«I suppose I ought to be happy, seeing my enemies suffering like this,» said Khraishamo during one brief stop. «But then I remember they're Rhodina's people. The idea that they're 'the enemy' isn't so strong in me anymore.»
Blade was happy to hear this. It made it even easier to trust Khraishamo. He still couldn't trust the pirate with his private thoughts about what might follow in the wake of the storm.
Mythor was going to be battered, reeling, ready to be grateful for any help and vengeful toward anyone who inflicted more injury. This would be a golden opportunity for either Harkrat or Kloret to step forward as the generous friend of the suffering Mythorans. If Harkrat was able to move first, he might be able to stifle the rebellion for many years and strengthen his position at home. If Kloret was able to move first, he might either stifle the rebellion-or turn the rebels to his side.
Who would move first? Harkrat had more resources, but he also had all the new responsibilities of ruling Gohar. Kloret might easily sabotage the Emperor's efforts to aid Mythor, delaying them until he himself could step forward to aid the storm-stricken city. The rebels themselves might not wait for any Goharan, but take advantage of the confusion and discontent to strike now. What were the odds on that? Rhodina might have known once, but her information was now the better part of a year out of date.
Three days' marching took them well clear of the coast, up into the hills to the east of Mythor. North of the city, the hills stretched away in a tangled maze of crests and valleys into unexplored wilderness. Farther south, they flattened out into broad plains. On those plains lived the fourteen tribes of the Maghri. They were more civilized than the horsemen across the Sea, who'd driven the Sarumi onto their peninsula. They were also even more formidable in war, and only a little safer to have as neighbors. The menace of the horsemen wasn't yet as serious as the menace of the pirates, so it hadn't played as big a part in Mythor's relations with the mother city. However, there were rumors of a new aggressiveness which might change this.
By the end of the third day's march, Khraishamo threw back the hood he'd used to disguise himself as human, and strode along bareheaded. He said he liked the feel of the rain on his face. Rhodina cheerfully told him that he'd gone mad.
On the other hand, the country was more rugged, there were fewer bridges across rain-swollen streams, and many fewer houses where they could beg food. Blade hoped they'd find some rebel sympathizers before hunger forced them to turn chicken thief to stay alive.
Toward late afternoon on the fourth day since their landing, they were coming down a rocky slope into a small valley. The slope was too steep to support many trees, but at the bottom the forest was thicker. Blade thought it might even give them a dry spot to spend the night. The sun was peeking through the low clouds to the west, but it hadn't been out long enough to dry the ground. They were halfway down the hill before Blade spotted the horsemen riding out of the trees and dismounting.
There were just enough trees on the hillside so that the three travelers could easily get under cover. Khraishamo stayed there while Blade crept down the hill, moving from tree to tree until he was close enough to get a good look at the horsemen.
They were definitely Maghri. Blade recognized the rough-coated, sturdy little brown or gray horses, the rawhide harnesses, the leather jackets and breeches, the wooden shields with iron or bronze spikes in the middle, the short thick bows and long spiked war clubs.
He also saw something he hadn't expected to see. Stirrups. They were no more than loops of heavy leather, but they should be enough to let a rider use lance or club from horseback and press home a charge. Some unknown genius among these horse people had come up with the invention needed to give this whole Dimension effective cavalry. Blade was certain this little surprise was going to have interesting consequences the first time the horsemen and the Goharans met in a full-scale battle.
He also suspected that this first meeting might be only a few days away. Certainly the horsemen were well inside Goharan territory, and in considerable strength. Blade counted at least two hundred and fifty horsemen, with more coming out of the trees every minute. The Goharan commanders in Mythor were going to hear of them sooner or later, and have to do something about them.
Then Blade realized that the horsemen weren't behaving as if they were in enemy territory. They were dismounting, building fires, butchering and roasting their day's catch, making no effort to set guards or search the forest around them. They didn't even seem to care that their fires were sending up thick clouds of grayish smoke. With the clearing weather, the smoke would be visible miles away.
There might be many reasons for this apparent carelessness, Blade realized. They might know there was no enemy close at hand, they might be relying on their numbers for safety, or their leaders might simply be foolish. Blade knew that many «mysterious» events had a simple explanation: somebody didn't know his job.
There was another explanation, both sinister and plausible. The horsemen weren't on guard because they knew they weren't in enemy territory. They'd been invited to march on Mythor by Prime Minister Kloret.
The more Blade thought about this explanation, the more sense it made. Sooner or later, Kloret would need allies outside Gohar. The riders of the western plains were too barbarous, and the pirates would demand too high a price. The merchants of Gohar would certainly turn against Kloret if he gave the Sarumi what they asked. The Maghri, on the other hand, might ask nothing except a free hand against Mythor. Kloret was the sort of man who would calmly throw away half an empire if this increased his chances of ruling the other half.
By now the horsemen were settling down for the night. It was time for Blade and his friends to be on their way, just in case all the horsemen weren't as careless as they seemed. In the fading light Blade was able to make the trip uphill faster than he'd come down. Without bothering to sit, he told the others what he'd seen and what he suspected.
Both Khraishamo and Rhodina started off by looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. He went on, and gradually both of them began to look as if they might believe him. Blade was even ready to reveal his mission for Harkrat and Elyana if he couldn't convince them any other way. Fortunately this wasn't necessary. Khraishamo stood up and pulled Rhodina to her feet, although she groaned at the pain of half-rested muscles.
«We need to get to the first honest rebel you know,» he said. «Never mind how big he is, we want the closest one. Your friends need a warning.»
Rhodina nodded, frowning as she tried to call up a mental map of the farms and estates of rebel sympathizers in the area. Fortunately, like many illiterate people, she had an excellent memory. Her time on Shell Island and the ordeal of the escape hadn't weakened it. In a few minutes she came up with the name of Riddart, a wealthy farmer only a day's march away.
Even that was more time than Blade wanted to take, but they didn't have any choice. They were going to have to walk. Blade knew he could steal one horse from the poorly guarded Maghri camp, but probably not three. In any case, Khraishamo couldn't ride. The leg and hip bones of the Sarumi were so arranged that they couldn't straddle a horse. As far as Blade was concerned, it was still «One for all, and all for one,» and he wasn't even going to think of abandoning the pirate and Rhodina.