Horseclans - Horseclans's Odyssey Part 10

A few days after his arrival, the old duke had had every soul in the entire city a.s.sembled in the palace square and had then publicly announced that, henceforth, Captain Martuhn, his good and faithful liegeman and the count of their city, was his legally adopted son and the heir of all his lands, t.i.tles and goods. The cheering and joyous shouts of the throng was deafening, and the old man seemed quite pleased with the effect his words had wrought But his pleasure did not last. For one thing, the old n.o.bility, the folk of the court of his late wife, were as unremittingly hostile to him as ever they had been when yet she lived.

However, they seemed to honestly like Martuhn, and this phenomenon did not long escape the notice of the duke, quickly planting and nurturing in his ever-suspicious mind a seed whose evil flower was soon to almost plunge the duchy into civil war.

Because his public announcement had gone over so well in Twocityport, Tcharlz decided to repeat the performance at Pahdookahport and set about organizing a suitable cavalcade of n.o.bles, gentry, soldiers and servants. He ordered Martuhn to have Urbahnos brought up from his cable-barge row bench, as he intended to join him with his co-criminals in the other port city and there execute them all as part of the celebration.

Had he not been aware who the fettered man plodding barefoot behind the troopers' horses was, Martuhn would never have recognized him for the once dapper, arrogant and evil Ehleen. Urbahnos* few bare months in the fetid near-darkness of the row-deck had drastically altered his appearance and bear' ing. His long, matted beard and hair were almost uniformly gray. His nose was mashed and canted far to the right, so that he now breathed noisely through his mouth and the gap where his1 front teeth had once been. He seemed oblivious to the flies which swarmed and buzzed about him, feeding in avid cl.u.s.ters on the open, crusty-edged sores of his whip* whealed back and shoulders. The gleaming, hate-filled eyes Martuhn remembered now were bloodshot, dull and uncaring, as blank of expression as those of a weary plow ox. Martuhn could almost feel sorry for the broken wreck of a man.

The captain did retain the prisoner in the citadel overnight-long enough to have him completely shaved and de-loused, soaked and thoroughly scrubbed, his sores treated, his body clothed and shod and then given a quant.i.ty of decent food. The next morning, Martuhn's smith fitted the prisoner with fetters, and he was mounted on a mule and borne up to the duke and the palace dungeons, and throughout it all, he had spoken no single word to either guards or benefactors. The cavalcade took the best part of a week to reach the city on the Ohyoh, cheered in every village and hamlet and greeted with an overwhelming reception in Pahdookahport itself. But hardly had they arrived, when the duke abruptly announced an indefinite postponement of the celebration, took his guards and his prisoner and rode north in an obvious rage. He left Martuhn and the rest of the party lodged in the palace-only slightly smaller than the ducal one at Twocityport-which had formerly been the property of Baron Lap-kin. And there they hunkered in idleness for a week more, while Martuhn silently fretted about the condition of the dying Wolf or the possibility that Milo of Morai might have tried to send messengers to him for one reason or another. He was, in fact, on the very point of gathering his people, calling for his horses and riding back to Twocityport when the duke's curt summons arrived from Pirates' Folly.

He knew himself to be in bad grace from the coolness of the horseguards who escorted him from the city, as well as by the bare civility shown him by the palace people upon his arrival. Therefore, he was prepared for the dark, glowering demeanor of his overlord, though not for the groundless accusations that soon followed.

"You back-biting young b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" was the growled "greeting." "It's lucky for me that I rode in when I did, else I might have-no, would have-had to fight to win back my own d.a.m.ned duchy from you. If I could've raised an army, that is, which is doubtful, the way you've poisoned the people against me."

"My lord," began Martuhn, "has evidently been misled, for what reason I know not; but he should know above aU. others that I ever have been his true man." Gripping the hilt of the bared sword that lay on the desk before him, gripping it so hard that his scarred knuckles stood out white as virgin snow, the old man hissed but one word.

