Revenge of the Horseclans

CHAPTER VIII

At a little past the nooning, Komees Djeen, Vahrohnos Spiros, and a half dozen Freefighters had been laboriously interrogating the luckless Kreestofohros for some hours. They had had no trouble in finding a secluded place to conduct their messy business, for Morguhn Hall was far larger than most halls and its cellars were extensive and multileveled.

Equipment and instruments were another matter, however, for their morn’s labor was an activity seldom practiced in the Duchy of Morguhn, in recent years at least On the rare occasions that Thoheeks Hwahruhn had ordered such, the activity had invariably been conducted at the prison in Morguhnpolis, where a qualified professional torturer-executioner maintained a modest shop. But since Komees Djeen wished to conceal his possession of this prisoner, use of the professional or any of his tools was out of the question. Therefore, they had had to improvise.

Thanks to hearty applications of these improvisations, Kreestofohros would never again be whole or hale or handsome. Thus far, however, all that they had wrung from his shredded lips had been screams and moans, pleas and prayers, curses. Now he had again fainted, and the troopers were rinding it harder to revive him this time.

Spiros shook his head, frowning. “I like it not, Djeen.”

“What else can we do?” expostulated the old Strahteegos. “I know there’s a conspiracy and you know there’s a conspiracy, and it’s certain sure that Boy-lover Myros and that old gasbag, Skiros, are in it up to their dirty ears. But they’re too big to legally touch, without proof.”

“Now, I’ve known Hari and Drehkos all their lives and I don’t like to think that one or both is into this sorry cesspool of superstition and anarchy, but … I told you how all his servants mysteriously disappeared last night. Well, among the scum who attacked the boys, I recognized at least four bodies. They were all Hari’s people. One, who bore the mark of young Bill’s big axe, was majordomo of Horse Hall!”

Spiros’s eyebrows shot up. “Hofos, Djeen?” “None other,” growled the Komees. “So it becomes obvious that we have a more serious problem than we thought. If supposedly respectable upper servants of the water of Hofos and this bastard are involved, no one of the Kindred is safe in either city or country! This is another reason why we must know names, Spiros! Getting some answers from the tough nut over there is of utmost importance.”

“Admitted, Djeen, admitted,” Spiros nodded briskly. “And that’s why I so dislike what we’re doing. We are trying to perform something that we know very little about. If we’re not extremely careful, we’re going to take it too far and kill the prisoner. Then where will we be? Who will then give us answers or names, eh?”

Komees Djeen’s roar filled the large chamber. “Sacred Wind take it! What else can we do?” he repeated in exasperation. “Even if we could get him into Morguhnpolis and into the prison unrecognized, how do we know that we could trust Master Mahrios? After all, if he’s not a Kath’ahrohs, he’s damned close to it!”

“Let us send for that physician, Master Ahlee,” suggested the Vahrohnos. “Allow him to examine the man before we go on. And let us keep him by, that he may keep the Ehleen dog alive until we’ve broken him.”

The trooper sent abovestairs returned with Master Ahlee’s flat refusal to take any part in the proceedings, so Vahrohnos Spiros betook himself to the suite occupied by the physician and his retinue. He was greeted courteously; but as soon as he had indicated his errand and uttered his urgent request, the friendly, brown face became devoid of expression and the tone of the deep voice took on the hardness of steel.

“My Lord Baron, I cannot condone torture. It is a bestial practice, whatever the motives of those who employ it. I have never and will never take any role in its commission! Do I make myself clear?”

“I did but request, Physician,” grated Spiros, unaccustomed to noncooperation on the parts of persons of inferior rank and status. “This matter is of the gravest importance to the good of the Duchy, and too many lives may well hinge upon the information which this stubborn man can give us to cater to your likes and dislikes and whims. Therefore, I, Spiros, by grace of Sun and Wind, Vahrohnos of Taheerospolis and Subchief of Morguhn, do command your instant obedience to my wishes! Do I make myself clear, Physician?”

