by Troy Denning
“They are sorcerers of great skill. The equals of Ysdar himself, it is said,” Rishi said, speaking so softly that Atreus could barely hear him. “But I have dealt with their kind before. Cover yourselves and have no fear.”
Atreus and Yago slipped down between the carpet rolls and pulled the dust shroud over their heads, then listened to the wagon rumble the rest of the way across the bridge. At the far end Rishi pulled far enough ahead so that he was not blocking the way, then stopped.
“A pleasant afternoon to you and your men, sir,” said Rishi. “What news of Ysdar’s devil?”
“Many rumors, but no news,” came the leader’s unusually frank reply. The hollow clop of hooves on wood sounded behind the wagon as the patrol started across the bridge. “For all the havoc he is spreading, he has proven a most elusive devil.”
“Then you will certainly be pleased to hear that he has fled,” said Rishi. “Already this morning I have spoken to two different patrols who chased the devil deep into the Yehimals and were forced to turn back only because of enormous avalanches.”
The leader’s good-natured laugh was cut short by the angry wu-jen. “In Shou Lung, we find little humor in failure. Naraka, it is your people’s barbaric love of lying that causes us to return without success. Had we not spent fifteen days chasing wild Mar rumors, I would have this devil hanging outside the Paradise Mahal already.”
“That is most certainly true, honored wu-jen.” Rishi’s tone, at once sardonic and patronizing, managed to convey how sorry he felt that Naraka and his men had to endure such a pretentious wu-jen. “I will not detain you further from your terribly important duties.”
Rishi slapped the reins, and the yaks started forward.
“Did I say you are free to go, driver?” asked the wu-jen. “Wait one moment.”
“Oh, begging the wu-jen’s pardon!”
Rishi took his time halting the yaks, and the wagon traveled more than a dozen paces before coming to a stop. “It was my impression that he had no interest in the words of a lying Mar,” Rishi explained.
“I find it wiser to pay more interest to what Mar do not say than to what they do,” retorted the wu-jen. Atreus heard two ponies pass back along his side of the cart, but the rest of the patrol seemed to be continuing across the bridge. “Where do you come from?”
“Last night, we camped—”
“Not you, driver,” said the wu-jen. “Let your master tell me.”
The two Mar were silent. For a moment, Atreus feared they were waiting for him to speak. Then the cart rocked as Bharat turned sideways.
“M-me?”
“Is there another master on the cart?” retorted the wu-jen.
Atreus clutched his dagger. Not for the first time, he wished that he had grabbed his sword instead of his gold when he jumped off the elephant.
When Bharat did not answer the wu-jen, Rishi said, “I hope the wu-jen will forgive my boldness, but he is terribly mistaken. I am the master here.”
“Truly?” asked the wu-jen. “That is most surprising. I would have thought a blind master needs a seeing driver. Tell me, Blind Helper, why does a seeing master need you?”
“I am not a helper.” Bharat’s voice was indignant. “We are both bahrana carpet sellers. We are equals.”
“Ah, then why does the driver call himself master?”
“Because he is a liar and a thief who thinks he can cheat a blind man out of his due,” answered Bharat. “Tell me, good wu-jen, is it fair that one man who is the equal of another should receive only a third of the profits?”
Atreus bit his lip to keep from snarling aloud at the veiled threat, but Rishi took it in stride.
“Pay the blind fool no attention,” said the Mar. “Certainly, the wu-jen will agree that when one man does two-thirds of the work, he should have two-thirds of the reward?”
“The wu-jen will agree that it is none of his concern,” replied the wu-jen. “But a blind man’s senses are very sharp. Perhaps he hears this devil or smells him somewhere along the way?”
“No, I heard nothing unusual.” Bharat’s answer came quickly—too quickly, Atreus thought. “And it is impossible in this cart to smell anything but my greedy partner.”
“Ah, most unfortunate for us. But we are grateful for your candidness. It is very unusual for a Mar not to make up a story.” The wu-jen’s voice grew less suspicious, though the irony in his words was not lost on Atreus. “By what road did you come?”
“By the Thanza road.” Rishi answered quickly, robbing Bharat of the chance to malign him further. “From Edenvale.”
