Part 17 (1/2)

We broke into rueful laughter at the same time.

That day we made fourteen miles, and the weather held as it'd been, cold, with a chill wind coming down from the moun-taintops.

It was almost noon on the third day when the hillmen made their first move. The ground was no longer so open, and the icy river ran to one side of the road, so I had pulled my flankers back into the main column.

From nowhere about a hundred mounted men appeared in front of us, blocking the road. I heard cries of alarm from the civilians, but paid no heed.

The hillmen trotted toward us, only stopping when I shouted for them to halt or be fired upon.

One man walked his horse forward. He was tall, quite thin, and his beard was braided. He wore a long multicolored coat, made of different animal furs, and his long saber hung below his stirrups.

*He pulled up about twenty feet from me.

”So you are the Numantians, eh?”

”Your perception is almost as acute as your eyesight,” Tenedos said.

The man grinned, showing blackened teeth.

”I am Memlinc, and my word is law in Sulem Pa.s.s.”

”I know some other Men of the Hills,” Tenedos said, ”who might argue that.”

”Pah. Bandits, no more. They all kneel when I come before them.”

”No doubt,” Tenedos agreed. ”So why have you honored us with your presence, Memlinc the Great?”

”I wished to see thePh'reng that pig Fergana ordered out of Sayana. You have some women I might fancy, or one of my warriors might like. One of my elders has the Gift, and he's shown me, in a vision, a girl or two worthy of attending me in bed.

”Yes, women. And perhaps half your gold and jewels. I am a reasonable man, but since you must pa.s.s through my domain, I think it only reasonable for you to pay some sort of tribute, eh?”

Tenedos waited a long moment, then leaned forward and said softly, ”f.u.c.k you.”

Memlinc blinked.

'To be precise,” the seer went on, ”f.u.c.k you, f.u.c.k the wh.o.r.e who called herself your mother and f.u.c.k the father you never knew because he never paid for the first time.”

Memlinc's face paled.

”You cannot speak to me like that! No one can and still live!”

”Ah?” Tenedos's voice was still mild.

Memlinc's hand flashed to his dagger, just as my blade slid half out of its sheath.

”Very well,” he said, and pulled his lips back into something resembling a smile. ”Let your words carry their own penalty. I offered you peace... now see what my other hand carries.”

He picked up his reins, and made as if to turn his horse.

Instead, he spurred it forward, straight at the column, in a full gallop.

I guess this was his way of showing his courage to his fellows. They shouted encouragement, and made as if to charge. My archers' bows were up, a volley went out, and the hill-men's ranks became a cl.u.s.ter of plunging, wounded horses.

Memlinc hurtled down our column at full speed. No one had time to draw a sword and strike at him, and he was too close for bow or lance.

But he didn't reckon with Lucan. I spun my horse in his tracks and shouted him into a run.

A spear almost took the hillman, but he ducked under it, then drove his horse through the last few infantrymen into the column toward the second wagon. On it were a handful of women, a few old civilians, and some children. Riding beside the driver was one of Tenedos's retainers, an a.s.sistant pastry chef named Jacoba. I'd noted her before-a small, exceptionally striking young woman, a year or two older than I was, with long, dark hair she normally wore tied into a bun-but had never so much as spoken to her.

She must have been one of the beauties Memlinc's elder had magically pointed out, because with a shout of triumph the Kaiti leaned from his saddle, scooped Jacoba across it, spurred his horse away from the road.

I turned my own mount through the column after him. One of MeUet's men was fumbling with his javelin, and I yanked it from his grip.

Memlinc rode for a twisting ravine. Once he was away from the road, no one would dare follow him.

He was crouched in the saddle, his face far forward on his horse's neck.

I stood in my stirrups, balanced... and cast. Perhaps he thought Numantians were gentlemanly at war, or fools, because I did not aim at him, but at the far better target. The spear took his horse in the haunches. It screamed, and fell, sending the woman and her kidnapper tumbling. I pulled Lucan up hard, skidding, and came out of the saddle as Mem- *line rolled to his feet. His saber had been lost in the fall, and he ran at me, yanking a long dagger from inside his coat. His hand swooped down to pick up a rock as he came. As he started to pitch it underhand into my face my sword snaked out, and his hand, still holding the rock, fell to the ground. He had an instant to stare in disbelief at his blood pulsing out, then my blade ripped into him on the counterstroke, cutting deep into his chest, smas.h.i.+ng through his ribs and into his heart Behind me I heard battle shouts, but paid them no mind. I ran forward, I lifted the stunned Jacoba, and turned to find Lucan.

He was beside me, sensing that we had but an instant. I mounted, yanking Jacoba across the pommel of my saddle, and then we galloped hard for the safety of the train.

A handful of Memlinc's riders had attempted to ride to the aid of their leader, but my men cut them off.

There were a handful of bodies, men and horses, down in front of the column, and the rest of the bandits were fleeing up a wide draw.

I waved to Tenedos to resume the march. I returned Jacoba to her wagon just as she got her wind back. Her nose was b.l.o.o.d.y, her coat dirty from the fall, and I suspected she'd have a black eye on the morrow. She tried to find strength for words, but it had not returned as yet. I touched my helmet and rode back to the head of the formation.

As I rode past Two Column I heard a low whistle, the mocking signal the men used to show exaggerated awe at a particular piece of grandstanding. I buried a grin, and put a scowl on. Two Column would be my choice for rotten details for the next few days.

I pulled my horse in beside Tenedos.

”Now I wonder,” he said, without preamble, ”if that was Memlinc's plan from the beginning, or if he was merely improvising?”

”Probably the last, sir. I'll guess he needed to do some showing off to make sure his men still thought he was worthy to lead them.”

”Speaking of showing off,” he said after a few seconds,

”what, Legate Damastes a Cimabue, do they teach you at the lycee about a soldier who abandons his command to do something perfectly stupid, if n.o.ble?”

”Generally, sir,” I said, realizing I had been a G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned fool but not regretting it for a moment, ”he gets praised, then taken behind the barracks, given a thumping by one of the bigger warrants, and told never, ever do something like that again.”

”My congratulations, then. When we reach Urey,” Tenedos said, ”I may wish to borrow Troop Guide Bikaner for an afternoon. Until then, however, do me the favor ofnot performing any more daring rescues that can get you killed. I really do not wish to command a troop of Lancers in addition to my other responsibilities.”

”Yessir. And while we're talking about responsibilities, sir, may I say how shocked I am at the language a professional diplomat sometimes uses?”

”Tut, young Legate,” Tenedos said, mock-magisterially. ”Consider this: Our opponent is defeated, is he not? His forces have retreated, have they not? Our way lies un.o.bstructed, and we wasted little time in the colloquy, correct?