Ahlee drew himself up, squaring bis shoulders and setting his jaw. “Perfectly clear, My Lord Baron, you speak your language well. A pity that you cannot understand it so well. But, I will repeat: I-will-not-be-a- party-to-torture!”

Snarling, Spiros loosened his heavy dirk. “Why you impudent barbarian pig! How dare you to disobey my order? Are you then mad? Know you not how quickly I can have your hairless head on a spear?”

Bard Klairuhnz opened the door and strolled into the chamber. With no preamble, he inquired, “Kinsman, are you then unaware that Master Ahlee, like all members of his guild within the boundaries of the Confederation, practices under the auspices and personal protection of the Undying High Lord, Milo? It were senseless to threaten him, and it would be treasonable to harm him.”

To protect the Vahrohmos’s pride, be had employed mindspeak.

“Kinsman,” Spiros answered him silently. “You are unaware yourself, unaware of the extreme gravity of this case. Komees Djeen has told me much of you, and so I know that you fought hard and well to aid my House. For that reason, I’ll trust you. Know you the problem.” So saying he lowered his mindshield, baring the inmost recesses to Klairuhnz, that he might fully realize what had occurred and was presently occurring in the Duchy and thus better comprehend the dilemma.

And what Bard Klairuhnz learned was serious enough! The attack on Bili’s party had not been the first such. Indeed, no less than three poorly armed or virtually unarmed parties of Kindred had been butchered to the last person on the roads. Within the cities, most Kindred went armed and guarded by day and by night, in justified fear of the dagger or the strangling cord. Servants of Ehleen blood were become, with few exceptions, surly and secretive, while Ehleenoee peasants and free-farmers and tradesmen were proving ever harder to deal with. And these troubles were not something which had gradually built to the present intensity, but had sprung up full-grown, just after the Duchy’s last harvest.

“All right, Kinsman Spiros,” Klairuhnz beamed. “I was not aware that matters had progressed so far here. And I agree that you needs must have Master Ahlee’s aid. Your reasoning on that is quite sound. But he is a strongwilled man and quite stubborn on what he considers a matter of principle. Because of his protected status, you cannot physically force him to help you, and circumstances have rendered your patience too short to allow for diplomacy.

“So, it might be best, Kinsman, if you left the chamber and allowed me to attempt to reason with the physician.”

“Do you think you can truly bring him around, Kinsman?” Spiros, recognizing hard truth, would now grasp at any straw.

“I think so,” the Bard assured him.

Wordless, Spiros bowed stiffly toward the foreigner, nodded at Klairuhnz, spun on his heel, and stalked out.

Klairuhnz waited until the footfalls had faded into the distance, then mindspoke Master Ahlee. “You received both my mindspeak and his, then?”

Ahlee’s sudden start would have been imperceptible to one not watching for it. Just as quickly as he had reacted, however, he regained his composure, then frowned, saying, “Sir, I did not bid you enter. Nonetheless, I bid you welcome and peace. What matter brings you to this humble instrument of Ahlah?”

Throwing back his head, Klairuhnz gusted a laugh at the ceiling, then went on, still in mindspeak, “Master Humble Instrument, we are both of us too old to play games and there is no time to dissemble. Your mindspeak is known to be excellent and your receptivity even better. So states the Undying Lady Aldora, and she is never wrong about such talents!”

When it came, Ahlee’s mindspeak proved to be almost as strong as the Bard’s own. “Who are you?”

Having consumed the second evening meal since the bridge fight, the Kindred nobles all gathered in Bili’s spacious bedchamber. Only a few hours earlier had word reached them that Bili’s only uncle, Tahneest Bili of Morguhn, had been murdered, along with his wife, two sons, and bodyguards, while journeying to Morguhn Hall. This was a grim-faced aggregation.

Bili sat propped on his greatbed, flanked on the one side by his mothers and on the other by his six months younger brother Djehf, who had ridden in unexpected and unannounced to spend a few weeks before the commence-ment of the spring campaigning in the Middle Kingdoms.

Komees Djeen had drawn a chair close to the hearth and its fire, kindled to dispel the chill of the damp, foggy night, where he sat frowning and ceaselessly cracking his big, scarred knuckles, his stiff leg extended before the blaze. Ever and again, his eye strayed to the portable bed, on which lay Ahndee’s unconscious form.

