“Then he will accompany us-in chains, of course-on a return to Amn.” And then my own triumph shall be complete! he added silently.
Don Vaez, in a flurry of blond curls, turned on his heel and marched from the cell. A burly guard slammed the door shut behind him, while a company of trusted watchmen stood as sentries about the small building.
Rodolfo, the veteran navigator, stepped over to Don Vaez as he left the shed. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” he began, “but I wonder if we’re bein’ a bit hard on these lads here.”
Don Vaez’s eyes flashed, and he fixed the man with all the glare his clear blue eyes could muster. “You’re not being paid to wonder but to follow orders! If I were you, I’d have a care to remember that!” he barked.
Rodolfo met the gaze in those blue eyes for several seconds, but Don Vaez couldn’t read the look he saw there. He held his own gaze firm, and the navigator finally nodded slightly.
“As you wish, Captain,” he replied softly. Rodolfo turned and disappeared into the darkness collecting in the fortress. Don Vaez watched him go, pleased with the result of the confrontation. He knew that he had gone far to secure his position as unquestioned leader of the expedition. The only question now was what to do next.
Still, it was a fine start to the mission! Don Vaez congratulated himself as he crossed the compound within Helm-sport, toward the large wooden building-the only permanent structure here-which he had claimed as his headquarters. Within that house, he knew, Pryat Devane worked his auguries, trying to determine with the aid of Helm what would be the appropriate course of action. That was useful, thought the commander, but not essential. He had time now, and could afford to wait.
He took no notice of the eagle soaring in serene circles high overhead.
“We have folk like this where I come from,” Halloran explained. “They’re called halflings.”
Do they lack clothing and take your people prisoner?” Erix wondered.
Hal chuckled grimly “No-they’re more of a nuisance! than a threat. Most of them live among humans, in the same cities and towns and villages. Sometimes they’re brave, sometimes cowardly, They’re just like other men, except a little smaller.”
He and his wife sat on the ground within a small cage fashioned from sturdy wooden bars lashed together with toughened strands of hemp. Around them, the Little People settled down to their evening’s cooking. The village was a collection of straw huts, with overhanging roofs of heavy thatch and low, rounded doorways. Racks in the center of the structures held a variety of meats over low coals.
Night settled across the surrounding jungle, a night filled with the heavy drone of insects, punctuated by the shrill howls of monkeys and birds. Every once in a while they heard the rumbling cry of a jaguar, and for a few moments afterward, the forest fell still.
Several children advanced cautiously toward the cage, watching them with wide eyes. Erixitl smiled at them, and they quickly scampered back to the shelter of their parents cookfires.
If Erix was frightened, Halloran thought, she didn’t show it. He tried to hide his own fear, even though he didn’t fear for himself. But what kind of hope was there? What were their prospects of flight, even if they could get away, with Erix carrying the burden of their child within her.
“What do you think they’ll do with us?” she asked.
Halloran could only shrug, “At least I don’t see a pyramid or an altar. But who knows what their plans ate? Have you heard of these folk before?”
“In the same sense as the ‘Hairy Men.’ the desert dwarves,” she admitted. “The Little People are told of in ancient legends, and some claimed that they dwelled in the deepest jungles of Far Payit. But like the desert dwarves, no one seemed to take the stories seriously. I have never heard of anyone who has seen them before.”
“We are the lucky ones,” Hal remarked dryly.
For a time, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Finally Erixitl shook her head and offered her husband a wan
smile “Still’ believe things will be all right,” she said. “1 don’t know why, but I do.”
“Me, too,» Hal agreed though neither of them believed him. He had to do something, he knew-but what?
“Big People, you come with me now.” The remark drew their attention, and they saw the same warrior who had been the first to accost them at the waterfall approaching.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Erixitl as the little man opened the cage door. Several other warriors stood well back from the pair, carrying the short bows with deadly-looking arrows, ready to shoot.
The native didn’t reply, instead commanding them with a peremptory gesture to follow him. They walked among the small grass huts of the village to a clearing on the far side. A dozen warriors, each bearing a blazing torch, stood in a ring at the center of the area.
Halloran’s chest tightened in fear, again for Erixitl and the unborn child. Instinctively he understood that the prisoners would be at the center of the evening’s activities. He wondered what rite these diminutive warriors had prepared for them.
“Go here,” commanded the warrior who led them.
As the ring opened to allow them to pass, Halloran saw a circular pit, perhaps twenty feet across, in the center of the circle. He couldn’t see the bottom until he and Erix were prodded to its edge. Then he saw that it was about twelve feet deep.
Opposite their position, at the base of the pit, he saw a door made of heavy wooden bars. Something dark and shadowy moved beyond those bars, and his fear grew to sick horror.
“Go in now,” ordered the warrior. His voice carried a trace of reluctance, but he displayed no hesitation as he raised his weapon menacingly
No ladder or other means of descent presented itself. Halloran knew that a twelve-fool leap might very well prove deadly to Erixitl or the baby.
“Wait!” he objected. “Leave her out-let her alone! I’ll go in there by myself!”
The warrior looked at him, and Hal thought he saw sympathy through the garishly painted lines on his face. But then another of the Little People came up, with a peremptory air that made Halloran suspect that he was some sort of chief. This one had the same war paint as the others, though his was drawn in vertical lines and he had long feathers tied to his ears and his wrists.
The stocky leader raised a hand and gestured toward the pit. A group of archers behind him raised their weapons, and Halloran looked at the bristling row of arrowheads.
Suddenly the chief pushed Erixitl in the small of her back. With a startled scream, she tumbled forward off the edge of the pit as she twisted to face Halloran. His heart froze at the look of terror on her face.
But his body remained mobile.
“My hand!” Hal shouted. Erix spun in the air as he tumbled to the side, seizing one of her hands in both of his. He fell prone at the lip of the pit as she dropped and grunted in pain. But he held firm, arresting her fall halfway down. J
“I’m okay,” she gasped. “Let me down.”
Halloran gasped as another warrior kicked him in the ribs, pushing him toward the edge. He felt Erix slip from his grasp and drop the rest of the way to the floor of the pit. Then he rolled off the edge, twisting in the air to land on his feet beside her.
Erix threw her arms around him, trying to choke back her terrified sobs. “Are you hurt?” he asked her, and she shook her head, sniffling.
Then they heard, from the darkness across the pit, a deep and very menacing growl.
The surviving Itza warriors pressed through the dense tangle of the valley bottom, pushing their way toward the heights above. Gultec, at the rear of his army, saw that the ants did not pursue after the bloody skirmish.