Gladiators Of Hapanu

Chapter 14

Blade came awake lying face-up on a prickly mat of some kind. Overhead the sky showed through a lacework of branches and leaves. Close by he could smell wood smoke and roasting meat, and a little farther off water plants and the mud of a river bank.

His head throbbed, his scalp itched, and his mouth was as dry and painful as if it were filled with thistles. He was bound hand and foot with lengths of chain fastened with heavy locks. He turned his head to get a better look at his captors and the world around him. Someone took two quick steps toward him, then a boot toe smashed into his temple. Someone else shouted in anger or surprise, and the boot came in a second time. Blade felt blood flowing from his scalp and suspected he'd lose consciousness if he was kicked a third time.

Then a man was looming over him-no, two men, one with his sword out, pointing it at the other's stomach while he held the man by the arm.

«Cha-Chern, get back, or Hapanu help me, I'll-«

«You and how many others?»

«Push me, and you may find out.»

The man with the sword pointed at his stomach wore the same kind of elaborate armor as the man Blade had wounded. He seemed to consider the warning worth taking seriously. Slowly he backed out of Blade's sight, but the conversation went on.

«What's he to you, anyway?»

«Only my share of what we'll get for sending him to the Games, that's all. So keep away from him. That's an order.»

«You can't-«

«I can. I just did, and I'll do it again. You may be one of the Protector's-people-but I've served much longer than you. Kra-Shad isn't going to be commanding again before we get home, so that leaves me over you. And if I get any more of your waving tongue about it, I'll have you tied up along with the prisoners.»

The other voice-Cha-Chern's-came sneeringly. «So holy, and yet you had her along with all the rest of us.»

«A woman is one thing,» said the man with the sword, sheathing it briskly. «Getting us all home alive and unspeared is another. That's what I'm thinking about now. You'd do better to do the same.»

«Oh, I will-for now.» Blade heard receding footsteps, then the man who'd been defending him squatted down beside him. Blade saw a lean brown face with extraordinary gray eyes on either side of a beak-like nose. The face was heavily lined, and the hair falling over the scarred forehead was mostly gray.

«Do you need anything?» the man asked. He spoke the language of the Forest People, but with such a heavy accent that Blade would have understood him much better if he'd been speaking his native language. The computer's work on the language centers of his brain didn't always make allowances for accents and dialects!

«Water,» said Blade. The gray-haired man nodded, reached out of Blade's sight, and brought up a bulging leather sack. He uncorked it, tilted it up, and let Blade drink until the thistles were washed out of his mouth.

«Thank you.»

The man nodded, corked the sack, and stood up. «You go to the Games, I know. But even there-remember that you can choose to live or die. I think you are a man who will choose to live.» Then he was gone.

If his head hadn't been aching too much, Blade would have laughed at the man's words. Not in derision, but because the man's words so closely matched his own thoughts on what came next. He was going to be a slave in Gerhaa, a gladiator in the Games of Hapanu. Gladiators were usually privileged slaves, with weapons in their hands. That wasn't a bad starting point for a man who could keep his wits about him. It would probably be enough to save Blade, and perhaps it would be enough to save Meera.

Meanwhile there was the gray-haired soldier, who was apparently willing to see that Blade reached the city and the Games alive. Now if the man could just be brought to do the same for Meera-

Blade didn't see Meera until the next morning, when they were both being loaded into the slave raiders' canoes. He was awakened by two men, who shaved his head and washed the cuts in his scalp with something which stung painfully, then slapped on a rough bandage. After that his hands were unchained and he was fed a breakfast of coarse bean porridge with bits of salt meat and all the weak beer he could drink.

Then they chained his hands again, unchained his feet, and led him down to the canoes. As he sat down, he saw four soldiers coming down the bank, carrying Meera on a crude litter. He was shocked at her appearance. She was naked, and apart from the wound in her leg, her face, breasts, and thighs were swollen with bruising. At first Blade thought she was unconscious, then saw that she was simply half-numb with shock or fear. Her eyes stared blankly upward, and she didn't blink even when the bearers dropped one end of the litter. It was hard to believe from looking at her that she was still completely sane.

Blade didn't blame Meera. There could be no doubt what she'd been through yesterday-mass rape and probably a beating as well. It would be hard to save her, though, if she couldn't lift a finger to help herself. She might even be killed outright, if the slave raiders decided she wouldn't bring them enough money in the slave markets to be worth carrying to Gerhaa.

