They did so, in the yellow tunics of Tyros, sullen, ringed by the blades and spear points of my men.
Sarus had not surrendered his weapon. He stood facing us, breathing heavily. I observed him.
Tina slipped within the gate. She was barefoot and my collar, still, was at her throat, but she wore a fresh tunic of wool, brief and white, and her hair was bound back with a woolen fillet. Behind her, blade in hand, that she might come to no harm was the young Turus, he who had worn the amethyst-studded wristlet. “You have done well,” I told her.
I would, in time, free her.
Turus stood with her, one arm about her.
Hura, and her women, Mira, too, crept miserably to one side, shrinking back against the palings of the stockade, naked women, ready for the chains and collars of slave girls. My men eyed them, appreciatively.
Marlenus, Rim, Arn, and the men of Marlenus chained within the stockade, came forward. They were jubilant in the torch light. Their wrists were still locked behind their backs. They were still fastened together, chained, by the neck. Sarus turned from me to face Marlenus.
Marlenus looked at me and grinned, “Well done Tarl Cabot,” said he, “Warrior.” “I am Bosk of Port Kar,” I said. “I am of the Merchants.” I felt weak. The side of my tunic, the yellow of Tyros, was thick and stiff with clotted blood. I could feel the dried blood on my left arm, rough and flaking, even between the fingers, where it had run over my wrist and hand.
There were now more torches and lanterns in the stockade, carried by my men. “Give me that crossbow,” said one of my men to Sheera. She surrendered the weapon.
Slaves are not permitted weapons.
“Kneel,” I told her.
She looked at me and, angrily, did so, at my thigh. She was only slave. She had been of assistance, but she was only slave. It was the duty of a girl to be of use to her master.
I recalled that I had told her I would sell her in Lydius.
“They made me do it!” cried Tina, to my surprise. She broke away from Turus and ran and knelt before Sarus who stood, still, near the fire, haggard, angry, his blade in he hand. “I had no choice!” she cried. He looked down at her. She leaped to her feet and put her arms about him, weeping. I did not understand her behavior.
Sarus, angrily, violently, thrust her aside.
“Surrender your weapon,” I told him.
“Nom” he said. “No,”
“You have failed,” said I, “Sarus.”
He looked at me wildly.
His tunic was torn.
He stood unsteadily. In the very Ahn he had lost his victory, his certain triumph.
All that he had come to the northern forests to accomplish he had failed to do so.
He had failed his Ubar, Chenbar of Tyros, called the Sea Sleen.
“No!” cried he suddenly.
“Stop!” I cried.
He spun wildly and ran to Marlenus, Ubar of Ubars, sword high.
He stood before the Ubar, his sword raised to strike. But between Sarus and Marlenus of Ar, there stood another, Verna, the crossbow she carried leveled at the heart of Sarus.
He could not strike for she stood in his way, and did his arm over, her finger, even were she struck, would jerk on the trigger of the weapon, flinging its iron-headed quarrel through his body, perhaps even to the palings behind. I removed the sword from Sarus’ uplifted hand.
Thurnock took him and thrust him, stumbling, and weeping, to stand by his men. “Well done, Slave!” congratulated Marlenus of Ar.
Verna did not respond to him.
Instead she turned, and faced him. There was a gasp, and silence.
The crossbow, now, stood leveled at the heart of Marlenus of Ar.
The Ubar faced her. He was helpless in his chains.
I heard the fire of the torches crackling.
Marlenus did not flinch. “Fire,” he said.
She did not speak to him.
“I do not grant you freedom,” he said. “I am Marlenus of Ar.”
Verna handed the crossbow to a man who stood nearby. He took it, quickly. She turned to face Marlenus of Ar. “I have no wish to kill you,” she said. Then she walked to one side.
Marlenus stood for a moment in the light of the torches, and then he threw back his head, with his long hair, and laughed. His head had not had the stripe of degradation shaven in it, as had my head, and those of my men. He would leave the forest as he had entered it, with his glory. He had lost nothing. Are you always victorious, Marlenus of Ar, I asked myself. I had freed him, he whom I envied, he who had denied me bread, and fire and salt in Ar. He whom in some respects I hated I had risked my life to liberate.
He would leave the forest as he had entered it, in glory. I wore in my head the stripe of degradation. In my venture into the forest I had failed.
Both Sarus and I had failed. Only Marlenus of Ar would be victorious. But he and his men might be mine. They stood in chains. I had ships at my disposal. I might, rather than Sarus, take them as prizes to Tyros. I might thus have my vengeance.
“Unchain me!” roared Marlenus of Ar, laughing.
I hated him, he, always victorious.
“Sarus,” said I,” the key to the chains of the Ubar and the others. Sarus reached to his wallet, slung to his belt. “It is gone,” he said. He seemed stunned.
“I have it,” said Tina. There was much laughter in the stockade. We recalled how she had, for a brief moment, before being thrust away, clung to the dazed Sarus. She had, in that instant, taken the key. She brought it to me.
“Similarly,” said Thurnock, “took she the key from the mate of the Rhoda and, when the ships were tied together, and the men of the Rhoda and Tesephone were drunk with her body and the vessels of paga she poured them, she brought it to us. We freed ourselves, and put those who had been our captors in chains.” “Well done,” said I, “Thurnock.” “We put them in the hold of the Rhoda,” grinned Thurnock. “In the morning doubtless they will be surprised to find themselves in chains. Their heads, too, sore from the paga, will most likely cause them some displeasure.” There was again much laughter. Marlenus, too, joined in the laughter. I was furious.
“Unchain me,” said Marlenus.
Our eyes met.
I handed the key to Sheera, who knelt beside me. She rose to her feet, to unchain the Ubar.
“No,” said Marlenus. His voice was quiet, and very hard.
Frightened Sheera stepped back. I took the key from her.
I handed the key to Thurnock.:Unchain the Ubar,” I said to him.
Thurnock hastened to unlock the manacles and heavy throat collar which bound the great Ubar.
Marlenus did not take his eyes from me. He was not pleased.
I took the key from Thurnock, and, with it, unlocked the steel which confined Rim and Arn.
I then gave the key to Arn, that he might free the men of Marlenus. The eyes of Marlenus and I met again. “Do not come to Ar,” he said. “I shall come to Ar if it pleases me,” said I.
“Bring clothing for the Ubar,” cried one of his men, as swiftly as he was released.
Another of the men of Marlenus went to the belongings of the men of Tyros, to seize garments.
“The women!” suddenly cried a man. “They flee!”
Hura and her women, and Mira, too, who had, supreptitiously, the attention of those within the stockade being distracted, been nearing the gate of the stockade, suddenly had broken into flight, like a bevy of tabuk, rushing into the darkness.
“After them!” cried Thurnock.
But scarcely had the peasant giant cried out than, from the darkness about the stockade, and toward the forest, we heard the surprised cries, and screams, of startled, unexpectedly caught females. We heard, too, the laughter of me. “Weapons ready!” cried Marlenus.
I placed my blade in its sheath.
We heard the sound of scuffling outside and more laughter.
In a moment, men, those of Marlenus’ men and mine, who had been chained in the forest, appeared at the gate of the stockade. Several held, by the arms, or hair, a stripped, squirming panther girl.