I wondered where in the stockade were Sheera and Verna.
“You have done well!” called Sarus. “But now we stand in formation. Soon we shall rebuild the fire. We shall then be able to see you. You will not then escape us.” Only silence answered him.
“No longer do we fear you!” he called. “Yet that there be less bloodshed we are prepared to be merciful. We are prepared to bargain.” I did not respond.
“You man have all the women,” said Sarus, “all.”
Within their circle, naked and helpless, crouching, huddled together, the women of Hura moaned.
“Sleen,” cried Hura.
“And, too,” called Sarus, “you may have all male slaves, including your men, saving only Marlenus, Ubar of Ar.” There was silence.
“On him there can be no compromise!” cried Sarus. “Can you hear me? Do you accept these terms?” I made no sound.
“He is gone!” cried one of the men. “He has escaped! He has left!”
“hold your formation,” said Sarus. “Keep formation!”
There was only silence.
Sarus called the name of two men. “Gather,” said he, “Wood.”
“No!” cried one of the men. “No!”
He had no wish to leave the circle.
“There is wood within the circle,” said Hura.
“Gather it,” said Sarus.
Within the circle, obediently, the women, in the light of the torch, gathered wood, mostly the remains of the original fire, which I had destroyed earlier. In the darkness, silently, I prowled the interior of the stockade. A man from the circle darted from it, clutched a fallen torch, and retreated to the circle. This torch was lit from the other.
“He is here!” suddenly cried a voice, that of Rim.
My heart leaped.
“Do not break formation!” cried Sarus.
But already two men, eager, blades ready, had sped toward Rim’s voice. It was not difficult, accordingly, to follow them.
“He is not here!” cried one of the men.
He was mistaken.
Twice my blade struck.
I heard a woman scream to one side. Then she cried, “He is here!”
“Hold formation!” screamed Sarus.
They should have understood that the slave girls had been bound and gagged, and that the women of Hura were within their own circle.
Two men again rushed toward the sound. Again they did not find me.
It was they who instead were found.
I moved my blade back from the body of the second. I saw Sheera slip away in the darkness.
“Keep your formation!” cried Sarus.
“We must escape!” screamed one of the men. “He will kill us all!” he ran toward the gate. I caught him at the gate and, with my fist, sword in it, struck him across the face. He spun back, staggering, turning, and fell at the feet of Sarus.
“He is at the gate,” said one of the men. He lifted the torch.
I stood at the gate, sword drawn.
“More torches,” said Sarus. “More fire.”
In a few moments, two more torches had been lit. and, within the circle, lit by torches, burned a fire.
The men of Sarus broke their circle and faced me.
There were haggard. They breathed heavily. Some were bloodied.
There were now, standing, seven of them, together with Sarus. The man I had struck lay unconscious before them. Elsewhere two men moaned, somewhere in the darkness.
I felt my tunic thick with blood at my left side. There was blood from a cut on my left arm. I could feel it running to my wrist.
At the line of the men of Tyros the torches were lifted.
“Greetings, Bosk of Port Kar,” said Sarus.
“Greetings,” said I, “Sarus of the island of Tyros.”
“We have searched for you,” he said.
“I am here,” I informed him.
Sarus turned to his men. “Find crossbows,” he said. I leaned back against the gate. I shook my head.
The fire burned higher now.
Sarus and I looked at one another.
I had slain one man with a crossbow. I did not know what had happened to the weapon. I had not encountered the other man, the other crossbowman. No quarrels had sped. No man at the line of men of Tyros carried it.
It had been important. But I had failed to locate it, or its bowsman. I had failed.
Sarus smiled.
“You know where he is now,” he said to two of his men. “Find the crossbows.” “They are here,” said a voice at my side, that of a woman. it was Sheera. At my other side stood Verna, she, too, with a crossbow. The women held the bows leveled.
“You have lost,” said I to Sarus.
“I found the bow,” said Sheera, “among the bodies.”
“He who held this bow,” said Sheera, “lies now wounded in the darkness, struck by one of his own fellows. The bow fell to one side and it was I who found it.” Suddenly Sarus laughed. “I have not lost,” he said. “it is you who have lost!” His men gave a ragged cheer. Even the women of Hura cried out.
I did not understand.
“Look behind you!” cried Sarus. “Look behind you, Bosk of Port Kar! It is over! Over!” “If one moves,” said I to Sheera and Verna, “fire upon him.” The men of Sarus were grinning.
I turned. Through the crack in the gate, at the beach, beside the embers of Sarus’ great beacon, I could see lanterns. Two longboats, filled with men, were being drawn on the beach. Then, in two long lines, lanterns high, men began to approach the stockade.
“It is the men of the Rhoda and Tesephone,” said Sarus. “You have lost, Bosk of Port Kar!” I turned to the beam which I barred the gate. I sheathed my sword. Slowly, foot by foot, I thrust back the heavy beam. It fell from its loop and slowly, I swung open the gate. The men, with lanterns, stood outside.
A large fellow, clad in the yellow of Tyros, entered. He grinned. A tooth was missing on the upper right side of his mouth.
“Greetings, Captain,” said Thurnock.
21 My Business is Concluded in the Stockade
The men of Sarus, one by one, hurled their blades into the earth.
“Step away from your steel,” ordered Thurnock, gesturing that they should stand to one side.
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.