Blade could think of only one thing to do. He was going to have to speak to the gray-haired soldier, and ask to be allowed to care for Meera during the trip downriver. No doubt the man would then realize Blade cared for Meera, and that any threat to her would bring him under control. Blade refused to worry about that. He certainly wasn't going to abandon Meera without doing everything he could to save her. Any danger to himself was small, compared with the danger to her.

The gray-haired soldier didn't appear until the canoes were nearly loaded. Four soldiers appeared, carrying the officer with the smashed shoulder on another litter. The man was only half conscious. Behind him came a slim young man wearing an elegant and intricate outfit of dyed leather instead of armor. When he spoke to the bearers, Blade recognized the voice of Cha-Chern, the man who'd kicked him and quarreled with the gray-haired soldier.

The man Blade wanted brought up the rear. As he stopped to take a final look around, Blade raised his hands and rattled his chains loudly. «Captain! I have something to ask you.»

The gray-haired man turned, hand on his sword hilt but apparently not angry. «Yes, slave?»

«The woman-the woman who was with me-«Blade pointed as well as he could.

«Your woman?»

«Yes.»

«Not any more,» interrupted Cha-Chern. «She goes to the-«

«Cha-Chern, you will be silent,» said the gray-haired man, drawing his sword. «Your woman goes to the Happy Houses. Surely you know this?»

«Yes, but-can you not allow us these last few days…?»

Cha-Chern opened his mouth, then shut it as a gesture from the other allowed Blade to continue. «Captains-consider that if she does not heal, you get only a poor price for her. You may get none at all. If she and I have these last few days together… «

Blade spoke in the language of the Forest People, although it required a conscious effort to avoid slipping into the language of the Sons of Hapanu. However, neither officer seemed to suspect he was anything unusual, in spite of his pale skin. Speaking to them fluently in their own language would be sure to arouse those suspicions and make his situation and Meera's more difficult, perhaps more dangerous.

He was also letting a whine creep into his voice, the whine of a slave willing to beg. Blade hoped it was convincing, and that the officers would agree before the disgust rising inside him spoiled the act. He wouldn't have done this beggar's act for himself, not in a hundred years. But if it would help save Meera, he'd try it.

Both officers were silent for so long that Blade almost gave up hope. Then the gray-haired one nodded. «Yes, Cha-Chern, I think the slave has wisdom. If the woman is sold as she is, the Happy Houses won't pay us nearly what she's worth. I can tell when a woman has promise, and she has much. So I say let him have her as he wishes, until we reach Gerhaa.»

«But, Ho-Marn-«began Cha-Chern, then stopped as the other's sword twitched.

«It shall be done,» said Ho-Marn, sheathing his sword and turning his back on Cha-Chern. He scrambled down the bank toward the canoe, leaving the younger officer to run after him. Blade fought not to laugh. He also fought to keep an expression of humble gratitude on his face. That wasn't easy, when what he really wanted to do was pick up Cha-Chern and throw him into the river, fancy leather outfit and all.

The trip downriver was always high on Blade's private list of Experiences I Wouldn't Repeat for a Million Pounds. Fortunately it gave Meera time to slowly return to something like health and sanity.

Blade never knew whether it was his care, Meera's natural toughness, or simply the passage of time that healed her. It was probably some of each. By the time they'd been on the river five days, Meera began to recover her health and spirits. The bruises were fading, the leg wound was healing without any complications, the aches in her joints no longer kept her awake at night, and even the nightmares no longer woke her screaming.

«I cannot forget,» she whispered one night. «I will not forget. I do not want to forget until I have killed Cha-Chern with my own hands. After that I may forget. For now, I will do anything you say must be done.»

Blade kissed her gently and held her for a moment in silence. That was all he could do without the guards noticing and Cha-Chern making lewd jokes. In that case Blade didn't completely trust himself to keep his own hands off Cha-Chern's throat.

Cha-Chern not only made lewd jokes, he caressed Meera and struck Blade whenever he thought Ho-Marn wasn't looking. That wasn't too often, as Ho-Marn was the kind of officer who seemed to be in about six places at once. When Cha-Chern did get his opportunities, the other soldiers who saw him said nothing. Cha-Chern was an officer of the Protector's Guard, whatever that was, and this seemed to make everybody but Ho-Marn afraid of him.

From overhearing the talk of the soldiers, Blade was able to reconstruct the events leading up to Meera's and his capture. The soldiers were part of a raiding expedition coming up the Fak'si River from a temporary base at the point where the Yellow River flowed into the Great River. They'd been stopping to repair some leaky canoes when they heard the sound of the fight against the Treemen in the distance.

