The stranger lifted an arched eyebrow and leaned his arm on the saddle horn. “These are hardly Turic soldiers, Commander, and as I heard it, most of the Tenth was slaughtered.”
“Not all of us, Kirmaz-Ja. So we make do with what we have.”
“And what are you planning to do?”
Hajira, who knew the tribal leader to be a man of honor, gave a short bow. “Perhaps you would like to join us. We could discuss possibilities.”
The stranger dismounted and led his horse to the camp to meet with Hajira, Sayyed, Helmar, and Rapinor. The Clannad warriors stayed in position, relaxed yet alert while their chief led the Turic to the shade of several tall cedars. Cool wine and plates of cheese and dates were brought and served by Tassilio. The Kirmaz-Ja sat wordlessly, watching the preparations with a fascinated eye. He seemed particularly intrigued with Helmar and her obvious authority.
“I do not know of you, Lady,” he said in rough but credible Clannish, “or your people. You are like clan and yet not clan. And how is it that a woman leads a troop of warriors? Some of whom,” he suddenly noticed, “are also women.”
“Swords and bows are not our first weapons,” Helmar replied. “Strength of arms is not as important as talent to us.”
The Turic narrowed his eyes. He had smallish eyes deep set behind a thin nose, but they were not piggish eyes, for his face was too hard and narrow, and his gaze glittered with intelligence and wit. He had a grizzled beard trimmed close to his jaws, and his knotted hair was iron gray. He shifted his eagle’s glance from Helmar to Sayyed. “And you, you are Turic no longer. I would guess you are the half-breed who aimed to sorcery.”
Sayyed merely lifted his cup in reply, impressed by the man’s knowledge and intuition.
“Are you here because of the women Zukhara holds?” Mohadan wanted to know.
Briefly Sayyed and Hajira told the Kirmaz-Ja the events beginning at Council Rock and leading up to their arrival at the outskirts of Cangora. Sayyed only touched on his time in Sanctuary and the Clannad’s offer to ride with him, but Mohadan’s sharp attention missed nothing, and he studied the warriors around him with keen interest.
When the narrative was through, however, Mohadan drove straight to the point that had brought him to see them. “I was told yesterday what your men did for the dead at the Saran Oasis. The families were grateful that you defied the Gryphon’s edict to let the men hang until they rotted. So tell me now, will you join your forces to mine and help me bring down the Gryphon?”
Hajira shared a glance with Helmar and Sayyed before he turned to Tassilio sitting close beside him. “Is it your will, Shar-Yon, that we unite with this man and the enemies of the Gryphon?”
For the first time, Mohadan’s expression registered real surprise. He had paid little attention to the boy who had served the wine, and now he focused all his fierce regard on the son of the Shar-Ja. “You are the sandrat? Rumor said you were dead.”
The boy looked startled at, the name by which Hajira had called him, but he collected himself quickly. “No, Kirmaz-Ja,” Tassilio replied with every ounce of his father’s dignity. “I am the Shar-Yon, and I am very much alive.”
Mohadan, the traditionalist, the man sworn to honor the throne of the Shar-Ja, had never once considered the possibility of winning the throne for himself. He greeted the unexpected appearance of an heir with sincerity and relief and bowed low before the boy. His gesture sealed Hajira’s decision.
At a nod from Tassilio, Hajira drew a dagger from a sheath at his waist and jabbed it into the ground in front of Mohadan. By doing so, he followed an old Turic custom of offering his services to another tribal leader. If Mohadan pulled the dagger free and returned it, he would accept Hajira’s services in an agreement as binding as a blood vow.
The Kirmaz-Ja looked at the blade quivering in the dry grass. “I welcome your assistance, Commander, but I must ask. does this also include the sorcerer and the lady and her warriors? I have a feeling that without them, we will stand little chance against Zukhara’s power.”
Sayyed answered first. “I have already sworn to my own lord that I will do everything I can to return the sorceresses to the clans. To that end, I will help you for as long as the women are held captive.”
“Fair enough. Clansman.” He turned to Helmar who was sitting beside her guard. “And you, Lady?”
Sayyed was taken aback by the bold look of interest in the man’s eyes when he looked at the chief, but Helmar seemed to pay no heed. Unaffected, she tilted her chin and replied coolly, “I made my promise to Sayyed to help free Lady Gabria and Kelene. We will do what needs to be done.”
The man’s jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened under a thoughtful frown, as if he had just made an unwelcome observation. He glanced at Sayyed then nodded to himself in decision. Without further hesitation, he yanked the blade free and passed it hilt-first to the royal guard. Hajira accepted it back with a thin smile.
“Now,” said Mohadan, jumping to his feet, “if you will break camp and come with me, I have something to show you.”
They followed his suggestion, swiftly and efficiently, and in less than an hour were riding in a column along the caravan road toward Cangora. They bypassed the city by a wide loop and trotted into the hills on the southern end of the broad valley. Mohadan led them into the first deep dale they reached and pointed them toward a long meadow where a large, bustling camp sat along the banks of a dry streambed. The yellow banner of the Kirmaz floated above one of the tents.
“Most of those men are my own,” said the Kirmaz-Ja, indicating the camp with a wave of his hand. “Some are survivors from the caravan. Others have been coming as the word spreads. Not all goes Zukhara’s way. There is lighting along the coast and in the cities of Hazereth and Shamani where the Fel Azureth have met resistance from several tribes—including the Raid. Perhaps two hundred men have gathered at my summons. More will come.” He indicated a place in the meadow where they could erect their camp near his.
“If all goes as planned,” Sayyed told him as they all dismounted, “there will be more men soon. My son is bringing Lord Athlone and the werods to aid the Shar-Ja as promised in their treaty.”
A second look of surprise spread over Mohadan’s face. Surprise, Sayyed thought, was not a common emotion to the hard-bitten leader, and today they had managed to shake him twice.
“They are coming to help?” Mohadan almost shouted. “We thought they had crossed the Altai to take revenge for the capture of the women and the raids on their trelds by the Fel Azureth.”
“I sent for them six days ago.”
Mohadan gave a great, gusty snort. “They crossed the Altai yesterday. A messenger bird brought the news from a cousin of mine this morning.”
“Yesterday.” Sayyed looked thoughtful. “Then they are four or five days away—if they ride like the wind and no one stands in their way.”
“I will see that no one does! I will send an escort and a safe-pass for the men of the clans.”
“Kirmaz-Ja. that is an excellent idea, but may I suggest we send the safe-pass and an urgent message with the winged mare? Only she is swift enough to reach them quickly.”
I heard that and the answer is no. Demira bugled before anyone else could respond. The mare pranced to Sayyed, her big eyes alight with anger. I am not going away from Kelene again!
Mohadan could not “hear” what she sent telepathically, but he understood what she meant well enough from her stiff-legged stance and her flattened ears. He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Perhaps it would be better—”
Helmar cut him off by throwing an arm around Demira’s neck. The mare rolled her eyes at the chief but did not pull away. “If you were not the best choice to reach Kelene’s father, we would not ask you,” she said in soothing tones. “If Hajira were healed and able to ride that far, he could go, though his horse could not travel fast enough. Some of my men would go, but they are not Turics and would be in constant danger. You have your glorious wings to fly swiftly above the trouble and reach Lord Athlone in time. Please understand. To have any chance at all of saving Kelene and Gabria, we need more men to attack the city.”