“I know I look terrible this way,” she said, her head nodding.
“You’ll always look good to me,” Jason told her cheeringly, then realized that he meant it. He twisted the medikit to full sedation and pressed it to her arm. She did not protest. With more than a small amount of guilt, and the feeling that he alone was responsible for their danger and pain, Jason laid her down on the furs next to the boy and covered them both. What bit of insane stupidity was it that had permitted him to involve a woman and a child in this murderous business? Then he remembered that conditions here were still far better than they were on Pyrrus, and he had probably saved their lives by getting them away. He looked at their bruises and shuddered, and wondered if they would thank him for it.
In the morning the two wounded Pyrrans had just enough strength to stumble out of the camach so that Jason could supervise its clismanding by the soldiers. They grumbled about woman’s work, but Jason would allow none of Shanin’s tribespeople near any of his belongings. After all the recent deaths, he was sure that his feud had widened its boundaries until it took in a good portion of the tribe: It was only after Jason had lubricated their spirits with a large skin of high-proof achadh that the soldiers buckled down to finish the job and to load the escung. Jason strapped Meta and Crlf in under the furs, in much the same way that he had been carried after his capture, and the small caravan set out, hurried on its way by many dark looks.
In Temuchin’s own camp, there were enough females who could be drafted for the degrading labor so that the men could stand and watch, which was their normal contribution. Jason could not stay to supervise. He left this to Meta, because a message arrived demanding his instant appearance before Temuchin.
The two guards at the entrance to the warlord’s cainach stood aside when Jason approached. At least he had some prestige among the enlisted men. Temuchin was alone, holding Jason’s knife, which was drenched with blood. Jason stopped, then relaxed when Temuchin seized the point and, with a quick snap of his wrist, sent it whistling through the air to sink deep into the carcass of a goat that he was using for a target.
“This knife has good balance,” Temuchin said. “Throws well.”
Jason nodded silently for he knew that he had not been summoned to an audience just to hear that.
“Tell me all you know about gunpowder,” Temuchin said, bending over to retrieve the knife.
“There is very little to tell.”
Temuchin straightened and his eyes caught Jason’s as he tapped the hilt of the knife against the calloused palm of his hand. “Tell me everything you know. Instantly. If you had gunpowder, could you make it blow up with the big noise instead of burning with smoke?”
This was the clinch. If Temuchin thought that he were lying, that big knife would sink into his gut as easily as it went into the goat’s. The warlord had some very specific ideas about the physical nature of gunpowder, so he was not bluffing. Time to take a chance.
“Though I have never seen gunpowder, I know what is said about it. I have heard how to make it explode.”
“I thought you might.” The knife thunked as it sank deep into the goat’s flesh. “I think you know other things that you are not telling me.”
“Men have secrets that they swear never to reveal. But Temuchin is my master and I will help him in every way that I can.”
“Good. Don’t forget that. Now tell me what you know about the people in the lowlands.”
“Why, nothing,” Jason said, astonished, The question had come as a complete surprise.
“You and everyone else. That is changing now. I know some things about the lowlanders and I am going to learn more. I am going to raid the lowlands and you are coming with me. I can use some of this gunpowder. Prepare yourself. We leave at midday. You are the only one who knows it is not a simple hunting expedition, so talk of the matter only at the risk of your life.”
“I would rather die than speak a word of this to anyone.”
Jason returned to his camach, deep in thought, and instantly told Meta everything he had just learned.
“This sounds very strange,” she said, hobbling to the fire, her muscles stiff from the beating she had undergone. “I am hungry and cannot make this fire bum.”
Jason fanned the fire, and coughed and averted his head when he caught a lungful of pungent smoke. “I don’t think you are using firstrate Inorope chips here. They have to be well dried to burn evenly. It sounded strange to me, too. How can he get down a vertical cliff over ten kilometers high? Yet he knows about gunpowder, and he certainly never found out about that here on the plateau.” He coughed again then kicked sand over the fire. “Enough of that. You and Grif need something more nutritious than goat stew in any case. I’ll crack out a couple of meal packs.”
Meta picked up a war ax and stood by the entrance to make sure that Jason was not disturbed when he opened the lockbox. He took out the meal packs and unsealed them, then pointed tO the radio.
“Report to Kerk at midnight. Let him know everything that is happening. You should be safe enough here, but if it looks like there will be any difficulty, tell him to pull you out.”
“No. We will stay here until you return.” She plunged her spoon into the food and ate hungrily. Crlf took the other pack and Jason stood guard at the entrance during the meal.
“Put the empty cans into the lockbox until we find a safer spot to bury them. I wish there was more I could do.”
“Don’t worry about us. We know how to take care of ourselves,” Meta told him firmly.
“Yes,” Grif agreed, unsmiling. “This planet is very soft after Pyrrus. Only the food is bad.”
Jason looked at them both, battered yet undefeated. He opened his mouth, then closed it because there was really nothing that he could say. He packed a leathern bag with the supplies he might need for the trip, extra clothing, and a microminiaturized transceiver that slipped into the hollow handle of his war ax. This and a short sword were his only weapons. He had tried using the laminated horn bows, but he was so improficient that he was better off not having one of the things around. Slinging a shield from his left arm, he waved good-bye and left.
When Jason rode up on his lnorope, he saw that a small force of less than 50 men had assembled for the expedition. They carried no extra equipment or supplies and it was obvious that it would not be a prolonged trip. Only after Jason had intercepted a number of cold glances did he realize that he was the only outsider there. All the others were either high-ranking officers and close associates of Temuchin or members of his own tribe.
“I can keep secrets, too,” Jason told Ahankk, who rode close, scowling, but he received only a fine selection of grating curses in return. As soon as the warlord appeared, they rode off in a double column, following his lead.