“Caelum says there are no other nearby oases,” Neeva answered, stroking the tense muscles of the mul’s back. “Even if we weren’t following him, Maetan would have had to guess we’d go to that one.”
“Right. But how’d he know we’d catch him there?” the mul demanded. “Someone told him.”
Neeva stepped around to face Rikus. She had used part of her water to wash her body, which was now covered only by the green halter breechcloth she had been wearing when they killed Kalak. The setting sun lit one side of her form with a rosy blush, plunging the other side into alluring shadows. “Even if we had reason to believe someone had betrayed us, how could they have contacted Maetan?”
“The Way,” Rikus answered. “Maetan’s as strong as Agis, maybe even stronger. And don’t forget Hamanu. If Maetan can’t contact his spies himself, he might have something like this.” Rikus pulled Tithian’s olivine crystal, which he had recovered from Wrog’s mangled body, from his belt pouch.
“Anything’s possible,” Neeva reluctantly admitted. “But who would do such a thing?”
Rikus faced the canyon from which they had just come. In the evening light, it looked like nothing more than a great shadow slicing down the side of the fooothills. “The slave tribe.”
“The Kes’trekels?” Neeva gasped. “What gives you that idea?”
“They’ve been trying to keep us from catching Maetan all along,” Rikus said. “First they captured our scouts, then they tried to take us prisoner. Even after I killed Wrog, they fought with us. I should have seen it at the time-Maetan bribed them.”
“Just because they didn’t join Tyr’s army doesn’t make them Maetan’s spies.” Neeva gripped the mul’s arm with a warm hand and tried to guide him bed.
“It fits,” Rikus insisted, staying were he was. “Maetan showed no sign of knowing our plan until after we passed the Kes’trekel nest. And why else would they have insisted on fighting?”
“Because they wanted to keep their nest’s location secret and they didn’t trust us,” Neeva said, sighing in frustration. She let go of the mul’s arm and went to their makeshift bed, picking up one of the capes lying nearby for use as a blanket. “After what Tithian did, do you blame them?”
“How do we know the king really betrayed us?” the mul asked. “Wrog could have made the whole thing up.”
“Maybe he did,” Neeva sighed, no longer trying to hide her frustration. As she spread the cape over the space she had tried to clear of stones, she said, “You still have the gem. Ask Tithian if he lied to Wrog.”
The absurdity of Neeva’s suggestion jolted Rikus, and he realized he was behaving like a man obsessed. “It was the Kes’trekels,” he grumbled.
Rikus pulled the Scourge of Rkard from his belt so he could sit. As his hand touched the hilt, the dusk came alive with previously undetected sounds. From overhead came the muffled beat of a flying lizard’s leathery wings, and somewhere close by a snake’s belly scales were softly hissing against the rough edge of a stone. Farther away, an unseen rodent scratched at the ground in a frantic effort either to hide from a predator or catch its dinner. Rikus did not pay the sounds much attention, for evening was when many creatures came out to hunt.
“Put that sword down and come here,” Neeva ordered, stepping over to Rikus.
She kissed him long and hard, at the same time unbuckling his Belt of Rank. As the heavy girdle slipped from his waist, he felt the first stirrings of the savage lust only Neeva could kindle in him.
She casually tossed the belt aside, and it landed in the rocks with a loud clatter. Rikus’s desire quickly faded.
“Be careful!” he objected, grabbing the belt.
“It’s that worthless strip of leather or me,” Neeva said, working her thumbs beneath the thin straps holding her breechcloth on her curvaceous hips.
“This is more than a ‘worthless strip of leather,’ ” Rikus said, picking up the heavy girdle and laying it neatly at the foot of their rocky bed. “It’s my destiny.”
Neeva popped her thumbs free of her breechcloth straps. “Destiny?” she exclaimed. “Rikus, I think you’re taking that senile old dwarf too seriously.”
“No, I mean it,” the mul said, respectfully placing the sword next to the belt. “People make their own destinies. Mine is to lead the legions of freedom.”
“Maybe you should think that over, Rikus,” Neeva said. “So far, you’ve only got one legion, and you’ve nearly lost it more than once.”
The mul furrowed his hairless brow. “When?”
“Kled, for one,” Neeva pointed out. “If Caelum hadn’t saved you from Maetan, by now your mind would be ash and the rest of us would be quarry slaves in Urik’s obsidian pits.”
“But Caelum did help me. We killed more than five-hundred Urikites-”
“And lost the Book of the Kemalok Kings,” Neeva interrupted. “As for Wrog and the slave tribe-it’s a fortunate thing the fight in the aerie didn’t erupt into a full battle. One sun cleric was not going to blast that fortress off the cliff.”
“He didn’t have to,” Rikus countered, more hurt by Neeva’s criticism than he cared to admit. “Why are you doing this, Neeva? I thought-”
“I’m telling you the truth because I love you and because I love Tyr,” Neeva said. She sat down in the middle of the cape and wrapped it around her shoulders, her romantic mood vanishing with the setting sun. “The way you’re talking scares me. It’s not like you to think this way.”
“Of course not,” the mul answered, sitting at her side. The sharp rocks, which had been lying exposed to the blazing sun all day, seared his naked skin wherever they touched him. “Before we killed Kalak, my purpose in life was to become a free man,” Rikus said, shifting his position so that his breechcloth insulated him from the hot stones. “Now, I’m free. I have a new purpose. We all do-you, me, and Sadira, even Agis.”
Neeva frowned. “Leave me out of this.”
“No,” Rikus insisted, laying one of his powerful hands on her knee. “Agis and Sadira safeguard Tyr from threats inside, like Tithian. It’s for you and me to defend against outside threats like Maetan and the Urikites.”
Allowing the cape to fall open at the neck, Neeva faced the mul and studied him for several moments. Finally, a hopeful light in her emerald eyes, she asked, “Rikus, what are you trying to say?”
The mul had seen similiar expressions in his fighting partner’s face before. He was no more comfortable with it now than he had been then. “I’m not sure,” he answered, fearing that once again Neeva was reading more into his words that he meant to be there.
Neeva rose to her knees and faced Rikus, looking directly into his eyes. “Let me make this easy for you,” she said, her voice optimistic. “Are you saying you’ve made a choice between me and Sadira?”
Rikus looked away, wondering how a conversation about his destiny had turned into an interrogation on his least favorite subject. Since they had killed Kalak, his fighting partner had been pressuring him to end his love affair with Sadira. Neeva insisted that, now that they were free, they had to start thinking about the future and commit their hearts to each other. To Rikus, however, commitment sounded too much like captivity. Though he loved Neeva, he was not willing to yield any of his hard-won freedom-especially if it meant giving up Sadira.
When Rikus did not answer, the eagerness drained from Neeva’s face. Nevertheless, she did not look away. “Just answer yes or no.”
“There’s no choice to make-”
“Yes or no, Rikus.”
“No, I haven’t made a choice,” the mul said.
Neeva stood, gathering the cloak around her broad shoulders. “I’m going back to camp,” she announced. “Why don’t you stay here and ponder your destiny?”
The gladiator grabbed her heavy battle-axe, then started across the mile of rocky terrain separating them from the rest of the legion. In the burgundy light and deepening shadows of dusk, it was difficult to see, and Neeva began to stumble over loose stones before she had taken three steps. Despite the likelihood of spraining an ankle, she continued onward, cursing Rikus as though he had personally placed every stone between her and camp.