Master Ahlee had permitted his patient to be borne to the conference only on condition that he remain in attendance throughout, promising to awaken the young Vahrohneeskos briefly, if need be. The physician sat at the head of the cot, conversing in low tones with Spiros and the Bard. Clan Bard Hail leaned over the back of Spiros’s chair, listening but making no comment.

Geros, clad in a new scaleshirt and abbreviated helm, occupied a low stool at his master’s side. He was nervously fingering the hilt of a fine saber and hoping that he looked as hard and businesslike as the two Freefighters occupying the bench which blocked the barred door.

Two more Freefighters guarded the door of the Thoheeks, who had taken a turn for the worse, while Eeshmaheel and Master Ahlee’s two servants, all armed, kept watch within.

All horses had been summoned from the pasture to stamp and snort in the crowded hall stables, while as much livestock as possible had been crowded into make-shift pens in the outer courtyard. Forgefire flared where the resident smith and his helpers labored, fashioning old tools and stray scraps of metal into arrowheads and points for dart and javelin, repairing plate from the armory, and straightening scytheblades. The heavy gate was barred and the iron grille which protected it from rams had been lowered into place, for the first time in any man’s memory. A weaponsmaster supervised several Freefighters and servants as they assembled a pair of small catapults and a large dart thrower. The remainder of the hall’s Freefighters, those of Komees Djeen and a number of armed servants, stood the walls.

A knock on the door of Bili’s chamber brought Geros and the other two guards to their feet, hands on swordhilts. When the bench was shifted and the bar removed, the knocker was discovered to be Sami Kahtuhr, majordomo of Morguhn Hall, and now castellan as well. He was an old soldier, and his new role was quite as comfortable as the infantryman’s armor he had donned.

Though grey thickly streaked his light brown hair and his face was seamed and wrinkled, he had miraculously regained a youthful appearance since Komees Djeen had had Morguhn Hall put on a war footing and all had begun to prepare for siege and battle. The little man probably had more Kindred blood flowing in his veins than most in the room, and he looked it-slight but wiry frame, flat muscles, fair skin, flashing blue green eyes. As a cadet of Clan Kahtuhr, he was ranked as a petty noble-man, his senior-servant status notwithstanding.

He marched over to stand between Komees Djeen and Bili. Although he rendered his Confederation Army salute to the younger, he rendered his report to the elder.

“My Lord, within the hour the hall will be as ready as it can be for whatever is to transpire. In addition to the noble Kindred, fifty-seven men are available. Of these, forty-five are either Freefighters or former soldiers, and the others are good men who will stand firm for the honor of Morguhn. All prisoners have been so lodged that no guard will be required, so all may man the walls if it comes to that. There is more than ample food in the magazines and near tenscore head of cattle and goats, along with threescore sheep in the main court. The numbers of fowl I know not, but they swarm near everywhere one looks, indoors and out.

“I have set those loyal servants not under arms to drawing water from the spring and the wells to fill all the cisterns. When they are done, they will set about tearing down the storage sheds outside the walls and carting the lumber within—the nearer fences as well—that we shall not lack for fuel.

“The only severe shortage will be grain and hay for the animals and the horse brothers and sisters. I sent a man to fetch back any forage that might be in Hohryos Morguhn, but he has not yet returned.”

Komees Djeen’s head bobbed a curt nod. “Very well, Feelahks, you have done well. I can but wish we had more fighters. It’s a far stretch of wall for fifty-seven men and six noble Kindred to cover.”

“Six noble Kindred?” Bili suddenly yelped. “What about me? If you think, Kinsman Djeen, that you’re going to deny me a share of the battle, just because of a bump on my head and a nick in my leg…”

Mother Mahrnee’s hand over his mouth muffled the rest. “Of course Bili will fight. And both my sister and I are adept with sling and huntingbow; nor are our boar-spears partial to only the blood of beasts.”

