Master Of The Hashomi

Chapter 20

The night was clear, and the moon so full and bright that the narrow road ahead gleamed like silver. A light breeze carried the scent of roses and flowering trees. On this kind of night Blade would have preferred to be riding for his own pleasure, rather than on the Baran's business.

However, the Baran's business had to be carried out. So Blade searched the tops of the villa walls on either side of the road, looking for a crouching figure waving a red scarf. That would be one of Kubin Ben Sarif's men, waiting to meet Blade and lead him to a rendezvous with the leader of the Brothel Keepers. By order of the Baran, Blade was to place himself under Kubin's orders for the next month.

What this might mean, Blade could only guess. Giraz, the chief of the Eyes of the Baran, had hinted that he was to spy on Kubin.

«Not that we believe the man to be disloyal, you understand,» said the eunuch. «We do believe from what he has done in the past that Kubin might be-ah, impulsive-in his use of what he has learned.»

That put Blade in an awkward position. When Kubin became aware that he was being spied on, he would take offense. He would not protest directly, or abandon the Baran's service. He was too loyal and hard-headed for that. But Blade's past services to Kubin might not protect him from an «accident.»

Blade didn't like getting involved in this kind of sideshow. The atmosphere of everyone spying on everyone else was becoming thicker and thicker, and that he liked even less. From his experience he knew that such a situation was bound to fall apart violently and unpredictably, and sooner rather than later.

Blade stiffened in the saddle. One hand went to the hilt of his sword, the other tightened on the reins. His knees locked, ready to drive his spurs into the horse and make a dash for safety.

There was a dark shape perched on a wall, waving the promised red scarf. Two faces also peered through the iron spikes on the wall, one on each side of the man. That wasn't according to plan.

Ambush!

The word shouted itself in Blade's mind. He was just about to spur his horse to a gallop, when a familiar voice called softly, «Blade! Ride down to the second gate on the left. We'll meet you there. Show no sign you're expecting anyone.»

It was Kubin Ben Sarif. Something was wrong. It could be anything, so the only sensible thing to do for now was to obey Kubin's instructions.

The second gate on the left was open, and two men in dark clothes and hoods were waiting just inside it. Blade turned his horse in through the gate and Kubin appeared out of the darkness, two more men with him. The first two closed the gate and Blade dismounted.

«What are you doing here?» he whispered, sharply to Kubin. «You could be compromising everything!» Several of the villas around here belonged to people whose loyalty was doubtful, and there were always servants who might be bribed or persuaded to talk. In addition, Kubin Ben Sarif was hard to mistake for anybody else. If he was seen here, in a rendezvous with Blade, it could blow Blade's cover so thoroughly that he'd be no further use to the Baran, even if he didn't end up dead in some back alley in Dahaura.

Kubin made an impatient gesture with one hand. Blade saw that the hand was encased in a heavy glove of fine chain mail reinforced on the back with strips of lead. Wearing those gloves, Kubin could grip swords or crack skulls with a backhanded slap. He was obviously expecting trouble tonight, or perhaps planning to make it for someone else.

«That's a story there's no time to tell. The Thieves are out tonight, and Esseta is in danger.»

Blade knew at once there was no point in arguing with Kubin. He'd taken command, and the only thing to do was follow him and hope for the best. That best might be very good indeed, though. Kubin could have given lessons in strategy and tactics to half the Baran's generals.

«How many?» said Blade.

«We counted fifty crossing the Bridge of the Three Brothers, but it's too soon to know if that's all.»

Blade nodded. The Bridge of the Three Brothers was less than a mile from the isolated villa where Esseta had set up her house. If the Thieves Guild had sent out fifty men, some of them probably Hashomi, there was going to be blood and death before morning.

Kubin seemed to be reading Blade's mind. «They've thrown a challenge in our face, and perhaps they hope we won't rise to it without the Baran's express consent. They will be wrong. I've put half my men across the roads they will need to use to retreat from either my villa or Esseta's. More are riding straight for the palace. I do not think the Baran will want the City Riders brought into this. They could learn too much.»

