ERAK'S RANSOM

by John Flanagan

  Yusal considered the idea. Seley el'then would be worth a lot, he thought. But nowhere near sixty-six thousand reels. And the Wakir had been a thorn in Yusal's side for some years. It would be a far more pleasant world without him. A replacement might not be so energetic about pursuing the Tualaghi when they raided.

  Yes, he thought, a world without Seley el'then would be a better place. As for the Skandians and the young Araluan, he had no qualms there. But it would be a pity to kill the girl.

  'Why the girl?' he asked. 'She'd be worth a lot in the slave markets.'

  'I want them all dead because I want no loose ends,' Toshak replied. 'The girl has influential friends in Araluen and the Araluans are friends of Erak's. Slaves can escape or be on-sold and, when I'm Oberjarl, I don't want any rumours starting that I was behind Erak's disappearance. If she's dead, there's no chance of that.'

  Yusal nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, he realised. The chance that the girl might one day escape and find her way back to Araluen was a slim one. But it was a chance. Better in situations like this to be sure. Besides, he thought, a mass execution would be a good lesson to the people of Maashava. Like the blue veil, it would add to Yusal's own legend and mystique.

  'Very well,' he said eventually. 'But if we're going to kill them all, we might as well make an occasion of it.' Toshak shrugged.

  'Do as you wish,' he said. 'Occasion or not, as long as they're all dead, I'm happy.'

  * * *

  Chapter 40

  * * *

  'They're going to kill them — all of them?' Will asked incredulously. He and Umar were back at the Bedullin camp in a blind canyon to the north of Maashava.

  Sharik, the Bedullin spy who had spent the day inside the crumbling walls of Maashava, nodded in confirmation.

  'That's the word among all the Tualaghi I saw. They're announcing it to the townspeople. Making quite a big thing out of it, apparently.'

  Umar pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'It's what you'd expect of Yusal,' he said. Will turned his horrified glance on the Aseikh.

  'But you said he'd rather make a profit out of them!' he said and Umar shrugged.

  'Normally, yes. But perhaps this man Toshak has offered him something in return.'

  Shank had also told them about the presence of a Skandian in the Tualaghi camp — a man who seemed to be on equal terms with Yusal. Will realised that it must be Toshak. Svengal had told them weeks ago in Araluen that Erak suspected Toshak was behind the betrayal. Umar continued now: 'And Yusal enjoys any opportunity to show how merciless he can be. It helps keep his victims subdued. A multiple execution here will be remembered for years. Word will spread and it will make his task easier next time he takes over a village.'

  Will was thinking furiously. What could Toshak have offered the Tualaghi to convince him to give up the ransom money? There could only be one logical answer, he realised.

  'He's found the warrant and Evanlyn's seal,' he said, almost to himself. Umar and Sharik regarded him curiously.

  'The warrant?' Umar asked and Will explained quickly about the ransom payment they had arranged for Erak. The Bedullin leader nodded agreement.

  'That could be it. An amount like that would be enough to convince Yusal.'

  Will looked to Sharik again. 'Did you get any idea when they might be holding the executions?'

  'On Sixday,' the spy replied. 'The usual time is between the ninth and tenth hour if it's to be a ceremonial execution.'

  Sixday was the sixth day of the week. It was a nonworking day, preceding Sevenday, the day for religious observances. On Sixday, food and trade markets were set up in the town square and people relaxed and enjoyed themselves. At least, Will thought, they did when their town hadn't been invaded by a nomad raiding party.

  'Then we have two days,' Will said. Then a thought struck him. 'Will they cancel the market?'

  Umar shook his head. 'Not at all. The more people out and about to see the executions, the better, so far as Yusal is concerned.'

  Will massaged his chin with his hand, his thoughts racing. 'That could work for us,' he said, abstractedly. 'The more people about, the easier it will be to infiltrate some of our men.'

  'I told you,' Umar interrupted him. 'My men will be recognised as outsiders as soon as they speak.'