“Unless this be a private war,” Master Ahlee said gravely, “you may include a physician who once was a warrior in your tally. Still can I cast an accurate spear, nor am I inexperienced in matters of the sword.”

Komees Djeen grinned wolfishly. “All right, Feelahks Sami, you heard; everyone in this room will fight. You may add four more to your tallyroll.” Then, a look of sadness crept over his face and he looked again at the recumbent form on the cot. “Would Sun would allow it to be five.”

Dawn saw the Council party in the saddle. After a stirrup cup, they saw the gates close behind them and set out for Morguhnpolis at a brisk trot. In order that the hall might be the better manned, the party had been held to a bare minimum, every man of them armed to the teeth. Three hundred yards ahead of them, a single trooper rode point, his orders to return and warn, rather than fight, in the event of trouble.

Bili and Djehf rode in the van, Bili absorbed at trying to establish a decent rapport with the chestnut gelding who was Mahvros’s temporary replacement, Djehf still a little dazed at the rapid and unexpected change in his rank and status. He knew that as soon as the present troubles were resolved, he must send a messenger to Eeree, for now he was never to return. With his father inches from death and his uncle slain, Bili was virtual Thoheeks and Chief, while he was automatically Tahneest. He knew not whether to laugh or weep, so he kept his mouth tightly shut.

The second pair of riders were Komees Djeen and Vahrohnos Spiros, who both rode in silence, each full of his own thoughts and worries. The third pair were Clan Bard Hail and Bard Klairuhnz. Hail’s lips moved silently as he composed new verses to the “Song of Morguhn,” while Klairuhnz was in mindspeak with Master Ahlee, on a mental level to which few men or women could attain.

Save for the fact that his sash now supported an exotically decorated, double-curved saber, Ahlee’s outward appearance was but little changed. His flowing white robe still billowed, but now it concealed a longsleeved brigandine and a brace of wavy-bladed daggers, and his head-wrappings covered a steel skullcap.

Although he had both war training and experience, Ahlee basically disliked harming a fellow man under most circumstances. But what these people faced, unbelievers though they assuredly were, was a different and distinctly sinister thing, a true horror; and he was convinced that to aid them in their uneven struggle against such evil would be to strive for Ahlah. When again he thought upon the things—the godless, unclean, monstrous things—which his hypnotism had drawn from the mind and memory of that prisoner, he shuddered from head to foot. For spiritual solace, he began to chant holy verses.

The mercenary who rode beside him, leading a packmule, listened briefly, failed to understand the ancient tongue, but decided that a song was just the thing to help speed this almost-done and boring ride; whereupon he launched into an endless and endlessly obscene soldiers’ song. Bili knew the particular ditty and took it up, any- thing to relieve some of the maddening tension. After some score of choruses, Djehf bawled a few original and recent verses from Eeree.

The bawdy old ballad brought fond memories to Komees Djeen and a broad smile to his face, and he joined in as well. Though he knew neither the song itself nor memories of it, Spiros found himself joining in the catchy, nonsensical chorus. And when others’ recall failed, Clan bard Hail provided extemporaneous and topical verses.

While his physical being sang with the rest, Klairuhnz mindspoke Ahlee, saying, “These fine men cannot know or even suspect just how incredibly ancient this song really is. Nor do they realize that near twoscore generations of their ancestors have sung it.”

“Did my antecedents also sing it, Lord?” queried the physician.

“Oh, yes, Ahlee,” replied the Bard. “In those long-ago days, we were all one nation, speaking one language.”

“Most remarkable,” Ahlee commented, adding, “It is certain that I have then chosen aright, for surely you and your few peers are much loved of Ahlah, that He has vouchsafed you such long life.”

The guards at the eastern gate of Morguhnpolis were Freefighters, mostly from the Middle Kingdoms. They laughed and buffeted each other in delight, as the noble lords entered the city singing a song they considered their own, and they enthusiastically added their voices to a chorus, feeling a fierce kinship with these fellow fighting-men.

Thus augmented, the last chorus roared up the all but deserted east-west thoroughfare, “HINKEE DINKEE PAHRLEE VOOOOt”