ground. Dido had managed to twitch herself away, when the man pulled a long, glittering knife out of his draperies.
Don’t I jist wish Tylo was here, Dido thought, pulling away to avoid the long eager blade which was wriggling its way towards her throat; why the plague did I ever leave the track? With a quick wriggle and twist she flung herself sideways out of the blind man’s grip and kicked the knife from his hand; it whirled away and fell into the pool.
The blind man made no attempt to go after it; he raised his voice in a high cracked yell that set the monkeys in the trees to screeching and gabbling.
“Ohé! Ohé!” As if in instant answer to his call, two Civil Guards came strolling out of the grove. They carried pistols and wore an irritated air, as if they objected to being disturbed. They looked disapprovingly at Dido. One was fat, one thin. They were Angrians, tall and flat-faced.
“Hola,” the fat one said, “what goes on here?” And at once the blind man broke into a torrent of explanation in the Dilendi language.
“Hey,” said Dido. “What’s he telling you? I was putting money into his bowl when he went for me with a knife—”
“You, girl, you come with us; come to our hut, wait for Capitan,” said the thin guard. “We see no knife.”
“Wait for Capitan hear what you say. Yes, you come now,” said the fat guard.
They marched Dido through the trees, prodding her with their pistols. The blind man, meanwhile, melted away into the shadows of the grove. Dido cursed herself in several different ways; why had she not followed Tylo’s instructions? Supposing the guards took her back to the town and found out that she was the girl who had helped Talisman with the operation? Then a whole lot of time would be wasted . . .
“Where are you taking me?” she said slowly and carefully.
“We put you in the hut, Shaki-girl; till our relief come and tell Capitan.”
The hut, when they reached it, was small and wooden; outside it, two stools and a bench with a jug and cups on it suggested that the guards had been enjoying a morning snack of palm wine. Dido wondered if they had a regular arrangement with the blind cut-throat who passed on to them any promising prey. He, Dido thought, was not Angrian, but not a Forest Person either; a mix, perhaps.
“I have no money,” she said loudly.
“We see. That we see.”
They turned out her pockets and appropriated the few coins they found. Dido was thankful that she had stuffed Talisman’s notebook inside her shirt.
“What’s this? What’s this, Shaki-girl?”
This was a folded velvet cloth, embroidered over with lines, and decorated with beads and sequins. It had been bequeathed to Dido by Mr Brandywinde, the drunken steward of H.M.S. Thrush , who had died of too much grog earlier in the voyage.
“That? It’s a game – you can use it for chess or fighting Serpents—”
“No, no,” they contradicted. “The game you play on it is Senat. We know. You have game pieces, you got?”
“No, I don’t. You can use black and white stones.”
“We know. We know that.”
One of the guards fetched a handful of white pebbles. The other opened the hut door.
“You stop in there, Shaki-girl, till Capitan come.” Then he looked over Dido’s shoulder into the hut and giggled. Both men were more than a bit drunk, Dido reckoned. “Oho – we have a friend in here, Andu,” he hiccupped. “The Shaki-lady has a furry friend to keep her company.”
“So?” The other guard came and looked through the door.
“Ah, so. A friend, a furry friend.”
Dido did not care for the sound of this.
“Our furry friend will not trouble you if you stay quiet. Keep still, and he will not trouble you.”
“ She , idiot! It is a female. We will give her a drink. Females like to drink!”
“Ah, they do! Indeed, indeed they do!”
Hiccupping with laughter, the two men sloppily filled a bowl with palm wine and set it on the hut floor.
“Now: just keep
Don’t I jist wish Tylo was here, Dido thought, pulling away to avoid the long eager blade which was wriggling its way towards her throat; why the plague did I ever leave the track? With a quick wriggle and twist she flung herself sideways out of the blind man’s grip and kicked the knife from his hand; it whirled away and fell into the pool.
The blind man made no attempt to go after it; he raised his voice in a high cracked yell that set the monkeys in the trees to screeching and gabbling.
“Ohé! Ohé!” As if in instant answer to his call, two Civil Guards came strolling out of the grove. They carried pistols and wore an irritated air, as if they objected to being disturbed. They looked disapprovingly at Dido. One was fat, one thin. They were Angrians, tall and flat-faced.
“Hola,” the fat one said, “what goes on here?” And at once the blind man broke into a torrent of explanation in the Dilendi language.
“Hey,” said Dido. “What’s he telling you? I was putting money into his bowl when he went for me with a knife—”
“You, girl, you come with us; come to our hut, wait for Capitan,” said the thin guard. “We see no knife.”
“Wait for Capitan hear what you say. Yes, you come now,” said the fat guard.
They marched Dido through the trees, prodding her with their pistols. The blind man, meanwhile, melted away into the shadows of the grove. Dido cursed herself in several different ways; why had she not followed Tylo’s instructions? Supposing the guards took her back to the town and found out that she was the girl who had helped Talisman with the operation? Then a whole lot of time would be wasted . . .
“Where are you taking me?” she said slowly and carefully.
“We put you in the hut, Shaki-girl; till our relief come and tell Capitan.”
The hut, when they reached it, was small and wooden; outside it, two stools and a bench with a jug and cups on it suggested that the guards had been enjoying a morning snack of palm wine. Dido wondered if they had a regular arrangement with the blind cut-throat who passed on to them any promising prey. He, Dido thought, was not Angrian, but not a Forest Person either; a mix, perhaps.
“I have no money,” she said loudly.
“We see. That we see.”
They turned out her pockets and appropriated the few coins they found. Dido was thankful that she had stuffed Talisman’s notebook inside her shirt.
“What’s this? What’s this, Shaki-girl?”
This was a folded velvet cloth, embroidered over with lines, and decorated with beads and sequins. It had been bequeathed to Dido by Mr Brandywinde, the drunken steward of H.M.S. Thrush , who had died of too much grog earlier in the voyage.
“That? It’s a game – you can use it for chess or fighting Serpents—”
“No, no,” they contradicted. “The game you play on it is Senat. We know. You have game pieces, you got?”
“No, I don’t. You can use black and white stones.”
“We know. We know that.”
One of the guards fetched a handful of white pebbles. The other opened the hut door.
“You stop in there, Shaki-girl, till Capitan come.” Then he looked over Dido’s shoulder into the hut and giggled. Both men were more than a bit drunk, Dido reckoned. “Oho – we have a friend in here, Andu,” he hiccupped. “The Shaki-lady has a furry friend to keep her company.”
“So?” The other guard came and looked through the door.
“Ah, so. A friend, a furry friend.”
Dido did not care for the sound of this.
“Our furry friend will not trouble you if you stay quiet. Keep still, and he will not trouble you.”
“ She , idiot! It is a female. We will give her a drink. Females like to drink!”
“Ah, they do! Indeed, indeed they do!”
Hiccupping with laughter, the two men sloppily filled a bowl with palm wine and set it on the hut floor.
“Now: just keep
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