"Where is Crassius?" called the leader of the brigands to him. "Is he with you?"
"No," said the man. "Has he not yet returned?"
"No," said the leader.
The man lowered his arm with the cup.
"He should be back with Bort by now," said the man on the wagon steps.
"Bort!" called the leader into the darkness. "Crassius!" He then turned about. "Titus!" he called. "Titus!" He regarded the fellow with him. "I do not like it," he said.
"What is wrong?" asked another fellow, emerging form one of the wagons.
"Bort is missing," said the leader. "Crassius had not yet returned. We have called Titus. He does not respond."
The men looked about themselves, apprehensively.
"Sleen," said one of the men.
It is true that sleen sometimes make kills swiftly and silently.
"It could be a panther come from the woods, or a strayed larl," said one of the men. This was less likely than a sleen attack. Though panthers and larls can be extremely dangerous to men they will usually attack men only if they are disturbed or other prey is not available. Sleen, which ten to be fine hunters and splendid trackers, which are swiftly moving, aggressive, serpentine, generally nocturnal animals, particularly in the wild state, are less fastidious about their eating habits.
"It could be urts," said a man. "It is near the time of the year for their movements." Certain species of urts migrate twice a year. At such times, annually, it is usually necessary only to avoid them. People usually remain indoors when pack is in their vicinity. There is little danger from these migrations unless one finds oneself in their direct path. The urt, on the whole, most species of which are quite small, large enough to be lifted in one hand, does not pose much direct threat to human beings. Then can destroy Sa-Tarna fields and force their way into granaries. Similarly urts of the sort which live on garbage cast into the canals will often, unhesitantly, attack swimmers. Certain forms of large, domesticated urt, incidentally, should be excepted from these remarks.They are especially bred for attacking and killing. Such animals, however, are inferior to sleen for such purposes. They also lack the tracking capabilities of the sleen. Similarly they lack its intelligence. There was at least one good additional reason, incidentally, for supposing that whatever might be perplexing the brigands was not urts. The urts do not make their kills neatly and silently. They normally attack in a pack. It is usually a messy business. There is usually much blood and screaming.
"Gather in what you can," said the leader of the brigands. "Then we will be on our way." He looked about himself. Then he threw some more wood on the fire. The fire, of course, would be useful in keeping sleen at bay. It also, from my point of view, was useful in illuminating the camp area.
The two men at the rear doors of the wagons, on the steps, looked across at one another.
"Get busy," said the leader.
"You are near the fire," said one of the men on the wagons.
"We have enough," said the other.
"Cowards," said the brigand near their chief, near the fire.
"Let us be on our way," said the first fellow, holding the cup in his hand.
"Do you dispute me?" asked the leader.
The fellow put down the cup. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. I was pleased that the cup had been put down. I would not have wanted it to be dropped.
"Perhaps you are right," said the leader. "Come here, by the fire."
The fellow descended from the steps of the wagon, warily.
"You are right," said the leader. "We have enough."
"Good," said the fellow.
"Fetch the cup," said the leader.
As soon as the man turned about, however, the leader leaped toward him, seized him from behind, his arm locked about his throat, and plunged a dagger, to the hilt, into his back.
"Teibar!" cried the other fellow on the steps.
The leader, his knife bloody, whirled to face him. "Do you gainsay me on this?" he asked.
"No, no!" said the other fellow, quickly.
"Put leashes on the females," said the leader, straightening up, "and then untie their legs, to make it possible for them to move." This is common Gorean practice, to place one bond before removing another.
"You shall be led as befits slaves, as befits animals, as chattels," said the leader to the girls.
"Yes, Master," said Rowena.
"Yes, Master," said pretty Bina.
"What of the wagons and the men?" asked the fellow who was near the leader.
"We will burn the wagons," said the leader. "We will cut the throats of the men."
"Excellent," said his fellow.
"Fetch the cup," said the leader of the fellow who had now descended from the steps of the wagon.
"I do not want it," said the fellow, shakily, looking at his fallen fellow, near the fire.
"Coward," laughed the leader. he then moved past the fellow, proceeding toward the wagon.
The leader had not noticed, it seemed, that although the fellow's voice had surely suggested uncertainty and fear, his hand had been perfectly steady. The fellow's draw was swift and smooth. The leader had barely time to turn, taking the blade, descending, diagonally across the neck. He fell away from the blade, his head awry. The girls screamed. The assailant turned to face the other brigand.
"Do not strike!" cried the other brigand.
Momentarily the assailant hesitated. For an instant he was indecisive. He had not considered matters, it seemed, beyond the slaying of the leader. That had perhaps been short-sighted on his part. Surely the other man should have been included, in one way or another, in his original plan. Obviously he was going to be there, after the original blow. Obviously, in some fashion, he would have to be dealt with or related to. At any rate he had hesitated for a moment. Such dalliance can be costly. The other fellow now had his own blade free of its sheath.
"Let us not fight," said the fellow who had just drawn his blade. "I am with you! There is enough loot for two."
I now revised my estimate of the intelligence of the fellow who had struck down the leader. It seemed reasonably clear, from the voice and attitude of the fellow who had just drawn his weapon, that he was clearly alarmed. I did not think he was acting in this matter. At any rate it seemed to me that his fear was genuine.
"Sheath your sword," said the fellow who had struck the leader.
"Sheath yours," invited he who had been with the leader.
It was now my assessment of the situation that he who had struck the leader had been confident of his capacity to deal with the other fellow. It was thus, apparently, that he had been willing to postpone, for a moment or so, at least, his decision as to how to deal with him. He was now, it seemed, considering it.
"Let us not quarrel," urged the fellow who had been the confidant of the leader. "There may be sleen about."
The first fellow, scarcely taking his eyes off the other, glanced uneasily about. He could not see me, as I stood back in the darkness. Both were within the cast of a quiva. I turned the blade in my hand.
"Put away your sword," urged the fellow who had been the confidant of the leader.
"I do not trust you," said the other.
"Let us not fight," said the fellow who had been with the leader. "There is little enough her to justify our war."
"There is enough," said the fellow who had struck the leader. I saw that his decision had now been made.
"It is enough for two!" said he who had been with the leader.
"It will be more for one," said he who had struck the leader. "What is wrong?"
The fellow facing him had suddenly stiffened, drawing his shoulders close together. Then his hand fell, lowering the blade. He stumbled forward a step. The other, he who had struck the leader, tensed, his sword poised to fen any possible blow. Then the other, he who had been the confidant of the leader, pitched forward, falling near the fire. The girls, salves, kneeling, still bound helplessly, naked, their small hands jerking at the cords holding their wrists tight to their belly, screamed. Men, too, bound, cried out. From the fellow's back there protruded the handle of a knife, the hilt of a particular sort to knife, that of a saddle knife, that of the sort common in the lands of the Wagon Peoples, that commonly known as a "quiva." I had not thrown it hard enough, intentionally, to bring the point fully through the body. It is not necessary. The cast, as recommended, had been easy and smooth. The quiva itself, in its sharpness and weight, does the work. I turned another blade in my hand.