Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 5

Blade resisted the temptation to try making polite conversation. These people suspected him of at least one serious crime: being a spy for Elstan, whatever and wherever that might be. Silence might teach him nothing, but it would be far less likely to provoke Curim or her Grace, Tressana of Jaghd. In spite of her small escort and casual manner, Tressana behaved like someone who expected to be obeyed. If she wasn't the local monarch, she was certainly someone of sufficiently high rank to be a good friend and a dangerous enemy.

At Tressana's order Curim dismounted, but he didn't sheathe his sword or take his eyes off Blade. Tressana sat down cross-legged in the grass and unhooked the top of her shirt. Blade approved the view. He also noticed that the short trousers left bare two tanned, dimpled knees, with an ugly scar running across the right one. She pulled a knife out of one boot and a whetstone from her belt pouch, then started sharpening the knife. She whistled tunelessly as she worked.

Jollya was the busiest of the three. She went to each of the mounts and unbuckled their muzzles. Then she pulled three large hams out of the saddlebags and threw one down on the grass in front of each animal. They had chewed the hams down nearly to the bare bones when the rest of the Jaghdi hunting party arrived.

There were at least a hundred mounted men and women, a dozen large wagons, a string of at least fifty spare mounts, and more of the hunting cats. Blade was glad he hadn't tried to escape from his first captors. A band this size could quickly have run him down.

About twenty of the riders were women, dressed and armed like Jollya and apparently taking their orders from her. Another twenty men seemed to obey Curim. The other riders were probably huntsmen or servants. The wagons were elaborately painted, and each was pulled by four hairy, slab-sided animals that reminded Blade of a cross between a dairy cow and a goat.

All the wagons had leather canopies except the one in the lead. Its canopy seemed to be yellow silk, and at the rear a tall pole supported a green banner showing a winged black helmet. Tressana and Jollya mounted again and urged him toward this wagon with precise flourishes of their lances. Blade suspected they were both showing off their skill at his expense, but the skill was real. Both rode as if they and their mounts had one mind and one body, and handled their lances as deftly as if they'd been knitting needles.

In the back of the silk-canopied wagon a man was sitting. At first he seemed to be almost as old as Lord Leighton, with stiff white hair fringing a nearly bald skull and bushy white eyebrows shading deep-set eyes. At a second look, Blade saw that the man could hardly be more than forty, and his body was sound and whole, although softened by too much food and too little exercise. The eyes were black, and instead of Lord Leighton's sharpness they had a cloudy, vacant look.

«My dear one,» Tressana said. «Look what I have here.»

«Eh?» The dark eyes focused slowly on Blade. «Oh. A man, with no clothes on.»

«Yes. I found him.»

«Good for you.»

«Thank you, Manro.»

«Is he of Elstan? Is he?» Manro's voice had the eagerness of a child wanting to know if there will be ice cream for dessert.

«Oh, I think he might be. I found him like this, where our people don't go.»

«They don't go-?» Manro seemed to be trying to grasp an idea just beyond the reach of his wits.

«No. They don't. Do you remember? You gave the order yourself last year.»

«Ah, yes. It was a good order. I remember now.» Blade wondered if Manro could remember as much as his own name.

«Yes,» Tressana continued, «and the Jaghdi love you and obey that order. So a man who comes where we found this one may be of Elstan.»

Manro struggled to get the next question out. «You-you-know-don't-sure-he is Elstan?»

«He says he is not. Indeed, he is very tall for an Elstani. May I have the right of First Justice upon him, until we are sure?»

Tressana had to repeat the question three times before Manro would answer. Then he nodded. «Yes. Yes, pretty Tressana. You have First Justice on the man.»

«Thank you, my dear.» She leaned out of the saddle and patted the man on the cheek. The expression on her face would have turned Blade's stomach, if it hadn't already been turned by the rest of the conversation between Tressana and her half-witted husband.

