The robber whose shomal had run away with him had finally got his animal under control and turned it back toward the convoy. Therefore he did not see Hasselborg until the latter was almost upon him, when the sound of hoofs behind him made him turn. He was just reaching for an arrow when Hasselborg took him in the ribs with his sword from behind. Not quite sporting, thought Hasselborg, but this is no time for chivalry. The blade went in clear to the hilt. Unfortunately the aya carried Hasselborg past so fast that the handle was wrenched out of his hand before he had time to withdraw the blade from his victim's body.
And there he was, riding full-tilt and weaponless towards the convoy. Resistance had died down. One man was tearing off across the plain with a couple of robbers after him, while another fenced with three more from aya back. The other robbers were busy with the remaining people of the convoy, binding those who had fallen to their knees and subduing those who had not. The woman was still standing in the rearmost vehicle, as if waiting for the first robber who felt so-minded to ride by and scoop her up.
Hasselborg headed for her, calling: "I'll try to get you away!" As he came nearer he saw that she was young and beautiful, with the light-blue hair of the western races.
She hesitated as he held out an arm, then let herself be lifted down onto the back of the aya behind Hasselborg. He spun his mount and headed back the way he had come as a chorus of shouts told him that the robbers did not intend to let this act go unnoticed.
While Hasselborg wondered how to get out of the predicament into which his impulse had plunged him, his aya carried him past the robber he had run through. This Krishnan had fallen off his shomal and was crawling on all fours with the hilt of the sword sticking out of his back. Hasselborg, feeling that he was likely to need a whole arsenal of weapons in the next few minutes, reached down and retrieved his sword. I ought to have a movie film of that stunt, he thought; anybody'd think I planned it that way.
"Here comes one," said the woman. Hasselborg looked around to see another robber riding hard at him.
He said: "Hold on!" and put his mount into a sharp curve, leaning inward as he did so. These six-legged creatures could certainly turn on a dime, he thought. The robber pulled up a little, as if surprised to see a supposedly unarmed man suddenly whirl and charge him with a sword.
As Hasselborg went by, too excited to remember to thrust, he aimed an overhead cut at the robber's head. Too late he realized that he'd probably break his blade on the man's iron hat. But Da'vi, the Krishnan goddess of luck, was still with him, for the blow missed by just enough to shear off an ear and come down between neck and shoulder. The man dropped his mace with a howl.
"You'd better hurry," said the girl. A glance showed that at least three other bandits were riding toward them.
Hasselborg turned again and resumed his flight, wishing he had some shrewd plan of escape all figured out, instead of being in a kind of exalted confusion and anxiety. Still, if he could make the hills before they caught him, he would have an advantage on rough ground over those on the long-legged shomals and might give them the slip in the darkness.
Hasselborg's aya loped up the slope of the rise. A glance back showed that the pursuers were gaining. Hasselborg's beast was slowed by its double load, even though it was one of the dasht's big hunting breed. Something went past with a faint whistling screech. Some flying creature of the night? No; as the sound was repeated, Hasselborg realized that they were shooting arrows at him. He pulled Awau off the road and headed cross-country up into the wooded crest of the ridge; no use leading them right to his carriage. Another arrow clattered among the branches.
"Are they gaining?" he said.
"I—I think not."
"Hold on tight."
Hasselborg's own heart was in his mouth as the animal leaped fallen logs, dropped out from under him as it took a dip, and swerved to avoid trees. He clamped the beast's barrel with his knees, leaned right and left, and ducked branches that were upon him almost before he could see them. He thanked Providence that the hunt and the flight from Rosid had given him at least a little practice at rough riding. The aya stumbled a couple of times, and Hasselborg blessed its six legs as it recovered each time without dropping its riders.
A crash from behind and a volley of shrill curses. "One of the shomals fell," said the girl.
"Good. Hope the rider broke his fertilizing neck. If it gets dark enough—"
They must have reached the base of the spur, where the land rose and fell irregularly in all directions. Hasselborg pulled to the right down a shallow draw. The animal crashed through a thicket that tore at its riders' legs; then up—down—left—right— The aya almost spilled them as it ran head-on into a sapling in the darkness. To his horror, Hasselborg felt his saddle, put on in such haste, beginning to slip out of place.
"I think we've escaped them," said the girl.
Hasselborg halted the aya and listened for sounds of pursuit over the heavy breathing of the animal. A distant crashing and the sound of voices came faintly, but after several minutes the noise seemed to be dying away altogether.
"Hasselborg dismounted stiffly and helped the girl down, saying: "Haven't I met you somewhere?"
"How know I? Who are you, that goes about rescuing damsels in distress?"
"I'm Kavir bad-Ma'lum, the painter," he said, adjusting the girths. He seemed to have got half the straps buckled together wrong.
"So? I heard of you at the court of the dasht."
"I know where I saw you! Somebody pointed you out to me at the court as Fouri bab-Something."
"I'm Vazid's daughter."
"That's right, bab-Vazid. And you're somebody's niece, aren't you?"
"You must mean my uncle Haste. Haste bad-Labbade. You know, the high priest."
"Sure." He wasn't, but no matter. Trot out the courtly manner. "I'm glad I was of service to Your Ladyship, though I'd rather we'd met under less strenuous circumstances. Were you on your way home from Rosid?"
"Yes; I but came thither to visit my friend the Lady Qei, and since the dasht made himself unpleasant, I thought it time to go home to uncle. Charrasp the merchant had collected a group to take the new tabid crop to Hershid before the price dropped, and some people of quality had elected to go with him for safety. So, thought I, why not go at once? I hope no ill came to my man and my maid, who were with me. What do we now?"
"Try to find our way back to the road, I suppose."
"What then?"
"If my buggy's still there, we'll hitch it up and ride into Hershid in it. Otherwise we shall have to ride pillion all the way."
"Whither lies the road?"
"Maybe the stars know, but I don't." He listened, hearing nothing but the breathing of three pairs of lungs. While one of the three moons was up, the sky was still partly cloudy, so that the moonlight came through in fitful beams only.
"Seems to me," he mused, "that we came down this little valley after running along that ridge to the left—"
He started up the draw, leading Fouri with one hand and the aya with the other. He proceeded cautiously, watching for obstacles and listening for robbers. He led them along the ridge he thought they had come by, then along another branching off from it—and realized that the terrain was quite unfamiliar.