Страница 91 из 102
Chapter Thirty-Two
Bahzell stood atop the wall and watched the small group of men emerge from the boulder field that choked the sharp bend in the Gullet and start down the trail on foot. A white flag hung limp from a lance shaft above them, but from the way they moved, they were none too sure anyone in Charhan's Despair knew what a white flag meant.
He smiled grimly at the thought. The sun was moving steadily farther into the west, and shadows were begi
Well, that was all right with him. He'd sent Garuth and his picket on down the Gullet in order to make this purely a matter of the Order and the Sothōii, but he still had over a hundred heavy crossbows and arbalests of his own tucked away inside the rough fort. He could get no more than forty of them onto the front wall at any one time, perhaps, but that would be more than enough to skewer the Sothōii messengers the instant anyone put an arrow into him .
Not that he had any particular desire to see anyone skewered.
He glanced at his companions. Hurthang stood at his left, wearing the surcoat of the Order and carrying its ba
"I've no doubt you've the right of it and all," Bahzell had told her finally, "but we're talking of Sothōii here, Kerry! I've troubles enough without trying to be cramming a belted knight as is also a woman down their craws!"
She'd subsided at that, and her acquiescence had left Gharnal with little choice but to do the same, yet Bahzell wasn't fooled. Assuming they all lived through this, both of them would find their own ways to get even with him, probably sooner rather than later.
He smiled again, less grimly, at the thought, and nodded to his companions.
"Let's be going," he said quietly, and started down to meet the enemy.
Gods, that's the biggest hradani I've ever seen in my life! Sir Festian squinted into the westering sun and managed not to stare at the giant advancing towards him, but it was hard. He had to be at least seven and a half feet tall, and he looked like a mountain in armor. In very good armor, Festian noted suddenly—better than he'd ever seen on a hradani... or, for that matter, on most Sothōii nobles. And it had clearly been made specifically to fit its wearer, not cobbled together or looted from someone else.
He was still turning that over in his mind when Haladhan hissed beside him.
"Toragan! That's a man over there!" Sir Mathian's cousin gasped.
For an instant, the significance of the remark failed to register, but then Festian's eyes snapped around to look where Haladhan was pointing. Like the Lord Warden, Haladhan refused to apply the word "man" to anyone other than another human, although he might make a few grudging exceptions for certain dwarves. Festian considered that pointlessly stupid, but his own astonishment overwhelmed the familiar flash of disgust as he saw the richly dressed, golden-haired young human with the elaborately plumed helm.
Well, he thought wryly, whatever Mathian might have thought before he sent us out here, this certainly isn't your typical bunch of hradani!
The Sothōii were close enough for Bahzell to see their faces now. There were six of them, although four were obviously armsmen, not knights or nobles, and his impassive expression hid a mental smile of glee as he saw them trying not to stare at Vaijon. At his insistence, Vaijon had brought along the pick of his wardrobe, and while that might now be only a shadow of what it once had been, it remained impressive. His embroidered surcoat glittered, sunlight flashing off its gold and silver bullion thread; the tall plumes of his helmet nodded as he walked; and the gems adorning his sword hilt seemed to flame with an i
Come to think on it, it just might be they do have a light of their own, a corner of his mind reflected. It is after being a champion's blade, now isn't it just?
That thought carried him the last few paces forward, and he stopped three yards short of the burly young man in the center of the Sothōii delegation. The hard-eyed youngster was unusually heavy-set and broad for his people, but like most Sothōii men, he stood only a little over six feet tall, a few inches shorter than Vaijon and much shorter than Bahzell or Hurthang. He had the fair complexion common to most of his people, although his hair was dark, not the more usual blond or red, and his face was set in rigid lines of contempt as he surveyed Bahzell and his companions.
"And a good afternoon to you," Bahzell rumbled, breaking the silence before it could stretch out too far.
"I am Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, cousin and Marshal of Mathian Redhelm, Lord Warden of Glanharrow," the burly young knight declared haughtily. His voice was abrupt and harsh, with a cutting edge which made the fingers of Bahzell's sword hand tingle. "Who are you, and by what right do you block our path?"
