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walking. I did not look back.
A vast sigh oozed from the crowd.
That was woman s business. They were welcome to it.
Fourteen
You May Choose the Manner of Your Death.
You are sure, Nalgre? Certain sure? The seething anger and violence in me had to be held down. I
could not show too much interest in the politics of Vallia here.
Certain, Jak. I spoke to a flier pilot who returned with the trylon. The Lord Farris has been arrested
and charged with treason. And others of like kidney, too.
It will make our task easier, put in Dolan, idly swinging his sling around his legs. Farris was loyal to
the emperor.
Yes, I said. He was.
And as Udo is back in camp we will go and enlist today.
Very well, I said, to keep up my cover.
This news was bad. It indicated quite clearly that scheming people were burrowing from within. The
Lord Farris was devoted to Delia and the emperor. How could he possibly be accused of so outrageous
a crime? Accused, yes; that would be all too easy. But the accusation must be false. I was convinced of
that.
Before we went to enlist the three of us ambled across to an ale tent, for the suns progressed across the
sky, to spend some of Nalgre s winnings. Dolan had bet on Karina the Quick. And, as Nalgre said, with
a guffaw: That cat-girl cut her up a real treat.
I was not interested. The day passed too slowly for me. On the morrow Dayra would arrive and I knew
I would have to be quick to fetch her out of it before Zankov moved. I d summed up that villain, as I
thought, and how I kept moving and speaking and acting normally I do not know.
The problem of this acting as a paktun and hiring out to Trylon Udo also worried me. If I gave my sworn
oath to serve, as any mercenary would do, I would not wish lightly to break my word. That the whole
thing was a sham, a facade, would not count. My word would have been given, and here, in the camp of
Hockwafernes, Iwas Jak the Kaktu, paktun.
Well, it is the same with problems as with plans. Men sow for Zair to sickle.
Coming out of the ale tent after a goodly interval a goodly interval Nalgre wiped his lips and
belched.
By Beng Dikkane, he said, comfortably. I am in the mood now.
A pang for old days and for Nath and Zolta swept me. We turned along the line of booths and tents
where the trafficking went on all the live-long day. A party of warrior women marched along, all in step,
all spears ranked, their helmets gleaming.
Dolan nodded.
I warrant they d not be so regimented when the moons are in the sky, eh?
They wouldn t give you a calsany s offering, quoth Nalgre, and he laughed.
The Jikai Vuvushis marched with a swing. There were equal numbers of those in green leathers under
their armor as those in russets. On duty animosities were forgotten. At the head marched Zillah and Jodi,
and Ros the Claw was there, with Firn. They approached and we three together with other swods
casually sauntering nearby moved out of the way.
Leona nal Larravur pointed at me.
There he is! she shouted. Her voice rose, cracking with strain and excitement. There he is! The Prince
Majister! Seize him!
It was damned quick.
I was ringed by spear points. My comrades fell back, gaping. Many of the irregulars ran off in terror.
Zillah, tall, buxom, high of color, fronted me. Her rapier glittered at my throat.
You are the Prince Majister of Vallia?
I stared about the hostile ring. Damned quick, by Krun!
To go drinking in camp we had merely donned rapier and dagger. My fighting equipment lay buckled up
in its leather coverings along with the gear of the others, guarded by the camp slave. Even then I could
have broken free, skewered a few of the guards, slashed a few more, and so broken to liberty.
But I hesitated.
These were women. Mind you, they were women dressed up as warriors, carrying arms, armored. All
the same, they remained girls. At that time I couldn t bring myself to stick a length of sharp steel into any
one of those delightful forms. It was a weakness.
No! I bellowed, for everyone to hear. You are mistaken! For the sweet sake of Opaz take that
rapier out of my Adam s apple.
You are the Prince
No! No do I look like a prince! I am Jak the Kaktu. A paktun, ready to fight for you you make
a mistake
Some of the girls believed me. But this Zillah and this Jodi, and this Ros the Claw and Firn did not. And,
with her fine frank face glowing with passion, this tricky Leona nal Larravur knew absolutely I lied.
Take him to the trylon! she brayed, swirling her rapier. I shall soon convince him. Oh, what a prize
we have here.
Yes, spat Ros. A contemptible rast of a man! A cramph ready to be unmanned and chopped and
flung down unmourned to the Ice Floes of Sicce.
I shook my head. You are mistaken
March him off! shouted Zillah. Her nostrils widened. How the sight of him offends me.
Amid a scathing torrent of abuse they led me off. I went. A few sharp spear points up my stern
convinced me they hadn t heard Phu-si-Yantong s orders not to kill me. Anyway, maybe that schemer
had changed his mind. I d soon find out.
Trylon Udo na Gelkwa turned out to be a square-set man with a sharp brown beard and thin harsh lips,
with eyes that were darker than the normal Vallian brown. This is common in the Northeast of Vallia. He
did not rise as I was prodded into his room in the town hall. The place was bare and sparsely furnished,
with furs hanging on the walls and a large table smothered with maps and lists. He looked up narrowly.
So you are the Prince Majister.
No
The girls at my back all took their chances of giving me a crafty prod or two with their spears. I jumped.
They d taken my rapier and dagger away. I had let them. Every time I tried to speak I was poked by a
spear.
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