Erak's Ransom (28 page)

The long column wound slowly across the desert, heading for the oasis where the Khoresh Bedullin tribe were camped.
The mounted Bedullin warriors herded a file of manacled Tualaghi prisoners before them, the bandits forced to walk while their captors rode. The Tualaghi, no longer the scourge of the desert, were a pitiful, footsore group — more like beggars than the feared raiders they had been. In a final symbol of their downfall, Selethen and three of his officers had walked among the bandits, tearing the blue veils from their faces and throwing them on the ground. Mindful of the way they had treated his bodyguard, the
Wakir
also removed their boots, letting them hobble on cut and bruised feet for the Journey.
Unlike Yusal, however, he provided them with sufficient water.
Before the party left Maashava, Selethen called the people together in the market square. Standing above them, on the platform that had been intended for his execution, he harangued the crowd, reminding them of how they had cried for his blood only a few days earlier. The townspeople hung their heads and shuffled their feet guiltily. He assured them that he would be in contact with the
Wakir
of their province and that a heavy tax would be levied. The first part of this would be a requirement for Maashava to refurbish its walls and watchtowers and organise an effective defence force, he told them. The Maashavites nodded gloomily. The walls were in a parlous state and repairing them would mean months of hot, heavy work. But, philosophically, they accepted his words. He was right, after all. They should be better prepared to defend themselves against future marauders.
There was at least a little good news to brighten the townspeople's spirits. Selethen decided to leave thirty of the Tualaghi captives behind to do the heavy work.
'They'll have a hard time of it,' Erak said to the
Wakir
when he heard about that arrangement. Selethen turned pitiless eyes on him.
'They slaughtered the men escorting you, remember?' he said coldly and Erak nodded. He had no real sympathy to waste on the Tualaghi.
The remaining prisoners would be taken from the Jass Par Oasis to Mararoc, where they would spend their lives at hard labour. Selethen had negotiated with Umar for an escort of Bedullin warriors to conduct them there. Umar agreed readily. He would be glad to see so many potential enemies taken away and kept in chains. Like Erak, he had no sympathy for them.
The returning war party, and its additional members, received a noisy and enthusiastic greeting when they arrived at the oasis. The Bedullin women stood in two welcoming lines, shrilling a welcome in an eerie, ululating chant, as their menfolk rode slowly back into the massive grove of trees.
The Tualaghi prisoners, following behind, were greeted with an ominous silence. They shuffled past the double line of silent women, their heads bent and their eyes down. They were still unaccustomed to showing the world their faces and they were only too aware that their lives rested on a knife edge.
Their former leader, Yusal, travelled on a litter behind a camel. He was still concussed from the massive blow he had taken to the forehead when Evanlyn's heavy marble missile had struck him. On the infrequent occasions when he regained consciousness, he raved and gibbered. Sometimes he was even seen with tears running down his cheeks. Evanlyn regarded the result of her handiwork with some misgivings.
'Do you think he'll recover his senses?' she asked the healer who had accompanied the Bedullin war party. The older man touched the massive blue and yellow bruise that disfigured the Tualaghi's forehead and shrugged.
'Head wounds are uncertain,' he told her. 'Maybe tomorrow he'll improve. Maybe in a year. Maybe never.' He smiled at her. 'Don't be too concerned, young lady. He doesn't merit any pity.'
She nodded. But she wasn't completely comforted. She didn't like the fact that she had reduced a man — no matter how evil he might be — to a drooling idiot.
Her spirits recovered on the second night back at the oasis, when the Khoresh Bedullin organised a feast of welcome and celebration.
They ate spiced roast lamb, and peppers blackened in the fire until their tough outer skins could be peeled away, then stuffed with flavoured rice and a cereal the Bedullin called
couscous
— light and fluffy, spiced with saffron and cumin and cardamom and garnished with plump sultanas and thin flakes of toasted almonds.
There were other delicious dishes of mutton or chicken, cooked in strange conical clay cookpots called tagines and mixed with more spices, dates, apricots and root vegetables. The cone-shaped lids of the tagines retained the flavoured steam from the cooking liquids, rendering the meat so succulent and tender that it fell from the bone.
The meal was eaten with the hands, and pieces of fresh flat bread were tom up to make implements. It was a delicious, greasy-fingered evening of eating to excess — a piece of indulgence the group felt they owed themselves after the hardships of their desert campaign.