Tressana turned in her saddle and signaled to Curim. He rode forward, and Blade saw that he was carrying something like a large dart in one hand. He waved it, and Blade saw that the point gleamed darkly with some tarlike substance. Before Blade could react, Curim raised his hand and threw the dart.

It sank deep into the flesh of Blade's left buttock, and he wanted to yell out loud with both pain and surprise. He also wanted to drag Curim out of the saddle and break every bone in the man's body.

He'd taken two steps toward Curim when suddenly his legs felt weak and his head began to spin. Curim laughed. Blade took one more step, then fell face down into the trampled and dung-spattered grass and passed out with Curim's laughter in his ears.

Blade's first sensations on waking up were dizziness and nausea. Fortunately he was lying down and his stomach was completely empty, so neither sensation did any harm. He lay quietly until he could get a better picture of his position and the world around him.

The first thing he noticed was that the length of wire was gone from his wrist. He briefly cursed the Jaghdi.

Losing the wire meant losing a good part of the value of the experiment of carrying it into Dimension X. Also, there was the matter he'd mentioned to Lord Leighton, about advanced technology looking like magic. They might be even more suspicious of him after they discovered that nothing they had could cut, work, or melt the wire.

Blade was lying among wooden boxes and empty sacks in the back of a wagon. Both ankles were shackled and the shackles were fastened to the wagon bed by a length of chain strong enough to hold a gorilla. Now that the Jaghdi had him, they obviously intended to hold on to him. They also intended to keep him alive for whatever «First Justice» might be. The wound in his buttock was not only bandaged, but padded so heavily that he could almost sit comfortably on it. He'd been bathed and rubbed down with some sort of perfumed oil, and there was a bowl of porridge and a leather bottle of water within easy reach. He wasn't hungry, but he drank half the water before looking around him again.

The wagon was parked facing the west and a glowing red sunset. Against the glow Blade saw the silhouettes of several more wagons and, beyond them, mounted sentries trotting back and forth. He couldn't see out the front end of the wagon. All around he heard the sound of neighing and grunting animals and smelled smoke, animal dung, and roasting meat. Voices murmured, sometimes rising in song, and once someone started beating a small drum.

As the drum died away, a tall, shadowy, mounted figure seemed to materialize in front of Blade. He saw a lance and a helmet silhouetted against the sunset, thought of Curim, and was glad his hands were free. Then Jollya's voice said:

«Blade?»

«Yes. I'm here. In fact, I'm likely to stay here for a while.»

She laughed. «I wouldn't be at all surprised if you do so. But you're under Tressana's protection now, so you don't need to be afraid of Curim.»

Her tone irritated Blade slightly. «What makes you think I'm afraid of Curim?»

«If you aren't, you aren't enough of a warrior to spot an enemy when you see one. And if you're not a warrior, then you're a liar, even if you're not of Elstan. And if you're a liar, why should I come here to talk to you?»

«I'm not going to try guessing your reasons for doing anything, Jollya.»

«Wise of you.» The sarcasm was unmistakable.

Blade ignored it. «So Curim is my enemy. Are you going to tell me something I don't already know, such as what you are?»

«You won't take Curim's word that I want you for my bed?»

«I wouldn't take his word for the sun rising in the east,» said Blade, laughing. He was enjoying the verbal fencing, although he knew he'd have to be careful not to reveal too much about himself.

The laughter seemed to irritate Jollya. «Are you a lover of boys, then?»

Blade would have laughed even louder if he hadn't been afraid of being overheard. «When I want company in bed, I take a woman. But that doesn't mean I expect your company there.»

She thought for a moment, then said, sounding almost relieved, «I believe what you have told me about yourself, even if you lied about your camp in the ruins of the city.»

Blade realized he was on very delicate ground and was being warned about it. «I hid my camp very well. It is not my fault that you couldn't find it.»

«It is said by some that there was no camp.»

«Foolish men will say all sorts of things.»

«So will desperate men, Blade.»

«Also tree.»