  'Yours, perhaps,' Will replied. 'But aren't you forgetting we have twenty-five Arridi troops with us?' He saw understanding in Umar's eyes and hurried on, his thoughts spilling out even as they formed. 'We could pair each one with one of your men. They could mingle with the farmers bringing in their produce for the market. Some could even go in the night before. The Arridi does all the talking so the townspeople don't react to a Bedullin accent. That'd give us fifty men inside the town.'

  'That could work,' Umar agreed. 'Good work, Sharik,' he said, realising that the spy was tired and there was no need to keep him from his bed. 'Go and get some food and rest now.' Then he looked to where Hassan was sitting nearby, listening intently to the discussion. 'Go, and find the Arridi lieutenant,' he ordered. 'Bring him here.'

  ***

  When the idea was explained to Aloom, he agreed eagerly. The lieutenant had promised Selethen that he and his men would survive the desert, and come after him to rescue him. Now they had that opportunity being handed to them and he accepted instantly.

  He was also keen to meet with Yusal again — this time with a weapon in his hand. But there was one detail that Will and Umar had overlooked. He gestured at Umar's kheffiyeh.

  'You'll need to change those,' he said. 'Your men all wear kheffiyehs with a yellow and white check. The Maashava people wear plain white.'

  It was a good point. The Bedullin were all so accustomed to their headwear that it was easy to overlook it. Umar nodded his head several times, acknowledging the point.

  'We'll make white ones,' he said. 'We can use the cloaks of the men who aren't entering the town. Plenty of white cloth there.'

  'I think you should go in the night before,' Will told Aloom. 'I'll come with you. I need to look over the town and find a vantage point to shoot from. If anyone questions us, tell them to keep their mouths shut.'

  'You might also suggest that they can feel free to lend a hand when the fighting starts,' Umar said dryly and Aloom shook his head in reply.

  'Doubtful,' he said. 'The townspeople won't raise a finger to defend themselves. And government officials aren't popular in towns like this. Odds are they're looking forward to the execution.'

  'Where do you want me?' Umar asked. He had unconsciously deferred to Will's authority in this matter. Umar was a warrior whose skill lay in fast-moving cavalry raids in open country. The business of planning a close-quarters, street-to-street engagement in a town was new to him and he sensed the young foreigner knew what he was talking about.

  'You'll lead the rest of the force into the town when we give you the signal.' Will quickly sketched a rough map in the dirt with the point of his saxe. 'There's a small gully to the northern side of the town — we saw it this morning.'

  He glanced up at Umar and the Aseikh nodded. He remembered the spot. 'We'll get your men into cover there the night before. It's only seventy metres or so from the town. We'll wait till they've brought Halt and the others out ... ' He paused and looked at Aloom for advice. 'How do they normally do that? All together or one at a time.'

  'All together,' Aloom told him. 'They'll bring them out a little before the ninth hour.'

  'By the way,' Will said, feeling a morbid sense of curiosity, 'how do they plan to execute them? Will they be hanged?'

  Umar shook his head. 'It's not the custom here. We use the sword. Yusal will have them beheaded.'

  A sick dread clutched at Will's stomach as the Aseikh said the words. He had a horrible image of Halt and Horace and Evanlyn kneeling before the headsman's sword. Evanlyn! His stomach churned at the thought of it. His breath came faster and he closed his eyes, trying to blot out the horror of it. What if I fail? He heard the question echoing in his mind. What if I
fail?

  He felt a firm grip on his hand and opened his eyes. Umar had leaned closer to him and had placed his hand over Will's.

  'We're not going to let it happen,' he said. There was a conviction in his voice that eased the sudden, horrified panic that had gripped Will. His breathing slowed and he steadied himself, nodding in gratitude to the desert warrior. Umar saw confidence returning to the young man's eyes once more and he released his hand.

  'Do you have any thoughts about where you'll position yourself?' Umar asked.

  Will nodded. 'I'm thinking on one of the watch towers along the north wall.'

  He'd need a position with a good overview of the market square where the executions would take place. And he'd need an elevated position so that he'd have a clear shot. Yusal would probably concentrate his men in the immediate area of the execution site to stop any trouble. He wouldn't be expecting it to come from a hundred metres away.

