The long-caravan snaked its way across the broken brown clay. It appeared like a giant centipede, its torso a long line of camels and covered coaches, its legs the flanking soldiers riding tall horses. In the middle of that center line, in the largest and most lavish coach, Yatol Grysh sat back in his cushy seat, complaining about the heat constantly, though he had several attendants, all beautiful young women, fanning him and patting his brow with moistened towels.
"I do so hate this," the Yatol said repeatedly. ?With the To-gai dogs, there is never any rest from my duties."
The two of his four attendants who were of obvious To-gai-ru descent, with their softer and straighter hair and almond-shaped eyes, didn't flinch at the remark, having long ago gotten used to Grysh's demeaning manner.
"It will calm the outposters," said Carwan Pestle, Grysh's advisor Shep-herd, and the sixth and final person in the wide coach. ?They fear that the thieves grow bolder by the day."
The caravan had been barely out of Jacintha, making its way along the southern shadows of the Belt-and-Buckle toward Dharyan, the town con-trolled by Yatol Grysh, the seat of his power in northwestern Behren, when couriers from Temple Yaminos of Dharyan had caught up to them, inform-ing the ruling Yatol that the thieves of the Corcorca region of To-gai, just west and south of Yaminos, always a thorn, had become even more active. That, of course, had unsettled the outposters, the Behrenese emigrants who had begun to settle outside the old Behren-To-gai border.
Yatol Grysh had campaigned for those settlements, to the Behrenese peo-ple and to Chezru Douan, figuring that his job would become all the easier as the Behrenese settlers gradually began to civilize the wild To-gai-ru. But the early transition was proving to be something of a trial for the lazy man.
Thus, Grysh had diverted his caravan to the south and ridden right past Jharyan, determined to enter Corcorca with his two hundred escorting sol-diers, a contingent that included a score of fierce Chezhou-Lei warriors.
He'd teach the dogs. Though there weren't all that many miles separating Dharyan from the To-gai region, it was a difficult trek, with the wagons bouncing along a narrow, rocky, steeply ascending trail, up to the higher elevations of the To-gai plateau. Yatol Grysh did not enjoy the several days of discomfort.
Grysh leaned back and looked out his window at the wide and barren landscape. In the distance to the north, he could see the towering peaks of the mountain range that had been a backdrop to his home for his entire life. He wanted to be back under their cooling shadow, in the temple that was his palace, full of luxuries and sweet foods, of clean baths and beautiful and dutiful women.
But Yatol Grysh understood that the only way to ensure the continuation and safety of his precious palace was to rule these eastern stretches of To-gai with an iron hand. He hated the To-gai-ru, with their barbaric, nomadic ways. He hardly considered them human.
Grysh looked at his To-gai-ru attendants and smiled lewdly. He did like their women, though.
"The people of Douan Cal near completion of their wall?" he asked Car-wan. Douan Cal, named after the Chezru Chieftain, was the largest and most important of the Behrenese settlements, and also the one most plagued by the rogue To-gai-ru bandits.
"They work tirelessly, Yatol," Carwan replied. ?But their life is difficult. Water must be carried far and crops constantly tended. Their hunters have not learned the way of the local game yet, and thus often return without food. They are not many, but still, they work as they can, whenever they can, at cutting the blocks for their encircling wall."
"Have they not enough To-gai-ru servants to complete the work?"
"Many have left, Yatol. The To-gai-ru traditionally wander to the foothills in the summer season."
"And many, it seems, have wandered to the nearby desert, to come forth whenever it is convenient to steal from our people."
Carwan nodded. ?Life is difficult," he said somberly.
Grysh sat back and stared out the window, considering the new responsi-bilities that had befallen him since Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan had de-cided that the time had come for Behren to ?reclaim" its ancient province of To-gai. True, the subjugation of the To-gai-ru had provided many slaves for Behren, and a seemingly endless supply of the wonderful and valuable ponies so prized by the men of Honce-the-Bear. But Grysh, who witnessed the hardships of controlling the wild folk of the steppes on a nearly daily basis, still wondered about the wisdom of the conquest, still wondered if the bother was worth the gain.
For Yatol Grysh was wise enough to recognize that his people, the Behre-nese, were not well suited for the trials of the cold wind and grassy steppes of brutal To-gai. How many years would it take the outposters to adapt?
The seasons would it take for them to come to understand the ways - desert animals, the huge hares and spry deer, the giant and powerful that was his charge from Jacintha, to continue to build new settle-tretching farther and farther to the west, a supply line of small s'across the windblown stretch of grassland that separated the heart of ?ai from Behren, so that the assimilation of the wild To-gai-ru could be-' earjiest.
