“So you see, it’s not so bad being a bandit after all,” Kuni said. And all the men laughed. When they went on, everyone’s steps felt lighter.
Suddenly, Hupé, who was in the lead, came to a dead stop. “Snake!”
There was indeed a large white python in the middle of the road, as thick as a grown man’s thighs and long enough that its tail was still in the woods even as its body completely blocked the trail. Everyone in Kuni’s party scrambled back and tried to get as far away from the snake as possible. But the snake whipped its head around and wrapped its body around a gangly prisoner named Otho Krin.
Later, Kuni could not explain why he did what he did next. He didn’t like snakes, and he wasn’t the sort to rush impulsively into danger.
A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, and he spat out the herbs in his mouth. Before he could think, he had pulled a sword from Hupé and leapt at the giant white python. With one swing he lopped its head off. The rest of the body coiled and whipped around, and Kuni was knocked off his feet. But Otho Krin was safe.
“Are you all right, Captain Garu?”
Kuni shook his head. He was in a daze.
What… what got into me?
His eyes fell on a dandelion seed head by the side of the trail. As he looked at it, a gust of wind suddenly plucked the white puffs from it, and the seeds floated into the air, like a swarm of mayflies.
He tried to hand the sword back to Hupé, but the man shook his head.
“You keep it, Captain. I didn’t know you were such a good swordsman!”
The men climbed on, but the susurration of voices grew among them like a breeze caressing the leaves of an aspen stand.
Kuni stopped and turned around. The whispers stopped.
In the eyes of the men, Kuni saw respect, awe, and even a hint of fear.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
The men looked at one another until, eventually, Hupé stepped forward.
“I had a dream last night.” His voice was flat, as though he was still surrounded by illusions. “I was walking in a desert, where the sand was black like coal. Then I saw something white lying on the ground in the distance. As I came closer, I could make out the body of an enormous white snake.
“But as I approached the spot, the body disappeared. Instead, an old woman stood there crying. I asked her, ‘Granny, why are you crying?’
“ Oh, my son has been killed.’
“ Who’s your son?’ I asked.
“ My son is the White Emperor. The Red Emperor has killed him.’ ”
Hupé stared at Kuni Garu, and the gazes of the others followed. White was the color of Xana, and red was the color of Cocru.
Ah, prophecies again, Kuni thought. He shook his head and laughed weakly.
“If this banditry business doesn’t work out,” he said, “you can try to become a wandering bard.” Then he slapped Hupé’s back. “But you need to work on your delivery, and you have to come up with more believable plots!”
Laughter echoed in the mountain air. Fear left the gazes of the men, but awe remained.
A hot breeze, as dry and gritty as volcanic ash, rustled the trees near the top of the mountain.
What was that about, sister, my other self? Why have you taken an interest in this mortal?
A cold breeze, as brittle and crisp as a shard from a glacier, joined the first.
I know not of what you speak, Kana.
You didn’t send in the snakes or give that man his dream? It seemed like your kind of sign.
I had no more to do with that than I did with that prophecy of the fish.
Then who? Fithowéo the Warlike? Lutho the Calculating?
I doubt it. They’re busy elsewhere. But… now I am curious about this mortal.
He’s a weakling, a commoner, and… not at all pious. We should not waste time with him. Ice-clad Rapa, our most promising champion is—
— young Zyndu. Yes, Flame-born Kana, I know you’ve liked him since the day he was born… yet, what strange things are happening around this other man!
Mere coincidences.
What is fate but coincidences in retrospect?
Kuni Garu and his men took to banditry well. They made their camp high in the Er-Mé Mountains, and every few days they swept down to attack merchant caravans at dusk, when the drivers and their escorts were tired and sleepy, or at dawn, when they were just getting ready to set out on the road again.
They were careful to avoid deaths and serious injuries, and they always distributed a share of what they took to the scattered woodsmen living in the mountains. “We follow the virtuous path of the honorable bandit,” Kuni taught his men to chant. “We are outlaws only because Xana’s laws leave no room for honest men.”
When garrisons in nearby towns sent detachments of riders to come after the desperadoes, the woodsmen always seemed to know nothing and to have seen nothing.
More and more runaway laborers and deserting soldiers came to join his gang, since Kuni had a reputation for treating his men well.
The attack on this particular caravan had gone wrong from the start.
Instead of scattering to the winds as soon as the bandits approached, the merchants had stayed where they were and huddled next to the campfires. Kuni cursed himself. That should have been a clue.
But his successes so far had made him arrogant. Instead of calling off the raid, he had ordered everyone to press on into the camp—“Knock them on the back of the head with your clubs and tie them up. Don’t kill anyone!”
However, once the bandits were close enough, the oxcart curtains opened wide and dozens of armed escorts rushed out with swords drawn and arrows nocked. Whatever these merchants were carrying, they spent the funds to hire plenty of professional bodyguards. Kuni’s gang was caught completely off guard.
Within minutes, two of Kuni’s men fell with arrows sticking from their necks. Stunned, Kuni just stood there.
“Kuni!” Hupé shouted at him. “You’ve got to order a retreat!”
“Pull back! Abort! Tough marks! High fire! Tight wind!” All Kuni’s notions about banditry had come from listening to storytellers in the markets and reading Kon Fiji’s moral fables. He tossed out every bit of “thieves’ cant” he could remember, having no idea what he was actually supposed to do or say.
Kuni’s men milled about in confusion while the armed escorts for the merchants advanced. Another volley of arrows flew at them.
“They’ve got horses,” said Hupé. “If we try to run for it, we’re going to be cut down like vermin. Some of us have to stay behind and fight.”
“Right,” said Kuni. He felt calmer now that he was given a plan. “I’ll stay behind with Fi and Gatha, you take the rest of the men and flee.”
Hupé shook his head. “This isn’t like a bar fight, Kuni. I know you’ve never killed anyone or practiced real sword fighting, but I was in the army, and so if anyone should stay, it’s me.”
“But I’m the leader!”
“Don’t be foolish. You have a wife and a brother and parents still in Zudi, while I don’t have anyone. And the others depend on you to have any hope of saving their families in the city. I believe in the dream I had about you, and I believe in the prophecy of the fish. Remember that.”
Hupé rushed at the advancing escorts, holding high his sword — carved from a tree branch, since he had given his real sword to Kuni — and yelling fearsomely at the top of his lungs.