than to be In proximity to foes.'
'If that's the way of it, then we should get to riding,' Leda said with a wry face as she turned and mounted her horse. 'But tell me, Gord. Which is more precious to you — me, or your stallion?'
Without waiting for an answer, she rode off at a canter that quickly became a gallop. The young adventurer was after her in seconds, and Windeater promptly closed the lead she had. 'I think it is a standoff!' Gord shouted as he drew abreast of her. 'You're better looking, but this horse is more manageable and even-tempered!' She smiled warmly at him, and they settled their mounts down to a walk, spending the next two hours in comfortable silence. Gord's sense of urgency was much lessened now, and he was able to snatch a few moments of sleep as Windeater followed the other horse's lead.
In late afternoon, Gord. and Leda both glanced backward at the same time as they topped a low rise, and both saw the same forms moving toward them at a rapid pace, scarcely a mile away. 'It seems they are coming after us, Gord,' said Leda. 'What should we do?'
'Let's get this over with,' Gord said as he dismounted and she followed suit. 'I hate being chased, or even trailed. We will stand here, but be ready to drop behind this slope if they display their bows. Meanwhile, get arrows out for that bow of yours, and try to knock a couple out of their saddles before the others close. When they get to us, I can handle two of them easily enough, if you can manage the other.'
'Oh, what a man,' Leda said with mock reproof as she nocked an arrow. 'Perhaps you will manage one while I deal with the rest. The proof will be upon us soon — shall we wager?'
Just then the racing horsemen slowed their galloping steeds to a walk, seeing that those they pursued had stopped. When they were all still out of range of Leda's bow, one figure detached from the group and came on at a slow trot. It was, of course, Achulka. Leda raised her bow and sighted on the man, ready to fire at him if he or the others made any aggressive move. He closed to within a hundred yards, then halted and called out. 'Hold your arrows, warrior woman! We come in peace to offer our swords to you and Farzeel!'
'Why would they chase us so far to do that?' asked Leda skeptically.
'Hmmm… I'm dubious myself, girl,' Gord replied. Then, to the approaching nomad, the young thief shouted his conditions. 'If you speak truth, have your men join you. Then leave your horses and come to us on foot, without arms.'
Achulka dismounted immediately, then waved to his fellows to come up to where he stood. Soon four of the Al Illa-Thuffi were approaching them on foot while the fifth warrior held back, staying with their horses. Much of their gear had been left behind, but Gord could see that they were not unarmed. He was on the verge of telling Leda to begin shooting, but when they got within forty yards, Achulka halted the group and spoke again.
'You are cautious, but this we can appreciate,' the hawk-faced leader said. 'We have left bow and lance behind, but I and my brothers still have our swords.' Achulka drew his tulwar and held it up across both hands as an offering. 'If you will but promise two things, we will be your men.'
Gord simply waited, and Achulka took his silence as consent to continue. 'First, we ask that we get our fair share of any spoils when we meet enemies,' the nomad offered.
Gord nodded and allowed himself a small smile, which Achulka could not have seen. It was beginning to seem as though these nomads were serious, because that was certainly a reasonable request. 'Fair enough,' he responded noncommittally.
'Second, at the end of our time of service, we ask that you give us the bracelets of the Arroden you wear as trophies.'
This made Gord grin even wider, this time in mild derision. 'You will then pass them off as something you won from the Arroden?' he ventured.
'Never!' Achulka said in a pained tone. As he continued talking, he slowly approached Gord, his sword still held peacefully before him. 'I am hurt, Farzeel, that you think so little of warriors of the Al Illa-Thuffi. But I forgive you, since you are an out-lander. You do not realize the power of the armlets you wear as mere decoration. Do you not know,' the nomad said with great earnestness, 'that each is worked with great charms to protect the life and aid the arm of the wearer?' The nomad leader paused in his advance, waiting for a response.