Halt, Gilan, Evanlyn, Horace and the two Skandians were given a prominent position in the circle sitting around the massive fire. Selethen and Will, however, were in the principal places of honour, seated to the right of Umar and his wife, Cielema, respectively. Evanlyn smiled at Horace and jerked her thumb towards the young Ranger, currently engaged in animated conversation with the Bedullin leader and his wife. The two older people roared with laughter at something he had said and he ducked his head, grinning, pleased that he had amused them.
'He falls on his feet wherever he goes, doesn't he?' she said, a trifle wistfully. Horace looked across the fire at his old friend and nodded.
'People like him,' he replied. Then he added, 'There's a lot to like, after all.'
'Yes,' Evanlyn said, her eyes fixed on Will. For a moment, studying her, Horace saw a brief shadow of sadness pass across her face. He jogged her with an elbow, a little more enthusiastically than good manners dictated.
'Sling us a peach, will you?' he said. She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.
'You don't mean that literally, do you?' she said. He smiled, glad to see she had shaken off her melancholy, knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist the pun on his use of the word 'sling'. He held up his hands before his face in mock horror.
'Please! Spare me that!' he said and they both laughed.
The Bedullin, as a general rule, didn't use alcohol, but out of deference to the two Skandians, several flasks of
arariki,
a brandy made from fermented dates and peaches, were provided. Now Erak and Svengal, at their own insistence, decided they would perform a sea chanty for the enjoyment and education of the assembled group. They stood on rather unsteady legs and began to bellow out the ribald tale of a penguin who fell hopelessly in love with a humpback whale.
Since the desert-dwelling audience had never seen either animal and so had no idea of the discrepancy in their sizes, much of the humour fell flat. So did much of the melody. But they applauded the enthusiasm of the singers, and the sheer volume at which they performed, and the two sea wolves resumed their seats, confident they had upheld the honour of Skandia.
Halt was quiet, Gilan thought. But then, Halt usually was quiet at events like this. Halt's eyes were intent on the animated young face of his apprentice as he talked and laughed with the Bedullin
Aseikh
and his wife.
'He did well,' Gilan said and Halt turned to him, a rare smile touching the bearded face.
'He did,' he agreed.
'Told you he would,' Gilan said, grinning.
Halt nodded acknowledgement. 'Yes. You did. You were right.'
Gilan shifted to face Halt more directly, remembering something Halt had said some days previously.
'But you knew, didn't you? You said to us when we were in Maashava that Yusal had forgotten that Will was out there. So you knew he'd survived. How was that?'
Halt's face grew serious as he considered the question. 'I think
knew
is too definite a term. I sensed it. I've always had a sense about Will. There's a feeling of destiny to that boy. I've felt it since the first day he joined me.'
'And now it's nearly time to turn him loose,' Gilan said gently. He saw a mixture of sadness and pride competing in Halt's eyes. Then the grizzled Ranger sighed.
'Yes it is,' he said.
After the feast broke up, Evanlyn's party sat with Umar and Selethen around a smaller fire. Cielema passed around coffee.
'Perhaps it's time we talked a little business,' Selethen began, his eyes on Evanlyn. 'There is the small matter of Erak's ransom.'
He paused expectantly, waiting for Evanlyn to produce the money draft and her seal ring. Both items had been recovered from Yusal. Evanlyn, however, showed no sign of doing so.
'His ransom?' she asked and he nodded impatiently. 'Yes. You agreed to ransom him. I'm sure you can recall that,' he added sardonically.
Evanlyn nodded several times, went to speak, then stopped, her hand raised in midair. Then, as if uncertain, she said to the
Wakir,
'Just explain the concept of ransom to me if you would?'
Selethen frowned. He had hoped to hurry through this matter and have it settled before anyone thought too deeply about it. It seemed he wasn't going to get away with it.
'I think we all know what a ransom is,' he said evasively. Evanlyn smiled at him.
'Humour me. I'm an addle-headed girl.'
Across the fire, Cielema hid a smile behind her hand. Umar, who had been told the background to this discussion by Will, leaned forward helpfully.
'If I might assist here. A ransom is paid by one party when a second party is holding a third party hostage.'
'That's a lot of parties,' Horace whispered to Will and the young Ranger grinned.