In the hope of capturing the survivors of the fight, the soldiers promptly set off in the direction of the noise. They arrived just in time to capture Blade and Meera. The bodies lying around and the fight Blade put up convinced them that a large party of Forest People was close at hand. There would be no slaves to be taken along this stretch of the Fak'si River this time, at least not without a savage fight. So the raiders were now on their way home, almost empty-handed.

Blade got a grim laugh out of this story. If he and Meera hadn't stayed around to arrange the bodies naturally, they would have been gone before the Sons of Hapanu arrived. On the other hand, by arranging the bodies they'd prevented the Sons of Hapanu from carrying out a slave raid and perhaps killing or carrying off many of the Forest People. Blade and Meera's bad luck had been good luck for others.

As far as Blade could tell, none of the soldiers had noticed the new laminated bows. Hopefully these were still a secret. If Blade or Meera could escape, they might still be an unpleasant surprise to the Sons of Hapanu.

The raiders paddled down the Fak'si River and then the Yellow for six days before reaching their base camp. Meera's face set into a grim mask when she saw the camp. It had the look of an American frontier fort, with log walls, solid huts and barracks, and a fleet of canoes and small sailing ships.

«The Sons of Hapanu grow bold, and think we in the Forest grow weak. They have never built so strongly this far upriver. The raids we have seen before now will be nothing to what we shall see when they raid from this place.» If looks could have started fires; Meera's expression would have burned the enemy camp to the ground.

As the canoes approached the camp, Ho-Marn squatted down beside Blade for a few private words. «It would be best that you and your woman do as the other slaves do now. Otherwise, you will attract the notice of the Protector's men. Here I can no longer guard you from them.»

«It shall be as you wish.» He still wanted to know who the Protector was, but this wasn't the time to ask. If most of the Protector's men were like Cha-Chern, it was certainly best to play things safe.

«Good. If I do not have to risk myself against the Protector's men, I can do much for you later. I can see that you go at once to the Games. I can also see that your woman goes to a Happy House where there are women of the Forest like her.»

Again Blade nodded. Sending Meera to a brothel would be an unpleasant business at best, but if she went to one where some of the other women were Forest People, she would at least find it easier to stay alive and sane.

There might be a catch, of course. For a slave there usually was. He didn't know why Ho-Marn was offering this protection, or whether the man could be trusted. He did know that without Ho-Marn's protection he and Meera would be very badly off indeed, so they had practically nothing to lose by trusting the officer, at least for now.

When they reached the camp, Blade and Meera were separated. Meera was led off to what seemed to be the camp kitchen, while Blade was taken to a low-ceilinged, reeking barracks and chained to the wall. He stayed there for ten days, except for two hours each day when he was taken outside for a meal and exercise. He kept his eyes and ears open while he was out, and he also spent a good deal of time watching and listening at the chinks in the wall of the barracks.

There were about three hundred men in the camp. Raiding parties went upriver and convoys with captured slaves or men returning to Gerhaa went downriver at regular intervals. Otherwise the men seldom left the camp, and most of them drank, gambled, or quarreled to fight off boredom.

Many of the quarrels were between what appeared to be the regular soldiers such as Ho-Marn and the Protector's Guards such as Cha-Chern. The Protector's Guard seemed to be an elite military force under the direct orders of the Protector of Gerhaa. Their officers all wore leather outfits like Cha-Chern's, and even the common soldiers had enameled mail shirts and swords with gilded hilts.

In spite of their privileges and fancy equipment, Blade wasn't impressed by the «Protector's Pets.» Their weapons were dirty, their discipline was poor, many of their officers were usually drunk, and the rest seemed to spend half their time perfuming their hair and applying cosmetics. Blade heard it said that the best way to become an officer in the Guard was by sleeping with the Protector.

The hostility between the Guardsmen and the regulars was as thick in the camp as the smell of the river. Blade realized that here was a weakness in the apparently invincible Stone Village of the Sons of Hapanu. So far the two factions of the city's defenders had been willing to stand together against the Forest People. Could that be changed?

Perhaps. And even if it couldn't, the rivalry might increase Blade's and Meera's chances for survival and escape. Ho-Marn had been willing to let Blade and Meera be together simply to annoy Cha-Chern. Other regular officers might be willing to do even more.

On the eleventh day, Blade and Meera were chained with forty other slaves and loaded aboard a small sailing ship. It had two masts with lateen sails, a long bowsprit, a high castle on the stern, and twelve long sweeps on each side.

Amidships was a stinking black hold, and in that hold Blade and Meera sailed down the Great River to Gerhaa, the Stone Village of the Sons of Hapanu.