Rebels of Gor (62 page)

“I do not understand the advance of Yamada,” said Lord Okimoto. “Why should he not fear the cavalry? It lifted the siege, it ruined camps, it shocked troops into disarray, it disrupted supply lines, it burned storehouses, it spread havoc throughout villages, towns, and fortresses of Lord Yamada, it forced the withdrawal of his army, to protect the core of his homelands.”

“Perhaps he is a fool,” said Lord Temmu.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Okimoto, “he has assurances that the cavalry will not fly.”

“How could that be?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Okimoto, “was a guest in the palace of Lord Yamada, for several days. Who knows what negotiations took place between them, what agreements were made, what arrangements instituted.”

“The cavalry,” I said, “is stationed now in the hills nearby, not at the encampment of tarns. Banners on the summit of the holding could signal it instantly. In an Ehn it could be aflight.”

“But will it be aflight?” asked Lord Okimoto.

“If Lord Okimoto wishes,” I said, angrily, “I can withdraw the cavalry.”

“Please do not do so,” said Lord Temmu.

“Then it would obviously not be aflight,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Dismissing the interesting question of the cavalry, its intentions, its allegiance, its reliability, and such, the holding has been resupplied,” said Lord Nishida. “It could withstand a siege for thousands of years.”

“But the towns and countryside could be devastated,” said Lord Okimoto. “Our villages could be burned or accept the exactions of Lord Yamada. We would hold a mountain and he would possess a world.”

“Lord Yamada has been informed,” I said, “that if his advance does not cease, and he does not retire to his ancestral lands, the cavalry will fly.”

“How do we know it will do so?” asked Lord Okimoto.

“You have my word,” I said.

“The word of a barbarian,” said Lord Okimoto.

“The advance continues,” said Lord Nishida.

“Lord Yamada is a fool,” said Lord Temmu.

“What does Lord Yamada know that we do not?” said Lord Nishida.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Okimoto, “that the cavalry will not fly.”

In the distance we could hear drums and battle horns.

“Tajima,” I said.

He had been silent. Now he put down the glass of the Builders. “Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

“Signal Ichiro on the summit,” I said. “Signal ‘Saddles’ and ‘One-strap’.”

“Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

* * *

We had approached the Merchant Portal with considerable trepidation. Had we departed from the road, or wide path, that lined with white stones, Ashigaru would have investigated. It was not practical to turn back, and, had we done so, that, too, would surely have provoked attention, and, presumably, would have resulted in some sort of inquiry, the outcome of which would have been likely to have been our discovery and undoing.

“Hold!” said Yasushi, holding up his hand, palm forward. With him were three Ashigaru, which, now, to my surprise, I recognized as the three fellows whom Tajima had entertained in the inn a few pasangs to the west, the fellows who had been disappointingly casual about fetching their gathered rice to the supply wagons, but had been more than helpful in apprising us of local military and political matters with which we, due to our prior journey, had been woefully out of touch.

“You escaped from the prison pen,” said Yasushi.

I glanced about. There were more than a hundred Ashigaru within hailing distance.

“Two of us,” I said.

“How did you manage that?” he asked.

“We organized peasants,” I said.

“But few would be from the same village,” he said.

“Nonetheless,” I said, uneasily.

“Interesting,” he said. “Why did you bother? It was dangerous. You were to be released the next morning.”

“We did not wish to wait,” I said.

“The entire camp,” he said, “is being searched for fugitives, you two, some slaves, a young warrior, several peasants, and Arashi, the bandit.”

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “and you?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“That probably depends on you,” I said.

“That wagon,” he said, “and probably the slaves, are stolen.”

“If you like,” I said, “we can leave the wagon, say, within a pasang.”

“I like your draft animals,” he said.

The slaves were obviously frightened. To be sure, as slaves, they were in no particular danger. In many situations where free persons would be instantly put to the sword, no one would think of injuring a slave, no more than one would think of injuring any other property of value, say, a glazed, red-figured vase from Turia, or a domestic animal, say, a blond-maned, silken kaiila. Free women in jeopardy, say, a blade at their throat, rather than accept an honorable death as a free person, as is prescribed, may declare themselves slave, after which they are stripped and bound, and, despised as the slaves they now are, are held for the iron and collar. Sometimes, wild and distraught, frantic, in a sacked, burning city, free women will even disguise themselves as slaves, that they may be spared. Their ruse discovered, usually by genuine slaves, they are beaten and cast naked to the feet of masters, to be assessed, and, if found suitable, marked and sold. The exception here, of course, was Nezumi, who, if recognized, might have been remanded to Yamada’s executioners for the eel death, or worse. Indeed, it was not clear that Nezumi was in a much better way should she come to the attention of Lord Temmu, as she might then be decollared and cast to the rocks at the foot of the outer parapet of his holding.

“You are in the presence of free men,” I said.

Swiftly the slaves, in a rustle and jangle of harness, knelt.

“Heads down,” I said.

“Yes,” said Yasushi, “a pretty lot.”

“We did not have the resources, or opportunity,” I said, “to hire a number of good fellows to draw the wagon.”

“It is not even your wagon,” said Yasushi.

“True,” I said.

“I think you are a clever fellow,” said Yasushi. “That is why I thought you would elect this egress from the camp. It is public and dangerous, but shrewd and bold. There are fewer Ashigaru about, watchful, ready to kill on sight. An urt would be fortunate to slip from the camp otherwise.”

“I was not clever enough,” I said.

“I was afraid,” he said, “that you might encounter others here, and it would go badly for you.”

“That is why you arranged to be here?”