Jollya was silent for so long that Blade wondered if she had anything more to say. Then she spoke quickly, in almost a whisper.

«Blade, I do believe that you are not of Elstan. The metal of your bracelet makes me sure of that. It is not-«

«You have it?»

«Yes. I said I wanted to show it to my father. He is Keeper of the Animals, but there was no one here to speak for the Keeper of the Stones. Also, this wire is neither animal nor stone, so any of the Keepers could really claim it.»

Part of this speech might as well have been in Arabic for all Blade could understand of it, but he was relieved to know that for the moment at least the wire was in safe hands. He'd worry about getting it back later.

«Thank you, Jollya. There is a warrior's honor in you.» He didn't mind letting her know that he was grateful. She might not be his friend, but she seemed at least to be the enemy of his enemy Curim.

Another long silence, then she spoke in a strangely subdued voice. «Thank you, Blade. I-that-my father-«She gave up the struggle for words, dug in her spurs so violently that her mount squealed, then rode off at a trot. Blade knew that he'd said something right, but wished he knew what it was. Right now, though, the best thing for him to do was get some more sleep.

Blade drank the rest of the water, piled some sacks under his head and his wound, then fell asleep quickly. The wagon was a more comfortable and secure sleeping place than any he'd found in the jungle.

Blade rode in the wagon for three days and caught up on a good deal of the sleep he'd missed during his trek through the jungle. During the day he listened carefully. The men and women around him talked as freely as if he was deaf, but the wagon ride came to an end just as he was beginning to understand something of what was going on in this Dimension. He'd played the same game with captors in many different Dimensions and often saved his life with what he learned. This time what he learned made him feel he'd read a book with every other page torn out. There were two lands in this Dimension, or at least two everyone knew about. There was Jaghd, where Blade was, and Elstan, on the other side of the forest of Binaark with its killer plants. Although the forest and the mountains on either side of it were almost impenetrable barriers, somehow the Jaghdi and the Elstani managed to conduct a flourishing trade.

Jaghd was a land of plains and forests, and Elstan a land of mountains and hills. The Jaghdi were farmers and stockbreeders, who traded their grain and meat for the metal and jewels the Elstani miners dug out of their native hills. The Elstani were obviously unpopular if not hated among the Jaghdi, but their metals were needed and their jewels valuable. No doubt the Elstani were in the same position when it came to the food they bought from the plainsmen.

Manro and Tressana were king and queen of Jaghd, and Manro was definitely a half-wit. Whether he'd been this way from birth or become half-witted later in life Blade couldn't learn. In any case, Tressana was definitely the real ruler of Jaghd. She seemed to be respected rather than loved, particularly by the men. One thing in particular she'd done to make them suspicious was to form a body of armed and mounted young women, who served in her personal guard. Jollya was apparently the leader of the Women's Guard, and Curim was the leader of the men. Most people thought Jollya was brave and a good rider, but some said she'd got her post by sleeping with the queen and most of the others said she'd got it because of her father, the Keeper of the Animals.

A Keeper seemed to be a combination of priest, professor, and cabinet minister, and Jollya's father was one of the more respected Keepers. He'd probably be one of the more important ones too, considering that much of Jaghd's wealth seemed to be in its animals. Blade was satisfied to know that the closest thing he had to a friend so far in this Dimension was the daughter of somebody important.

Jollya didn't come to talk to Blade again during the three days of the trip, but one of her amazons brought fresh food and water every morning. Others rode by to look at him at intervals during the day. Blade couldn't be sure how far the royal party traveled during each day's march, but he knew that the wagon swayed and lurched like a ship in a hurricane. His wound was healing nicely, but he picked up fresh bruises almost every hour from boxes falling on him.

Each evening the caravan made camp by a pond or a stream. The draft animals were unhitched and the riding animals (which were called «rolghas») were unsaddled. All were fed and watered. Hunters rode in with the day's catch, including rabbits the size of small antelopes and several kinds of bird. The meat was roasted over strong-smelling fires of animal dung and roots.