Rather than pointing out that the dead Arroden to whom the bits of metal had formerly belonged hadn't received much benefit from the silver hoops, Gord folded his arms — a reciprocal gesture of non-aggressiveness — and remained silent for a moment. Then he told the burnoused nomad, 'We ride for the Grandsuel Peaks.'
'There is naught beyond but the Ashen Desert,' Achulka informed him.
'That is where we plan to go,' Gord countered.
The nomad shrugged and then said to Gord, 'May the rain fall upon us, then, as we trek there.'
'You would risk your lives there for these baubles I hold?'
'Not only for those. We have been amidst the powder and ash once or twice, Farzeel. We know there are many other things to be found there,' Achulka finished with a knowing grin.
Leda placed her small hand upon Gord's shoulder. 'There is no use trying to stay ahead of these clever warriors,' she said softly to him. 'We should accept their service, instead of having them behind us all the way to our destination.'
Gord mulled everything over for only a moment; actually, he had made up his mind even before Leda spoke. Tour terms are acceptable,' he shouted to Achulka. 'Join us.'
Soon all seven were riding together over the dry, flat land toward the long line of peaks that scribed a jagged line on the southern horizon. Two days later they were heading eastward through the foothills of the Grandsuels, paralleling the peaks while Achulka continually scouted the terrain to their right. The nomad leader claimed to know a route through the mountains, and Gord had no reason to doubt him, so he went along with him in more ways than one.
Finally, Achulka gave out with a whoop and stiffened in his saddle. There, see the big rock like a fist with its thumb upright?' he asked, pointing to the southeast at the landmark he had just noticed.
When both Gord and Leda nodded, the nomad grinned with pride. 'Why do we care about a strange-looking rock?' Leda said caustically.
That is the entrance to a pass which only we Thuffi know about. All others think there is but a single way across the Grandsuels to the desert beyond. We know better!' the warrior boasted.
Sure enough, they found the pass and began traversing it. As they started the gentle part of their ascent, Gord expressed surprise at seeing little towers in the foothills. Achulka explained that these were built for protection and were used by his people in high summer, when the worst drought was upon the steppes but a little rain and frequent ground fog covered the foothills of the Grandsuels. Herds were pastured in this area, and some few crops were also raised. At such times, however, the Hokrodden, a southern branch of the fierce Arro-den camel-riders, made forays into Thuffi territory. Sometimes, Achulka told Gord and Leda, the guard towers actually meant the difference between life and death to his people. Now these mud-brick fortifications were unpopulated, however, for the full heat of summer was not yet come. The little band simply rode past these places and upward along the defile called the Pass of the Clenched Fist.
It took two days to reach a spot that the nomads told them was about halfway through the mountains. There was a small, green valley at this location, and high up on the mountainsides could be seen stone walls and buildings. 'Who lives here?' Leda asked.
'The Chepnoi. They are mountain people — a strange folk,' Achulka told her in reply. 'Can you believe that they are our cousins? Why any Al Illa-Thuffi would give up horse and steppe for such a cramped and unchanging existence is a marvel under the sky! We exchange visits in high summer — they travel to us in the month of the boar, we come here in the time of the squirrel. The trade is good for both peoples. In four moons' time, this valley will be filled with the mountain folk and my own tribesmen, trading and contesting. I'll give the Chepnoi credit for some things,' the nomad said earnestly. 'They make good wine in their little valleys, and they know the land of dust too!'
'What mean you by that, Achulka?' Gord asked. 'And I am not speaking about wine, mind you!'
'These mountain folk are used to walking, so they don't mind doing so even in the Ashen Desert. The Chepnoi taught us the value of such work, for they first brought stuff from the desert to the gatherings with our people.'
'Now do the Thuffi people go into the ash often?' the half-elven girl asked.
'Well, not frequently,' Achulka admitted, 'but my uncle has been there and returned with a big gold coin and shield of bronze to prove it!'
