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TheSwordoftheLady
CHAPTER TWENTY
?You are the man Abdou?? Rudi asked, leaning back in the chair.
That put his back to the window, which would make him an outline against the daylight and his face less readable, always an advantage. Mathilda sat at his right hand and Father Ignatius on the other; the seidhkona?s sprawling household had found Matti Norrheimer woman?s garb while their own was repaired and cleaned, a dark blue wool dress, head scarf and long apron of embroidered white linen and shoulder brooches of silver and jet. The pale winter light shone through the broad stretch windows and on his captive; this was an upper chamber, with a loom pushed up against the wall.
The Moor wasn?t bound, but Edain stood behind him with his bow slung and his hand on the hilt of his sword, his square face wary and grim. ?I Abdou. And I commander of fighting men, just same like you.?
The pirate captain was a tall man, as tall as Rudi himself, though more slender. Stripped of armor and outerwear he had a long robelike blue tunic embroidered at the shoulders and loose white pantaloons, both filthy and stained. There was stubble on his cheeks apart from the tuft of chin beard, and straws in his wiry hair beneath his skullcap; he smelled of sweat and dried blood and general misery, but he stood like a prince, his dark brown hawk-face calm despite the bruises and scabs. His injured right arm was in a sling. ?Why did you come to make war here?? Rudi probed. ?Because I think I win… just same like you.?
Rudi laughed; the least shadow of a smile touched the corners of the prisoner?s mouth for an instant. The clansman spoke: ?I am Rudi Mackenzie of the Clan Mackenzie; also called Artos, High King of Montival.? ?I Abdou al-Naari al-Kaolacki, lord,? the man said.?You say with English… Abdou the Moor from Kaolack.? ?You?re not all Moors?? Rudi asked, curious. ?No, lord. The peoples of north to the… Senegal River, you call it… are Moor. Beni Hassan. Many comed to south after the Change; my father be… one Moor. Comed Kaolack, comed sailor. Most there, they Wolof, Serer tribes.?
The world is so wide; its folk and their Gods and ways so many! Rudi thought. Wistfully: And one man?s life is not enough to learn them all, even if he had no other business.
The corsair?s English was understandable, as long as he spoke slowly. Besides the thick accent, Rudi thought he?d learned from someone who spoke an English dialect unlike any used in Montival; now and then it reminded him a little of the way Sam Aylward sounded. Occasionally he spoke first in a liquid, pleasant-sounding tongue that was probably his own, and then translated. ?You are well?? Rudi went on.
Again the slightest smile turned up the corners of the man?s mouth; he moved the fingers of his hand in the sling, and touched his temple with the other. ? Suma bop dey meti,? he said.?I a headache, wounds pain little bit. My father is… fighter for Emir. Myself too. Captain of the Bouel-Mogdad. Hurt not… not big new thing.? ?You were a captain,? Rudi said sternly.?You are pirates, who came here to plunder; and you were taken in arms. So your lives are forfeit, and by right of battle you and your ship and your men belong to me, who spared you and took your surrender. You are mine to deal with as I will. Is this not so, Abdou al-Naari?? ?Inshallah,? Abdou said.?All things as God wills. No God except God; Muhammed is Prophet of God. What you do to me, that is will of God too. If you kill me, I am martyr for Faith and go to Paradise, sins forgiven.?
That little speech was partly a bargaining gambit, he thought. And partly what the man actually believes.
It wasn?t that a brave man was impossible to threaten. You just had to do it carefully. ?Who spoke of killing?? he said, spreading his hands.?Have you been treated well? Do you have what you need?? ?There food and straw and blankets and fire, medicine for our hurt. Two die, maybe one more soon. Others heal; my son Ahmed heal.? He shrugged.?Inshallah. Need more water to wash, and how say, soap.? ?You shall have it. And now, why did you come here, Abdou al-Naari? This place in particular, I mean.? ?Marabout… Holy Man… say he have… how you say English… see in head thing far away.? ?A vision.? ?Yes, vision from God. Say followers of Prophet need help, Muslim like us. Also rich plunder. And worshippers of many false gods…? ?Pagans,? Mathilda said helpfully.
Abdou nodded without deigning to look at her.?Pagans, Norrheim men… fight our people, many time. Fight on sea, fight in dead cities. We teach lesson.? ?The men with the sun sign on their chests met you near here? Led by one in a red robe?? Rudi asked. ?Yes. Marabout say, them men believers in Prophet.?
His voice sounded dryly skeptical. Father Ignatius leaned forward from Rudi?s other side. ?Followers of a Prophet, Abdou al-Naari. Not of your Prophet; of a living man who claims that title.?
Rudi could see shock on the corsair leader?s face, and for the first time there was heat in his voice: ?Muhammed is last of prophets, peace upon him! Some before-Issa, Jesus you nasrani call him, and Ibrahim before Issa. They prophets with message from God. No more after Muhammed! Is haraam… unclean thing, from Shaitan!? ?Blasphemy,? Ignatius said helpfully.
Abdou nodded vigorously, winced and repeated the gesture despite the pain. ?Blasphemy,? he agreed.?Is that word.?
And he believes it, Rudi noted with interest. This one is no fool. Even a short acquaintance with the Cutters would have shown him they weren?t really of his faith. And this Holy Man… he must be also a servant of whatever Power the Cutters follow. ?The folk here would kill you,? Rudi said.?For vengeance, the which you have earned by falling on them without cause or warning. And they don?t keep slaves. But I have a use for you and your ship.?
Abdou?s spine stiffened a little further.?Will not aid you against believers, my friends,? he said.?Kill us all first.?
Rudi shook his head.?I wouldn?t ask you to fight your own folk,? he said, and added to himself: Nor would I trust you if you said you would. Loyalty to clan and tribe and one?s own blood isn?t the only call on a man. But it?s the foundation of all else. He believed that with all his heart. There weren?t many people alive a generation after the Change who didn?t. Aloud he went on: ?I need a ship to take me and my followers to an island-?
They talked back and forth for a few minutes; Abdou had never heard the word Nantucket, or seen it except on old maps. His eyes went wide as he realized what his captor meant. ?Isle of the Accursed!? he said.?There magic there! Sorcery, strong magic.? ?And to be sure, there is,? Rudi said implacably.?Yet there I need to go; and my hosts here can spare neither crew nor ship, after the damage you did them. So it is to there I require your service. There, and back again.?
The Moor thought for a moment.?You give back ship of my, I do this thing for you??
Rudi threw back his head and laughed; the man might be a shameless saltwater bandit, but he had courage, to bargain so, alone amongst angry strangers and with a sword hung over his neck. ?You don?t lack for stones, that?s plain, Abdou al-Naari!? he said.?No. What you get for this service is your lives and the clothes you wear, no more. The ship and its cargo and gear goes to the folk of Kalksthorpe, as compensation for their losses.? ?As wergild,? Heidhveig said sternly.?Blood price. Count yourself lucky that our friend Rudi Mikesson needs you. And that he?s a man of honor, and that we honor his wishes because of our debt to him.?