L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

He looked about him, gave a single nod of satisfaction, and said, “Yes, I am Rajah Randhir, though I have disguised myself as a thief. Follow me and do not ask why. Shea and Chalmers! Stand by me!”

Shea swallowed with great difficulty and walked down an avenue that opened magically within the troop, Chalmers one step behind him. As they came up to the Rajab, he said, “If I mistake the route, you will correct me. Come!” He turned about and strode away into the darkness. Shea followed, grimly reflecting on the unspoken proviso — that if Shea or Chalmers betrayed him, they would be handy for instant execution by the Rajah himself. Somehow, Shea wasn’t eager for the honor.

Through the darkened town they went, and Shea wondered at the quietness. Then, remembering that the moon was down, he realized that it was so late that the thieves had finished their bloody work and gone back to their ken. There was a singular lack of dead bodies, though. Apparently the merchants had heeded the Rajah’s warning and passed on the advice, and everyone had stayed indoors.

He found out later that he’d been more right than he knew — not only had everyone stayed sensibly indoors for once, the merchants had hired bodyguards and patrolled their shops and houses on the inside. When they had heard scraping at one place, they had hurried to it, and when the first head had poked through the hole, they had brained it neatly with a cudgel. The thieves’ partners had pulled him out at once, of course, but the bodyguards had stabbed through the hole with a spear. There had been an outcry on the other side, then silence, and after a while, the householder had taken up the patrol again, leaving one bodyguard at the hole. The only booty the thieves had taken that night had come from the few bodyguards who had been thieves themselves, and had knocked their employers senseless (or, in some cases, slain them), then let their fellows in — but there had been only two or three successful in such ruses. All in all, it had been a grumbling, dissatisfied band who had wended their way home that night — but it had included three fraudulent bodyguards who had overheard some very interesting gossip from their employers.

At the moment though, neither the Rajah nor any of his men knew that. They padded through the unnatural hush of the night until the city wall rose up before them. There, the Rajah gave the rhythmical knock he had heard the robbers give. After a moment the huge portal opened, and the porter stuck his head around, hissing, “What has kept you so late? The others have all gone on long before you, and . . .” He broke off, staring in horror at the army of armed men. Randhir clamped a hand over his mouth and yanked him through; one of his soldiers, apparently primed for the task, leaped past. Shea heard a howl of fright, suddenly cut off into a horrid gurgling, even as he saw a soldier transfix the captured porter with a spear.

Randhir dropped the body and dusted his hands. A soldier hauled the gate open, and the troop filed out after their Rajah.

“The term ‘rough Justice’ comes to mind,” Chalmers murmured.

“Rough, but legal,” Shea reminded him. “You can’t call him a vigilante when he is the government, can you?”

“Are you there, Shea?” Randhir called softly.

“Right behind you, O Lightning of Indra,” Shea calleed. After that little display, he certainly didn’t want to be in front of the rajah.

As they neared the meadow Randhir called them to a halt, then murmured briefly with his soldiers. When he went on, Shea and Chalmers had followed him tor a good ten paces before they realized that the soldiers had stayed behind. Chalmers’ step faltered, but Randhir took him by the arm, saying, “The thief-sentries will recognize you two and think nothing amiss. As for me. you see I have disguised myself as I did last night. We three, at least, will hold the attention of the guards without alerting them. Come!”

Chalmers gave Shea a look that clearly said they had no choice. They really didn’t — the Rajah had a grip of iron, and his men were watching.

Randhir whistled twice through his fingers, Just as the robber captain had done the night before. There was a pause during which Shea’s heartbeat seemed to him the loudest night sound of all; then he heard the hooting of an owl. The rajab replied with an excellent imitation of the robbers’ jackal-scream, making Shea wonder if it was a standard part of the military training in this part of the world. The six robber-sentries rose from the grass like spectres, and their leader advanced to receive the password — but before he could, Shea found out why the soldiers had stayed behind.

They hadn’t, really — they had just filed around the edges of the meadow, then wormed their way forward toward the Rajah. Now they rose from the grass and fell on the robbers, silencing them with clubs and knives, then tying up the ones who still lived.

“It is well done.” the Rajah said, smiling at the sergeant who came forward, breathing heavily. “Are any hurt?”

“Only two of our own men,” the sergeant answered. “Ramjit is wounded in the right arm and will be unable to fight more tonight. Kamal bleeds from a cut in the ribs, but protests that he can still fight.”

“Then let him see Ramjit safely home” the Rajah said, “but not until we are done with this night’s work. Bid Ramjit come with us, and wait while we assail the robbers — but see them bandaged first.”

“We have done so.” The sergeant glanced to the side, saw another soldiers wave. “They are tended, Ramjit bears the pain well. We can march, O Sword of Justice.”

“Let us go, then.” Randhir turned away into the night, But as ttey came in sight of the sheer rock wall, a figure rose atop it against the light of the predawn sky, and a shrill whistle sounded. Instantly, a hail of arrows fell on the rajah and his men.

“Back!” the rajah cried. “The thieves lie in ambush! We have been betrayed!”

Soldiers cried out in pain, and more than a few fell to the earth, pierced through. The troops gave ground, but Randhir called out, “Turn and flee! We must find a place to make our stand! Run!”

At the command, the soldiers turned and ran.

“Never argue with legitimately constituted authority, Harold” Chalmers advised.

“No, Doc!” Shea protested. “Someone tipped off the thieves’ captain! The Rajah obviously didn’t kill off all the robbers spies, but he thinks he did! If they don’t win this fight, he’ll blame it on us!”

“Why, so he will, won’t he?” Chalmers stared, thunderstruck.

So did the Rajah — but as he ran, Charya came scrambling and sliding down the cliff-face calling out, “Hola! What kind of Rajput are you, if you run away from combat?”

Randhir churned up the grass in his haste to stop and turn around. He whipped out his sword and waited for Charya to come up. “Strike at your king and the penalty is death!” he bellowed.

“Hung for the lamb, hung for the sheep,” Charya retorted. “If you take me alive, you will slay me for one reason or another. Why not regicide?” As he said it, he slashed with his scimitar.

It was a blow that would have done credit to the Lord High Executioner, but Randhir met it with a blow equally strong, that set both blades ringing.

“Doc,” Shea said anxiously, “if that blow had landed, the next rajah would have tracked us down and tortured us to death!”

“Indeed! We must protect the Rajah, and quickly!” Chalmers ripped up handfuls of long grass and began weaving them into a very rough, very clumsy fabric as he chanted,

“Weave a circle round him thrice,

That turns all blades from heart and head!

For he on royal food has fed,