“Why did you tell him all that?” said Saranja. “He’s been very helpful, but I don’t trust him.”
“So that he’d tell us stuff about himself,” said Ribek. “He’s got to have seen Sheep-faces too, or he wouldn’t have thought us calling them that was funny. What did you make of him, Maja?”
“He’s like what he is, I think. Only there’s someone else inside him. Someone secret.”
Ribek nodded.
“Let’s go and water the horses,” he said.
“I haven’t finished grooming Pogo,” said Saranja.
“Bring him when you’ve done,” said Ribek, reaching for Rocky’s halter. “You bring Levanter, Maja. I want to know more about this fellow. We’ll probably have to wait in line. See what you can pick up. Come along, old boy, water.”
There were a horse and a mule at the trough, another waiting next in line, then Striclan with his mule, then another horse ahead of them. All these desert way stations had deep wells reaching down to water sources far below, with a horse trough beside them. The system was that two animals drank at a time while the well-master’s slave wound the buckets up and down to keep the trough filled. The travelers waiting next in line haggled over the fee and bribe with the well-master, as Striclan was doing now. Maja could sense his enjoyment of the process. The only strange thing about him was that he seemed absolutely unshaken by his encounter with the demon last night.
Ribek handed Rocky’s halter to Maja, unhooked his flask from his belt, emptied it into the sand and hooked it back on. He fished in his wallet and withdrew the water-charm he’d made last evening. Casually he swung it beside his hip, as if he merely needed something to fidget with while he waited. Maja felt the strange magic flow, far gentler than the old tribeswoman’s insistent, almost bullying tone. Ribek wasn’t commanding the spirit, he was asking. Maja felt the spirit’s weary answer. Ribek persisted, pleading, and it gave in and Ribek looped the cord round his wrist and left it dangling.
The two animals at the trough finished drinking and their owners led them away. The next horse and Striclan’s mule moved to take their places, and the man immediately ahead of Ribek began the absurdly elaborate process of dealing with the well-master.
As if for something to do while he waited his turn, Ribek wandered over to the trough, unhooked his flask again and filled it from the flow of the next bucket into the trough. He put it to his lips, swigged, sluiced the water round his mouth and spat it into the sand. As he returned to his place he offered the flask to Striclan.
“Like to make sure,” he said. “Lot of arsenic in some of these desert wells. Only a trace here, plus a bit of copper.”
“If you say so,” said Striclan. “I doubt if I’ve that fine a palate.”
Nevertheless he took a mouthful, sluiced it round as Ribek had done, but then swallowed.
“I believe I can detect the arsenic,” he said. “Copper, you say? Curious.”
He sounded completely casual, but for a moment it was as if that hidden inner self had come alive, full of interest, thoughtful.
“Just a trace,” said Ribek, and returned to Maja. As she waited for him to settle with the well-master she wasn’t surprised to see Striclan making a rapid note in his pad. The other man’s horse finished at the trough and she led Levanter to take its place. A moment or two later Rocky joined him, while Ribek strolled round to the wellhead and emptied his flask over the edge, swilling the water round as it gurgled out.
“I’m hoping there’s a trace of his saliva round the rim,” he murmured. “Let’s see.”
He took the charm from his pouch again and started to swing it. The magic flowed, and the spirit answered at once. Ribek listened for a moment, and laughed aloud.
“What’s up?” said Maja.
He bent to whisper into her ear.
“He’s one himself.”
“One what?”
“Sheep-face.”
“He can’t be! Anyway, he doesn’t look like one.”
“He wouldn’t, because he’s a Sheep-face spy. All is explained.”
“He was really interested in what you said about tasting copper in the water.”
“I wonder why.”
“We can’t let him go to Larg! If he tells the Sheep-faces there isn’t any magic there—”
“Shhh! Yes, that’s a point. We’ll see what Saranja says, and then we’ll have to wake Benayu up.”
What Saranja said was, “I’m no good at pretending.”
“You don’t have to. Just act like you would do anyway. The poor chap’s completely in awe of you. You saved his life and you can bind demons. He absolutely worships you. You’re a simple country girl and you don’t know how to handle it, so no wonder you act a bit surly.”
“I don’t think he’s in awe of anyone. What he said was some of the truth. The Sheep-faces want to know all they can about magic, and that’s what he’s here to find out. I can bind demons, thanks to Zald. If he finds out about Zald he’ll grab it and run. Now that the Watchers have woken the demons against them he’ll think it’s just what they’re looking for. And what about Benayu, when he’s well enough to start doing things again?”
“How’s he getting on, Maja?”
She concentrated. Benayu was dreaming—a bad dream. She knew because she could feel the horrible strange magic, still potent, even like this.
“He’s having a nightmare about the demon,” she said. “We’d better wake him up.”
Ribek knelt, slid his arm under Benayu’s shoulders and eased him up to a half-sitting position. His head lolled.
“I can’t do anything,” he muttered. “I mustn’t.”
Ribek put his other arm round him and hugged him to his chest.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Saranja’s here. She’s got Zald.”
Benayu snorted, sat fully up and stared round.
“Stupid. Stupid,” he said. “You know it’s only a dream, but…What’s happening?”
“Remember that chap we met in the desert—said his name was Striclan?” said Ribek, and explained. Benayu didn’t seem very interested, but thought about it a little while, then smiled sourly.
“Back in the mountains Saranja told me I might need the Pirates—Sheep-faces—whatever they call themselves,” he said.
“That settles it,” said Ribek. “I’ll tell him he can come along. It’s not only demons we may be running into, and with you out of action he’s got some useful tricks if we hit trouble.”
They barely needed to pretend, even Saranja. Striclan was cheerful, interested in everything, told the most amazing stories, and so obviously liked to be helpful. He took a lot of trouble with Benayu, brewing him healing remedies and strength-giving tonics, and seeing there was plenty of iron in his food, and things with strange names like proteins and vitamins. He exchanged herbal lore with Saranja and persuaded Ribek to teach him kick-fighting. Ribek said he was remarkably good at it for somebody starting so late and with a figure like his.
“You never know what might not come in useful,” Striclan said. “These are dangerous times. And that reminds me, it’s all very well for Ribek to rely on his skill with his feet, but the rest of you ought to be able to defend yourselves, too. I have a little switchblade knife for Maja—here. I will make an arm sheath for it, but in the meanwhile put it in your belt-pouch, Maja, and I’ll show you how to use it if you have to. You can kill a full-grown man with it if you know where to strike. I believe there are serious penalties for carrying anything like a sword without a license, which is why I carry my rapier concealed in my staff. It would be difficult to arrange anything of the sort for Miss Saranja and Benayu. The best I can suggest is that I should cut quarterstaffs for them and again show them how to use them. In fact it is possible to strike a damaging blow with a well-balanced quarterstaff. It is certainly far better than nothing.”