Toshak smiled. 'As I say, Oberjarl, very astute. But of course, anyone can be clever in hindsight. It's a pity you didn't show such keen perception a little earlier. You might have avoided my trap. You hardly gain any credit for saying "I knew it was you all along" when I walk into the room, do you?'
'Whether I knew or not, the fact remains, you're a traitor. And you deserve to die.'
'Well, yes. But of course, one man's traitor is another man's patriot, as they say. And I'm afraid any dying is going to be done by you.'
'Which means you'll lose the ransom money,' Halt interrupted. He looked at the Tualaghi leader. 'How does your comrade in arms feel about that? Do you want to give up sixty thousand reels of silver, Yusal?'
The Tualaghi stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger. He measured himself against the Ranger, and glared down at the shorter man. His finger jabbed Halt in the chest, emphasising his words.
'You do not call me Yusal!' he snapped. 'You address me as Aseikh Yusal or as Excellence. Do you understand me, you insolent foreigner?'
Halt cocked his head to one side, considering the question, even though it had been rhetorical. 'What I understand,' he said, 'is that there is very little about you that is excellent and that Aseikh is a term of honour. There's nothing honourable in a man who hides his face behind a blue woman's hanky.'
The fury flared more brightly in Yusal's eyes. Halt was watching them carefully. He always watched an enemy's eyes and, in Yusal's case, they were the only feature visible.
As Yusal swung his fist backhanded at him, Halt was ready. He swayed slightly to his right and the blow passed by harmlessly. Yusal, expecting to meet resistance, staggered with the follow-through. Burning with fury, he stepped closer to Halt to strike at him again. Toshak raised his hand to stop him.
'Wait!' he said. He peered more closely at Halt, studying the swollen, bruised face. 'You're the Ranger, aren't you? Halt. That's your name! I remember hearing about you now. You made trouble in Skandia three years ago and now you're here. You just get in the way on every continent, don't you? And I suppose that's the other one who was in Skandia with you?'
He gestured to Gilan. Truth be told, Toshak had never seen either Ranger. He simply knew that Halt's assistant had been a younger man.
'Actually ... ' Gilan began. But Halt cut him off.
'That's right,' he said quickly. Gilan looked at him, a little surprised. But he said nothing further. Toshak turned to Yusal now.
'These are the archers? The ones who killed so many?' he said.
The Tualaghi nodded. 'My men wanted to kill them. But they might be worth a ransom.'
Toshak shook his head. 'Nobody will pay to have them back,' he said. 'Rangers are troublemakers. And they're dangerous. Best they're killed as soon as possible.'
'I can ransom them!' Evanlyn said in the deathly silence that fell over the room. 'I'm a ... diplomat. I'm close to the King of Araluen. I can arrange to have a large ransom paid for these men.'
Toshak eyed her curiously. He hadn't actually been present in Hallasholm during the war with the Temujai.
But he had heard tales of what had taken place: wild stories about a girl who had been with the Rangers — a high-ranking Araluan girl. It could be this one, he thought. Then he shrugged; her identity was immaterial. What was important was what had been found in her belongings.
'You'll do that anyway,' he said. 'Whether we kill them or not.'
Evanlyn opened her mouth to argue, then stopped as she saw what he was holding: the draft for the Silasian Council.
'It's worthless without a seal,' she told him.
'But you know where to find one, don't you?' he asked.
Evanlyn met his gaze, unflinchingly. Just before they had surrendered, she had hidden the seal under a rock outcrop in the saucer-shaped depression. She was glad now that she had done so. She said nothing, not trusting her voice.
Toshak nodded. Her silence confirmed his suspicion. He turned to Yusal.
'Aseikh Yusal, how would you convince this girl to find the seal she appears to have misplaced?'
Yusal's eyes crinkled and the veil moved slightly over his face. Evanlyn realised he was smiling. The Tualaghi had watched the captives closely all the way to Maashava. He hadn't missed the byplay between the girl and the young warrior. He pointed to Horace now.
