"Once the camp is asleep, we will leave," Volo instructed.
"Do we have enough supplies?" Passepout asked.
"The four fastest stallions of the tribe, each packed with provisions," Curtis replied.
"Perfect," Volo commended, adding, "but did you say four?"
"Of course," Passepout answered. "One's just for my lunch, right?"
"Wrong," Curtis replied. "I just assumed that we would also rescue the daughter of Lord Gruen Bleth. Right, Mister Volo?"
Volo shrugged. "Why not?" he agreed. "And now that I think of it, I have a plan in mind, too."
"But why do we have to?" Passepout whined.
"We are just following orders," Volo replied.
The three travelers had arrived at the tent where the Bleth heiress was being held captive.
"She'll just slow us down," Curtis interjected. "Couldn't you talk the Khan out of it?"
"The Khan's will is our command," Volo replied, then turning to the guard who stood at the tent's entrance, added, asking for corroboration, "Right?"
"Khan's will be done," the guard replied in the high voice that bespoke a eunuch.
"Uh, right," Volo replied. "You see the Khan instructed us to take the hostage with us so that we could get a better price for her." The master traveler then elbowed the guard in the ribs. "I think he also wants to be rid of her as soon as possible. I understand that they didn't really get along."
"Khan's will be done," the guard replied.
"Uh, right," Volo answered. "Now, if you will just fetch her for us, we will be on our way."
"No," the guard replied.
Okay, now what? Volo thought. The ruse hadn't worked.
"… I have no desire to dance with that wildcat," the guard continued. "Fetch her yourselves. I'll watch your horses."
"Of course," Volo answered, and the three travelers entered the tent.
The young woman was the perfect synthesis of eastern and western beauty. Dark eyes, auburn hair, and ample curves and calves, she was bedecked in the silks of a Tuigan princess, which did little to conceal her obviously pampered beauty.
Her full and luscious lips were interrupted by a silken gag, and she was bound both hand and foot.
"We've come to rescue you," Curtis said, as he undid the scarf that bound her mouth.
"Well, it's about time!" she scolded in none too discreet a tone. "Do you know who I am? I've been-"
"Quick! The gag!" Volo ordered, and Curtis immediately complied.
"Mmphgh!" she protested indignantly.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Passepout inquired. "I mean, ticking off an heiress and all. What if she tells her father, and he gets mad, and decides not to give us a reward…"
"Later," Volo instructed, silencing the thespian. "Curtis, escort the lady out."
"Aye, aye, sir," Curtis replied absently, forgetting that they were now off the ship. With that, he hoisted the young woman over his shoulder as if she were an extremely well-proportioned sack of potatoes and carried her out of the tent.
"Good luck," the guard bade them as they bound their burden to one of the fleet-footed steeds.
Volo mounted his horse, and replied, "Khan's will be done!"
The three travelers and their "guest" headed eastward under the cover of night.
Chapter 15
True to the words of Aleekhan's horse master, the purloined steeds were indeed the fastest that the encampment had to offer, as evidenced by the noticeable lack of a similarly mounted party dispatched by the enraged Khan to bring back the turncoats and his hostage. By noon the following day the travelers felt reasonably safe that they would not be further pursued. They had skirted the edge of a sandstorm, and warring dust devils had succeeded in crossing the path from whence they had traveled numerous times, thus obscuring any tracks or trails that they might have left.
As of noon that same day, they had also attempted no less than three times to remove the gag from the mouth of their rescued heiress, only to quickly replace it each time as she refused to listen to reason. The travelers realized that they needed to cover the greatest amount of distance between themselves and the Khan's Horde, and had no time for conciliatory explanations or deflections of insults. As a result, when the group finally stopped to eat later that afternoon (much too much later to suit the rumblings of the stout thespian's stomach), the heiress Bleth was still bound and gagged, and really quite ticked off about it, having now ridden more than twenty hours in a manner more suited to a merchant's pack than a lady of breeding.
In his own mind, Passepout had quickly resolved that the heiress Bleth would be his ticket to easy street, once his commitment to world travel was fully resolved, and therefore he committed himself to ingratiating himself with her as soon as possible-and what time could possibly be better than mealtime?
"We can't afford to tarry too long," Volo instructed, "so therefore, let's eat, be quick about it, and back in the saddle, and on our way."
"I hate rushing a meal," Passepout remarked sadly. "It's usually my favorite part of the day."
"If you had your way," Curtis jibed, "mealtime would be the whole day."
Passepout ignored the teenager's comment and began to press his case for getting on the heiress's good side with the master traveler.
"Mister Volo," he requested in as angelic a voice as possible, "don't you think we should offer some food to our new, uh, companion?"
Volo was stunned. Never before had he seen the pudgy thespian willing to share a meal with an extra mouth that might result in the diminishment of his own portion. He suspected Passepout had an ulterior motive and quickly decided that the situation might indeed prove to be quite amusing, particularly in view of his dubious success with the young lady from the Company of the Catlash.
"Good idea," Volo replied. "Curtis, why don't you bring a bowl over to our reluctant rescuee and see if her manners have improved any?"
Before Passepout could protest, Curtis had already objected.
"Meaning no offense, Mister Volo," the teenager replied, "but I'd rather not. Last time I tried to remove her gag, she almost bit off my fingers."
Passepout interjected himself into the discussion.
"Poor boy," he said, "obviously your, uhm, schooling has left you grossly ignorant of the ways and needs of the gentler sex. Allow me to take care of her, Mister Volo."
"As you wish," Volo replied, and with a wink added, "just make sure you come back with all your fingers… and if she puts up a fight, feel free to accept her portion for yourself. It's the least reward you deserve for so hazardous a mission."
Passepout took the bowl and proceeded to the shade where the heiress now lay, still tied and gagged. Setting the food aside, he contemplated the girl, and then the bowl, trying to decide which was more important to him at the moment.
Possible future wealth, he contemplated, or an immediate second serving. Decisions, decisions.
His quiet contemplations were rudely interrupted by a quick kick upward by the heiress, who had managed to free one leg from its thong imprisonment, and whose contact with one of the rolls of the thespian's abdominal bulk threw him off balance, causing him to almost fall on top of the bowl he had brought to feed her.
"Now that wasn't very nice," he barked, and then in a gentler tone added, "don't you want something to eat?"
She hesitated for a moment, her beautiful, dark eyes filled with apprehension.
"We're not going to hurt you. I mean, we rescued you, and all," the thespian explained.
Her gaze darted to the bowl of food, then back to Passepout.