one of the rolls of the thespian's abdominal bulk threw him off balance, causing him to almost fall on top of the bowl he had brought to feed her.
"Now that wasn't very nice," he barked, and then in a gentler tone added, "don't you want something to eat?"
She hesitated for a moment, her beautiful, dark eyes filled with apprehension.
"We're not going to hurt you. I mean, we rescued you, and all," the thespian explained.
Her gaze darted to the bowl of food, then back to Passepout.
"Sure, you can have food," he surmised. "Just don't try to kick me again. The food's not bad. Of course, if we had time I could fix you a real feast." Passepout paused for a moment to pat his substantial stomach, and then continued, "You might say I'm sort of an expert on the science of the gastronomy, and culinary cuisine… but Mister Volo says we're in a hurry…"
Her eyes blinked in recognition, interrupting his chain of thought.
"Oh, you've heard of him. Yes, he's that Volo, author of the Volo's travel guides, and master traveler of the Realms. I'm Passepout, his trusted advisor. He asked that I come along on this trip. Needed my help, actually. Of course, I agreed. Anything for Volo, after all. He has a reputation to live up to. I do too, just not as a traveler. Oh, here, let me undo that."
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