'If we began to peel the skin from this one, I think she might remember,' he said. He chuckled. His harsh, unpleasant voice made it an ugly sound.
Evanlyn froze, looking helplessly at Horace. She knew she would never stand by and see him tortured.
But if she made out the warrant, they would all die anyway.
'Toshak?' It was Svengal, his voice soft and questioning. The rebel Skandian looked at him, his eyebrows raised. Svengal continued.
'How about you and me, we have a little wrestle together? Just for fun.'
'Fun?' repeated Toshak.
Svengal smiled winningly. 'Yes. I think it would be such fun to tear that ugly head off your shoulders. And your beaky, blue-faced friend's, too.' He spat the last words out, switching his glare to Yusal.
Toshak raised an eyebrow.
'You should have kept your mouth shut, Svengal. I might have let you live. But now I see how determined you are, well ... ' He paused, looking around the tense group who faced him.
'Let's just recap where we stand, shall we?' he said. He indicated Selethen. 'The Wakir is going to be ransomed. He gets off lightly but I have no argument with him. On the other hand, I do have one with Erak and Svengal, so they're going to die. You two Rangers as well.' He pointed at Horace next. 'You're going to have your skin peeled and the young lady here is going to pay us a large amount of money for the privilege of listening to your screams.' He smiled around at them all. 'Have I missed anyone? No? Well, have a nice night thinking on it.'
The smile disappeared. He jerked his head at Yusal and the two of them turned. Then the Tualaghi leader, struck by a thought, stopped and turned back. He held up his left hand as if asking for their attention and moved back towards them.
'There was one more thing,' he said. Then he spat an order to his guards and two of them gripped Halt by the arms, forcing him forward and down until he was on his knees in front of Yusal. The Tualaghi Aseikh then rained closed-fist blows on Halt's face, left and right, striking again and again until the Ranger's face was cut and bleeding and his head lolled to one side. Toshak watched, amused. Erak started to move forward to intervene but the point of a sabre in his belly stopped him. Finally, Yusal stepped back, breathing heavily.
'Let him go,' he told the men holding Halt. They released him and he crumpled to the sand, face down and semi-conscious.
'Not so light on your feet now, are you?' Toshak said to the slumped figure. Yusal uttered a short bark of laughter and together they turned and left the room. The guards, hands on their weapons, backed out after them, slamming the door. In the ensuing silence, the prisoners heard the key rattle in the lock.
Gilan let go a deep, pent-up breath and moved quickly to kneel beside his semi-conscious friend. Gently, he rolled Halt over and began cleaning the mixture of sand and blood from his face. Evanlyn joined him, her hands light and delicate.
Horace brought over the water skin that had been left with them and handed it to Evanlyn. He watched as she gently washed Halt's face. Horace was worried. He had never seen Halt defeated before. Halt was always in control of the situation. Halt always knew what to do next.
'I think we're in big trouble,' he said. Then they all started as Halt moved, raising his hand and trying to sit up. Evanlyn held him down and he stopped his efforts. But he spoke, his voice thick and somewhat slurred by his swollen mouth and face.
'They're forgetting one thing,' he said. There was a light of defiance in his one good eye. The other was now completely closed.
The others all exchanged a glance. They could see no positive side to their predicament.
'And what might that be, Halt?' Evanlyn asked him, willin
g to humour him.
Halt caught the tone in her voice and glared at her. Then he said, with some force:
'Will's still out there somewhere.'
* * *
Chapter 39
* * *
The first light of the sun was striking the white-painted houses of Maashava when Will and Umar finally reached a vantage point above the town.
They had climbed for several hours in the pre-dawn dimness, following narrow animal tracks to one side of the township, then angling back until they emerged fifty metres above it, with a perfect view of the comings and goings of the townspeople.
Now they surveyed the town. A low wall ran around three sides. The fourth was protected by the cliffs themselves. There were watch towers raised at intervals along the wall but there was no sign of any sentries. Will remarked on the fact and Umar shook his head contemptuously.