'S-o-o-o,' Evanlyn said, 'if I were the first party, I would pay an agreed amount to the second party who is holding the third party? Is that correct?'
'Correct,' Selethen said, thin-lipped. Evanlyn frowned at him, a puzzled expression on her face.
'You can't really expect me to pay sixty-six thousand reels of silver to Yusal, can you?'
'To Yusal!' the
Wakir
exclaimed, coming close to choking on his coffee. 'Why in the name of all that's holy would you pay it to Yusal?'
Evanlyn spread her hands in an ingenuous gesture. 'Well, he was the second party, wasn't he? He was the one holding Erak hostage when we found him. Not you,' she added, after a significant pause.
'That's a technicality,' Selethen began in a blustering tone. But he had a sinking feeling. He was being outsmarted. He thought it might be a good tactic to change the subject, then work back to the ransom question later. 'Besides, Yusal's future is yet to be decided,' he said.
'That's a good point,' Halt put in. 'What's going to become of Yusal?'
Selethen gestured towards Umar. 'That's for the Bedullin to decide, I would say. What do you want to do with him,
Aseikh
Umar?'
Umar shrugged. 'I don't want him. You can have him if you want him.'
Selethen smiled for the first time since this discussion had begun.
'Oh yes, I want him. The man is a killer and a rebel and we have a cell ready and waiting for him in Mararoc. He's been a thorn in our side for longer than I can remember. With him out of the way, the Tualaghi will be a lot easier to handle. As a matter of fact, the
Emtikir
has been offering a substantial re — '
He stopped himself a fraction of a second too late, realising he had said too much. He feigned a fit of coughing to cover his lapse.
Evanlyn waited till he finished, then tugged at his sleeve, forcing him to make eye contact.
'A substantial "re",' she said, mimicking his hesitation. 'Would that be "reward" that you were going to say?'
'Yes.' The word was forced out from between Selethen's suddenly thin lips.
'Now let me get this straight,' Evanlyn said thoughtfully. 'Who actually captured Yusal? I mean, who actually defeated him?' She looked up at the stars, her brow knitted in thought. Then it cleared and she said happily, 'Oh, I remember! I did! With my little sling!'
'She's right,' Umar said, grinning fiercely. 'If anyone has the right to determine his fate, it's her.'
'So I'd be entitled to that "substantial reward" you mentioned?'
Selethen was in an awkward position. If they had been conducting this discussion at Al Shabah or in Mararoc, he would have had the negotiating advantage that came with a large number of armed men to uphold his argument. But the only large force here was Bedullin — and their leader seemed to be in agreement with Evanlyn. On top of that, the
Wakir
admitted, there was a certain validity to all her claims. He hadn't been holding Erak when the Skandian was rescued — and the Araluan Princess was the one who had brought Yusal down. Technically, the Tualaghi war leader was her prisoner. Technically, she owed Selethen nothing and he owed her the reward. This wasn't how he'd planned things, he thought.
'All right, let's get down to it,' said Evanlyn, dropping the little girl act and suddenly becoming all business. 'Selethen, I believe we do owe you something. But not sixty-six thousand reels. And we definitely owe Umar and the Bedullin something because, without them, Erak would still be Yusal's captive.'
'We didn't do it for money. We did it for friendship,' Umar said, indicating Will when he mentioned friendship. Evanlyn nodded acknowledgement.
'You can always give it back if you like,' she said and, as Umar hastened to make a negative gesture, she smiled. 'So here's the offer: I'm willing to pay Umar and his people twenty thousand reels for their help.'
She paused, taking in the looks of agreement and approval around the fire. It was a fair sum. She went on:
'I'll pay the same amount to you, Selethen. Twenty thousand. I think you're owed something.' Before the
Wakir
could say anything, she added, 'And I'll forego the "substantial reward" for Yusal. You can have him. Keep him. Cut off his ears. Drop him down a well if you like. I don't want him. Is that fair?'
Selethen hesitated, then his own sense of justice cut in. The offer was effectively more than forty thousand. She could offer nothing and get away with it.
'It's fair. I accept gratefully,' he said.
Erak nodded his approval too. He thought Evanlyn had handled the entire matter with great statesmanship. Stateswomanship, he corrected himself.
'You're very generous, Princess,' he said, smiling indulgently at her. Evanlyn looked at him, one eyebrow raised.