"Liar!

Stunned, Martuhn stood mute while the duke let go the sword, poured a small goblet brimful of strong brandy and regained a measure of composure, after draining it off.

"Martuhn, I trusted you, I even was coming to love you as a father should love a son, and, regardless of our differences in that matter of the nomad boys, I had deluded myself into the belief that you reciprocated. But I was deluding myself, I can see that clearly now.

The outlaw Urbahnos stated to me that when he came before you, you openly admitted that the supposed killing of me by the western nomads had but saved you the trouble of having me murdered."

"Your grace," said Martuhn, puzzled that the duke would so easily believe such calumnies of him, "Urbahnos would say or do any ill he could toward me. He and a gang of sc.u.m invaded the citadel whilstI was holding Traderstown, slew a number of my cooks and quartermasters, and were beseiging the central tower when I arrived. Urbahnos was the only one taken alive, and as he and his pack had so severely wounded my old retainer Wolf that even now he is slowly dying, I had the outlaw sent to serve in the cable barges. Naturally, he hates me." Regarding Martuhn with smoldering eyes from under his bushy brows, the duke heard him out. Then he said, in a soft and almost conversational tone, but with a hard intensity underlying it, "Captain, lying tongues that flap too often and too long and, in any case, unbidden can be easily torn out; I have ordered such before, nor am I loath to order such again.

As for the Ehleen pig, he Swore to the verity of his original statement, over and over, even under severe torture."

Martuhn was of a mind to point out that under severe torture, most men would say whatever they thought their tormentors wanted most to hear, but instead he demanded, "Under your laws, your grace, I have the right to face my accuser." The duke squirmed ever so slightly in his armchair and rubbed two fingers over his chin between lower lip and beard. "I had intended just that, here and now, Martuhn, but it is no longer possible. Somehow, for all that his front teeth were gone, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d managed to gnaw through the flesh of his wrists to the big veins. When men were sent to fetch him up here upon your arrival at Pirates' Folly, they found him dead and stinking."

Martuhn nodded solemnly. "He knew that he could not face me and still fling such heinous charges."

The duke sighed. "Possibly, possibly; the word-sworn or otherwise-of a felon is ever suspect, and were that the only or even the greatest ground for my suspicions, I'd dismiss it -all and set myself to forget it But there is more, Martuhn, much more.

"There's the council of n.o.bles, too. Most of the elders are still mine, but almost all the younger members seem to idolize you. Thank G.o.d I'd not yet gotten around to naming you to the council. Otherwise, I'd soon find myself in one of those cells down there or in exile and on a boat, while you ruled in my stead.

"More sinister yet, all the so-called 'Old n.o.bility* worship you and make no bones about the fact that they would much liefer see you duke than me. And what's this about you talking to my sow of a wife before she finally freed me of her carping corpulence for good and all?"

"Her grace was rumored to be near death, your grace," replied Martuhn. "She sent for me and I attended her for a short while. She wished to know if I had seen your grace fall and if I thought you truly dead." The duke snorted derisively. "And I can hear that b.i.t.c.h, even now, chortling that she had really outlived me. She always swore she would, you know. I but regret she didn't live just a little longer, long enough to know that still I lived. "And I suppose, knowing her and how she loved to dredge and redredge choice t.u.r.ds from her cesspool of a mind, that she spoon-fed you twenty years' worth of exaggerations and outright, whole-cloth-cut fabrications to prove to you what an unmitigated b.a.s.t.a.r.d I'd been throughout my misspent life, ehr Now it was Martuhn who sighed. "Your grace, her late grace spoke precious little of you that I had not heard as tavern rumors and camp gossip over the more than ten years I've served you."