'The townspeople are too lazy to mount guards and the Tualaghi believe there's no enemy within hundreds of kilometres.'
Smoke from cooking fires was rising from many points around the town. Mixed with the acrid woodsmoke was another aroma that set Will's tastebuds alight. Fresh coffee ,was being brewed in kitchens throughout the town. Men and women were beginning to stream out of the town, heading down the winding road to the flatlands below, or to terraced fields on the mountain side itself. Will pointed to them and raised his eyebrows.
'Field workers,' Umar said in response to the unspoken question. 'They grow maize and wheat on the flatlands, and fruit and some vegetables in the terraces.'
There was no shortage of water in Maashava. A series of wells tapped into an underground stream that ran through the mountains. Some of this was piped to the terraces, some all the way down to the fields. It was a complex irrigation and cultivation system and Will had seen nothing like it in his time in the dry, and country.
'Who built all this?' he asked.
Umar shrugged. 'No one knows. The terraces and aqueducts are hundreds, maybe thousands of years old. The Arridi found them and restored the town.'
'Well, in any event, they give us an opportunity,' Will said. Umar glanced at him and he continued. 'With all those workers moving in and out each day, we can infiltrate some of your men into the town. I figure if they go in in ones and twos, we could get up to fifty men in over the course of a day.'
'And then what?' Umar asked.
'They could make contact with the townspeople and hide among them. Surely the people of Maashava will welcome anyone who wants to get rid of the Tualaghi once and for all?'
Umar looked doubtful. 'Not my men,' he said. 'They'd stand out as outsiders. The locals wouldn't trust them. They'd be just as likely to betray them to the Tualaghi.'
'But why?' Will's voice rose a little in his frustration at the answer and Umar made urgent gestures for him to keep his voice down. Sound carried a long way in the mountains. 'Sorry,' Will continued, 'but why would they betray you? You're all the same nationality, aren't you?'
The Bedullin shook his head. 'We may live in the same country, but we're different tribes. We are Bedullin. They are Arridi. Our accents are different, so are our customs. In general, Bedullin don't trust Arridi and the Arridi reciprocate. My men would be recognised as Bedullin as soon as they spoke.'
'That's ridiculous,' Will growled. The thought that people could be divided by such minor differences was an affront to intelligent behaviour, he thought.
Umar shrugged. 'Ridiculous maybe. But a fact.'
Will stared at the town below, watching as more people moved out into the street. He gnawed thoughtfully on his thumb.
'But you sent a man in there last night?' he said.
Umar nodded. One of the Bedullin scouts had slipped over the wall after dark. He'd leave again that night and report on what he had heard in the town.
'One man. It's easy for one man to go unnoticed, particularly as he didn't have to speak, merely listen. But we'd never hope to get fifty men in there without someone noticing the different accent.' He decided it was time to change the subject and pointed to one of the openings in the cliff face, at the rear of the township. Unlike others of its kind, where the doors had been thrown wide open to receive the fresh morning air, this one remained closed and barred, and a dozen Tualaghi warriors lounged around it.
That storeroom must be where they're holding your friends.'
Will held his hands up to his eyes, shrouding them to focus his attention as he peered at the strongly defended door.
'I'd say you're right.' He thought for a few minutes. 'Wonder if there's any way we could break them out.'
Umar shook his head. 'Even if you got to the storeroom undetected, with enough men to overpower the guards, you'd be seen and heard. Then you'd have to fight your way out through the town again.'
Will's eyes went upwards to the sheer cliffs towering behind the town.
'What about coming in from above? And going out the same way?'
Umar considered the idea. 'Might work. But you'd need ropes. Lots of ropes. And we don't have them,' he concluded.
Will nodded. 'Best way then is to be waiting for them to bring Halt and the others out of that prison,' he said, almost to himself.
'There's only one reason I can think of that they might do that,' Umar said. 'That's if they were going to execute them.'
Will looked at him for several seconds before speaking. 'Well, that's a big comfort,' he said.