  'Good idea,' Umar agreed. He and Aloom both regarded the young man with interest. Umar had seen the accuracy of Will's shooting. Aloom had seen Halt and Gilan's skill. If the young Ranger was half as good as his companions, it would make for an interesting morning, he thought.

  'You plan to shoot Yusal then?' Aloom asked. He was in fact hoping that he might get the chance to deal with the Tualaghi leader, but he realised he wouldn't be too disappointed if Yusal ended up on the wrong end of an arrow. Will chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, staring down at the plan of the town he had sketched in the sand.

  'Probably,' he said. 'My first priority will be the executioner. He's not getting anywhere near my friends. I'll want our fifty men to mingle with the crowd, as close to the execution site as possible. As soon as the executioner's down, they can keep the Tualaghi busy until Umar and his men arrive. I'll keep Halt and the others covered in case anyone else decides to try his luck as an executioner. If Yusal's still around, I might arrange to spoil his day.'

  'I'll need a sign so I know when to attack,' Umar pointed out.

  'One of my men is the company bugler,' Aloom replied. 'As soon as he sees Will shoot the executioner, he can sound the signal.'

  'That should do it,' Will said. 'But let's cut a few corners. Keep watch on the tower. Once you see me climbing up to it, start moving your men out of the canyon. Nobody'll be watching in that direction. They'll be watching proceedings in the market square.'

  'Right.' All three men realised they were staring at the rough map in the sand while their minds went over the details. It was a relatively simple plan, Will thought, and that was a good thing. Simple plans were less likely to go wrong.

  Umar looked up and studied the young man's face.

  'If you're going in the night before, we might need to darken your face a little,' he said. He took Will's face between finger and thumb and turned it from side to side, studying it in the moonlight. Will was tanned after his time in Arrida but his skin was nowhere near as dark as the average Bedullin. His brown hair and dark eyes would pass muster, but not his complexion.

  'Maybe we can use a little kafay to darken your skin,' he said thoughtfully, then added, with a grin, 'It's a pity your nose isn't bigger.'

  Will grinned, remembering his unintentional insult when he had regained consciousness in the desert to find Umar bent over him. Then the Aseikh turned to Aloom.

  'You'd better brief your men, captain. I'll pick out twenty-five of my best warriors to go with them. They can start pairing off and getting to know each other tomorrow.'

  Aloom started to rise, then hesitated. 'Captain?' he said. 'I'm a lieutenant.'

  Umar shook his head. 'I just promoted you. You might have to throw your weight around with the townspeople. And nobody ever listens to a lieutenant.'

  Aloom allowed himself a smile at that. 'Too true,' he said ruefully. 'Too true.'

  * * *

  Chapter 41

  * * *

  For the past day, the prisoners had been hearing the sound of hammering. Their captors were building something in the market square, they realised. Or, more accurately, their captors were forcing the Arridi townspeople to build it while they stood by and fingered their weapons. But with the large door remaining closed and locked the entire time, there was no way of knowing what was going on. The mystery was driving Gilan to distraction. Under normal circumstances, he probably wouldn't have become so obsessed by the noise. But Gilan had nothing to occupy his mind while they sat hour after hour in the old store room. So the question of what was being built loomed larger and larger with him.

  'Relax,' Halt told him, for the tenth time. The young Ranger was pacing the sand floor of the cave, restless energy positively radiating from him.

  'I can't relax,' he said. 'I want to know what they're up to.' He stopped beside his old mentor and looked down at him. 'Don't you sense they're up to something?' he said.

  Halt shrugged. 'I'm sure they are. But since I have no way of finding out what it is, I'm not going to bother about it.'

  Gilan looked around the dimly lit room for support. Erak and Svengal were sitting cross-legged, playing a complicated Skandian version of knucklebones and wagering nonexistent money.

  'Doesn't it bother you two?' he asked.

  Erak looked up and shrugged. 'It's probably market stalls,' he said.

  Gilan shook his head in frustration. 'Probably! Is that good enough for you?'

  Erak considered the question for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes,' he said simply.

  Gilan spread his hands in a gesture of annoyance. 'But don't you want to know?'

  'No.'

