The King

CHAPTER 16

“Is he alive?” asked Varix.

“I do not know,” said Olar.

“Is it a Herul?” asked Varix.

“No,” said Olar.

“Then we need not kill him,” said Varix.

“I think he is dead already,” said Olar.

“See if he is Telnarian,” said Varix. “He may have money.”

“I do not think he is Telnarian,” said Olar.

“What is he?” asked Varix.

“He has the appearance of an Otung,” said Olar.

“Not here, not this far away,” said Varix.

Varix looked about, warily, apprehensively.

“I do not like it,” he said.

Varix wore, over his eyes, tied at the edges with leather, a curved bone plate. It was cut with a horizontal slit, which eliminated most of the glare from the snow. Olar was similarly protected. It was bright and cold on the plains of Barrionuevo this afternoon. The sun blazed off the snow. It was in the month of Igon. One, unprotected, could go blind on such days. Both men wore fur, and deep fur boots. Each was armed, Varix with knife and ax, Olar with knife and spear.

Both were hunting vi-cat.

One had been seen yesterday, crossing the Lothar, on the ice, moving eastward.

They had been following its trail all morning, but now the hunt, for the moment, was forgotten.

“If he is dead, let us rob him, and be gone,” said Varix. “If he is not dead, let us kill him, and see if he has anything of value.”

“We are not Heruls,” said Olar.

“We are poor men,” said Varix.

“He may be a Herul spy,” said Olar.

“The body,” said Varix, wading through the snow, coming to the edge of the sledge, on which lay the remains of a horse, and, within the body of the horse, the shape of a man, or manlike creature, “does not appear malnourished.”

“Perhaps he died recently,” said Olar.

“He may not be dead,” said Varix.

“The cold can keep things for a long time,” said Olar.

Varix stepped back, wading backward, away from the sledge.

“Come back,” said Varix.

Olar, turning, struggled back a few feet in the snow, to join Varix. Then both faced the sledge.

“See the tracks,” said Varix, pointing. “The man must have been in the traces, drawing the carcass of the horse.”

“Why?” asked Olar.

“I do not know,” said Varix.

“He must have been strong,” said Olar.

“He could feed on the horse,” said Varix.

“He may not be dead,” said Olar.

“That is what I think,” said Varix.

“See, on the sledge,” whispered Olar. “The rolled pelt of a vi-cat.”

“It is not the pelt of the one we seek,” said Varix.

“No,” said Olar. “It is mottled.”

Both men then backed away, a little farther, in the bright snow.

“It is the bait trap,” said Varix.

“Yes,” said Olar.

“He is Herul,” said Varix.

“He is not a Herul,” insisted Olar.

It is a mode of hunting occasionally practiced by Heruls. The hunter lies in wait, within the carcass, and when the vi-cat, or wolf, or arn bear or snow bear, come down from the north, in the time of Igon, prowls closely enough, the hunter, with spear, or long, thrusting blade, strikes. Commonly he is supported by others in the vicinity, lying covered in the snow, ready to spring, at a cry, to his aid. The animal, if not slain, is usually grievously wounded, and, slowed, may be trailed in the snow, the trail marked by blood.

“Do you understand what I am saying?” called Olar to the form within the carcass. “Are you alive?”

There was no response.

“I am afraid,” said Varix.

“Why?” asked Olar.

“That it is the bait trap,” said Varix.

“Why does that alarm you?” asked Olar.

“I think it is not now set for the vi-cat,” said Varix.

“For what, then?” asked Olar.

“For us, I fear,” said Varix.

At that time, suddenly, behind them, was heard the tiny jangle of harness, and the sound of a horse.

Both men turned.

“Heruls!” cried Olar.

There were seven Heruls, all told, three now behind them, and, in a moment, four others, two now approaching from the front, from behind the sledge, as they stood, and now two more, one from each side, in their dark leather, their fur capes, the conical, fur-trimmed helmets, with the slender, long, wandlike lances. Small bucklers were at the left side of their saddles. They had not even freed the bucklers. The four who had come from the front and sides now, too, drew up, reining in.

The circle was some ten yards in diameter.

In its center were Olar and Varix, and the sledge, with its weights.

There was a small sound of harness metal, as the beasts shifted in the snow, the sound of their breathing. Their breath hung about their snouts like fog. These were Herul mounts which, for simplicity, as is our wont with mounts of diverse species, we shall speak of as horses.

“Can you understand us?” called the leader of the Heruls to Olar and Varix.

“Yes,” said Varix.

Whereas countless modalities of communication, as well as countless languages, verbal and gestural, coexisted in the galaxies, Telnarian, in its imperial purity, and in its dialects, and its corruptions, was, by creatures capable of forming its sounds, or analogues to them, by far the most commonly spoken. Even fierce enemies of the empire, in order to make themselves understood to one another, often had no alternative to conversing in Telnarian. The influence, linguistic and cultural, if not the civil and military presence, of the empire was, for millions of rational creatures, a fact of life. There were various legends to the effect that Orak, the king of the gods, had invented Telnarian that men might be able to converse with one another. It was generally regarded as the mother tongue of rational creatures. That Telnarian bore within itself innumerable traces of earlier languages, from which it seems to have emerged, was a fact understood by, and appreciated by, few but scholars. But there was little doubt that Telnarian, or the language that bears that name, was an ancient one. It was present in a developed form, even in the dim beginnings of the empire, as the most ancient of the imperial carvings, inscriptions and plaques attested. The language was apparently spoken by several related peoples, one of these peoples being the Telnarians, which people founded the empire. And, of course, it is by the name of that people that the language came to be known.

“Are you hunting?” asked the lead Herul, cheerfully enough, moving his horse a yard or two closer, in the snow. The snow came to the knees of the beast. It came rather to the thighs of the men.

“Yes,” said Olar.

“Vi-cat,” said Varix.

“Are you hunting?” asked Olar, of the chief Herul.

“Yes,” he said.

“Men?” inquired Varix.

“Vi-cat,” said the chief Herul.

“Perhaps it is the same beast,” suggested Olar.

“Perhaps,” said the Herul.

“A giant white?” asked Olar.

“Yes,” said the chief Herul.

“Doubtless it is the same,” said Varix.

“Yes,” said the Herul. “But it seems we have caught men.”

“This is not your bait trap then?” asked Olar.

“No, is it not yours?” asked the Herul.

“No,” said Olar.

“Where would you like to die,” asked the Herul, “here, or in the camp?”

“They are scrawny, for soup,” said one of the Heruls.

“We are afoot, you on horseback!” said Olar, angrily.

“We do not allow mounts to such as you,” said one of the Heruls.

“Let us take them back to camp, and run them naked, in the snow, for the dogs,” said one of the Heruls.

“Spare us!” said Olar.

“You are not women,” said one of the Heruls. “Sometimes we spare them.”

“We work them well,” said another.

“They are pleasant to whip,” said one.

“Their hairless skins mark delightfully,” said another, “and they squirm well.”

“Too, with their small bodies and smooth skins,” said another, “we find them interesting, and different, in the thongs and furs.”

“You are on horseback,” said Olar. “There are seven of you.”

“You should not be on the flats of Tung,” said another.

“You should not have crossed the Lothar,” laughed another.

“Rope them,” said the leader of the Heruls.