***
Yusal had appropriated the largest and most comfortable house in the town for his own use. It was the home of the town headman and Yusal also forced the town elder and his family to wait on him and his bodyguard. The man and his wife were terrified of the veiled nomad leader and Yusal enjoyed the fact. He liked striking fear into other people's hearts. And he enjoyed belittling people like the headman and his wife, destroying their dignity and authority by forcing them to perform menial servants' duties for him. Yusal sprawled at ease on a pile of thick cushions in the main room of the house.
The headman had just moved through, lighting oil lamps and candles against the gathering dusk. Yusal insisted on having two or three times as many of each as was necessary. Oil and candles were expensive and hard to come by in a town like this. He liked seeing the dismay on the old man's face as they were used in such a profligate manner. In a few weeks, Yusal would use up three months' supply. But it was of no concern to the Tualaghi leader. When the oil and candles and food ran out, he'd move on.
The woman entered to serve him coffee. As he demanded, she went down on her knees to offer him the cup. He took it from her, then glared at her until she lowered her eyes. Then he raised the blue veil that covered his mouth and tasted the coffee. Using the sole of his foot, he shoved her away, sending her sprawling on the mud floor.
'Too weak,' he said.
Face averted, the woman crawled on her hands and knees from the room. She had quickly learned not to look at the Tualaghi war leader's face when he raised the blue veil to eat or drink. The first time she had been slow to avert her eyes, he had had her savagely whipped.
In fact, there was nothing wrong with the coffee. The headman's wife was an excellent cook and all Arridi women learned to make good coffee as children. But it gave him an excuse to reassert his authority and Yusal enjoyed that.
His good humour evaporated as the main door of the house opened to admit Toshak.
By rights, the ill-mannered Northman should wait until he was announced and then admitted to the Aseikh's presence. Yusal glared at him now, hastily replacing the veil across his mouth and nose.
'You should wait,' he said. 'You should be announced and you should await permission to enter.'
Toshak shrugged carelessly. 'I'll remember that,' he said in an off-handed manner that told Yusal he didn't care a fig about it. 'Tell me,' he added curiously, 'do you ever take that veil off?'
He'd seen the quick movement as he entered. He wondered about the blue veil that the Tualaghi wore. Yusal was the only one who never seemed to remove h
is.
'Yes,' Yusal replied flatly, in a tone that told Toshak there would be no further discussion. In fact, there was no concrete reason why Yusal wore the veil all the time. Some believed that his face was horribly disfigured, others that it was not the face of a human. He kept the veil on to keep the rumours and the uncertainty alive. It added to the aura of power and mystery that helped keep people in fear of him.
Toshak dismissed the subject, realising Yusal wasn't going to discuss it any further. He took a small object from inside his vest and tossed it to the Aseikh.
'Look what I've got,' he said. 'I left a few men behind to search the foreigners' camp site. They just came in with this.'
Yusal turned the object over in his hand. It was a small box containing the missing seal that Evanlyn had carried.
'I figured she must have had it with her and it was nowhere on her or in her belongings. That left only one possibility: she hid it before they surrendered. It was a pretty barren site so it wasn't all that hard to find.'
Beneath the veil, Yusal smiled in deep satisfaction. He decided he could forgive the northerner for his boorish manners.
'That is excellent. Well thought out,' he said.
'Now we can complete the warrant,' Toshak pointed out. 'That's sixty-six thousand reels of silver.'
Thirty-three thousand each,' the Tualaghi whispered, savouring the words and the amount. But to his surprise, Toshak shook his head.
'Sixty-six thousand for you,' he said. 'I don't want any of it. Consider it compensation.'
'Compensation? For what? What do you want me to do?' Yusal asked. He wasn't accustomed to having people hand over such massive amounts of money. But Toshak had decided it was worthwhile. He would be Oberjarl and that was worth an investment of thirty-three thousand reels.
'Forget the ransoms,' Toshak told him. 'I want all the prisoners killed.'
Yusal's eyes widened in surprise. 'All of them?' The Skandian nodded confirmation.
ERAK'S RANSOM Page 27