Yatol Grysh was more a pragmatic man than a religious one, ?t both sides of that conflict saw prudence in following the Chezru Chief-tain's edicts to the letter And so he had turned south and continued west, to the call or his people. I ate that afternoon, as the summer sun began its descent behind the line of mountains, the call came back that the eastern wall of Douan Cal had been spotted by the point scouts.
"Continue on through the darkness, then," Yatol Grysh instructed. ?Have a rider go ahead fast to instruct the outposters to light guiding signal fires atop the highest point of their eastern wall."
"It may be dangerous to travel after dark," Carwan pointed out, but Grysh silenced him with a stern look.
"Then tighten the line and move the wagons into three side-by-side columns," he instructed. He turned to his military commander, Chezhou-Lei Wan Atenn, who had personally delivered the news of the sighting. ?You will protect us from the fierce To-gai-ru bandits, will you not?"
The Chezhou-Lei, proud and loyal, sat up very straight on his tall horse, staring at his Yatol with a frozen and determined expression.
"I thought so," Yatol Grysh said, and he closed the window's shutter, for the sun was descending, and on the steppes, even in summertime, it was amazing to Grysh how fast the air cooled, the scorching daytime heat dissi-pating to an uncomfortable chill.
Grysh slapped away the fanning ladies then, and motioned for them to huddle about his large form, using them as living blankets.
He wanted to be home, true, but Yatol Grysh was a man who knew how to take his comforts as he found them. Surely the ride that night was not so unpleasant. The stories Yatol Grysh heard within the compound of Douan Cal were predictable. Bands of To-gai raiders had struck at the town repeatedly, taking their livestock, hurling curses and hurling missiles. None of the Behren settlers had been killed as yet, but several had been injured, including the sane old woman who had been hit in the head with a rock.
What is your assessment of our enemy?" Yatol Grysh asked Carwan ter on when they were alone - alone concerning anyone who mattered, atol Grysh did not think enough of his serving wenches to bother watching his words around them.
oung men," Carwan answered after giving the question a bit of thought.
"Teenagers, perhaps. The older To-gai-ru would have been more straight-forward and more brutal in their attacks."
"Because the older To-gai-ru would be righting for more than livestock," Yatol Grysh said, and Carwan nodded eagerly.
"The older ones once caused trouble throughout To-gai, fighting fanati-cally," Carwan said. ?They slaughtered entire villages without regard for the women or children."
"Because the older outlaws - and praise Yatol that few remain alive - -fought with the names of their gods on their lips," Yatol Grysh explained, ?they believed that their fighting and murdering was paving their road to whatever they envision as their heaven. Men who do battle in such a man-ner are always the worst enemies, my young student."
"Like our own Chezhou-Lei?" Carwan dared to remark.
"And always the best allies," Yatol Grysh finished with a sly smile. ?And tell me, what are we to do about these raiders? Do you believe that we will find them in the open desert?"
Carwan leaned back and considered the problem. The outposters had be-come fairly competent at navigating this area of desert, by their own boasts, but none knew the region as did the To-gai-ru. There in Corcorca's rugged landscape, valleys opened up unexpectedly at one's feet and huge and tow-ering mesas formed dizzying arrays of interlocking channels. Chasing the raiders about in that, their home ground, seemed a fool's errand indeed.
"We'll not catch up to them if we spend the rest of the season in pursuit," Yatol Grysh went on, for Carwan's expression made his feelings on the mat-ter quite clear. ?And likely, they'll strike behind us at every opportunity, to embarrass us more than to cause any serious mischief. But in that inevitable embarrassment lies a danger, my student. Do you see it?
"We will turn a band of young thieves into a band of legends," Yatol Grysh answered after only a brief pause. ?And that legend will give the To-gai-ru of the region great hope that the veil of Behren will be lifted from their land."
"Then what are we to do, Yatol?"
"The nomads' latest encampment is not far from here," Yatol Grysh ex-plained. ?We will pay them a visit on the morrow, I think, and see what we may learn."
Something about the manner in which he said the words had the hairs on the back of Carwan's neck standing up. Something about the set of his ex-pression at that moment, a bit of a grin, perhaps, but more a smug and de-termined look, told Carwan that his master meant to see to this thorny problem with all efficiency.
Whatever the cost.