"I suppose she trotted out that ancient slander that I had forcibly raped every woman and girl in her retinue; that would be like her, dying or no. Well, Martuhn, I didn't I did seduce a goodly number of the s.l.u.ts-only the younger and better endowed ones, of course-and possibly"-the duke grinned slyly-"a few seductions were a wee bit more forceful man the rest, but most succ.u.mbed easily enough to my manly charms.

"Of course, the tales with which the strumpets alibied themselves to her were likely an entirely different kettle of fish. But what the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did that tiresome woman expect? She had never been a proper,willing wife to me, and after her father died she removed herself and her entourage clear to the end of the north wing of the old palace and kept her chambers barred and locked to me, her lawful husband, while she daily ate herself fatter and fatter until in the end she resembled nothing so much as some bloated, loathsome garden slug." The duke poured and quaffed another goblet of brandy, took several deep breaths, and asked, "Did you swear oaths to her? Tis rumored that you promised to wed her sister, Alex's widow, replace the present n.o.bility with scions of the older houses and restore the ancient system of landownership, relegating all of the presently free farmers to the status of landbound serfs." Martuhn shook his head. "Her grace required no oaths of me, your grace, and I swore none."

The duke nodded. "That much, at least, I'll believe of you, Martuhn. I discounted the rumor when first I heard it, and it's obvious that none of the farmers and none of my gentry put any stock in it either.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have such strong support in those quarters. "And that's really my case, Martuhn. There are numerous other scurrilous tales have been brought to me, but I don't believe one in ten. As for the matters just covered, I honestly don't know whether you're the prince of all liars or simply a born leader and ruler and too honorable for your own good. But you have become a threat to me and to my continued reign. One of us has to go, and it will be you.

"Probably a prudent man would either have you quietly a.s.sa.s.sinated or hang you on trumped-up charges. But you served me well and faithfully for too long for me to stomach that, Martuhn. But go you must, and soon. "It's now a week and two days shy of the new moon. When that moon is old, I shall expect you and your company to be on the road. You might go east-King Ehvin is still embroiled, I understand, and consequently hiring mercenaries. Or South-for that matter, the civil war in Mehmfiz is far from resolved and both sides are rich, as is the looting."

Martuhn hung his head briefly, then straightened it and his body to the erect, unmoving posture of a soldier receiving orders. "It will be as your grace wishes, of course. But, your grace... 7" "Yes, captain?"

"My... agreement with the nomads, you will honor it?" "Of course not, man!" snapped the duke. "Don't be a fooL It was a good ploy to get our wounded back though, I grant you that much."

"Your grace, I gave the chiefs my word of honor and-"

"And, as I said earlier, you may have too much belief in your honor for your own good, captain. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds will get no uncontested pa.s.sage over my lands, I trow, not after they butchered most of my n.o.bles and hunted me and the rest like beasts of the chase. If cross they will, let them go north for a few hundred miles to where it's a mere stream."

"But, your grace, my pledged word..."

Tcharlz had once more grasped the sword. He raised it and brought the flat crashing down on the desktop, his eyes sparking with rage. "Enough, I say, captain; I'll hear no more of this matter! And if you want to keep your tongue to leave the duchy with, I advise you to recall my previous warning. Dismiss'"

At last, the guttering lamp flame flared once and died and Martuhn could no longer see the interior of the yurt or even the young woman who lay pressed close against him. He could now feel her soft warmth, smell the clean fragrance of her hair and sense the muted thunder of her heart. He realized before his thoughts again wandered back into the tumultuous recent past that he was beginning to truly love Stehfahnah. Immediately he had returned to the citadel, Martuhn sent Nahseer across the river to seek out and fetch back the war chief. Milo returned with the Zahrtohgahn in the small, speedy little sailing boat that same day, and the captain put the recent events to him bluntly. At the end, he said, "And so, if your folk are to cross on the cable barges, it must be done soon. Nor will you be able to count on a peaceful transit of the duchy; now you must all be prepared to fight for every foot of ground. Tcharlz is no tyro at any aspect of arms or armies, and he bears intense hatred for you all, based upon your defeat and pursuit of him. If he can quickly raise an army-" "You doubt, then, that he can, Martuhn?" asked Milo. The tall captain nodded. "It's possible that he won't be able to soon muster any effective numbers, for various reasons. To wit: Before the debacle at Traderstown, he had legally adopted me, recognized me as his heir and made me count of the city of Twocityport, as well as his senior military commander. When it seemed that he was dead, both the older n.o.bility and his own, newer n.o.ble houses pledged themselves wholeheartedly and unasked to me... and they, none of them, seemed at all pleased at his return.

