Part 34 (1/2)
”I-”.
”Curse you, man! If you're leading them, it's your duty to know these things!”
”Conan, be easy with him,” the woman said. ”This is his first battle, and against no human foe. You've no call to behave like your chief Khadjar with a drunken recruit!”
Even in the twilight, Bora recognized the looks pa.s.sing between Conan and the woman as those between bedmates. He blessed the woman for giving him at least a chance not to make a fool of himself. Captain Qonan could hardly be more than five or six years older than Bora, and his accent showed him no Turanian. Bora still felt a greater desire to win the approval of this man than he had felt with any other, save his father Rhafi.
”We certainly will march on to water. We have few waterskins and those mostly empty. We also need food. At sunset, all those who left the village last night were still with us. Above forty of our men and some half-score women are armed. Only a dozen or so have bows or good swords.”
Conan jerked his head in what Bora hoped was a nod of approval. ”Good.
Then we won't be having to send patrols up the hills into the demons'
jaws, to save your laggards. What of the other villages in your land?”
”What-oh, will they need rescuing?”
”Of course!” The captain bit off something surely impolite.
”Here.” The woman handed Bora a waterskin. The water was cool with evaporation and pungent with unknown herbs. Bora felt the dust in his mouth dissolve and the fog blow from his head.
”Bless you, my lady.”
”I am hardly a lady. Calling me Raihna the Bossonian will be enough. My Cimmerian friend is plain-spoken but right. We need to know the fate of the other villages.”
Water or herbs or both seemed to be filling Bora with new strength, with tiny thunderbolts striking each limb in turn. ”I sent messengers to all the villages I thought within reach. Three returned, three did not”
”What of the demons?” The way the man said the word, he seemed to know that they were something quite different.
”They burned our village with their magic. We saw the smoke. They did not pursue us. That proves little about the other villages, though. We would have been on the road many hours before they were.”
”If they believed your messengers at all, before it was too late,”
Conan said. His lips curled in a smile that to Bora seemed better suited to the face of a demon.
Then the smile warmed. ”Bora, you've done well. I'll say so, and I'll say it where I'll be heard.”
”Will you speak for my father Rhafi, against those who accused him of rebellion? Our carpenter Yakoub went to Aghrapur to speak also, but he has not yet returned.”
”What did your father do? Or was it something he left undone?”
Bora retold the tale briefly. The Cimmerian listened, with the air of someone smelling a midden-pit. Then he looked at the Bossonian woman.
She seemed to be smelling the same pit.
”Our friend Captain Shamil has a real art of charming people,” she said. ”Bora, can you ride?”
He wanted to say ”Of course.” Prudence changed his words to, ”If the horse is gentle enough.”
”I think you will find Morning Dew's gait pleasing. Mount and ride among your people, urging them onward. Captain Conan and I will post our men here until you have pa.s.sed, then join your rearguard.”
”Why can't you join them now?” Bora knew he was nearly whining, but could not help himself.
Conan stared hard at him. Perhaps it was meant to be only a curious look, but the Cimmerian's eyes were an unearthly shade of ice-blue.