  It probably was market stalls, Erak reasoned. Anyway, Erak had other uses for his brain right now. He was keeping a running total in his mind of the amounts he'd lost and won playing knucklebones with Svengal. A man needed a sharp brain for that as Svengal was not averse to forgetting the odd amount that he might have lost.

  'I figure I've won seventeen thousand, three hundred crowns from you so far,' he said now to his second in command.

  'True. And that goes against the seventeen thousand, two hundred crowns I've won from you,' Svengal replied instantly.

  Erak frowned. 'Are you sure you've won so much?'

  Svengal nodded. 'Totally sure,' he said.

  Erak shrugged. Svengal was right but it had been worth asking in case he'd forgotten the four hundred crowns he'd won just as their midday meal had been delivered. No such luck, he saw now.

  'So that makes two hundred you owe me,' he said innocently. He reached for the bones and became aware of Svengal's pained expression.

  'I know that Oberjarls are supposed to rob their subjects blind, Erak. But could you do it with taxes rather than bad arithmetic?' he said. 'Last time I figured it, seventeen thousand, three hundred less seventeen thousand, two hundred leaves one hundred.'

  'So it is,' said Erak as if he'd only just realised his mistake. Svengal snorted derisively and reached for the bones clutched in his leader's hand.

  And it's my throw. Not yours,' he said.

  'So it is,' Erak repeated. Svengal rolled his eyes to heaven, took the bones and prepared to throw.

  'Another thing ... ' Gilan began.

  'Oh my God,' Halt said wearily.

  But Gilan merely glanced at him before he continued. 'Another thing,' he repeated. 'Has anyone noticed the strange looks the guards have been giving us? When they bring us our food, they're sort of ... grinning about something.'

  'They're happy souls,' Halt said.

  Gilan shook his head. 'They're smirking at us. Something's in the wind. I can sense it.'

  'My friend,' Selethen told him, 'it's no good wasting energy worrying about it. Just relax.'

  Gilan shook his head stubbornly. 'I want to be ready for it when it happens,' he said. Evanlyn looked at him curiously.

  'How can you be "ready for it" when you don't know what "it" is going to be?'

  'Then I'll be ready for anything,' the young Ranger said.

  'Which is the same as being ready for nothing,' Halt muttered to
himself, although he made sure he muttered it loudly enough for Gilan to hear him.

  The younger Ranger drew breath to reply, but the rattle of the key in the door lock caught their attention. The big door opened, the rusty hinges shrieking a nerve-tearing protest over the last few centimetres of their travel, and two of the guards entered with their evening meal. Outside, the last light was fading over the town. With the mass of hills behind them blocking the light from the west, it became dark here earlier than out on the flat plain.

  Conscious of Gilan's statements, Evanlyn watched the guards as they set down the cold coffee, flat bread and a meagre handful of dates. One of them caught her watching and grinned at her. Yes, she thought, Gilan has a point. The grin was not a friendly one and it smacked of I know something unpleasant that going to happen to you.

  Then the suspicion was confirmed as he raised his thumb to his throat and drew it across in an unmistakable cutting gesture, rolling his eyes in a grim parody of death.

  Unnoticed by the guards and the other prisoners, Horace had sidled closer to the open door so that he could look out onto the town below them. Now as they went to leave, the two guards became aware of his position and shoved him roughly back to join the others.

  'I didn't like the look of that,' Evanlyn said in a worried tone.

  Horace hesitated. Then he realised that his companions deserved to know what he'd seen.

  'You'll like it less when you hear what they've been building. It's a big raised platform at the end of the square — about two metres above the ground, with steps running up to it.'

  'Like a stage?' Erak suggested. 'Maybe they're going to put on a play.'

  'Or an execution,' Horace said.

  ***

  Will and Aloom joined the throng of field workers making their way back into the town. There were Tualaghi guards at the gateway, of course, but they took little notice of the Arridi workers streaming past them. In all the years that the Tualaghi had been forcing themselves on towns and villages in outlying areas, they had never encountered any real opposition. They were always careful to leave the occupants just enough to live on and regroup after they left. And they usually didn't return to a town for several years after they had ransacked it. As a result, the Arridi people had come to accept the sporadic invasions as part and parcel of life. Not pleasant, but not worth dying over.