“Axes!” cried a voice, from the deck of the keel boat. “Cut the lines!”
At the same time, a second charge was loosed from the weapon which streamed overhead, past the keel boat, and ended in a blast of fire, with a tree raging like a torch, on the opposite shore. The charge had been expended, one supposes, to inform the raiders of their jeopardy, and to illuminate, however briefly, the terrain.
Cornhair saw bodies, as though frozen, in the water, on the bank, on the deck of the keel boat, illuminated faces, startled, bright cloths, painted timbers, then darkness, again.
“Cut the lines!” cried the voice, again, from the deck of the keel boat.
Cornhair heard men splashing through the water, toward the hull of the boat. She supposed some raiders, others, members of the crew. Some were surely cut down before they could climb to the deck. She heard the chopping of axes at the boat’s rail, doubtless striking at the mooring ropes, that the boat might be freed to the current. She also heard a hideous cry which suggested that the men were not alone in the water.
“Torches!” cried Orik. “Let us see what we kill!”
No torches were lit on the deck of the keel boat, but two were soon flaming on the bank, and they cast their weird, frantic light out to the keel boat and yards behind it, to the dark, shimmering river. Some small dugouts were drawing away from the keel boat. Other men were swimming to them. One disappeared, screaming, beneath the surface. The keel boat, freed, began to turn in the current, moving from the bank. There was a cry of exultation from some raiders on its deck. And then Cornhair, standing, looking to the river, saw, in the light of the torches, a mighty figure, half again the size of a large man, wade into the water and seize the rudder, holding it, and turning it, and then beginning, foot by foot, to thrust the great form back toward the bank. Other men rushed into the water, with lines, to secure it to the shore. Those on the deck of the keel boat then, with cries of dismay and rage, leapt into the water, swimming after the dugouts moving downstream.
The giant waded to the bank, where he, by extended hands, under torchlight, was helped to ascend to the level of the towing path.
“The cargo is safe,” said Orik, captain of the keel boat.
“You did well,” said a crewman to the giant.
“It is long since I have laughed with steel,” said the giant.
“A better watch should have been kept,” said one of the companions of the giant, holstering a pistol, it now less two charges.
“How is it you have such a weapon?” asked one of the river men.
“That I have it is important,” said the man, “nothing else. Inquire no further.”
“We are near Telnar,” said Orik. “Raiders never come this far west.”
“Some did,” said the man with the pistol.
“We feared only the beasts of the river, that they might crawl ashore,” said Orik.
“One did,” said a man.
“You might easily have lost your boat and cargo,” said the man with the pistol.
“This is safe country,” said Orik.
“Not so safe for pirates,” laughed a crewman.
“You should carry professional guards,” said another man, who was the third of the three Cornhair had noted in the darkness, those who had been conversing quietly amongst themselves. He was unarmed. “Spearmen, bowmen, crossbowmen,” he added.
“Who can afford them?” asked a man.
“What good are they?” asked another. “They are not rudder men, not even docksmen. They do not pole. They do not handle the lines or sail. They do not pull from the bank. They sleep, they eat. They are passengers one must pay.”
“Still,” said the third fellow.
“Only greater boats hire such,” said Orik.
“This part of the Serpent is safe, or supposedly so?” said the man with the pistol.
“Always,” said Orik. “I do not understand.”
“We do not always carry such passengers,” said a man, indicating the giant and his two companions.
“What is their business, in Telnar?” asked a man.
“Our business in Telnar,” said the man with the pistol, “is ours, not yours. It may seem mysterious to you. Let it be so. But our presence here is unlikely to have been known. I think you must search further for your explanation.”
“If,” said the third man, he who had been with the giant and his companion, “the explanation is not to be well given in terms of our presence, or of the captain, or of the crew, or of the cargo, or such, one must seek elsewhere.”
“Where?” said the man with the pistol.
“In Telnar,” said the third man. “Something is different in Telnar.”
“What?” asked the man with the pistol.
“I do not know,” said the third man.
“This may affect our plans,” said the man with the pistol.
“I fear so,” said the third man.
Cornhair saw the lantern again approaching.
“Kneel, pretty pigs, heads up,” said Gundlicht, moving about the tree, the lantern lifted.
Cornhair, despite her misgivings, obeyed. Masters are not tolerant of disobedience, or dalliance, in slaves.
Happily none of the men at the shore took note of Gundlicht’s inspection. Still, Cornhair was grateful to find herself once again in the darkness.
“What of the slaves?” inquired Orik.
“Frightened,” said Gundlicht, returned to the shore. “None injured, none buffeted, none cut.”
“All is tidy on the chain?” said a man.
“Yes,” said Gundlicht.
“Extinguish the torches,” said Orik. “We shall rest now, and return to the river at dawn.”
“Set a firm and dutiful watch,” said the man with the pistol.
“We shall,” said Orik.
“On the river,” said the man with the pistol, “my companions and I will remain in the cabin.”
“As you wish,” said Orik.
“Our arrival in Telnar will be as anticipated?” asked the man with the pistol.
“I think so,” said Orik. “We should wharf in the afternoon, the late afternoon.”
“My companions and I will remain in the cabin until after dark,” said the man with the pistol. “We shall then disembark.”
“As you wish,” said Orik.
“You know nothing of us,” said the man with the pistol. “You have not seen us.”
“I know nothing of you,” said Orik. “I have not seen you.”
“You were fortunate to survive the crash of your ship in the marshes,” said a man.
“Few have pierced the blockade,” said a man, “and even fewer without cost.”
“The penalties of detection are commonly weighty,” said a man.
“Do you know anything of a ship, my friends?” asked the man with the pistol.
“No,” said Orik. “We know nothing of a ship.”
“Good,” said the man with a pistol.
“But mayhap, of a purse of gold,” said one of the crew.
“Silence may be as easily purchased with steel as gold,” said the man with the pistol.
“We are silent,” said Orik.
“We owe you our lives,” said a crewman.
“I am weary,” said the giant. “I think that I shall sleep.”
“After what you have done?” asked one of the crew.
“My sword has fed,” said the giant.
“You are not Telnarian,” said a man.
“You are not of civilization,” said another.
“There are many civilizations,” said the man with the pistol.
The giant then turned away, to return to his blankets.
“What of the fallen,” asked the man with the pistol, “ours and theirs? Are they to be buried, or burned?”
“They will be returned to the river,” said Orik.
“I see,” said the man with the pistol. “There are many civilizations.”
A watch was then set, and men returned to their places of rest, some near where the fire had been, some back, away from the fire, and some on the deck of the keel boat itself.
Cornhair lay on her side, her head on her elbow, the chain running beneath her elbow and neck.
“They do not know I am here,” she thought. “So far then, I am safe. In daylight they will remain sequestered in the deck cabin. They would not know of my presence. Even should they emerge, doubtless the canvas shelter will be set, and they could not see me, or the others, unless intending to do so, which is unlikely. They will wish to remain unseen. I think there are things on their mind quite other than eye feasts. So I, as the others, will be concealed from them. And they will not emerge at Telnar until after dark. By that time I, and the other slaves, will be well disembarked. I do not know their business in Telnar, but doubtless it has naught to do with buying slaves. Larger, darker matters, I suspect, are afoot. I have escaped their notice. Soon I should be purchased, and be safe, as safe as any slave can be safe, and I am beautiful, so I, even if harshly punished, should be more safe than many others.”