because he was the Crebent and a just man, and not merely willing to fight for him against Hardil because Hardil was a usurping rast.
“You’ll have to keep out of it if we engage in any heavy fighting, Nulty. That contraption strapped to your arm is all very well, but—”
“I’ll fight, master. You’ll see.”
“And,” I said as he swung the strapped steel about, gesticulating, “you’ll have to be a damned sight more careful with it. You’ll have our eyes out or our heads off.”
He let rip a snort of amused disgust, compounded of anger at his predicament and delight in the return of hope and the conceit of his friends’ heads a-rolling on the straw.
“I’ll be careful, master.”
We had to move with energy and speed. The first house Nulty selected proved to contain a family who would dearly love to string Hardil high and toast his soles. The head of the household, a hard grainy man with a scarred face, spread his hands.
“We are all overjoyed that the true Amak has returned. But we are without weapons, for the Amak — Hardil the Mak — has taken them all away.”
This was not the poser it might have seemed. Nath and Lardo unrolled the blanket in which we had wrapped the guards’ gear. “Take your pick.”
That put a very different complexion on the whole affair.
“There are more where those came from,” I said.
From a silly raggle-taggle group trying to topple a lord in power, we slowly grew in strength to a tidy little force. The hired mercenaries would prove the chief problem. Maybe they were slack and not on the top line; for all that they remained men whose trade was killing. I confess I hesitated; it would have been easy for me, now that I was free, to seize a flying beast and simply leave Paline Valley and head for Ruathytu. In a sober assessment of the situation that is probably what I should have done. Life was just bearable for the people here with Hardil in charge. He was vicious and cruel; but his time would pass. Was it only my own self-esteem that made me persevere? Was it a lust for power? All I needed from the valley was a name; Nulty could run the place admirably. Why should men risk their lives just for an Amak who was hardly ever around?
And then one of the people who had taken up a captured sword said, “Notor! We bless the day you return to us, for now we shall be free from a burden on our minds.”
Perhaps that was the turning point. A burden on their bodies was expected; but a burden on their minds...?
So we went up against Hardil the Mak and his bought blades and we fought them.
We had to be clever. We had to use all the advantages that people fighting in their own village possess over intruders. Young lads, whooping with joy, flung lassos from rooftops and snared up the mercenaries. Nets dropped from the shadows and entangled fighting men so that they might be stuxed where they struggled. The mercenaries quickly tired of earning their hire, for they were of middling quality only, and they attempted to strike bargains with the people. At that time I was having a merry little ding-dong with a group of the guards who had escorted me into Hardil’s imposing house. They were being bested, and starting to fall away, and run, when Nulty ran up, shouting that the mercenaries had surrendered, crying quarter, and would enter the service of the old Amak.
“The new Amak is done for, his power forfeit, his charade at an end,” I said, for the benefit of the listening paktuns. “The old Amak has returned to his home.”
They got the message.
I left the elders to sort out the details, and accompanied by Nulty and a group of my people with swords in their fists went off to find out about Hardil the Mak. He was discovered cowering in a chest stuffed with silks and sensils, shaking, and yet very ready to damn and blast us all. What he expected at our hands must remain a mystery. Nulty stepped forward to speak to him, and a woman — little more than a slip of a girl with
“You’ll have to keep out of it if we engage in any heavy fighting, Nulty. That contraption strapped to your arm is all very well, but—”
“I’ll fight, master. You’ll see.”
“And,” I said as he swung the strapped steel about, gesticulating, “you’ll have to be a damned sight more careful with it. You’ll have our eyes out or our heads off.”
He let rip a snort of amused disgust, compounded of anger at his predicament and delight in the return of hope and the conceit of his friends’ heads a-rolling on the straw.
“I’ll be careful, master.”
We had to move with energy and speed. The first house Nulty selected proved to contain a family who would dearly love to string Hardil high and toast his soles. The head of the household, a hard grainy man with a scarred face, spread his hands.
“We are all overjoyed that the true Amak has returned. But we are without weapons, for the Amak — Hardil the Mak — has taken them all away.”
This was not the poser it might have seemed. Nath and Lardo unrolled the blanket in which we had wrapped the guards’ gear. “Take your pick.”
That put a very different complexion on the whole affair.
“There are more where those came from,” I said.
From a silly raggle-taggle group trying to topple a lord in power, we slowly grew in strength to a tidy little force. The hired mercenaries would prove the chief problem. Maybe they were slack and not on the top line; for all that they remained men whose trade was killing. I confess I hesitated; it would have been easy for me, now that I was free, to seize a flying beast and simply leave Paline Valley and head for Ruathytu. In a sober assessment of the situation that is probably what I should have done. Life was just bearable for the people here with Hardil in charge. He was vicious and cruel; but his time would pass. Was it only my own self-esteem that made me persevere? Was it a lust for power? All I needed from the valley was a name; Nulty could run the place admirably. Why should men risk their lives just for an Amak who was hardly ever around?
And then one of the people who had taken up a captured sword said, “Notor! We bless the day you return to us, for now we shall be free from a burden on our minds.”
Perhaps that was the turning point. A burden on their bodies was expected; but a burden on their minds...?
So we went up against Hardil the Mak and his bought blades and we fought them.
We had to be clever. We had to use all the advantages that people fighting in their own village possess over intruders. Young lads, whooping with joy, flung lassos from rooftops and snared up the mercenaries. Nets dropped from the shadows and entangled fighting men so that they might be stuxed where they struggled. The mercenaries quickly tired of earning their hire, for they were of middling quality only, and they attempted to strike bargains with the people. At that time I was having a merry little ding-dong with a group of the guards who had escorted me into Hardil’s imposing house. They were being bested, and starting to fall away, and run, when Nulty ran up, shouting that the mercenaries had surrendered, crying quarter, and would enter the service of the old Amak.
“The new Amak is done for, his power forfeit, his charade at an end,” I said, for the benefit of the listening paktuns. “The old Amak has returned to his home.”
They got the message.
I left the elders to sort out the details, and accompanied by Nulty and a group of my people with swords in their fists went off to find out about Hardil the Mak. He was discovered cowering in a chest stuffed with silks and sensils, shaking, and yet very ready to damn and blast us all. What he expected at our hands must remain a mystery. Nulty stepped forward to speak to him, and a woman — little more than a slip of a girl with
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