“I wouldn’t want to be caught here by cavalry,” Howland said. Ahead, Amergin continued his tireless lope.
The hills flattened out again, and Amergin stopped. Off to his left, a sandy path led away from the road to a copse of maples. He held out one hand, palm down, his signal to halt. Howland reined in the hot, tired party.
“Wait here,” said Amergin. He dropped the sling to his fingers, loaded it, and moved on stealthily toward the maple grove.
Raika flopped heavily to the ground. “Who’s got water?” she said loudly. Howland shushed her.
Caeta unslung her waterskin and handed it to the Saifhumi woman. Carver squatted by the roadside, and the farmers followed suit. Khorr found a spot in the shade, pulled up some wild onions, and set to munching. After a brief foray, Amergin returned, looking adrift.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Come and see.”
One by one they trailed after the Kagonesti, who urged them all to silence. When only halfway to the maples, it became clear a sizable crowd of people were ahead in the grove, standing perfectly still and not making a sound. The effect was so strange Howland, Hume, and Raika drew their swords.
Amergin paused by a lordly maple, peering in puzzled fashion around the stout trunk. Howland, Hume, and Raika glided past him. When they were close enough, Raika grabbed hold of the nearest onlooker, a scruffy peasant in a dark brown jerkin. He didn’t move at all despite her straining limbs. The fellow seemed rooted to the spot.
She uttered a sailor’s curse and tugged again, harder. Seams of his coarse shirt tore, but the fellow was as immovable as a marble statue.
Howland spoke sharply to another. No response. Unaccustomed to being ignored, he swatted the man’s backside with the flat of his blade. Not the slightest protest escaped the man’s lips.
Hume walked around the frozen people to see their faces.
“Great Khan!” he exclaimed. “Sir Howland, look!”
Every one of the unresponsive onlookers, all humans, stood with their eyes open, staring straight ahead. Their faces were scorched red by the sun, and their lips were cracked and peeling. Howland felt for a pulse in the young man he’d struck.
“This one seems alive,” he said, perplexed.
“So’s this one,” said Raika.
“These, too. What ails them?”
They moved through the crowd and found everyone in the grove in identical condition. Twenty-two people in all, standing rigid, eyes open, gazing at … what?
Beneath the largest maple in the copse was a two-wheeled cart of the sort used by woodsmen, little more than an oversized wheelbarrow. Standing in the cart was a strangely dressed man with a noose around his neck.
“Oh, ho!” said Raika. “A lynching!”
She, Howland, and Hume gathered by the cart. Four peasants gripped the sides of the cart, ready to drag it out from under the unfortunate fellow, but they were paralyzed as well, mouths agape, as if they had been struck rigid in mid-motion.
“This beats all,” Raika said. “If the gods still lived, I’d call this magic!”
Howland regarded the benoosed man thoughtfully. “I wonder what his crime was?”
The lynching candidate appeared to be near Raika’s age, thirty or so. His skin was olive brown, an unfamiliar hue in these parts, and his hair was glossy black, cut bowl-style, straight across on his forehead. His neck was shaved behind his ears. His nose was flat and his face round. No trace of a beard sprouted from his chin. Both his hands and feet were tightly bound with rope.
“A foreigner,” Hume remarked.
“Yes, but from where?” answered Howland.
“That’s a nice pearl in his ear,” said Raika. The bright white gem was pinned by a gold stud through the condemned man’s right earlobe.
She climbed into the cart. “I think I’ll fetch it off him-”
Her weight made the small cart shift on its wheels. Howland and Hume were about to protest when Raika saw the foreigner’s black eyes blink.
She let out a yell and fell backward to the ground. In an instant Amergin was at her side, sling twirling. Seeing the elf enter the grove, Khorr, Carver, and the farmers came running.
“He’s alive!” Raika shouted, pointing.
“I am,” said the man in a pleasant, cultivated voice, “and I’d like to stay that way.”
Hume cut the halter loose from the tree with a single swing of his newfound sword. Freed from the danger of strangling, the stranger’s knees promptly folded. He sat down hard in the cart.
Malek, Nils, Wilf and Caeta got no further than the ring of motionless watchers.
“Come away now!” Malek called to Howland.
“Wait.” To the stranger he said, “Who are you?”
“My name is Ezu. Will one of you kindly untie me?”
No one moved to help him. Raika got up, looking as if she wanted to restore the noose to the tree and kick the cart away.
Ezu sighed. “People of this land are so inhospitable! This hapless traveler needs your help!”
“Cut him free,” said Howland. Hume obeyed, despite Raika’s protests.
“We know nothing about him,” she said. “He could be the worst criminal in the world!”
“Oh, I’m not him,” Ezu said, as Hume sawed through the ropes that bound his wrists.
“Who?” asked Hume, pausing.
“The Worst Criminal in the World. I met him once. Fascinating fellow-”
Once free, Ezu climbed out of the cart. His gait was very unsteady. “I’ve been standing for three whole days,” he explained with a disarming smile. “I didn’t dare move, lest I end up dangling.”
“What happened here?” asked Howland.
Ezu ignored the question and said, “Can we move to different ground? These unhappy folk wished to kill me, so you’ll understand that I find their company disagreeable.”
Howland, for once, deferred to the others. “What do you think?”
“Seems like a decent enough chap,” said Hume.
“He could be anybody!” Raika complained.
Amergin’s sling remained in his hand. “Let him come,” the elf said. Opinion delivered, he turned on his heel and walked away.
They hastily left the maple grove, though not before Carver made his rounds, “finding” odds and ends in the lynch mob’s pockets. He did not get much, but for once Caeta did not criticize his pilfering.
“I despise mobs,” she muttered to Malek.
Ezu limped along, surrounded by Nowhere’s hired warriors. Malek gave him water, which the stranger drank gratefully.
“I imagine you want some explanation,” he said, once his thirst was slaked.
“And damn quick,” Raika muttered.
“As I said, I am Ezu, a traveler. I’ve been in this country many days.”
Howland said, “Doing what?”
Again the easy smile. “As I said, traveling. It is my pleasure to visit distant lands and see places I’ve never been.”
“You just travel? How do you live?” asked Wilf.
“By my wits, mostly.” Seeing this did not satisfy his companions, he added, “When necessary, I apply myself to any odd task that needs doing. After I’m paid, I can continue my journey. It is my goal-my dream-to travel completely around the world.”
“You sure talk funny,” said Carver.
“Madman,” was Raika’s verdict.
“Why were those people trying to hang you?” asked Hume.
The charming stranger looked pained. “They blamed me for their misfortune. Some bandits came through the district shortly after I arrived. They carried off many of the locals. I believe they intended to force them to labor. Since I am a stranger in their country, they thought me in league with the bandits.”
The farmers stopped dead in their tracks. “It must be Rakell!” Malek raged. “Rounding up more captives!”
“Maybe he needs more slaves to replace the ones who’ve died,” blurted Wilf. He regretted saying this when saw the anguish on his friend’s face.
“You know the situation then?” said Ezu casually. “Good. The folks back there decided I was some kind of magical spy, divining where their villages and secreted food supplies were and betraying them to the bandits. The mob seized me, declared me guilty, and marched me down the road to hang me.