"I am certain that both the dukes had expected me to hold Traderstown to the last man against you and yours, but I could see early on that it was indefensible against any determined a.s.sault, so I opted to withdraw in good order with all my infantry-the bulk of whom were drawn from the free farmers of this duchy-and all those others I deemed worth saving. The result of that action is that the common country folk of the duchy now hold me in far higher esteem than they do Tcharlz."

"So, you don't think they'd willingly respond to a call to arms from their duke?" inquired Milo.

"From the way all the people-n.o.ble and common alike-spoke whenever I stopped to bid someone farewell on my way back here from Pirates' Folly, those who didn't actually refuse would most of them a.s.suredly drag their feet mightily. You see, they all recall that Tcharlz made war on me, besieged me in this very fortress once before-that was in the matter of the Steevuhnz boys, you may recall-then suddenly forgave me everything and secured my alliance to go to Traderstown and fight you. They now seem to feel that this present business is but another family spat that will sooner be done with if Tcharlz and I have only our personal troops to carry it on, and the duke has precious few after Traderstown.

"Nor can he summon up the specter of 'barbarian invasion' to spur a muster, for-thanks in no small part to the public relations done by you and your chiefs' when you were scouting out your proposed line of march through the duchy-the country folk know that you are men like themselves, not the bowling, unwashed savages you have so often been depicted as being." Milo wrinkled his brows. "But how about mercenaries? Even if your own company remains loyal to you, there must be others that Duke Tcharlz can hire on." Martuhn nodded. "Normally there'd be plenty wandering along the river valleys in search of employment, but with a full-scale war going on some days east of here, on the north bank of the Ohyoh, and a multisided civil war in Mehmfiz to the south of us, the few companies not working aren't worth anybody's hire. "Now Tcharlz just might get more support from his home county, but the north-south roads have never been well maintained, for strategic reasons', so it will take them a bit of time to march up here. And, even with those, if he can raise an overall total of four hundred troops, I'll be more than surprised." Milo still looked worried; the lives and well-being of thousands of his clansfolk rode on his decision here.

"You are dead certain then, Martuhn, that you can hold this place and protect those cables' with the small number of troops you have?" "I am certain I can hold the citadel, Milo. I once held one just like it for over two years... and with a garrison of mostly untrained peasant pikemen. But so far as protecting the cables goes, well, I am critically short of seasoned bow-men, and, frankly, I'd expected to borrow a couple of hundred from you." Milo compressed his lips and pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger for a moment, then raised his head and nodded briskly. "All right, two hundred archers; they're yours. I'll start them over as soon as I get back. However, with the possibility of hand-to-hand fighting to hold our landfall, I can't deprive the tribe of any of its warriors. Far too many of them were lost in the battles across the river, as it is. Ill send you two hundred maiden archers-unmarried women of between fourteen and sixteen years; they'll all be experts with either bow or sling, and fully war-trained, too, if push comes to shoving spears or swinging honed steel. "Will female archers be acceptable?"

"If you don't mind some of them coming back pregnant," grinned Martuhn. "Most of my men are unmarried, too, and so far as I know, none of them are celibate, by inclination at least."