“Of course … the Thanza road,” said the wu-jen. “Strange, I do not recall anyone mentioning a blind merchant. You Mar are so full of gossip, and selling beautiful carpets is an uncommon occupation for a blind man.”
“That is easy to explain,” Rishi said. “The old fool cannot tell whether his eyelids are up or down. It often looks like he is napping. And now, if the great wu-jen permits, we must be on our way. We have far to go before dark.”
“And where are you bound, Blind Man?”
Bharat hesitated. “I am not sure.”
“Not sure?” asked the wu-jen.
“I am never certain where my lying partner is taking me.” Bharat shifted in his seat. “Since he does not consider me his equal, he does not often tell me.”
“You know this time,” Rishi said. “We have already agreed, and it is too late to change now.”
Bharat remained silent, and Atreus grew so angry that his hand began to hurt from squeezing his dagger. After this was over, he would let the pudgy Mar know what he thought of blackmail.
“I am waiting,” said the wu-jen. “What is your destination?”
“Oh, begging the wu-jen’s forgiveness,” said Bharat. “My friend is right. I recall now that we are going to Gyatse.”
Rishi groaned.
“To Gyatse?” scoffed Naraka, the patrol leader. “You cannot sell carpets in Gyatse.”
“If the patrol leader has stayed in Gyatse, perhaps he has noticed that they have only stone floors,” said Rishi. “There is not one carpet in the whole village … and a very cold village it is! They have a great need for our carpets.”
“Need, yes, but they are paupers in Gyatse,” said the wu-jen. “The whole village together could not buy a single carpet. Perhaps we should look at these carpets.”
Atreus braced himself, ready to spring the instant the dust shroud was pulled back. Suddenly the wagon rocked, and Bharat cried, “Save me!”
Atreus flung off the dust shroud and saw Rishi holding Bharat by the shoulder of his cloak.
“Help! Ysdar’s devil has blinded me!” Bharat screamed and tried to fling himself off the wagon, but Rishi jerked him back to his seat.
Yago sat up facing the rear of the cart, and Atreus rolled to his knees facing the front. Outside the cart, the wu-jen was twisting around to reach into his saddlebags while Naraka, on the far side of the sorcerer, was awkwardly trying to bring his lance to bear. Yago started to push himself out the back of the wagon, but Atreus caught the ogre by the shoulder and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to fight it out with Naraka’s patrol here.
Bharat continued to struggle, crying, “They’re after my gold!”
Rishi’s free hand flashed up and struck Bharat in the gullet, then whipped back, launching something small and silver in the opposite direction. The wu-jen screeched and clutched at a tiny dagger protruding from his throat, and Bharat tumbled back into Atreus’s lap, coating everything in the cargo bed with gouts of warm, coppery blood.
As Atreus struggled with Bharat’s gurgling form, Rishi ducked Naraka’s awkward lance thrust, then slapped the yaks with the reins. The wagon lurched forward and the leader began to shout at his patrol. Atreus pushed aside Bharat’s gurgling form and spun toward the rear of the wagon, expecting to find Yago struggling to block half a dozen flying lances.
Instead most of the patrol was on the other side of the river strugg
ling to organize itself. Only the last three riders in line were able to answer their commander’s call, and even they were just backing their ponies off the bridge.
“I could go wreck that bridge,” suggested Yago. As he spoke, the ogre struggled in the cramped space to gather his legs beneath him. “Wouldn’t take much to get past them three riders.”
Atreus shook his head. “If it did, you’d be trapped and alone,” he said. “Better to stay together.”
“Help!” screamed Rishi. “Help—he will kill me!”
Atreus turned to find Rishi trying to duck Naraka’s lance and steer at the same time. He caught the weapon by the shaft and shoved it away, then peered around the front edge of the canopy.
When Naraka saw Atreus’s hideous, blood-covered face, he shrieked and released his end of the lance to reach for his sword. Atreus jammed the butt into the patrol leader’s chest and pushed hard. Naraka fell, dragging his pony down on top of himself, then tumbled away into the snowy willows.
