Chapter 9
Adroon the High Baudz of the Kargoi appeared to be a man of few words. He simply repeated to Blade what Paor had already said. Then he handed Blade two swords.
«These swords shall be yours, until the last blood flows from your body in battle against the enemies of the Kargoi,» the old man said. «Then they shall lie with your bones beneath the earth.»
Blade bowed. «I am honored.» He would have been quite as happy if Adroon had handed him a well-roasted leg of drend. At the moment he wanted food much more than he wanted weapons.
Fortunately that was the end of the ceremony. Adroon and his escort rode off toward the camp. The other watchers began to mount up. Several of Rehod's friends picked him up and slung him over the back of his drend like a sack of potatoes. Paor led up another drend, Blade mounted it, and they all rode back to camp.
They rode up through a wide fringe of furiously busy people. Some were slaughtering drends, others were butchering them, still others were roasting the meat on ten-foot spits. The male laborers were hauling tents out of the wagons and setting them up all around the great circle. Parties of women were unloading gear from the wagons and carrying it into the tents as fast as they were set up.
Paor noticed Blade looking around him and laughed. «No, Blade, we are not abandoning the wagons to walk the rest of the way. Adroon has decided that all three Peoples shall stay where they are several more days. Here the grass is good and abundant, so the drends will grow strong. Also, beyond this place we come down to the shore. While we wait here, our riders must go forward to see what lies ahead, by the water.
«So for these few days, we move out of the wagons. They are good and strong and we care much for them. But as with a good strong woman one cares for much, there are times when it is good to get away. Also, it gives time for the women to clean the wagons.»
Blade noticed that some of the women were carrying loads of bedding and furs to lay them close to the fires. He remembered swarms of vermin in the wagons and mentally applauded.
After that; Blade paid very little attention to anything until he was able to sit down with other warriors around a fire, with a leather mug of kaum in one hand and a large slab of hot roasted meat in the other. The kaum was strong and sour, and the smoke of the dung fire gave the meat a peculiar flavor. To the hungry Blade it tasted better than any meal he'd ever eaten in the finest of West End restaurants.
Blade polished off a second cup of kaum and two more slabs of meat, then wiped his grease-smeared hands on the grass. The other warriors saw that he was finished and started asking him questions.
They went on asking questions until the meat and the kaum were gone, the fire itself was dying in a thin trickle of smoke, and the angry colors of sunset were spreading across the sky. They asked Blade about himself, about his voyage, about England, about his fight with Rehod, and about a hundred and one other things.
Fortunately Blade's head was clear now that his stomach was full, and he'd long since mastered the arts of telling plausible lies with a straight face. He was able to come up with believable answers to nearly all of the questions. Most of those he couldn't answer, no one seemed to think very important.
«After all,» said one warrior, «this Blade from England has done to Rehod what many of us would have wished to do long ago. For this he has earned our gratitude. I, for one, would not care if he had horns on his head, wings growing from his back, and claws on his hands and feet.»
«No, indeed,» said another warrior, and there was a cheerful chorus of agreement from the men around the fire. Several of them reached over to slap Blade clumsily on the shoulder. Many of them were now half drunk on kaum.
Blade felt about as safe and comfortable as he could ever expect to be in Dimension X. His own skill had won him a secure place among the Kargoi. He'd also been lucky to encounter Paor, who was wise, honest, and popular, and to fight Rehod, who was bad-tempered, narrow-minded, and with many enemies. If things had been the other way around, Blade doubted he would be here by the fire, telling the warriors of the Kargoi about his homeland and travels.
Eventually Blade ran out of tales to tell the men sitting around him. By that time most of them were too drunk or too sleepy to be listening, or to notice when Blade quietly rose and slipped off into the night.
He headed for the tent he'd been given for his own use during the next few days. As a rule only the baudzi and half a dozen of the most distinguished warriors in each clan had any such right to privacy. This tent was a special mark of honor for him.
The tent was one of the smallest kind, used by the scouts who rode on ahead of the wagon columns. It lay a little apart from the rest. The night was so black that Blade nearly stumbled over sprawled sleepers or happily writhing couples every few yards. He did stumble over the dread-hide rope that braced one end of his tent. Blade recovered his balance, but he'd jerked the tent pole loose. It fell with a thud, bringing the tent down with it.
From under the leather a woman's voice sounded, cheerfully and unashamedly cursing whoever had knocked the tent down on her. She wished that he might fall into ripe drend dung up to his chin and have thornflies puncture his exposed skin. Blade listened for a while, smiling in the darkness. He was not particularly surprised to find a woman in his tent, and now looked forward to meeting her.
He bent down, lifted the fallen tent with one hand, and reached inside with the other. The reaching hand closed on a bare shoulder, drawing a yelp of surprise and protest. Blade tightened his grip. To the accompaniment of more curses he drew the woman out, until he could grip her with both hands and pull her to her feet.
Even in the darkness Blade could see that the woman was young and attractive. She wore nothing except for a length of hide twisted around her hips. A narrow face framed in long dark hair, with large, expressive eyes, slightly marred by a sharp nose. Full breasts, firm and ripe in spite of being almost too large for the slim body. Perfect legs and small, long-toed feet that the girl was trying not to shuffle in embarrassment or fear. The warriors of the Kargoi were in the habit of beating women who displeased or disobeyed them. Why should she assume that this newly arrived warrior from England would be any different?
Blade put a hand under her chin and raised her head until her large eyes were looking into his. Then he smiled. «You should lower your voice, if you do not want all the Red People to know that the English warrior has a woman who buzzes like a bee.»
«What is a bee?»
«A small flying insect in England. Like the thornfly, it stings painfully and makes much noise. It also makes a sweet liquid, called honey. What is your name?»
«Naula. What is yours?» Her voice was calm, and she'd stopped shuffling her feet. This seemed to be a young woman who did not remain afraid long. Blade wondered if she was being given to him because too many other warriors of the Kargoi had found her impossible to endure or subdue.
«My name is Blade,» he said. He let go of her chin, took her by one shoulder, then turned her around. He ran a hand lightly down her back, then put an arm around her waist.
«Well, Naula. Shall we see if you, like the bee of England, can also give sweetness?» she nodded and started putting up the tent again.
Inside the tent there was little room and less light. Blade found that he had to squat as he stripped off his loinguard, boots, and kilt. From the darkness he heard more sounds of leather on skin, as Naula dropped her own garment. Then suddenly there were two slim arms thrown around him from behind and two firm breasts with even firmer nipples pressed against his back.