Milo returned the grin. "As you've learned, Horseclanfolk are most uninhibited; none of those two hundred will be a sheltered virgin, of that you may be a.s.sured. So yours should be a happy garrison for however long the siege lasts." And it had been as Martuhn had predicted. By the time Duke Tcharlz had realized that the n.o.bles, gentry and farmers of the more northerly portions had no intention of responding in any numbers, by the time that some less than two hundred foot and horse had marched up from the south, thousands of the nomads were already within the confines of his duchy and their warriors could even be seen on the hills west of Pirates' Folly. Nonetheless, being a stubborn man, he set out for Twocityport with his pitifully tiny force. Milo had ordered that none be slain unless necessary, and none were. Almost all the force finally made it to their set objective... afoot, which was the way that they had made most of the journey. On the second night out from Pirates' Folly, a dozen of the great prairiecats had infiltrated the sentry patrols and stampeded the horses and mules. And each time more beasts were obtained from the free farmers and country gentry in any meaningful numbers, the same thing occurred despite stringent safeguards.

For this reason, among many others, Duke Tcharlz was in a mood of exceeding foulness as he paced the horse he had borrowed from the upper city across the cleared area to a spot just opposite the gate on the far bank of the moat Raising the faceguard of his helmet, he roared, "Martuhn, lower the G.o.ddam bridge! I've got to talk to you."

Once again seated in the captain's grim little ground-floor office, Tcharlz pulled off helmet and padded coif, ran the fingers of both hands through his short-cropped hair and whuffed a few times, then drained off the large flagon of beer his "host" had provided.

"Martuhn, you disobeyed me. I told you the nomads were not to cross over here, and you let them anyway. n.o.body obeys me anymore around this duchy! I called for a general muster and the only troops that ever showed up were this p.i.s.s-poor lot from my home county. And no sooner were they on the march with me than those big panthers of the nomads drove off every head of riding stock. "I should be furious with you to the point of murder... and I am in a way. But, too, I've been tumbling an idea around in my old head and now it's smoothed off into a sure-fire plan.

"How do you think this nomad war chief would react to an outright gift from me to him of Traderstown to be a nomad duchy? In return, I would want some thousands of his warriors to add to my army... but for a very special purpose, mind you; they're little use for set warfare.

"As you know, for years, I've wanted to expand east along the Ohyoh, but other matters have always cropped up to take the gold that I'd need for enough troops to succeed. So what well do is turn those thousands of savages loose on the Duchy of Maryuhnburk and, when they've bled the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds white, I'll magnanimously offer my a.s.sistance to that young whippersnapper of a duke, Frehdrik. Once that duchy is safely annexed, we can do the same thing to another of our dear neighbors. I'll be a king yet, Martuhn!" Martuhn sighed, knowing in advance that the duke was not going to like all that he now had to say. "Your grace, yes, I disobeyed you, and you know why. In that honor which you deride I could do none else. But also, you had dissolved our contract, so I truly owed you no service of any kind. "So far as your granting ownership of Traderstown to the Horseclansmen is concerned, I think me that Milo of Morai and the other chiefs would laugh you out of their camp should you make that offer. They already hold that entire duchy by right of arms, and I doubt not that they could continue to hold it in the sameway... if they wanted lands and city. But they want neither, your grace. Nor will they ever serve you as mercenaries in your never-ending schemes to see a crown set upon your head." "Then they must not be allowed a free pa.s.sage over my... over our lands, my son, and you must join with me to halt them. If we both call for a general muster, I've no doubt but that our people will arise. Considering what seems to be their line of march, the best place to stop the savages would be-" Martuhn shook his head slowly. "No, your grace, I shall never serve you or this duchy again for any consideration or amount. Immediately the last of the tribe and their herds are across the river, I shall quit this citadel with all my company. We will then trek eastward with the tribe until opportunity presents itself. There is always a market somewhere for good fighting men, especially for a company of veterans."

