The fellow leaped backward from the fire. Perhaps, after all, he was not as intelligent as I had supposed. he had not destroyed the fire. He had only retreated from it. I could still see him. Understandably, of course, he was unwilling to flee headlong, blindly, from the camp, into an unknown, unexplored darkness, one in which the number and position of enemies was unknown.
"Who is there?" he cried.
Only the night noises of the nearby woods answered him.
"If you are magistrates," he cried, "know that I have come on this camp of brigands and, in cognizance of my jeopardy, was making ready to defend myself!" he looked about, wildly, drawing back another pace or so. "show yourself," he cried, "as befits your office, that of those who courageously do war with brigands, that of those who do nobly defend and support the law, or as plain honest men, if that you be, that I may ally myself with you, that we may then offer to one another, no, then pledge to one another, mutual protection and succor on these dark and dangerous roads."
It was very quiet, save mostly for the rustling and clicking of insects. Too I heard, intermittently, from somewhere far off, the cries of a tiny, horned gim.
"You do not show yourselves," called the man. "Good! Know then that I am a brigand, too! I feared you might be magistrates. It was thus that I spoke as I did. A falling out occurred here in which I was forced to defend myself. I am Abdar, who was of the band of Ho-Dan. Perhaps you have heard of me. I am wanted in five cities. Approach. Though the loot here is meager I am pleased to share it with you, or, if you wish, surrender it to you, as a token of my good faith. Consider the females, if you can see them. Both, I am sure, you would find acceptable as slaves. If you desire them, I give them to you. Show yourselves! Let us enmesh our destinies. I desire to enleague myself with you. Who are you! Show yourselves!"
I did not respond to him. I measured the distance between us.
"Are you still there?" he cried. "Are you still there?"
The, suddenly, with a cry of misery, the fellow spun about and broke into a run. I took one step and released the blade. he grunted and fell forward, sprawling to the dirt, and then lay on his stomach, a few feet from the fire. he rose to his knees and crawled a pace or two, and then again sank to his stomach. Then he lifted his upper body and head, and then fell forward again. he squirmed. He tried, vainly, clutching with his hand behind him, to reach the blade in his back. He could not do so. Then he shuddered and lay still.
I came forward and regarded the body. I removed the knife from it, cleaning it on his tunic. Then I resheathed the blade, in one of the seven sheaths sewn on the common, supple leather backing, slung now from its shoulder strap, at and about my left hip. Someone, as it had turned out, had been still there.
"You!" cried Boots Tarsk-Bit.
I regarded the two slaves. They knew that they were now being scrutinized as females, basically and radically. It is a fundamental sort of inspection. The girl must hope that she passes it. They straightened their bodies. They did not dare to meet my eyes. It is important for slaves to be pleasing. Their lives depend on it.
I looked at Boots. He swallowed, hard.
I then crouched down near him. I began to free his arms, where they were bound to his body. His sigh of relief was audible.
"Where are the other brigands?" he asked.
I freed his arms. "They are here and there," I said. "Do not fear. They are all accounted for."
"How many are with you?" he asked.
"I am alone," I said.
"By yourself you did this?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?" he asked.
"In the south," I said, "far in the south."
"You have saved our lives," he said. "Those rascals, I fear, had no intent to spare us."
"Except the slaves," I said.
"Of course," he said. They, after all, were usable, beautiful, salable animals.
We then began to free the others, all but the slaves.
"We are grateful," Boots assured me.
"Thank you," said the player, surily, begrudgingly, as I freed his hand from behind his back. he then bent quickly, angrily, to untie the ropes on his ankles.
"Do not mind him," said Boots. "He is a puzzling chap. He would probably have preferred to have had his throat cut."
"But you are grateful?" I said to Boots.
"Yes," he said. "I am grateful."
"Eternally, undyingly?" I asked Boots, smiling.
"Of course," he said. "Eternally, undyingly!"
"I think I may be of further service to you," I said.
"How is that?" asked Boots, interested. We finished untying Chino, Lecchio, Petrucchio and Publius Andronicus. We left the girls, for the time, of course, as they were, as they were slaves. They would await our pleasure, that of free men.
"Come with me," I said. "And bring a torch."
"What is it?" asked Boots.
"It is something I would like to show you," I said. "I found it nearby in the woods, when I returned to my camp, to fetch weapons, a few Ehn ago."
"What is it?" he asked.
"Come with me," I said. "I will show you."
"Very well," he said.
"Bring a torch," I said.
"Very well," he said.
9 Two Women, One Free, One Bond; I Join the Company of Boots Tarsk-Bit
"Here," I said. "See?"
We were in a small clearing in the woods, not far from the road.
"Yes!" said Boots, appreciatively.
"Lower the torch," I said. "Look more closely."
The two women whimpered, looking up, blinking against the light. The torch, Boots crouching down, was passed slowly over their bodies. One were a long gown, sleeveless and white. It was all she wore, however, and it was thin. I did not think it was what she would have chosen to wear. It had apparently been picked out for her. The fullness of her beauty, at any rate, in its delicious amplitudes, was not difficult to conjecture beneath it. The other was excitingly curvaceous, too. About her beauty, however, there could be no possible mistake. She was absolutely naked. Both were bound tightly, helplessly, hand and foot.
"Pretty," said Boots.
"Yes," said Chino.
"Yes," said Lecchio.
Petrucchio and Publius Andronicus, too, voiced their assent. The surly, hooded player was not with us. After he had finished freeing himself from the ropes on his ankles, he had hurried to recover the cup which had been of such interest to the brigands. It seemed he did not wish others to see it, or understand its meaning. He had then, taking the cup, gone into his wagon. It seemed then that he had chosen, at least for the time, to remain there. He had not, at any rate, come with us. It seemed he was not particularly appreciative of what had been done for him. Perhaps he was too proud a man. Perhaps he resented fiercely the thought that he might owe anything to another. Perhaps, on the other hand, given his hatred, and the shame in which he seemed to live, he might not have found the cruelty of a brigand's knife that unwelcome.