That meant Kubin's men would be on their own for at least a couple of hours. «Is it worth the risk?» Blade asked.

«To me, there is no risk,» said Kubin, with a grim smile. «No fifty men can get into my villa in a single night, even if those in it do no more than close and lock the doors and windows. Even Hashomi cannot pull apart stone walls or bend iron bars with their bare hands. Esseta is a different matter. You and I and the men with me are riding to her house. We leave now, and pray to Junah that we are in time.»

«Only these four?» said Blade.

«We may meet others. But we still ride now. No number of men will do Esseta any good if they arrive after the Thieves have cut her throat or carried her off to be tortured and questioned.»

While Kubin was speaking, his men had led five more horses out from under the trees by the path. They all mounted, and with Blade bringing up the rear trotted out the gate. Once on the open road, they spurred their horses to a canter. The dust rose under the horses' hooves, seeming to glow in the moonlight.

If they'd dashed straight up the road they could have reached Esseta's villa in a few minutes. Kubin had no intention of riding into any ambushes the Thieves might have set out. He turned aside at the Bridge of the Three Brothers, fording the canal under the cover of a fruit orchard several hundred yards away.

On the far side of the stream he led the way through a maze of vineyards, vegetable patches, abandoned villas with tumbled walls, and patches of woodland. At times the ground was so rough that the men had to dismount and lead their horses to keep them from stumbling and breaking legs.

«We lose a little time coming this way,» whispered Kubin. «But we have cover almost up to Esseta's gate. Then the surprise will be theirs, not ours.»

Blade hoped so. Surprise was the only way six men had of overcoming the fifteen or twenty the Thieves could have sent to Esseta's.

After a few more endless minutes, Kubin whispered an order to dismount. The horses were tethered to some bushes and the six men drew swords. Crouching low, they made their way down between the rows of a vineyard, to come out on the bank of a ditch filled with scummy water. On the far side of the ditch was a rutted gravel road, and on the far side of the road the gate of Esseta's villa.

The gate stood open, which it should not have done. There were three armed men crouching in the bushes on one side of the gate, who shouldn't have been there. Just inside the gate Blade could make out horses with sacks wrapped around their hooves to muffle the sound of their movements. No respectable customer of Esseta's house would ride up on horses equipped like that.

They were too late to keep the Thieves away from Esseta's house. Were they too late altogether?

Only one way to find out. Kubin drifted to the left, Blade to the right, while the other four men took positions between them. Then Kubin raised his sword and all six men hurled themselves across the ditch.

They'd gained the surprise they needed. The first thing the Thieves' sentries knew of the attack was when six men seemed to rise out of the road. One of them had time to scream before he died, then all three were twitching and spurting blood. The six charged through the gate so fast they trampled a fourth Thief underfoot without raising a weapon. Then they were in the courtyard of Esseta's villa.

«Cut loose the horses,» snapped Kubin, pointing at two of his men. They darted off toward the animals, while the others ran toward the house. A Thief leaped out from behind a tree and Blade whirled to meet him. Clanging swords threw off sparks, Blade gave ground briefly to improve his footing, then the Thief's head flew from his shoulders. The headless body sprawled on the cracked tiles of the courtyard.

As it did, light blazed in the doorway of the villa, silhouetting four men. Two of them were carrying something wrapped in a blanket-something the size and shape of a small woman. Beyond the men Blade could see two bodies sprawled on the floor. One was a masked man, the other a young woman bare to the waist. Her stiffened hand held a knife that was driven up to the hilt in the man's chest.

The four men stepped out into the courtyard, and behind them came a fifth man, holding a lantern. Across his back was slung a two-handed sword. Like their dead comrade, the five men wore masks.

