Her arrow split its breastbone. It halted, plucked at the dart. The others boomed and rushed. She sped two quick arrows, missed once, then drew her saber and scampered toward a boulder. If she got on top... .
Neither wounded monster went down. Both went for the mare. The others came for her.
Faithful tried to run, stumbled, screamed. The beasts piled on her.
Narriman drew her razor-edged blade across a wide belly. The brute stumbled a few steps, looked down at its wound, began tucking entrails back inside.
Narriman glanced at the mare as she dodged the other beast. The wounded creatures were pounding her with huge stones.
A fist slammed into Narriman's side. She staggered, gasped. Her attacker bellowed and closed in. She tried to raise her saber. It slipped from her hand. She hadn't the strength to grip it.
The thing shook her half senseless. Then it sniffed her and grunted.
It was something out of nightmare. The thing settled with Narriman in its lap, pawed between her thighs. She felt its sex swell against her back.
Was the whole Jebal rape-crazy? "Karkur!"
The thing ripped her clothing. Another grunted and tried to touch. The beast holding Narriman swung at it.
She was free for an instant. She scrambled away. The beast roared and dove after her.
She closed her hands on her amulet. "Karkur, give me the strength to survive this."
The beast snorted weirdly, uttered an odd shriek that tortured the canyon walls. It stumbled away, enveloped by an amber light laced with bloody threads.
Another beast came for her. Its cries joined those of the other.
Narriman scrambled after her saber. The last beast, with an
arrow in its chest, watched her with glazed eyes, backed away. She arranged her clothing, ran to Faithful.
"Poor Faithful." What would she do now? How would she escape the Jebal without a horse for Misr?
The beasts in amber kept screaming. The Great Death was a hard death. It twisted their muscles till bones broke.
The screaming finally stopped.
She heard distant voices.
Hurriedly, she made a pack of her possessions, then climbed the canyon wall. She found an outcrop from which she could watch the mess she had fled.
Those things! She recalled their size and smell and was sick.
The investigators were ordinary men armed with tools. They became excited and cautious when they found the beasts. Narriman heard the word shaghun several times. "Keep thinking that," she murmured. "Don't get the idea there's a stranger in the Jebal."
Her shakes faded. She offered thanks to Karkur and started across the mountainside.
What were those beasts? Those men feared them. She moved with saber in hand.
The investigators had come from a lumbering camp. She watched men drag a log up a road, toward the head of the canyon. Why? She shrugged. The Masters must want it done.
She took to that road once she passed the camp.
That afternoon she heard hoofbeats. She slipped into the underbrush. "Oh, damn!" The horseman carried two of her arrows and Faithful's saddle. She strung her bow, jumped into the road, shouted, "Hey! Wait a minute!"
The rider reined in, looked back. She waved. He turned.
Her arrow flew true. He sagged backward. His horse surged forward. Narriman caught it as it passed. She dragged the body into the brush, mounted up wondering how soon he would be missed.
The canyon walls closed in. The brook faded away. She reached the summit. The road wound downhill, toward a far haze of smoke. There were a lot of hearthfires down there.
XIV
She traveled for two days. The only people she saw were men working logs down the road. She avoided them. She topped a piney ridge the second evening and saw a city.
Thoughts of Misr nagged her. Should she go down now? She was ahead of news from the logging camp. But he might not be there. And she was tired. She was incapable of acting efficiently in a desperate situation. Her judgment might be clouded, too.
She settled down off the road. She would have loved a fire. The mountain nights were chilly. Gnawing dried meat, she grumbled, "I'd sell my soul for a decent meal."
Sleep brought dreams. They showed her the town, including a place where children were kept. She also saw a place where shaghuns lived, and beyond the city a tower that was an emptiness fraught with dark promise.
She wakened knowing exactly what to do. Come nightfall she would slip into the city, break into the nursery, and take Misr. Then she would flee, set an ambush down the trail and hope her shaghun was the one who came.
Her plan died immediately. Her mount had broken its tether. Its trail led toward the city.
What would they think? Would they investigate? Of course. She'd best move elsewhere.
She trudged southward, circling the city. Time and again she went out of her way to avoid farmsteads. By nightfall she was exhausted again.
It had to be tonight, though. There was no more time.
What would she do for a mount? Her hope of escape hinged on her being able to lead the pursuit to ground of her own choosing.
She settled down near the city's edge. "Karkur, wake me when it's time."
It was a dark night. There was no moon. Clouds obscured half the stars. Narriman arose shaking. Her nerves got no better for a long time.
The streets were strange for a girl who'd never walked pavement. Her bootheels kept clicking. Echoes came back off the walls. "Too quiet," she muttered. "Where are the dogs?"
Not a howl went up. Not one dog came to investigate. Her nerves only tautened. She began to imagine something watching her, the town as a box trap waiting for her to trip its trigger. She dried her hands on her hips repeatedly. The moths in her stomach refused to lie still. She kept looking over her shoulder.
She gave the place of the shaghuns a wide berth, closed in on the nursery. Why were the youngsters segregated? Was it a place for children like Misr? The city made no sense. She didn't try to make it do so.
The only warning was a rustle of fabric. Narriman whirled,
saber spearing out. It was an automatic move, made without thought. She found herself face to face with a mortally wounded shaghun.
He raised a gloved hand as he sank toward the pavement. His fingers wobbled. Sorcery! She hacked the offending hand, came back with a neck stroke. She cut him again and again, venting nervous energy and fear.
"What do I do with him?" she wondered. She examined him. He was no older than she. She felt a touch of remorse.
She glanced around. The street remained quiet. A convenient alleyway lay just a few steps beyond the body.
She wondered what he had been doing. Her dreams had suggested that no one wandered the streets after dark, save a night watchman with a special dispensation.
Had the horse alerted them? Were there more shaghuns to be faced? Her stomach cramped.
Maybe her father and Al Jahez were right. Maybe a woman couldn't do this sort of thing. "And maybe men feel as ragged as I do," she muttered. She dropped the body into shadow. "Give me an hour, Karkur." She went on to the nursery.