“Of course,” he said. “I, and the three required Ashigaru.”

“I recognize them,” I said.

“Shoji, Akiyoshi, and Fumitaka,” he said.

“By sight,” I said. “Tal,” I said.

“Tal,” they said, “noble one.”

“Better get your beasts up,” said Yasushi.

“Up,
kajirae
,” I said.

With a sound of harness, the girls, I think uncertain, bewildered, stood.

“You are holding up the line,” said Yasushi. “Pass.”

“Are we not to be arrested?” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Why not?” I said.

“Did we not share danger and war?” he said.

“I wish you well,” I said.

“I wish you well,” he said. “Do not leave the wagon faraway.”

“Over that hill,” I said.

“That will do,” he said.

We then moved from the camp. A quarter of an Ahn later we unhitched the girls and abandoned the wagon. Shortly thereafter, the slaves tunicked, rope-coffled, and back-braceleted, following the lead of Pertinax and Ichiro, wary of patrols, we turned north. The next afternoon, we were picked up at the rendezvous point and were on our way to the encampment of tarns.

* * *

Overhead was the snap of wings, like whips, and, below, on the parapets, flighted shadows darted on the walkways, and then, smaller, on the valley below.

“The cavalry is aflight,” said Lord Temmu, with satisfaction. “Lord Yamada is a fool. He has made the greatest mistake of his life.”

I was afraid. Lord Yamada was not a man from whom mistakes might be expected.

“Lord Yamada was informed of this,” said Lord Nishida. “Yet he advances! How can it be?”

“He did not think the cavalry would fly,” said Lord Okimoto. “Otherwise it would be madness to advance. I, too, thought it would not fly. I thought arrangements were in place.”

“That Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, was traitorous?” asked Lord Nishida.

“On what other grounds might Yamada advance?” said Lord Okimoto.

“On those of madness,” said Lord Temmu.

“I should be with the cavalry,” I said, “and so, too, others, Tajima and Pertinax.”

“No,” said Lord Temmu. “I want you here.”

“That I might be slain for treachery, if all did not proceed as planned?”

“You may command from here, by the summit, by flags and signal horns,” said Lord Temmu.

“You are not needed to supervise a routine slaughter,” said Lord Nishida.

“Lord Yamada was warned,” I said. “I did not think he would advance. I expected him to withdraw, rather than risk the decimation of his forces, the loss of towns and fortresses.”

“Yet he has advanced,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is clear he did not believe you.”

“The attack has begun,” said Tajima, peering through the glass of the Builders.

“He was warned,” I said. “He had my word.”

“The word of a barbarian,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Know you so little of the continent?” asked Lord Nishida. “It was the word of one who is of the scarlet caste, the word of a warrior.”

“His troops will be showered with unanswered arrows,” said Lord Okimoto. “Men will seek cover and dare not move. His supply train will be burned. Foragers and scouts will venture forth only with hazard. His march will be arrested. Then the cavalry may return to his ancestral lands to burn and pillage.”

In the distance, even without the glass, one could see formations in disarray.

“This is not war,” said Tajima, grimly. “It is like shooting tethered verr.”

“Victory is upon our banners,” said Lord Temmu.

“Hail to Lord Temmu, Shogun of the Islands!” cried an officer. This cry was taken up on the outer parapet, by officers and Ashigaru. It resounded as well on the inner parapets, and I heard it faint, below, in the courtyard of the holding.

“Let the drums pound,” said Lord Temmu. “Sound the horns of victory!”

“Hold!” cried Tajima, the glass of the Builders trained on the horizon. “Hold!”

“What is it?” I cried.

“There!” said Tajima, pointing. “There!”

In the distance, hard to determine initially, from the morning sun, there was a speck in the distance.

Lord Temmu seized the glass of the Builders, and peered through it. “It is a bird,” he said.

“It is far off,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is a tarn.”

Lord Temmu handed the glass to his daimyo.

I knew that Lord Yamada had at his disposal at least two tarns.

“Yes,” said Lord Okimoto, uncertainly, “a tarn.”

“I fear not,” I said.

“Give the glass to Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” begged Lord Nishida.

Lord Okimoto passed me the glass, and I trained it on the approaching speck, still far off.

“What is it?” asked Lord Nishida.

“I do not know,” I said.

“It is a tarn,” said Lord Okimoto.

“No,” I said. “It is not a tarn. It does not have the wing beat of a tarn.”

“It approaches, does it not?” said Lord Temmu.

“Yes,” I said. “And now more swiftly.”

“It is a tarn,” said Lord Okimoto.

“No,” I said. “It is not a tarn. It is not the wing beat of a tarn. Too, it is hard to judge from the distance, but, too, I think it is too large for a tarn, much too large.”

“Speak,” said Lord Temmu.

“Surely you can make it out now, with the glass!” said Lord Nishida.

“Yes!” I said.

“What is it?” demanded Lord Okimoto.

“I have never seen anything like it,” I said. Then I cried out, “Clear the parapet!”

At that very moment the wall of the parapet a few feet to my right burst apart, stones rising in the sky, a hundred paces, and then falling, gracefully. The walkway to the right was half torn away, and smoked with blackened stone. I could feel the heat from where I stood. The air was acrid, and stinging. Men coughed, many seeking the ladders and stairs to the ground below. The object had passed over us, and a moment later there was an explosion in the courtyard below and behind the parapets, and a geyser of dust sprang up behind us, and, almost at the same time, a twisting skewer of fire tore forth from what seemed a maw of the thing, and a segment of the castle roof, the keep of the holding, was afire.