the trees, I heard a screaming, and a shaking and a tearing, as though an arm might be being torn from its shoulder. Within moments lanterns were rushing toward me, and men, and guards. “Call Lord Nishida!” I heard.
In the light of the lanterns I looked down on the shape at my feet. The edged buckler had caught it under the chin, and taken the head half from the body. From the trees there was a hideous wailing and four Pani, glaives ready, slipped amongst the trees. In moments they drew forth from the darkness, dragging it, a sobbing, mauled figure, the left arm missing. It was trying to stanch the flooding stream bursting from its body with its free hand, and then it was thrown to the mud amongst us, several mercenaries and Pani now having hurried forward.
I watched the living figure twitch before us. Then I thought perhaps it felt no pain, its body perhaps then flooded with endorphins. Its eyes were wide with shock. Blood ran freely between the fingers of its right hand.
“Stanch his wound,” I said.
The fellow’s hand was pulled away and cloth was thrust into the hole in his body.
“Where is the arm?” asked a man.
Two Pani, with lanterns, entered the forest.
I became aware of Lord Nishida, now standing at my side. “What is going on?” he asked.
“I know not,” I said.
“Give me a lantern,” said Lord Nishida, and was handed a lantern. He bent down, to examine the two fellows before us. And then he stood up.
The two Pani who had just entered the forest returned. One carried a crossbow.
“The assassin’s weapon,” said Lord Nishida.
“A weapon commonly employed by assassins,” I granted him.
“We could not find the arm,” said one of the Pani, he without the crossbow. “It was a sleen attack,” said the other. “The beast must have carried it away, into the trees, to feed.”
“We caught the scent of a sleen in the vicinity earlier,” said a mercenary, one of the guards.
“Apparently the bowman did not,” said a fellow.
“Nor would he,” I said.
“Double the guard,” said Lord Nishida.
“Behold,” said one of the Pani, indicating with the shaft of his long glaive the figure brought recently to the road. “This man is dead.”
“He bled to death,” said a mercenary.
“Unfortunate,” said Lord Nishida. “We might have learned much from him.”
A man drew the wadded, blood-soaked cloth from the inert body.
“Well, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida, “we have solved one of our problems.”
“How is that?” I asked.
“We have discovered our assassin,” said Lord Nishida. “This man, whose head is still muchly in his helmet, is Lykourgos, and this other, he with the crossbow, is Quintus, so one or the other, perhaps both, are of the Assassins.”
“Both may have attempted the work of the assassin,” I said, “but neither, I fear, are of the Assassins.”
“How so?” asked Lord Nishida, interested.
“This man,” I said, indicating he who had been caught beneath the chin by the edged buckler, “rushed clumsily from the darkness. He lacked the skill one would expect from a professional at dark work, and the other, he with the crossbow, did not risk a miss, preferring to leave the strike to the knife of his confederate, he himself then serving muchly as support, either for a second strike, or, more likely, to disconcert any who might too quickly approach, to cover the retreat of his companion. The professional assassin, I would suppose, would have trusted to his own quarrel, and not waited. Too, the professional assassin will usually choose to work alone, depending on himself, no others.”
“Interesting,” said Lord Nishida.
Although I said nothing, it seemed to me that we had now limited the suspicions of Lord Nishida, expressed to me earlier in Tarncamp, in his tent after I had left the feast, if they were warranted, that they had now been narrowed to Fabius, Telarion, and Tyrtaios
“But why, then,” asked Lord Nishida, “would these men attack you?”
“I think,” I said, “this has to do with a personal matter, which I would prefer to keep to myself.”
“As you wish,” said Lord Nishida.
Doubtless he supposed this had something to do with the seemingly inveterate and irascible tensions and tempers of barbarians. I myself supposed the attack was founded on my failure to satisfy Seremides in our interview of some nights ago. I had not furnished him with information as to the whereabouts of Talena, former Ubara of Ar, so was now useless to him, and he had revealed to me his identity and his interests in her pursuit, both matters he doubtless preferred to be kept unknown. He must have had a way of contacting his minions at Tarncamp or in the march, but I suspected he had had no more than two with us. If that were the case, I had nothing to concern myself with at present from that quarter. I hoped not. Similarly, if there were spies or assassins in the camp, it seemed to me that their target of primary interest, once it was decided to strike, would be not me but Lord Nishida.
“May I have a lantern?” I asked one of the Pani, and, given this artifact, I moved back, between the trees. Two or three men accompanied me, and, too, so did Lord Nishida.
It was easy to discover where Quintus had been attacked, from the dislodgment of the leaves, the rupture of the earth, the sight and smell of blood. There was no doubt the attack had been by a sleen, as there were sleen tracks about. One could see where the sleen had made its leap, from the deeper indentations in the soil, and the absence of prints between that point and the point where the prey was struck. It was several feet. The sleen must have been large, and powerful. The slight wind moving the branches would have been toward the sleen. This was what I would have expected.
“Sleen do not normally attack humans, do they?” asked Lord Nishida.
“Not usually,” I said.
“You are sure those are sleen tracks?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you notice anything unusual about the tracks?”
“No,” he said.
“The sleen was lame,” I said.
“Interesting,” said Lord Nishida.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I heard the cries of joy from forward, and knew the scouts, if not others, had now emerged from the forest, and beheld, in the morning sun, sparkling below in the valley, the winding Alexandra.
Men rushed forward.
Slaves crowded, as they could, to the sides of the wagons, on their tethers, striving to understand the commotion.
Saru, in her wagon, precariously in her shackles, stood up, trying to peer ahead.
I heard more shouts now, and was sure the first wagons had emerged from the forest.
I saw Sumomo and Hana, shading their eyes, emerge from the portal on their closed wagon and, standing on its small porch, strain to see what might be the cause of the ebullition.
Tharlarion, down the long line, lifted their heads, distended their nostrils, and bellowed. They could smell the water, perhaps the verdant grazing near the river.
Pertinax was with me.
Knowing that we should reach the Alexandra in the late morning we had freed Cecily and Jane.
“Master!” cried Cecily, elated.
“Heel us,” I snapped.