“Hah! Well done, good sir!” Rishi said, then dragged himself back onto the bench and slapped the reins, somehow urging more speed from the trotting yaks. “That will delay them!”
Atreus glanced back and saw that the three pursuers from the bridge had indeed seized on their leader’s fall as an excuse to stop. One of the riders was kneeling on the road, holding the limp wu-jen in his lap while another man pressed his ear to the sorcerer’s chest. The third was dismounting near where Naraka had tumbled into the willows, calling down over the road bank to see if he needed any help.
Now that the immediate danger was past, Atreus’s ears began to pound with anger. He used his sleeve to wipe Bharat’s blood from his face, then slapped Rishi’s head with the shaft of Naraka’s lance.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me?” Rishi asked. He leaned away, rubbing the side of his head. “I am not the one beating my poor servant for no good reason.”
“Murder is not a reason?” Atreus asked. He ducked into the wagon and touched his fingers to Bharat’s slit throat. There was no pulse. “This wasn’t necessary.”
“Many profuse apologies for any mistake the good sir thinks I have made, but Bharat betrayed us. He deserved to die.”
“He was your friend,” Atreus retorted. “Losing his third of the gold would have been punishment enough. You could have let him jump, and it would have been the same to us.”
“And what of the wu-jen?” Rishi asked indignantly. “Should I have spared his life as well? Or does killing only bother you when it is someone you know?”
“Unnecessary killing bothers me,” Atreus said. “The wu-jen’s death was necessary to avoid capture.”
“I see,” said Rishi. “A very convenient distinction. I will try to keep it in mind so as not to offend the good sir in the future.”
“Uh—forget that wu-jen,” said Yago. “Tell me what you want done about them.”
Thirty paces down the road, Naraka’s men were reluctantly urging their mounts into a charge. With the riders’ stirrups nearly dragging the ground and the necks of the little ponies stretched forward in a fierce gallop, the sight seemed almost comical save for the sharp points of their lances and how rapidly they were to coming up behind the wagon.
“Can you make this cart go any faster?”
“Certainly … if I find a long hill and cut the yaks free,” Rishi replied. “Until then, perhaps you would consider our pursuers? If you delay them for only five minutes, we can flee into the willows and escape to our secret caravan road. After that, the gods themselves will not find us.”
Atreus thought for a moment, then shoved Bharat’s body toward Yago. “Get him out of the way.”
The ogre pitched the stout Mar out onto the road.
Atreus grabbed the dust cover and fed it over the rearmost canopy brace, draping it down to prevent Naraka’s riders from hurling their lances into the wagon. He cut a tiny square out of one corner so he could see, then had Yago pick up the heaviest carpet in the cargo bed. By the time they finished, Naraka and his leading riders were only a few paces away, with the rest of the patrol hard on their heels.
Naraka barked an order, and the riders in front grasped their lances like spears. Watching through his viewing hole, Atreus realized that the Edenvale Mar were not quite as foolish as Rishi made them sound. Naraka rode up beside the wagon and reached out to jerk down the improvised curtain.
“Now, Yago!” Atreus shouted.
Yago shoved the carpet out under the dustcover, giving it a sideways spin so that it turned across the road. The six closest riders barely had time to curse before the heavy roll caught their mounts across the front legs. The ponies went down in a screeching mass, filling the air with a cacophony of panicked whinnies and clanging equipment An instant later, the second rank of riders crashed into the mess and tumbled over their fallen comrades, stretching the mayhem another dozen paces up the road. The men at the end of the column avoided the snarl of legs and lances by swerving into the willows, then returned to the road with their weapons ready to hurl.
Yago grabbed a second carpet roll. Naraka’s hand grabbed the edge of the dustcover.
“Duck!” Atreus yelled.
The wagon swerved as Rishi obeyed. Naraka jerked the curtain down, and the riders launched their lances. Atreus hunched down behind the wagon’s tailgate and heard three quick thuds and a wet thwack as one of the missiles sank into Yago’s shoulder. The remaining lances hissed through the length of the cargo bed to clatter off the driver’s bench.
“Not to complain, but are you doing anything back there?” Rishi demanded.
