Erak_s ransom

'I'll need a sign so I know when to attack,' Umar pointed out.

'One of my men is the company bugler,' Aloom replied. 'As soon as he sees Will shoot the executioner, he can sound the signal.'

'That should do it,' Will said. 'But let's cut a few corners. Keep watch on the tower. Once you see me climbing up to it, start moving your men out of the canyon. Nobody'll be watching in that direction. They'll be watching proceedings in the market square.'

'Right.' All three men realised they were staring at the rough map in the sand while their minds went over the details. It was a relatively simple plan, Will thought, and that was a good thing. Simple plans were less likely to go wrong.

Umar looked up and studied the young man's face.

'If you're going in the night before, we might need to darken your face a little,' he said. He took Will's face between finger and thumb and turned it from side to side, studying it in the moonlight. Will was tanned after his time in Arrida but his skin was nowhere near as dark as the average Bedullin. His brown hair and dark eyes would pass muster, but not his complexion.

'Maybe we can use a little kafay to darken your skin,' he said thoughtfully, then added, with a grin, 'It's a pity your nose isn't bigger.'

Will grinned, remembering his unintentional insult when he had regained consciousness in the desert to find Umar bent over him. Then the Aseikh turned to Aloom.

'You'd better brief your men, captain. I'll pick out twenty-five of my best warriors to go with them. They can start pairing off and getting to know each other tomorrow.'

Aloom started to rise, then hesitated. 'Captain?' he said. 'I'm a lieutenant.'

Umar shook his head. 'I just promoted you. You might have to throw your weight around with the townspeople. And nobody ever listens to a lieutenant.'

Aloom allowed himself a smile at that. 'Too true,' he said ruefully. 'Too true.'

Chapter 41

For the past day, the prisoners had been hearing the sound of hammering. Their captors were building something in the market square, they realised. Or, more accurately, their captors were forcing the Arridi townspeople to build it while they stood by and fingered their weapons. But with the large door remaining closed and locked the entire time, there was no way of knowing what was going on. The mystery was driving Gilan to distraction. Under normal circumstances, he probably wouldn't have become so obsessed by the noise. But Gilan had nothing to occupy his mind while they sat hour after hour in the old store room. So the question of what was being built loomed larger and larger with him.

'Relax,' Halt told him, for the tenth time. The young Ranger was pacing the sand floor of the cave, restless energy positively radiating from him.

'I can't relax,' he said. 'I want to know what they're up to.' He stopped beside his old mentor and looked down at him. 'Don't you sense they're up to something?' he said.

Halt shrugged. 'I'm sure they are. But since I have no way of finding out what it is, I'm not going to bother about it.'

Gilan looked around the dimly lit room for support. Erak and Svengal were sitting cross-legged, playing a complicated Skandian version of knucklebones and wagering nonexistent money.

'Doesn't it bother you two?' he asked.

Erak looked up and shrugged. 'It's probably market stalls,' he said.

Gilan shook his head in frustration. 'Probably! Is that good enough for you?'

Erak considered the question for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes,' he said simply.

Gilan spread his hands in a gesture of annoyance. 'But don't you want to know?'

'No.'

It probably was market stalls, Erak reasoned. Anyway, Erak had other uses for his brain right now. He was keeping a running total in his mind of the amounts he'd lost and won playing knucklebones with Svengal. A man needed a sharp brain for that as Svengal was not averse to forgetting the odd amount that he might have lost.

'I figure I've won seventeen thousand, three hundred crowns from you so far,' he said now to his second in command.

'True. And that goes against the seventeen thousand, two hundred crowns I've won from you,' Svengal replied instantly.

Erak frowned. 'Are you sure you've won so much?'

Svengal nodded. 'Totally sure,' he said.

Erak shrugged. Svengal was right but it had been worth asking in case he'd forgotten the four hundred crowns he'd won just as their midday meal had been delivered. No such luck, he saw now.

'So that makes two hundred you owe me,' he said innocently. He reached for the bones and became aware of Svengal's pained expression.

'I know that Oberjarls are supposed to rob their subjects blind, Erak. But could you do it with taxes rather than bad arithmetic?' he said. 'Last time I figured it, seventeen thousand, three hundred less seventeen thousand, two hundred leaves one hundred.'

'So it is,' said Erak as if he'd only just realised his mistake. Svengal snorted derisively and reached for the bones clutched in his leader's hand.

And it's my throw. Not yours,' he said.

'So it is,' Erak repeated. Svengal rolled his eyes to heaven, took the bones and prepared to throw.

'Another thing… ' Gilan began.

'Oh my God,' Halt said wearily.

But Gilan merely glanced at him before he continued. 'Another thing,' he repeated. 'Has anyone noticed the strange looks the guards have been giving us? When they bring us our food, they're sort of… grinning about something.'

'They're happy souls,' Halt said.

Gilan shook his head. 'They're smirking at us. Something's in the wind. I can sense it.'

'My friend,' Selethen told him, 'it's no good wasting energy worrying about it. Just relax.'

Gilan shook his head stubbornly. 'I want to be ready for it when it happens,' he said. Evanlyn looked at him curiously.

'How can you be "ready for it" when you don't know what "it" is going to be?'

'Then I'll be ready for anything,' the young Ranger said.

'Which is the same as being ready for nothing,' Halt muttered to himself, although he made sure he muttered it loudly enough for Gilan to hear him.

The younger Ranger drew breath to reply, but the rattle of the key in the door lock caught their attention. The big door opened, the rusty hinges shrieking a nerve-tearing protest over the last few centimetres of their travel, and two of the guards entered with their evening meal. Outside, the last light was fading over the town. With the mass of hills behind them blocking the light from the west, it became dark here earlier than out on the flat plain.

Conscious of Gilan's statements, Evanlyn watched the guards as they set down the cold coffee, flat bread and a meagre handful of dates. One of them caught her watching and grinned at her. Yes, she thought, Gilan has a point. The grin was not a friendly one and it smacked of I know something unpleasant that going to happen to you.

Then the suspicion was confirmed as he raised his thumb to his throat and drew it across in an unmistakable cutting gesture, rolling his eyes in a grim parody of death.

Unnoticed by the guards and the other prisoners, Horace had sidled closer to the open door so that he could look out onto the town below them. Now as they went to leave, the two guards became aware of his position and shoved him roughly back to join the others.

'I didn't like the look of that,' Evanlyn said in a worried tone.

Horace hesitated. Then he realised that his companions deserved to know what he'd seen.