Tcharlz snarled, "Then don't look to me for letters of reference, you wh.o.r.eson blackguard! Ill d.a.m.n you the length of both rivers as a forsworn would-be usurper, see if I don't. And I'll stop these G.o.ddam unwashed swarms of barbarians myself."

Martuhn realized that he should have held his piece, but he asked gently, "And how will you do that, your grace? The only reason you arrived here at all was that I asked Milo to order that you and your men be spared, if possible." The duke arose, his face empurpled, his eyes bulging. For a moment he could only splutter, such was his rage. Then he burst out, "And what gave you the right to beg a stinking, murdering nomad for my life? Better to have let them do your dirty work for certain this time around.

They could've brought you my severed head as warranty of a job well done. Then you could have named yourself duke without any opposition."

"Dammit, your grace," snapped Mahrtuhn in clear exasperation, "how many times must I tell you that I do not want your d.a.m.ned duchy, ere you believe me?" "How can I believe a clear lie?" snapped Tcharlz in quick retort, adding somewhat bitterly, "For the duchy is yours even now in all save name. Why even in my own home county, the only fighters who answered my summons this time were my own relatives of various degrees of kinship and a few old comrades of days long gone.

"I don't know what you did or how you did it, Martuhn. The whole business smacks to me of witchcraft, if you'd hear the truth, but you are become the sole power in this duchy.

"D'you recall our progress from here to Pahdookahport, Martuhn, d'you recall how I canceled all my grandiose plans and rode down to my palace, all a-seethe with my rage? D'you know why?

"It was because in every little hamlet, at every hall and farm and on every stinking pig track, the people didn't cheer and laud their duke, just returned from the dead, the f.u.c.kers cheered you, every last mother's mistake of them. It was 'Long life to our Count Martuhn!' first, then a few remembered to shout for me, their lawful lord.

"When that stringy-haired harridan held her snot-nosed brat up above her head, she didn't shout for it to look on and remember Duke Tcharlz-oh, no, it was 'Look, Hwil, see the tall man dressed all in gTay.

That's Count Martuhn-G.o.d bless him-who brought your papa and uncles home safe from Traderstown! You remember him in your prayers tonight.'

"And when we got to Pahdookahport, it was the same story, Martuhn, magnified by the larger crowds.

And that was all that I found myself able to stomach." Tcharlz refilled his flagon from the big ewer, drained a good half of it off, then said candidly, "I strongly considered having you killed. I had even sent for a trusted a.s.sa.s.sin I've used in the past, but then I reconsidered and sent him away. Nor was that reconsideration from any love of you-I've never in all my life loved anyone enough to allow them to stand between me and anything I really wanted-but rather the simple realization that, were I to have you killed, the entire duchy might well rise up against me-all cla.s.ses and orders. That was when I decidedthat you must quit the duchy forever." The duke rose to his feet. "But now"-taking the short single step to the desk, his right hand moved up from his side in a blur of motion and its h.o.r.n.y palm cracked against Mar-tuhn's scarred left cheek-"it is become obvious to me that one of us must die before the other can rea.s.sume control of this duchy. "So what will it be, Martuhn? Longswords or short? Axes or spears?

We're both of us masters of them all. Shall we fight ahorse or afoot? In private now, or in public later?

You say your wishes and I'll go along... within reason, of course. I just want to get the beastly business over and done with and get back to collecting my taxes and hiring on some decent fighters and continuing my expansion. Well, Martuhn?"

The tall captain had gone pale with anger under his weather-browned skin, and the imprint of the duke's buffet glowed red over the long, purplish scar, but he shook his head. "No, your grace, I have no reason to kill you. I do not want your d.a.m.ned little duchy. Yes, I was tempted when we all thought you dead and the people needed an overlord, but more for them and their welfare than for me and mine.

"If a death you must have, open your veins or fall on your sword, but don't look at me to make it easier for you; my becoming an executioner was never a part of our contract" With a feral snarl of b.e.s.t.i.a.l rage, the older man slapped the younger again... and again, palm and back, back and palm. Finally, Martuhn's own hands closed on the duke's wrists in an armor-crushing grip.