Yago shoved the carpet onto the road. The roll caught two of the galloping ponies across the breast and slid down to their legs. The beasts and their riders went screeching and tumbling in four different directions, tripping three more ponies and leaving only one of Naraka’s men in pursuit.
“Here!” Yago plucked the lance out of his shoulder and passed it over.
Atreus wasted no time hurling it at the rider’s chest. The man threw himself out his saddle and barely escaped being impaled. Naraka himself came swinging around the corner of the cargo canopy, sword blade flashing. Atreus caught the assault at the wrist almost casually, grabbed his attacker by the throat, and jerked him into the wagon.
Naraka landed on his back beside Yago, his sword arm pinned to the floor. He brought a knee up and slammed it into Atreus’s side, then tried to jerk his weapon free. Atreus merely grunted, having suffered a thousand blows far more powerful at the hands of his ogre siblings. He began to squeeze Naraka’s throat.
“I’ll have the sword whether you release it or not,” Atreus warned. “The only thing you control is whether or not I crush your windpipe to get it.”
For the first time, Naraka really seemed to look at Atreus’s bloody face. His eyes grew as round as coins, and his lips trembled and glistened with sweat. Yago sat up and ripped the cloak off Naraka’s shoulders, using it to start bandaging his wound. The patrol leader released his sword and began to babble wildly in Maran.
Rishi laughed. “He is calling upon the Old Gods to accept his death on the queen’s behalf and smite down Ysdar’s devil.”
Atreus’s heart filled with dismay. The reaction was little different than the one his appearance usually evoked. An ugly face could not be human. He tossed Naraka’s sword to the other side of the cart, then released the Mar.
“I am no monster,” he said. “Leave me alone, and you have nothing to fear.”
Naraka swallowed and glanced nervously away, then found himself staring into Yago’s purple eyes. He screamed and reached for his belt dagger. Atreus slapped the hand down, gently removed the knife, and tossed it over beside the sword. Naraka spit in his face and cursed him in Maran.
“Oh, now you are in trouble,” chuckled Rishi. He was alternating between steering the wagon and glancing back over his shoulder. “That stupid Mar thinks you will not kill him because you fear the vengeance of the Old G
ods. It would be wise to prove him wrong.”
“I won’t kill him in cold blood.” Atreus glared at Naraka. “I mean no harm to you or your queen, so I have nothing to fear from your gods. Do you understand?”
Naraka’s face remained wild with fear, and his eyes began to search the wagon for a weapon.
Atreus looked to Rishi. “Does he understand?”
“Who can tell?” Rishi shrugged. “He is mad with fear. If you do not wish to kill him, then at least let Yago break an arm or a leg. Otherwise he will hound us all the way to Langdarma.”
“Rishi, enough!” Atreus looked back to his prisoner and spoke in a calm voice. “I know you understand me. I mean no harm to you or Queen Rosalind.”
“Lying devil!” Naraka hissed. “You have done much harm already! You have killed the queen’s wu-jen!”
“It was not my intent, nor was it my fault,” Atreus replied. “Had Queen Rosalind shown me the courtesy she would have shown any handsome man, there would never have been trouble between us.”
Atreus glanced back and saw Naraka’s warriors beginning to mount and draw swords. Reluctant as they had been to attack earlier, they were not about to abandon their leader to Ysdar’s devil. Atreus swung his prisoner to the rear of the wagon.
“Leave me alone, and there will be no more trouble between us. Tell your queen that.”
With that, he hefted Naraka over the tailgate and dropped him to the road.
Naraka rolled once, then came up screaming in Maran.
Rishi slapped the reins, shaking his head. “Oh, my, what a curse!” he said. “The good sir is certainly going to wish he had broken something on that stupid Mar.…”
6
They pulled the wagon down into the willows, into two feet of cold, clear water, and when Atreus jumped in, his legs went instantly numb. He took Naraka’s sword and the hastily loaded rucksack from Yago, then waded forward to where Rishi was freeing the yaks from their harnesses.
“I d-don’t think this will w-work,” Atreus chattered. “Well f-freeze to death.”
“The good s-sir may have f-faith in his servant.” Rishi’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely work. “It is our p-pursuers who will freeze, not us. We have yaks.”
