The Sapphire Rose

‘Sparhawk!’ Martel gasped. ‘How can you reach this far?’

‘Far, old boy? It’s not really all that far at all. I’m almost on top of you. If it’d been me, though, I’d have made camp in that cedar grove across the lake. There are whole races of people who want to kill you, brother mine, and it’s hardly safe to make camp right out in the open the way you have.’

Martel sprang to his feet. ‘Get the horses!’ he shouted to Adus.

‘Leaving so soon, Martel?’ Sparhawk asked mildly. ‘What a shame. I was so looking forward to meeting you face to face again. Ah well, no matter. I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I think we can both stand to wait that long.’ Sparhawk’s grin was vicious as he watched the five of them saddling their horses. Their movements were panicky, and their eyes darted about wildly. They clambered onto their mounts and bolted off towards the east at a dead run, flogging their horses unmercifully.

‘Come back, Martel,’ Sparhawk called after them. ‘You forgot your tents.’

Chapter 23

The land of the Peloi was a vast, unfenced grassland which had never known the touch of the plough. The winds of late autumn swept that eternal grassland under a lowering sky, sighing a mournful dirge for summer. They rode eastward towards a high, rocky pinnacle out in the centre of the plain with their cloaks drawn tightly about them to ward off the arid chill, and with their mood made sombre by the unending gloom.

They reached the rock pinnacle late that afternoon and found the land around it bustling with activity. Kring, who had gone on ahead to gather the Peloi, rode up to meet them, a rough bandage encircling his head.

‘What happened to you, friend Kring?’ Tynian asked him.

‘There was some small dissatisfaction with Sir Bevier’s plan, I’m afraid,’ Kring replied ruefully. ‘One of the dissidents slipped up behind me.’

‘I would never have thought Peloi warriors would attack from the rear.’

‘Of course they wouldn’t, but my attacker wasn’t a man. A Peloi woman of high rank sneaked around behind me and banged me on the head with a cooking pot.’

‘I hope you had her suitably punished.’

‘I couldn’t really do that, friend Tynian. She’s my own sister. Our mother would never have forgiven me if I’d had the little brat flogged. None of the women liked Bevier’s idea at all, but my sister was the only one who dared to reprimand me about it.’

‘Are your womenfolk concerned about their own safety?’ Bevier asked him.

‘Of course not. They’re as brave as lionesses. What does concern them is the fact that one of them will be placed in charge of this women’s camp. Peloi women are very sensitive about status. All the menfolk thought your plan was a splendid idea, but the women –’ He spread his hands helplessly. ‘What man can ever understand a woman?’ He squared his shoulders then and got down to business. ‘I’ve put my sub-chiefs to work on organizing the camp here. We’ll leave a minimal force, and all the rest of us will make some show of riding towards the Zemoch border as if we planned to invade. From time to time at night we’ll detach forces to sneak back here and take up positions in the surrounding hills to wait for the Zemochs. You’ll all ride along and slip away when we get near the border.’

‘A very sound plan, friend Kring,’ Tynian approved.

‘I sort of thought so myself,’ Kring grinned. ‘Come along, my friends. I’ll take you to the tents of my clan. We’re roasting a span of oxen for supper. We’ll take salt together and talk of affairs.’ He seemed to think of something. ‘Friend Stragen,’ he said, ‘you know the Tamul woman Mirtai better than our other friends do. Is she at all gifted in the art of cooking?’

‘I’ve never eaten anything she prepared, Domi,’ Stragen admitted. ‘She once told us of a journey she made on foot when she was a girl, though. As I understand it, she subsisted primarily on wolf.’

‘Wolf? How do you cook a wolf?’

‘I don’t think she did. She was in a hurry, I guess, so she just ate the wolf as she went.’

Kring swallowed very hard. ‘She ate him raw?’ he asked in wonder. ‘How did she manage to catch one?’

Stragen shrugged. ‘Chased him down, more than likely,’ he replied. ‘Then she tore off some of the choicer parts and ate him as she ran.’

‘The poor wolf!’ Kring exclaimed. Then he looked suspiciously at the Thalesian thief. ‘Are you making this up, Stragen?’ he demanded.

‘Me?’ Stragen’s ice blue eyes were as innocent as those of a child.

They rode out at dawn the next morning, and Kring came back to ride beside Sparhawk. ‘Stragen was only trying to fool me last night, wasn’t he, Sparhawk?’ he asked with a worried look.

‘Probably,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Thalesians are a strange people, and they have a peculiar sense of humour.’

‘She could probably do it, though,’ Kring said in admiration. ‘ – chase down a wolf and eat him raw, I mean.’

‘I suppose she could if she wanted to,’ Sparhawk admitted. ‘I see that you’re still thinking of her.’

‘I think of very little else, Sparhawk. I’ve tried to push her from my mind, but it’s of no use.’ He sighed. ‘My people will never accept her, I’m afraid. It might be all right if my rank were not such as it is, but if I marry her, she’ll be Doma among the Peloi – the Domi’s mate, and chief among the women. The other women would gnaw their livers in jealousy and would speak against her to their husbands. Then the men would speak against her in our councils, and I’d have to kill many of the friends I’ve had since boyhood. Her presence among us would tear my people asunder.’ He sighed again. ‘Perhaps I can arrange to get myself killed during the impending war. That way I can avoid making the choice between love and duty.’ He straightened in his saddle. ‘Enough of such womanly talk,’ he said. ‘After my people and I have annihilated the main force of the Zemochs, we’ll harry the border country on both sides of the line. The Zemochs will have little time to concern themselves with you and your friends. Zemochs are easy to divert. We’ll destroy their shrines and temples. That drives them insane for some reason.’

‘You’ve thought this through rather carefully, haven’t you, Kring?’