Most of the caravan remained behind at Douan Cal the next day, with Grysh's coach the only wagon riding out. Surrounding the Yatol, though, the whole of his military escort, along with a few men from Douan Cal knew some of the nearby To-gai-ru.
". rwan Pestle rode with Grysh. He tried to start a few conversations at but it became obvious to him that his master was agitated and wanted be left to his own thoughts. Carwan could guess what that foretold, for had seen Grysh in similar moods, always before issuing a most unpleas- e�� order. As Yatol of Dharyan, Grysh also served as principal magistrate, d so he was the one who ordered the executions of convicted criminals. It was not a duty that he seemed to enjoy, but neither was it one from which he ever shied.
Soon after midday, Carwan was leaning out of the coach window, peering ahead intently, for the call had come back that the To-gai-ru encampment was iirsight. Carwan Pestle had never seen a To-gai-ru settlement, and he held a healthy curiosity toward these strange nomadic savages.
The wagon came over a ridge, the ground falling away gradually beyond, down to a wide and shallow river that meandered across the clay, the ever-eager flora of the desert springing to life about its inevitably temporary banks. A cluster of tents was set near one bend, the thin gray smoke of cooking fires lazily snaking into the pale blue sky. No horses were tethered within the camp that Carwan could see, but there was a fair-sized herd milling about. Above all else, the To-gai-ru were famous for their ways with horses, d Carwan could well imagine that this seemingly wild herd was far from untamed.
At least to the commands of a To-gai-ru rider.
The lead riders fanned out left and right, forming a semicircle about the camp, the only open route leading right into the river. With perfect disci-pline, the second line of twenty warriors, led by Wan Atenn, kicked their mounts into a thundering run, galloping right to the edge of the camp and forming a tighter, threatening perimeter.
Many cries of alarm came out to Carwan Pestle's ears, and he noted that all of them were in the voices of women or young children.
A moment later, Wan Atenn signaled that the village was secure, and the driver cracked the whip on the draft horses and Yatol Grysh's coach ram-bled down to the encampment.
Carwan Pestle peered intently all the way, as the small forms took on more definitive shapes, and he knew that his reasoning upon hearing the cries was correct. There seemed to be no adult men in the encampment.
Wan Atenn rode up beside the window. ?It is safe, Yatol," he reported.
"No weapons shown?"
'Only the young and the old and the women," Wan Atenn explained.
Carwan Pestle turned a curious expression on Grysh. ?Perhaps the men are out on a hunt."
"Indeed," the Yatol replied slyly. ?But it is well-known that the To-gai-ru hunt early in the morning. Only early in the morning."
"But - "
"So if they are indeed out on the hunt, then what, my young friend, might they be hunting?"
Carwan sat back and stared at the Yatol. He was beginning to get a very bad feeling about all of this, his stomach turning over and over. The coach came to an abrupt stop and Carwan was quick to the door, throwing it open and leaping out, then turning about and rolling out the retracting stairs for his Yatol.
Grysh came out slowly, allowing Wan Atenn to set his warriors in defen-sive posture about the small stairway. The Yatol paused on each step, his heavy head swiveling to take in all the sights: the many tents, the many small children peeking out from under the shadows of the folds.
"These people breed like hares," he snickered, and he sighed. ?Find out who is in charge of this wretched camp."
Wan Atenn snapped to attention, then spun off, motioning for one of the Douan Cal men to come with him.
Together, they went tent to tent, Wan Atenn saying something to the outposter, and the man translating it to the To-gai-ru.
Always, a shake of the head came back in response, followed by a more insistent bark from Wan Atenn and a more insistent reiteration from the outposter.
When that, too, brought no apparent acceptable response, Wan Atenn stepped forward and, with a simple and balanced twist and push move-ment, shoved the To-gai-ru to the ground, and the pair moved along.
"They are afraid," Yatol Grysh explained to Carwan. ?They do not an-swer because they know not what to say."
"Your man, Atenn, inspires fear."
"No," Yatol Grysh replied. ?They know not what to answer because the truth would damn them. The fools have not properly rehearsed their lies because they did not expect that such a force would come against them. Their hesitance is telling, do you see?"
"Yes, Yatol."
"Do you?" Grysh asked again, more emphatically, turning to face Carwan. ?Why are they afraid?" he asked when Carwan gave him his full attention.
Carwan knew the answer, but he chewed on it for a few seconds, not even wanting to speak it aloud, fearing the consequences. ?Because they are guilty," he said at last, and Yatol Grysh nodded slowly and deliberately, turning his head as he did, his eyes narrowing, to face the gathered To-gai-ru.
