“For he had taken Lord Venable’s money
And sold off Lord Venable’s life.”
The boatmen were only half-listening, but Méarana noted how some shifted uncomfortably and two moved off a little way from the others and proceeded to get into an intense discussion with each other.
Afterward, she played ominously in the goltraí, disturbing their rest. When she was finished, she returned to the tent. Teodorq grinned at her. “I’d hate to have you mad at me, babe.”
Djamos the translator was trembling and stared at the harp with bulging eyes. “You are not from here,” he said again and again.
They sat huddled in the tent while different constellations appeared in the sky above the gorge. “Just before dawn?” said Donovan.
Teodorq nodded. “Makes sense, boss.”
They took turns sleeping, but when it came her turn, Méarana could not sleep. She curled up in her bag and closed her eyes, but sleep was not there.
Or she thought it was not, for the next she knew, Donovan was shaking her shoulder. He held a finger to his lip. “They’re coming.”
“How many?”
“Three stayed behind. I don’t think they like this, but don’t see how they can stop it.” He opened the back flap of the tent. “Teddy, Paulie, you’ll go out the front. Billy and I will go out the back and flank them.”
Debly Sofwari said, “What am I to do?”
“Do you have a weapon?”
He nodded.
“Do you know how to use it?”
He nodded again.
“Then use it.”
“I’ve…But I’ve only ever shot vermin. In fieldwork.”
Donovan nodded. “Good. Just bigger vermin here.” He started out the back, then turned. “Try not to shoot your friends.”
Teodorq pulled out his “nine” and chambered a round. Paulie looked at him. “You ain’t gonna use your sword?”
“Why should I?”
Méarana was watching through the grill in the tent flap. “They’ve reached the fire. They found Sloofy. He’s untied. Look lively. They know we know.”
Realizing that surprise had been lost, the boatmen shouted and came at the tent in a rush. Teddy and Paulie burst out the front, the latter swinging his broadsword while Teddy went to one knee and braced his hand. He fired once, twice. A man fell. Paulie sliced the arm off a second. One bowled into Méarana and drove her to the ground. Her knife shot out and she stabbed him four times, rapidly, in the gut. He rolled off, groaning and clutching himself, and Sofwari stepped over and fried his brains with a dazer. The others scuttled back. This opened them to fire from Billy and Donovan, who had taken a position behind some rocks on the left. Another man dropped. Two more clutched parts of their bodies and staggered.
Then the boatmen retreated out of range and rummaged in their boats. Teodorq turned to Paulie. “That can’t be good.”
It wasn’t. Boatmen going up the Twisted River sometimes had to hunt for their dinner, and a compound hunting bow had considerable range and penetration. They were arguing among themselves. Some were pointing to the boats. Méarana supposed these wanted simply to leave. The others, perhaps transported by rage, strung bows with grim concentration. They called out to the three men who had stood aside; but these replied by signs that they wanted nothing to do with the treachery.
“Come on,” said Sofwari, taking her by the arm. “Behind the rocks with Donovan.” As they retreated toward the shelf in the cliffside, Djamos paused at each man down and stilled his cries with a swipe of a curved knife blade across the throat.
“Not that one,” called Billy. “I made a promise.”
The Gorgeous pack trader looked down at the bleeding Sloofy. “You are a fool of a downriverman. You should have joined the starmen.”
Sloofy replied between taut white lips, “Death was my destination. Does it matter who sees me off?”
Djamos withheld his blade and patted Sloofy on the cheek. “Enjoy the trip.”
When the pack trader joined them behind the rocks, Méarana noticed that Paulie still stood beside the tent with his sword cocked at his right shoulder. Blood ran down the blade and out the pommel to drip on the sand by his feet.
Teodorq called to him. “You coming, hillbilly?”
“Just a sec. There’s something I always wanted to try.”
One of the boatman had gotten his bow strung and now fitted a quarrel to the string. He stepped cautiously along the riverside, sure of his own range, but uncertain of the starweapons. But there was something about the brawny man dressed in serge de Nîmes standing so calmly. He raised and loosed.
And Paulie whirled and swung…and the arrow spun off in two neatly-cleaved parts.
Paulie leaped for the rocks then and vaulted them ahead of a second arrow that glanced off the cliff face.
Teodorq nodded. “Not bad. Wanna try it again?” He nodded toward the boats, where all three archers were now armed.
Paulie stared at him. “Do I look crazy?”
Donovan said, “They’ll try to work their way up on our right.” The pocket had no natural barrier in that direction. “They’ll stay out of range of the beam weapons. Teodorq, you’ve got the best range here. How many bullets do you have left for your pellet gun?”
“In the magazine, or back in the tent?”
“Maybe they’ll just leave us here,” suggested Sofwari.
“They ain’t fighting for no medals,” agreed Theodorq.
Donovan powered down his dazer to save on the battery. He shook his head. “They want our gold and silver.”
“That’s in the chests on the boat,” said Sofwari.
But Billy chuckled. “Tell him, Donovan.”
“The money chest is in the tent. I switched it with your equipment chest. They’ll figure that out once they look inside.”
Teodorq braced his hand atop one of the rocks and tried a long shot at one of the archers. The bullet struck the man in the ankle and he howled, fell to the ground, rolled away. His mates went to him and carried him to the Gadlin, which was farthest from them. Then they fell to arguing with one another again.
Méarana sang out in the local tongue:
Billy snorted. “Sticks and stone can break their bones; but not words.”
“Don’t be too sure,” said Méarana. “They take curses and satires very seriously in the north, and some of the boatmen are northern-bred.”
“Think of it as psychological warfare,” said Donovan. “What else can we throw at them?”
“Sahbs,” said Theodorq. “Upstream.”
From out of the mist slipped the silent shapes of four large war canoes. The heads of beasts adorned their prows. The sound of their paddling was lost in the rumble of the falls. Djamos rose to his feet and cried, “The canyon! The canyon!” And ducked before the arrow he had tempted from the rivermen struck the rocks behind him.
Donovan looked at Billy. “My apologies,” he said. “You were right.”
The Confederate shrugged. “If Djespa could not buy so many river-men, he could surely buy his own cousins.”