"Enough, your grace." His voice was low but there was steel in his tone. "You have overstayed your welcome within these walls. It's time for you to leave." With a glare of pure hate, but no other words, the duke stalked from the office and the building, swung up on his mount and rode out the gate and back over the bridge at a fast trot Despite the drugs, Sir Wolf could not sleep this night. He lay still on the bed, his nostrils cloyed with the reek of medicines and sweat and suppurating flesh. He felt cheated by life and fate. This was no way for a fighting man to die; a warrior's death should be delivered quickly, with clean, sharp steel, while he guarded his lord's back. Not a slow, endless torment such as he had endured these last months.

The buffet of the mace had taken him in the small of the back, and from that moment he had been as dead from his waist down, for all that his upper, living body had been con-tinually racked .with spasms of an agony both fierce and indescribable. The drugs that alleviated all but the worst of the pain also took away his appet.i.te, so that the flesh had gradually wasted away from his big bones, leaving only blotched and wrinkled skin lying in folds on a weakening frame that was dying by slow inches.

"Oh, d.a.m.n him!" he raged silently as so often before. "d.a.m.n that scurvy, worm-crawling b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a lard-sow and a poxy he-goat! Why the h.e.l.l couldn't he have crushed my frigging skull and been done with it-that's what a mace is for, anyhow."

He did not hear either door open-the one to the hallway or the one to Nahseer's room-^but he was suddenly aware that at least one other person was now with him in the chamber, near to him and moving nearer, but almost soundlessly. He said no word, made no movement except to close his eyes; let Nahseer think him asleep.

But the hand that touched his withered right arm was not Nahseer's. A needle-pointed blade came to rest swiftly and surely, despite the stygian blackness of the room, just over his heart, and an unfamiliar voice breathed, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, "One peep out of you, old one, and you're dead meat. Get up and come with us, show us to Captain Martuhn's chamber... and I just might spare you your life."

Soundlessly, frantically, Wolf tried to raise Martuhn's mind. "My Lord Martuhn, beware. a.s.sa.s.sins.

Armed enemies are at large in the tower." But Martuhn, sleeping soundly after a lengthy love-bout with Stehfahnah, who had come to the citadel as one of the archers, could not be roused. Even as Wolfcroaked, aloud, "Kill me if you will, but I cannot arise-my legs are lifeless since my backbone was crushed in battle," he was beaming to Nahseer in the next room, "Nahseer, I can't wake Martuhn. Arm yourself and guard him. a.s.sa.s.sins are in my room seeking him."

Nahseer, who had often in past months of nursing the dying man been awakened by telepathic means, made no answer of any description but rather rolled silently from his bed, armed himself with saber, dirk, helmet and a small target, then padded barefoot toward the hall door.

But the valiant Wolf, thinking that his message had failed to reach Nahseer either, made one last, heroic effort. Filling his lungs, he roared out in that booming voice which had risen above the din and clangor of so many hard-fought battles, "To arms, soldiers, guard your captainr Cursing aloud, for sounds didn't matter now, the unseen man plunged the slender blade into Wolfs chest, skewering the mighty heart.

After wiping the weapon on the sheet, he sheathed it and turned to go back the way he had come, but the sudden ringing clash of hard-swung metal on metal, the scuff of feet on the stones and the huffing of exertion told him of an open fight-not at all his preferred form of activity-in the corridor.

Feeling his way, catlike, among the cluttered furniture, the intruder found a wall at right angles to the corridor and felt along it until he located a narrow doorway. The room beyond was as small and as dark as that he had just quitted, but when he gently cracked open the hall door of this one, a thin sliver of light from the watch lantern gave his inordinately keen eyes enough illumination to discern that the room was tenantless.

