[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
like those of Rahstum, were a pale gray. Suddenly he extended a hand to Blade.
"I am called Baber. As you have guessed I am not a Mong. I am of the Cauca
tribe. And you are thinking that I look like Rahstum, the Captain?" Blade
admitted it.
"That is because Rahstum is also a Cauca. Believe me or not, Sir Blade, but we
were once soldiers together and I his commander. Who would think it to see me
now."
Blade, who had been lonely in his wagon cage, welcomed this new companionship.
He set out to learn all he could, especially about his own probable fate.
Page 43
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Baber, laughing coarsely, pointed at the wooden collar around Blade's neck and
said, "You will exchange that for a golden one if you are humble and careful
and submit yourself. And make no great mistakes. That is why you have been
moved from your cage to this place, to serve your apprenticeship, and so that
your spirit may be broken. I have been prisoner for many years and I have seen
it happen a dozen times. Sadda must always have a new favorite to replace the
old. You will be the new one someday. When she has humiliated you enough."
Blade frowned. "I am not very good at being humble. I had my chance at that
and just between us, Baber, I was in a sweat of fright. But I did not think it
good policy to grovel or show fear. I gambled with the knife and I won. So I
am still alive. Must I be humble now?"
Baber, who had a tonsure of baldness and was gray at the temples, squinted at
Blade. In a serious tone he said: "I know. I know all of it. News travels fast
among the Mongs. But you were not a slave then, Sir Blade, and also what you
did once cannot always be done again. There is a limit to Sadda's patience.
What little wisdom I have tells me that it is better to stay alive as long as
possible. Let me tell you a story that is known to my tribe, the Cauca."
In the old times, Baber said, there was a certain wizard who fell out of favor
with the king. All of his prophecies turned out to be false and the king
ordered the wizard's head to be struck off. The wizard begged a year of grace
in which he promised to teach the king's dog to talk. The king was intrigued,
though skeptical, granted the time with the proviso that if the wizard failed
to teach the dog to talk he would be boiled in oil instead of merely beheaded.
A friend of the wizard asked him why he had made such a bargain.
"Because a year of life is precious," the wizard replied. "Anything may
happen. I might die a natural and painless death. The king may die. And I
might even teach the dog to talk in a year."
Baber laughed and rolled over in the straw. "So you see, Sir Blade, that it
might be well to play the humble part for a time. Stay alive! Anything can
happen."
That was true. Blade knew that the Khad had sent a messenger to Pukka, in the
south of Cath, to demand a great ransom for him. He had no notion of what Lali
could do, or would do, about this. All he knew was that Lali had agreed to
safe conduct for the messenger and had provided him with an escort. It would
be two or three months before the man could return with news that no one in
Pukka had ever heard of Blade! He did not like to think of that. The Khad
would certainly snatch him back from Sadda and have him executed in the
cruelest possible manner.
Baber had been watching Blade with a peculiar glint in his eyes. Now, in a
near whisper, he said:
"You see the wisdom? Be humble and play the fool if you must. Stay alive and
wait. I do not say that I
know, because I would be a liar, but I can guess at changes that are coming.
There is hate and bad blood between Sadda and the Khad. When they were younger
they were lovers, so breaking a taboo of their black god, Obi. And now that
they are no longer lovers, they are haters. But they share power and at the
moment neither can rule without the other. They are fearful and uneasy and all
the Mongs know this and feel it. A stone thrown into a pond disturbs the
bottom as well as the surface. There is unrest among the
Mongs, and dissatisfaction, but the Tamburs have ruled them for a thousand
years and no one yet has courage to go against them. And this war, these
endless wars against the great wall, sorely try the patience of the ordinary
people. Thousands of the best Mong warriors die every month because the
Khad is a madman and thinks he must have the great cannon of Cath. So heed a
poor legless fool who was once a warrior, Sir Blade and "
Baber had been looking over Blade's shoulder. He broke off abruptly and
lowered himself into the straw so that only his head showed.
"Here comes Aplonius! He wears the golden collar now and is in charge of us.
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Patience, Sir Blade!
Bear it. He is nothing but be careful."
Blade remained where he was, squatting, watching the approach of the man
called Aplonius. He knew at once that he was in for a bad time.
The man who came toward him, swinging a long whip, was a Mong. But like none
Blade had seen, before. He was taller, his skin lighter, and instead of the
flat, nearly concave Mong features, he had a jutting nose and narrow-set eyes.
His hair was bright and thick with pomade and curled atop his narrow head like
miniature waves. He wore gaily colored breeches thrust into high boots and a
tight fitting leathern jacket. His mustache was dark and neatly trimmed and a
few dark hairs straggled from a weak chin.
Around his skinny neck was a golden collar, light and of exquisite
workmanship. When he was close enough Blade saw that raised letters encircled
the collar.
S S S S S
This was Sadda's current favorite. Blade could not believe it. This was a man?
The slim dandy stopped before Blade and sneered. "So you are Sir Blade? Come
to work as house slave for the Lady Sadda?"
The narrow-set eyes bunked down at him and Blade saw rage and fear
in them. More than fear terror, that the man was trying to conceal.
Blade stared back, trying to hide his contempt. "I am Sir Blade."
Whap! The whip caught him a stinging blow across the face.
"Rise when you speak to me," said the dandy. "Rise and bow as low as you can.
Lower than you can."
Whap whap! The whip slashed across his face, back and forth, biting like an
adder.
It was a near thing. Back in H-Dimension even J would not risk Blade's temper.
Now the blood pounded in his head and his heart was bursting and he was
instantly bathed in sweat. Every muscle in his great body tensed and his
bearded lips parted in a snarl. He could have torn this Aplonius in half and
he very nearly did. Sheer discipline and will power restrained him. Blade
battled with himself and won.
He stumbled to his feet and bowed, the heavy wooden collar pulling
him over in ludicrous subservience. The action served to mask the rage in
his face.
Aplonius, who had skipped back in alarm, sneered again and gave Blade a dozen
blows about the head and shoulders. Each blow raised a long red welt. Blade
gritted his teeth and took it. Baber was right. Stay alive. Take it. His turn
would come. Carefully he counted each blow.
When Aplonius was breathless from whipping Blade, he stepped back again,
panting and switching the whip against his leg. He pointed to the carrel next
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]