As the fifth man appeared, Kubin let out a screech like a mountain lion and charged. The Thieves reacted instantly, dropping their burden and spreading out to meet their opponents. The blanket unwrapped itself as it fell, revealing Esseta's pale face. The man with the lantern whirled it over his head, then hurled it straight at Blade. Blade ducked aside, raising his sword as he did, and found the man coming at him with his own sword carving the air in front of him.

Blade swung toward the man's right as the sword hissed toward him. The two swords met with a clang like a badly tuned gong, jarring Blade's arm all the way up to the elbow. He slashed hard to keep his opponent in play while he drew his knife. With the longer sword, his opponent would be at a disadvantage if Blade could get in close.

The man knew this, and kept his sword moving continuously, keeping a barrier of sharp-edged steel between himself and Blade. Perhaps he was playing for time, and certainly he was gaining it. Blade couldn't afford that-this battle had to be won quickly. How many Thieves might be close enough to join in, he didn't know. Nor did he want to find out the hard way.

Blade leaped forward, inside the arc of the other's sword. His own sword rose, to block the other's next swing. Again the swords crashed together and sparks blazed. The enemy's sword smashed Blade's out of his hand and swept it high into the air. The collision deflected the longer sword over Blade's head. With precise timing and all his speed, Blade gripped his opponent by one arm, immobilizing the sword and simultaneously jerking him forward. The man flew at Blade, to meet a knife in his throat.

Blade turned away without waiting for the man to fall, ready to take a hand in the rest of the battle. He saw two of the Thieves down. He saw one of Kubin's men leaning against the wall, hands clamped over his stomach. He saw Kubin fighting single-handed, against two Thieves, and moved to join him.

Before Blade could join the fight, Kubin ended it himself. His sword bit into the thigh of one Thief, sending the man staggering back. Before Kubin could guard, the other Thief slashed down with a heavy knife. Kubin raised his left hand to take the slash on his glove, but miscalculated. The knife bit into his unprotected wrist, shearing through flesh and bone, taking his left hand off as neatly as a surgeon could have done.

Kubin finished turning, dropped his sword, and closed with the Thief. The man seemed paralyzed to see Kubin shrug off the loss of his hand as though it was nothing more than a mosquito bite. Kubin approached the motionless Thief and clamped his right hand around the man's throat, lifting and squeezing in a single motion. The man's windpipe collapsed with a crackling sound as his head smashed against the wall. Kubin hammered the man several times more against the wall, until the back of his head was visibly flattened. Only then did he let the body drop, pull off his sash, and start tying it around the stump of his left wrist.

With Blade's help, Kubin finished the job while he was still able to stand. As Blade tied the final knot in the tourniquet, the Thieves' horses behind him exploded into wild panic, then bolted for the gate. The two men Kubin had sent to deal with them came running up, both waving bloody swords.

Kubin's face was pale and sweat was breaking out on his forehead, but he was still in complete control of himself. «We'd better be on our way,» he said. He pointed to Esseta. «You two-pick her up and carry her. Gently.» He shook off Blade's efforts to help him and led the way toward the gate. Again Blade brought up the rear, his face grim. He didn't know whether Esseta was going to live or die, or how many of her people the Thieves had killed besides the one girl. At least they'd made sure that Esseta wouldn't die as a prisoner of the Thieves and their allies, in agony, all her secrets torn from her by unbearable pain.

Now they were crossing the road. Blade heard hooves approaching down the road. Two horsemen appeared, one with a crossbow, the other with a sword. Both weapons came up, both horses jumped forward in a spray of gravel, and both riders shouted wild cries as they charged.

Blade had the two-handed sword of his last victim slung across his back. In a single motion he drew it, then stepped forward to meet the horsemen's charge.

The bolt wssshed from the crossbow and Blade heard it sink into flesh without seeing who'd been hit. The swordsman came down on him, filling his vision, weapon raised to slash. Blade's sword whirled, biting deep into the man's body, sinking so deeply that it was jerked out of Blade's hands as the horse rushed past. The dying man's sword swept harmlessly over Blade's head, and the rider fell to the road. The archer tried to rein in his horse, but came too close. Before he could wheel and ride off, one of Kubin's men leaped up behind him. One hand gripped the Thief's hair, pulling his head back, the other gripped a knife and drew it across the Thief's exposed throat. Kubin's man leaped off the horse's back as the animal bolted, driven into panic by the sudden outpouring of its rider's blood.