Blade had to sit, drink his musty water, eat his thin porridge, and smell the roasting meat. After his days of grubbing roots and insects in the forest, he felt this was adding insult to injury. By the third evening he would cheerfully have fought Curim for a chance to stuff himself with roast meat and fowl.

On the third evening the caravan made camp by a well with an elaborately carved stone wall around it. In the distance Blade saw the tall chimneys of a town trailing smoke against the sunset.

The next morning Blade was unchained, allowed to wash in a bucket of cold water, then turned over to a squad of soldiers. The soldiers arrived in four chariots, each drawn by three rolghas harnessed abreast. Blade was bound hand and foot, propped up in one of the chariots, and carried off toward the town. The last thing Blade saw of the caravan was Jollya on her rolgha looking after him, then turning her back and shouting orders more loudly than usual to her women.

On the rough ground the chariots rattled Blade's teeth, but beyond the town they reached a well-made gravel road. The rolghas leaped forward, and the chariots seemed to fly down the road. In seconds the town behind vanished in the dust.

There were other towns for Blade to look at that day as the chariots rattled north, changing rolghas every couple of hours. He quickly learned that the Jaghdi were more than stockbreeders and farmers. They were superb builders. The road itself was a notable achievement for any civilization without modern machinery. Blade had driven on worse ones in England.

Each paddock full of sleek animals had a solid wall of stone or wood. Farmhouses and barns were roomy and sprawling, with thatched roofs, carved wooden shutters, and decorated clay chimneypots.

In the towns the houses were usually smaller, but many had two or three stories, with glass in some of the windows. The roofs were covered with glossy blue or red tiles, and the main doors decorated with iron bands. The streets were paved with cobblestones, and Blade saw sprinkling carts and men with brooms keeping the stones clean. He saw other carts hauling barrels of garbage and human wastes out to fertilize gardens and orchards.

Most of the buildings showed nothing but stone, slate, tile, and wood in their construction. Blade remembered that nearly all Jaghd's metal had to be imported from Elstan. Iron was used where its strength was needed, however, and also where someone wanted to show off his wealth. Judging from the number of metal-decorated houses Blade saw, there were a fair number of wealthy men in Jaghd.

In fact, everything Blade saw gave him the impression that Jaghd was a prosperous and peaceful land. Otherwise the road wouldn't exist and the flourishing towns would be huddled for protection behind solid walls or around massive castles. Blade felt a little safer knowing this.

Not that peaceful and prosperous lands couldn't be unjust or cruel to suspected criminals. The Jaghdi seemed to execute suspected Elstani spies on very little evidence, tearing them limb from limb with teams of rolghas. If he could prove his innocence, though, he'd be much safer in Jaghd than in a land torn by civil war or feudal lords quarreling with their neighbors. There strangers often got knifed in the back simply because no one could be quite sure they weren't enemies.

The chariots rolled on through the night. By dawn there was a red-roofed city larger than any Blade had seen in Jaghd to the south, and a rugged range of hills to the north. When the chariots left the road, they turned toward the hills.

They followed a track into the hills, dustier than the road and much rougher. Blade was alternately coughing from the dust and being thrown violently against the side of the chariot to pick up a whole new set of bruises. At last they came out of the valley in front of a massive square castle perched on a crag. A tower rose at each corner. The gate was made of solid slabs of stone bound and riveted with iron. It was the first purely military building Blade had seen in Jaghd, and he was impressed by the amount of labor it must have taken to build it up here.

It was also the last Jaghdi building he saw for quite a while. The chariots rolled in through the gate, and Blade was untied in the middle of thirty guards with spears. Then the guards led him down a dark winding flight of stairs into the depths of the castle, and locked him in a lightless, airless cell, cold, damp, and dismal.

When the door thumped shut behind him, Blade realized that getting out of prison in Jaghd might be somewhat more difficult than it had been in other Dimensions.