Four men were left of the party of the spokesman, including himself. The other three were the man who had been wounded, who had called out for ammunition, the sleenmaster, and Mirus. None had been slain in the recent fray, presumably because of their weaponry. Perhaps the Cosians had given them a wide berth. Perhaps they had not been able to approach closely enough to engage with the small bows. Those were not the mighty peasant bows that guard the autonomy of Gorean hamlets. Of the four tarns with baskets, two had been brought down with pistol fire, and the strapmasters of the other two had muchly, judiciously, maintained their distance. One had approached a moment ago, however, given the relative quiet of the field, that to which the spokesman had indicated his capitulation. The other could be seen in the distance, a remote speck, safely away.
A subcaptain advanced through the grass, before the other soldiers. Some of the soldiers had bows. Some had spears and some shields. She wondered if the shields would stop a bullet. All had bladed weapons, generally the short, wickedly bladed Gorean gladius. The subcaptain had advanced with his men. Goreans like to lead from the front. Ellen recognized him. She had seen him before, at the tarnloft of Portus Canio, when in the coffle and elsewhere.
The tarn and tarn basket which had recently soared over the camp had now landed, some fifty yards away. Two archers and a strapmaster emerged from it. She did not see Tersius Major, whom she had heard was with the attackers. He was, she supposed, in the other tarn basket, which he perhaps commanded, which was still little more than a speck in the sky, far off. To be sure, it seemed closer now.
Motioned by swords and spears the three surviving beasts were herded, shambling, blinking, seemingly docile, toward the wagon. As nearly as Ellen could tell, they had not figured in the fighting. It seemed they had been left alone, as irrelevant to the fray. To be sure, they probably would have been fired upon if they had either attacked, or attempted to flee. Two had been killed in the first attack. Perhaps because they had assumed threatening postures. The Cosians, thought Ellen, do not know what to make of them. They think they are some form of simple animal. Then it occurred to her that that was precisely what the beasts would wish the Cosians to think. Had they not been putatively caged in the festival camp?
“Who is first here?” asked the subcaptain.
“I am,” said the spokesman.
“I am,” said Portus Canio.
The subcaptain smiled.
“You have strange pets,” he said to Portus Canio.
“They are not mine, and they are not pets,” said Portus Canio. “They are rational and dangerous.”
“They are simple performing animals, completely harmless,” said the spokesman. “We are carnival masters. We took you for brigands. We did not know. Forgive us for resisting the rightful authority of Cos.”
“You would do well to recognize the insignia, the uniforms, of Cos,” said the subcaptain.
“Alas, how true,” said the spokesman.
Far off, in the grass, some two hundred yards away, or so, the second tarn and tarn basket had now landed.
“Some of these men,” said the subcaptain, indicating Portus Canio, Fel Doron and their other fellow, “are escaped prisoners, and two of them clearly conspirators against Cos. The other, the tarnster, is somehow one of them. A theft of considerable consequence has taken place, accomplished by several men. These prisoners, or some of them, and surely the tarnster, who had fresh gold to squander from the mint at Jad, knows something of the matter.”
“We had no idea,” said the spokesman.
“And you are obviously in league with them, rendezvousing in the prairie.”
“No, we fell in with them by accident,” said the spokesman.
“You followed them for days, and we kept you under surveillance,” said the subcaptain.
“In a sense, yes,” admitted the spokesman, “my young friend here,” he here indicating Mirus, “was interested in obtaining this slave,” and here he indicated Ellen, “and we, as good fellows, loyal friends and such, abetted him in his search.”
“I can understand his interest,” said the subcaptain. “I remember her. I think we confiscated her in the name of Cos.”
“Yes,” said Portus Canio, “but she was later purchased from Cos, in the festival market outside Brundisium, openly and honestly purchased.”
“With Cosian gold,” said the subcaptain.
“Surely it is a reliable currency,” said Selius Arconious, as though concerned.
“Quite,” smiled the subcaptain. He looked about. “I see you have two sleen,” he said.
“Useful for tracking,” said the spokesman.
“I am well aware of the utilities of sleen,” said the subcaptain. “You are first here?”
“Yes,” said the spokesman.
“Remove your clothing,” said the subcaptain.
“What?” said the spokesman.
“It will be useful in giving your scent to sleen,” said the subcaptain.
“No!” said the spokesman.
“Also, I will determine if you are armed.”
“Here is my weapon,” said the spokesman. “It is useless now. It contains no more lightning.” He drew the weapon from its holster, and held it, butt first, toward the subcaptain. But the subcaptain drew back.
“Here,” said the spokesman.
“I will not touch it,” said the subcaptain, his face suddenly pale.
“Why not?” asked the spokesman.
“It is a forbidden weapon, surely,” said the subcaptain.
The spokesman smiled.
“Put it down there, in that bare spot, on the far side of the wagon,” said the subcaptain. This spot was yards from where they stood. Ellen had never before seen fear in the face of the subcaptain.
The spokesman went to the place indicated, and put the pistol down.
“You others, as well,” said the subcaptain, addressing himself to the sleenmaster, Mirus and their wounded fellow.
Each of these, too, put his weapon where indicated. Four weapons then lay in the dirt.
“There were six such devices,” said Portus Canio. “Two would seem to be missing.”
“There were only four,” said the spokesman.
“Six,” said Portus Canio.
“Remove your clothing,” said the subcaptain to the spokesman. “I think it is time to exercise the sleen.”
“The other two are lost!” said the spokesman.
“Now,” said the subcaptain.
“Here,” said the spokesman, miserably. He removed a second pistol, which he had thrust in his belt, behind his back.
“Does it contain lightning?” asked the subcaptain, the officer.
The spokesman hesitated. He then said, “One, one bullet, one bolt.” He had been saving this, it seemed.
“Put it with the others.”
This was done and the spokesman then, at the gesture of one of the soldiers, with the point of a drawn knife, returned to the place near the wagon.
“One such device must be still missing,” said Portus Canio.
“I do not know where it is!” cried the spokesman.
“Kill him,” said the subcaptain, the officer, to the soldier with the drawn knife.
“No, no!” cried the spokesman and began to tear away his robes. They were then to one side.
“Please!” said the spokesman.
“Kneel,” said the officer.
The spokesman, trembling, knelt naked in the grass beside the wagon.
The soldier then took him by the hair, jerked his head back, and put his knife to his throat. He then looked to the subcaptain.
“No,” said the subcaptain, musingly. “I think it will be more interesting to see him run for sleen.”
“No, no,” whimpered the spokesman.
Kardok and the two beasts, his fellows, crouched down, regarded the spokesman.