The older knight standing to Haladhan's left winced visibly. Bahzell glanced at him, then tilted his head, ears cocked, to consider Haladhan as he might have examined some new species of bug. He let the silence drag out once more, watching the young Sothōii's flush darken, then replied in deliberately calm tones.
"Why, as to that, Sir Haladhan Deepcrag, I'm called Bahzell Bahnakson, and if we're to speak of blocked paths, it's in my mind to be wondering just why it is you and your lot seem so all-fired anxious to be creeping down the Gullet in the first place." He showed strong, white teeth in what could have been called a smile. "I'm thinking there's just a mite many of you for a social call, and surely your Lord Warden wouldn't be so ill-ma
"Sir Mathian is not answerable to such as you! " Haladhan spat. "He comes and goes as he will!"
"Does he, now?" Bahzell rounded his eyes and let his ears stand straight up. "Why, we've something in common, then, for so do I, as well." His expression hardened suddenly, and his voice deepened. "And just this moment, where I'm willing to be going is right here," he rumbled, and pointed at the ground on which he stood.
"Indeed?" Haladhan glanced about, then curled his lip. "If that's what you wish, I'm sure Sir Mathian can accommodate you. It looks a little stony for graves, but no doubt the buzzards will be glad for the feast!"
"No doubt," Bahzell said. "But I'm thinking you might be thinking hard and long before you've the making of a mistake your Lord Warden will be a long time regretting. I'm not so certain at all, at all, that Tomanāk will be pleased to be hearing as how he went and slaughtered an entire chapter of himself's Order."
"You? " Haladhan stared at Bahzell, then uttered a short, contemptuous laugh.
"Aye, myself," Bahzell agreed, and swept his hand to include Hurthang and Vaijon. "And my sword brothers, of course."
"You can't bluff us , hradani!" Haladhan spat. "I don't know where you found this traitor," he sneered at Vaijon, "but you're no more the Order of Tomanāk than I am!"
"Now that's where you're wrong, friend," Bahzell said softly, "and you'd best take me seriously. Aye, we're hradani right enough, the most of us—and Horse Stealers, for the most part, too. But we're also after being the Order of Tomanāk , sword sworn to him when he was after appearing himself in Hurgrum this month past."
"Nonsense!" Haladhan shot back, but there was just the tiniest edge of uncertainty in his tone.
"I'd ask you not to be questioning my word, truce flag or no." Bahzell's voice was mild enough, but his eyes weren't, and Haladhan shifted uneasily and stepped back a half pace without even realizing it. "I've no doubt you're finding that a mite hard to be taking in, yet it's true enough. And it's as a champion of Tomanāk I stand here, Sir Haladhan, to ask you and your Lord Warden by what right you're after bringing war and destruction to those as haven't attacked you... and who you've not declared war upon, either."
"I don't bel—" Haladhan began, then stopped. "You claim to be a champion of Tomanāk ," he went on in a slightly less caustic tone. "I... find that difficult to believe. And even if it were true, you have no right to question Sir Mathian's actions."
"I'm having every right there is," Bahzell told him flatly. "Both as a hradani, who's after seeing a hostile army marching against his folk; and as a son of Prince Bahnak of Hurgrum, who's a duty to guard his people; and most of all, as a champion of Tomanāk sworn to protect the weak and the helpless from those as think there's honor in murdering women and children while their own warriors are away."
Haladhan flushed, and his eyes fell for the first time. But he shook the moment off and summoned up a fresh glare.
"That sounds very fine, hradani, but Sothōii women and children have been murdered by hradani in their time!"
"So they have, and if you're minded to be keeping the slaughter going, you're a fool," Bahzell said dispassionately.
"Oh, no." Haladhan's voice was cold. "We have no intention at all of keeping the slaughter going . We mean to end it, once and for all!"
"Ah?" Bahzell cocked his head, eyes cold. "So this is what the Sothōii are after coming to, is it now? A pack of cowards and murderers—brave enough to be burning down farms and towns and butchering them as can't fight back, but only when those as might have protected them are safe out of their way!"