Carwan could not deny the logic of his claim, for it seemed obvious to him that this village was at least aware of, if not in league with, the bandits. But as he looked around at the gathering, frightened women and children, and a few old men staring out from the shadows, the word ?guilty" just did not seem appropriate.
A commotion to the side caught his attention, and he turned that way to a Behrenese warrior emerging from a tent, a young To-gai-ru man held fore him, arm wrapped painfully and effectively behind his back.
"They say that their men are all out hunting, Yatol," Wan Atenn said at i same moment, for the Cheznou-Lei warrior and the translator had con-tinued the conversation to the side.
"All but one, it would seem."
The soldier with the prisoner moved before Wan Atenn and threw the man at his leader's feet. ?A tunnel concealed within the tent," he explained.
Wan Atenn nodded to a pair of soldiers and they ran off to the tent, dis-appearing within its folds without hesitation.
"Who is this?'V��atoTtkysh said to Wan Atenn and the interpreter, and the outposter immediately turned to the To-gai-ru woman with whom he had been speakingand barked out a series of questions. The woman was slow to answer at first, but! the outposter began screaming at her, the same question over and over.
She started screaming back, answering with such enthusiasm that her lie was easy for all to see, even for those who didn't understand the To-gai-ru language.
Then it stopped, suddenly, the outposter and the defiant woman staring hard at each other.
"Where are the others?" Yatol Grysh calmly asked, and his translator echoed the question in the same tone.
"No others," the woman answered, and both Carwan and Grysh under-stood the simple phrase before their man turned to explain.
"Where are the others?" Grysh asked again, in the same calm tones, and again, it was properly translated.
The woman responded exactly the same way, and as the outposter turned to Grysh, the Yatol held up his hand and turned to Wan Atenn.
"No trees to hang the prisoner properly," he said. ?Stake him."
Carwan's eyes widened with shock. ?Yatol..." he started to say, but the look Grysh shot him clearly said that he was out of bounds.
Wan Atenn began barking orders, and in short order, the prisoner had been dragged to the side of the encampment and laid out, spread-eagled, staked down by his wrists and ankles. Every time he tried to struggle, a Behrenese soldier kicked him in the ribs.
The gathering of To-gai-ru screamed and jostled, but Grysh's escorting contingent was more than able to hold them at bay.
At the next moment of calm, Grysh again nodded to Wan Atenn, and the fierce warrior, no novice to these techniques, fetched a torch from the fire his companions were preparing. Another soldier dutifully ran to intercept Wan Atenn, handing him a bulging waterskin.
A waterskin of lamp oil, Carwan knew. Carwan was at a loss, hardly able to draw breath, let alone speak a word of protest. A word that his unques-tionable master did not want to hear, in any case.
He watched, fighting hard to hide his revulsion, as Wan Atenn stuck the torch into the ground between the man's knees.
"Ask her again where the others might be," Grysh instructed his out-poster interpreter.
The woman, her eyes wide and unblinking, hesitated for a long, long time, then answered with the same words, though in a much more subdued tone.
Grysh nodded to his fierce Chezhou-Lei warrior, who immediately began splashing the lamp oil all over the staked man.
Then the Yatol turned to the woman, a wide smile on his face. ?One last time," he said, somewhat flippantly.
The woman looked away, and Carwan wanted to as well, but found that he could not, mesmerized by the sight of his master calmly nodding to Wan Atenn, by the sight of Wan Atenn, showing no emotion at all, as he grabbed up the torch and touched it to the oiled prisoner.
Carwan knew that the man was screaming, knew that the gathered To-gai-ru were screaming, but he didn't really hear any of it. He was trapped by the vision before him, locked by horror and sheer amazement.
"Now," he at last heard from the side, and realized that Yatol Grysh, who was motioning for him to follow to the coach, had likely called to him sev-eral times.
Carwan spun away and sprinted to the stairs, guiding his master up, then retracting the stairs and leaping into the coach, eager to close the door on the gruesome scene.
"Do as you will," Yatol Grysh said to Wan Atenn, then ordered his driver to be off.
They all left then, except for the twenty warriors and their fierce Chezhou-Lei leader. For a long, long time, Carwan Pestle sat in the quiet coach, determined not to look back. Eventually, though, he did peek out.
The encampment was not in view, lost behind the sloping ridgeline, but several lines of smoke rose into the pale air. Not thin gray smoke, as from the campfires, but evil black snaking lines.
Carwan shuddered and fell back into his seat, trying hard not to throw up.