There was a high-pitched scream from the corridor, then a babbling, bubbling whine in a voice that the intruder recognized. Apparently, Roofuhs Rat-face had taken a death-wound.

The intruder never carried a sword, only a dagger, a small leathern bag of lead b.a.l.l.s and a wire garrote, so he cast about the room for something with which he might hope to fight his way out of the tower. At last he lifted down a hunting spear from its place on the wall, opened the door just a bit wider and slipped silently out into the corridor.

There had been three of them-all unarmored, clad in tight-fitting dark garments, with soft slippers rather than boots and no weapons but hangers and daggers. Even stark naked save for his baldric, dirk belt and helmet, Nahseer was better-armed than any of them, so now one lay nearly decapitated in a widening pool of blood, one sat hunched against a wall, trying in vain to hold back the coils of gut exiting the foot-long lateral slash across his abdomen, and the other was backed into an angle of the corridor, while the hulking Zahrtohgahn stalked toward him at a half-crouch, his target and blood-smeared saber held before him.

For all his intentness toward his victim, Nahseer heard the creak of the door and the pad of swift footsteps behind him, but before he could turn, his chest was filled with a white-hot, agonizing pressure.

He tried to scream, but his lungs would take no air. However, even as a murky, steaming, spiraling red blackness seemed to infuse him, he took the last step for* ward and drove his dripping saber unerringly into the body of the screaming man trapped in the angle of walls.

The intruder jerked the broad blade of the spear out of the back of the naked warrior as he fell. But before he could take even a single step toward the down-spiraling stairs, his right thigh was struck hard, penetrated by something that felt to be as huge and hurtful as the gore-splotched wolf spear he had just used. Nor would the leg support him longer, but still he tried to crawl to the stairhead.

But it was too late for him. Soldiers of the guard-all armored and with bared blades-came stomping and clanking ■ up the stairs, while from behind him, from the level above, H came striding another naked men. This one was tall and I deep-chested, and where the speared saberman's skin had been uniformly the dark brown of an old saddle, the skin of this one was pinkish-fair where not weathered darker by sun and wind. He bore in his big right hand a bared longsword, and a bedsheet had been hastily wound and wadded about his left hand and forearm.

Beside him was a small, fine-boned young woman-looking tiny beside his tall ma.s.siveness. Her long, red-blonde hair hung loose down her back, and she was as naked as her companion, save for a bracer of metal and leather on her left forearm. In her right hand was a short, thick hornbow and also a couple of black-shafted, steel-headed war arrows, mates to the one which the intruder now could see had so cruelly skewered his thigh.

All three of the soldiers closest to the intruder raised their swords to end his life, but the big, nude man spoke.

"No! Before this one dies, I'll have at least one answer, though I think I know it already. Someone take that shaft out of him, bind his wound and his hands and take him below. I'll be along presently to question him." Somehow, sometime, without his being aware of it, it had begun to rain. A soft rain, it was, but insistent. It made gur-gling noises as it trickled down the creases in the felt roof of the yurt to splash gently onto the gra.s.s below.

Both he and Stehfahnah had turned in their sleep, so that they two now lay on their left sides, legs slightly flexed, nestled together like two spoons, the top of her head under his chin, so that his throat was sunk into the gossamer-soft wealth of her hair.

Carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping wife, Martuhn placed his arm about her small body, just beneath the swell of her pointed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and gently drew her body closer to his own. Then he relaxed, to let the sounds of the rain lull his senses and the waves of sleep wash over him. And just before that sleep at last reclaimed him, he thought, "It took me near forty years of my life, but I did finally find the happiness that good old Wolf always said would someday be mine. Here, in a felt tent, on a cowhide stuffed with gra.s.s, with this dear, sweet child-woman in my arms, I'm far happier than is any duke in his stone-walled palace or his silken bed. "I wonder if my... if our sons' will ever appreciate the truly good life to which they'll be born."

Then Martuhn joined his Stehfahnah in sleep.