Hunch’s and Nodgen’s secret, reached us. He sounded troubled.
“Tyfar would overlook that lapse,” said Quienyin. “Jak, I must speak to you — and at once—”
“Assuredly.” I stood up. Quienyin stood back in the shadows, so that I could not discern his expression.
He wore his turban. A fierce bellow cut the air from the thorn-ivy.
“Vakkas! Riders heading for us!”
I spun to look. Tyfar was sinking down behind the thorns and the others were flattening out, steel in their fists.
Beyond them, across the flat and clear in the slanting rays of the suns, a party of riders broke from a clump of twisty trunks, the crinkly leaves down-drooping and unmoving in the breathless air.
The men rode totrixes, zorcas, hirvels. There was not a swarth among them. They rode hard, lashing their beasts on, and the dust rose in a flat smear behind them, hanging betrayingly in a long yellow-white streak. I looked up. Up there the flutsmen curved down, the wings of their flyers wide and stiff, and the glint and wink of weapons glittered a stark promise of destruction over the doomed party of riders below.
Chapter four
Dead Men Pose Puzzles
Straight for the rocky outcrop and running at lung-bursting speed, the forlorn party rode on. They were making for the shelter we had chosen. There, it was clear, they hoped to make a stand against the reining sky mercenaries. Now the sound of the hooves beat a rattling tattoo against the hard ground.
“They’ll never make it.” Tyfar stared hotly through the thorn-ivy.
If that young prince decided to stand up and run out to assist those doomed jutmen, I, for one, would seek to stop him. He was become precious to me, now, as a comrade. I would not relish his death. I had seen too much of death.
“Jak—” whispered Quienyin.
“Yes?”
“I have sought out—”
“See! They shoot!” Tyfar was panting now, and his lithe body humped as though about to leap out.
I said, “We cannot allow Tyfar to throw his life away. We will do what we can, but—”
Quienyin looked vaguely through a chink in the thorns.
“Those poor people will never reach here alive.” He looked back at me. “There is much we must talk about.”
“I agree. But, I think, it will have to wait the outcome of this mess out here.”
“You are right. But I will say I am — am shattered—”
“So you descried a little, then, and understand more?”
“Indeed! Indeed!”
“Nath the Shaft!” called Tyfar in a low, penetrating voice.
“My Prince!”
“Shaft ’em, you onker! Shaft ’em!”
“Nath,” I said. My voice jerked his head around, and his reaching fingers stilled as they touched the feathers of the shaft in his quiver.
“Jak, Jak!” said Tyfar. “What? You cannot abandon them!”
“No. No, I suppose not. But they are done for — there are ten of them and twenty-five or thirty flutsmen. We can—”
“We can shaft them from cover — and we must hurry!”
His face blazed eagerness at me. I sighed. What can one do with these high and mighty princelings whose honor code rules them to death and destruction? And yet — Tyfar was a man of better mettle than mere unthinking bludgeoning.
“You don’t have to let those flutsmen know we are here, do you?” said Hunch. His voice quavered.
Nodgen hefted his spear. He could throw that with skill and power, even though it was not a stux, the stout throwing spear of Havilfar. “I have four spears,” he said. His voice growled. “That’s four of the cramphs.”
“They are too far away for you, Nodgen, you onker!”
“They’ll come nearer, once the arrows fly.”
“That,” I said, “is true.”
“I will not wait any longer.” Tyfar shouted it. He started to stand up. I moved forward. What I was going to do Opaz alone knows. I was confused, knowing I ought to help those poor folk out there against those rasts of flutsmen, and knowing, also, that my responsibilities were wider by far than this mere stupid little fracas
“Tyfar would overlook that lapse,” said Quienyin. “Jak, I must speak to you — and at once—”
“Assuredly.” I stood up. Quienyin stood back in the shadows, so that I could not discern his expression.
He wore his turban. A fierce bellow cut the air from the thorn-ivy.
“Vakkas! Riders heading for us!”
I spun to look. Tyfar was sinking down behind the thorns and the others were flattening out, steel in their fists.
Beyond them, across the flat and clear in the slanting rays of the suns, a party of riders broke from a clump of twisty trunks, the crinkly leaves down-drooping and unmoving in the breathless air.
The men rode totrixes, zorcas, hirvels. There was not a swarth among them. They rode hard, lashing their beasts on, and the dust rose in a flat smear behind them, hanging betrayingly in a long yellow-white streak. I looked up. Up there the flutsmen curved down, the wings of their flyers wide and stiff, and the glint and wink of weapons glittered a stark promise of destruction over the doomed party of riders below.
Chapter four
Dead Men Pose Puzzles
Straight for the rocky outcrop and running at lung-bursting speed, the forlorn party rode on. They were making for the shelter we had chosen. There, it was clear, they hoped to make a stand against the reining sky mercenaries. Now the sound of the hooves beat a rattling tattoo against the hard ground.
“They’ll never make it.” Tyfar stared hotly through the thorn-ivy.
If that young prince decided to stand up and run out to assist those doomed jutmen, I, for one, would seek to stop him. He was become precious to me, now, as a comrade. I would not relish his death. I had seen too much of death.
“Jak—” whispered Quienyin.
“Yes?”
“I have sought out—”
“See! They shoot!” Tyfar was panting now, and his lithe body humped as though about to leap out.
I said, “We cannot allow Tyfar to throw his life away. We will do what we can, but—”
Quienyin looked vaguely through a chink in the thorns.
“Those poor people will never reach here alive.” He looked back at me. “There is much we must talk about.”
“I agree. But, I think, it will have to wait the outcome of this mess out here.”
“You are right. But I will say I am — am shattered—”
“So you descried a little, then, and understand more?”
“Indeed! Indeed!”
“Nath the Shaft!” called Tyfar in a low, penetrating voice.
“My Prince!”
“Shaft ’em, you onker! Shaft ’em!”
“Nath,” I said. My voice jerked his head around, and his reaching fingers stilled as they touched the feathers of the shaft in his quiver.
“Jak, Jak!” said Tyfar. “What? You cannot abandon them!”
“No. No, I suppose not. But they are done for — there are ten of them and twenty-five or thirty flutsmen. We can—”
“We can shaft them from cover — and we must hurry!”
His face blazed eagerness at me. I sighed. What can one do with these high and mighty princelings whose honor code rules them to death and destruction? And yet — Tyfar was a man of better mettle than mere unthinking bludgeoning.
“You don’t have to let those flutsmen know we are here, do you?” said Hunch. His voice quavered.
Nodgen hefted his spear. He could throw that with skill and power, even though it was not a stux, the stout throwing spear of Havilfar. “I have four spears,” he said. His voice growled. “That’s four of the cramphs.”
“They are too far away for you, Nodgen, you onker!”
“They’ll come nearer, once the arrows fly.”
“That,” I said, “is true.”
“I will not wait any longer.” Tyfar shouted it. He started to stand up. I moved forward. What I was going to do Opaz alone knows. I was confused, knowing I ought to help those poor folk out there against those rasts of flutsmen, and knowing, also, that my responsibilities were wider by far than this mere stupid little fracas
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