Kubin was bending over Esseta, his remaining hand clamped on her neck. Blade looked closer, and his face set even harder. The bolt from the crossbow had torn through Esseta's neck, gouging the flesh deeply. Not deeply enough to get the jugular vein, fortunately-the blood was only trickling around Kubin's fingers, not pouring out. Blade pulled off his own sash, tore off a piece, wadded it into a compress, and tied it over the wound with the rest of the sash. Then he straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers to clean Esseta's blood off them.

«We're going to have to hole up somewhere,» said Blade. «Neither you nor Esseta will survive if we have to travel. So we're going to the nearest house and settle in there, while one of the men goes to your villa for help.»

Kubin nodded. «What if the people in the house object?»

Blade hefted his sword. «I don't think they will.»

Kubin motioned to one of his men, holding up his right hand. «Ride to the villa and bring back the doctor and ten men. Take this glove so they'll know the message is from me.»

«Yes, Lord Kubin.» The man pulled the heavy glove off Kubin's hand and dashed away. Blade bent down, lifted Esseta gently in his arms, and led the way across the ditch and into the vineyard.

A few minutes later they came out on the other side, near a small white farmhouse. Blade led them across the farmyard and hammered on the door with his sword.

«Open, in the name of the Baran!»

There was the scrape of a bolt being- drawn, and then the door crept open a few inches and a woman peered out. She took one look at Blade, appearing twice human size and splattered with blood from head to foot, then screamed and fainted. Blade thrust his sword into the opening before anyone could slam the door, then pushed the door the rest of the way open. The woman's children scurried out of the way and huddled in a corner. Blade strode in, picked up the woman, carried her out of the way, and turned back to the door just in time to see Kubin faint. Shock and loss of blood had finally caught up with him.

Blade made both Kubin and Esseta as comfortable as possible, and assigned one of the men to keep an eye on them. He and the remaining man went around the house, closing and nailing all the shutters, locking the door, and putting buckets of water handy in case the Thieves tried to burn them out.

Blade hoped the Thieves couldn't call up reinforcements before Kubin's men arrived from his villa. He also hoped his rough first aid would keep both Esseta and Kubin alive until the doctor came.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do for a while, except hope.

Wherever the Thieves went after their defeat, it was not to Kubin's villa or the house where Blade mounted guard over his two helpless charges. An hour passed in silence, except for the heavy breathing of Kubin and Esseta.

Then suddenly armed men seemed to drop from the sky, until there were enough around the farmhouse to fight a pitched battle against the Hashomi. First came the men from Kubin's villa, thirty of them, with the doctor and two priests of Junah. Then fifty of the City Riders came clattering up. Hard on their heels was a column of soldiers from the city garrison. After that came another strong force of horsemen-more than Blade could count. These were the elite cavalry of the Baran's Guard, armored from head to foot, mounted on mail-draped horses, armed to the teeth, and each of them a match for half a dozen Thieves or a couple of Hashomi.

Finally Giraz, chief of the Eyes of the Baran, rode up on a mule and took charge. He discouraged unnecessary questions and sent the two-thirds of the men who weren't needed about their business. He also made arrangements to have Kubin and Esseta taken directly to the palace. After that he found time to get a brief account of the night's events from Blade.

«The hand of Junah was over all of you tonight,» he said soberly, when Blade had finished. «You must give proper thanks for his favor.» Giraz's piety had disturbed Blade at first, but now he realized that it was entirely sincere, although a trifle odd in a man of Giraz's profession.

«I will,» said Blade politely. «I'd also like to hear what the Baran has to say about this night's work. We did him good service, I think, but he may not realize it.»