Yen Olass eased a few tent pegs out of the mud, lifted the bottom of a tent and crawled inside. Into absolute darkness. She squatted there, waiting patiently for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. But after a while she concluded that there was no light at all to see by. Everything in the tent was very quiet. There was no sleep- murmur of dream voices, no sounds of bodies stirring in blankets, no snores, no creaking of joints, no whispering, no breathing. Yet the tent did not feel empty.
Yen Olass listened, screening out the noises of the outside world – faint guttural voices, occasional animal noises from a horse or an ox, the muted thunder of the flames still blazing in the castle moat. She listened, and she heard… moisture falling drip by drop. Each drip gathering itself in the darkness, meditating, then falling to plop into a pool of moisture. A leak in the tent? But it was not raining.
Suddenly Yen Olass was terrified. She lifted the bottom of the tent – and heard footsteps outside. Two men were walking through the mud. As they passed the tent, one said something to the other, and both laughed. Yen Olass crouched in the darkness. She looked over her shoulder, into the centre of the tent. But could see nothing but darkness within darkness.
When the two men were gone, Yen Olass slithered out, not caring how much mud she collected in the process. The night air was cool and good. For a while she stayed there in the shadow of the tent, gathering her courage. Then she heard snoring from a nearby tent. Her first thought was:
– So someone is alive.
Yen Olass stole through the night to the snoring tent, pulled out more tent pegs and slipped inside. Again she squatted down, waiting. This tent was full of the warmth of people and the little noises of people sleeping. But were they prisoners – or soldiers?
'Hello, Yen Olass,' said a deep voice.
Yen Olass felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She knew that she had no occult powers of her own, but she was not prepared to disbelieve in the existence of occult powers – and it was a powerful shock to hear someone name her in the blind darkness. Her bounding heart was a rabbit, chasing away over the hills with a wolf at its tail.
'I know it's you,' said the voice. 'I can smell you.' 'You smell too,' retorted Yen Olass, which was not true. There was a chuckle.
'Humans can't smell out the Melski,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'Come here, Yen Olass. They've tied me up.’
Yen Olass crept through the darkness, wondering if she really did stink. On reflection, she presumed she probably did. Probably everyone in the Collosnon army was reeking of dirt and sweat, but humans who live in a communal stench seldom notice it. Indeed, when people live continuously in their own sweat, the smells they become particularly sensitive to are artificial scents, perfumes and soaps, which, in a combat zone, can sometime betray a newcomer at thirty paces or more.
'Can you really tell I'm me?' said Yen Olass. 'Or were you just guessing?’
She had not been taught the word for guessing, so she used the word for gambling instead. Hor-hor-hurulg- murg understood.
'I'm good at what I do,' said the Melski.
'That's not a proper answer,' said Yen Olass.
What she actually said, struggling with her limited vocabulary, was 'Your words are smoke', but again the Melski understood.
'It's what you should expect,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'Tarish are known to be glunskoora.’
'What's tarish?' said Yen Olass, getting to work on the knots that secured him. 'What's glunskoora?’
She could not translate these two words from the Galish; they meant 'monster' and 'inscrutable'.
'Later,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg, for, like most people, he did not like having to explain his jokes.
The Melski had a very good idea of what most people thought of them, but, confident in the possession of their own river forests, their own language and their freedom, did not mind making the occasional joke at their own expense.
'Ah,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg, as Yen Olass undid the last knot binding his hands. 'That's good. I'll do the rest.’
'Me next,' said another voice, which Yen Olass recognized immediately. Draven.
'What are you doing here?' said Yen Olass.
'Lord Alagrace left late this afternoon. He was escorting some of our wounded back to Skua. He's going to draw on the reserves we've got waiting there. He wants some men behind him who haven't yet been tainted by mutiny.’
'And?’
'And what do you think?' said Draven. 'Come on, untie me.’
Yen Olass was not at all keen on the idea. She wanted to escape with her Melski friend. She did not at all fancy the company of a murderous and unprincipled pirate like Draven. Nominally, he was her slave, given to her by the Lord Emperor Khmar, but in a world of men that ruling had never meant anything, and once they were in the depths of Looming Forest it would mean even less.
'Where are you?' said Draven, impatiently.
'Here,' said Yen Olass, afraid he would start to shout if she refused him. 'But remember, I saved your life.’
'My life? Nobody's asking you to be a hero.’
'In Favanosin,' said Yen Olass, suspecting that Draven was being deliberately obtuse. 'I saved your life.’
'Did you?'
'In front of Khmar. You know I did.’
'So you saved my life. Come on!’
Yen Olass set to work, wondering what had happened. She supposed Chonjara's faction had taken the opportunity to put some of Lord Alagrace's supporters out of action while they had the chance.
'Were they going to – what were they going to do to you?’
'Cook us and eat us for all I know,' said Draven, echoing tough-talking words which had originally been the intellectual property of the Rovac warrior, Morgan Hearst. 'They're frightened. Confused. Men are always dangerous when they're like that. The sooner we get out of here the better.’
Yen Olass was aware by now that others were awake, and waiting. She would have to take them all. But once she had set Draven free, he helped, and soon there were plenty of hands to do the work.
'Yen Olass?' said a voice.
'Here,' said Yen Olass.
'Is it really you?' said Resbit.
'It's me.’
And Yen Olass, glad to have at least one female friend in this unreasonable world of men, took Resbit into her arms and hugged her. Breast to breast and cheek to cheek, they embraced each other, protecting each other, comforting each other. Yen Olass wanted to sit down and talk right then and there, and find out everything that had happened to Resbit, but there was no time. The escapers were already slipping out of the tent one by one, and Resbit and Yen Olass had to follow or be left behind.
'Where's Haveros?' said Draven, when they were outside.
'He's not with us,' said Yen Olass.
'I know that,' said Draven, sounding irritated. 'And keep your voice down!’
Which was unfair, since he was talking louder than she was.
'Why do you care, anyway?' said Yen Olass. 'What's he to you?’
'We need him. And the princess, if we can get her. Take them east, to Skua. Lord Alagrace will reward us.’
Td've thought you'd've wanted to run back to your pirate friends,' said Yen Olass.
'It's a long way from here to the Greater Teeth,' said Draven. 'Even for a creature good at running, which isn't me.’
'We'll have a better chance in the forest,' said Yen Olass. 'If we go east, they'll ride us down.’
'We'll take horses ourselves,' said Draven. 'Can't women think of anything?’
'The Lord Khmar-’
'The Lord Khmar can't help you now,' said Draven. 'Stay here. I'm going to look for Haveros and the princess.'
