John Flanagan: Erak_s ransom

There was at least a little good news to brighten the townspeople's spirits. Selethen decided to leave thirty of the Tualaghi captives behind to do the heavy work.

'They'll have a hard time of it,' Erak said to the Wakir when he heard about that arrangement. Selethen turned pitiless eyes on him.

'They slaughtered the men escorting you, remember?' he said coldly and Erak nodded. He had no real sympathy to waste on the Tualaghi.

The remaining prisoners would be taken from the Jass Par Oasis to Mararoc, where they would spend their lives at hard labour. Selethen had negotiated with Umar for an escort of Bedullin warriors to conduct them there. Umar agreed readily. He would be glad to see so many potential enemies taken away and kept in chains. Like Erak, he had no sympathy for them.

The returning war party, and its additional members, received a noisy and enthusiastic greeting when they arrived at the oasis. The Bedullin women stood in two welcoming lines, shrilling a welcome in an eerie, ululating chant, as their menfolk rode slowly back into the massive grove of trees.

The Tualaghi prisoners, following behind, were greeted with an ominous silence. They shuffled past the double line of silent women, their heads bent and their eyes down. They were still unaccustomed to showing the world their faces and they were only too aware that their lives rested on a knife edge.

Their former leader, Yusal, travelled on a litter behind a camel. He was still concussed from the massive blow he had taken to the forehead when Evanlyn's heavy marble missile had struck him. On the infrequent occasions when he regained consciousness, he raved and gibbered. Sometimes he was even seen with tears running down his cheeks. Evanlyn regarded the result of her handiwork with some misgivings.

'Do you think he'll recover his senses?' she asked the healer who had accompanied the Bedullin war party. The older man touched the massive blue and yellow bruise that disfigured the Tualaghi's forehead and shrugged.

'Head wounds are uncertain,' he told her. 'Maybe tomorrow he'll improve. Maybe in a year. Maybe never.' He smiled at her. 'Don't be too concerned, young lady. He doesn't merit any pity.'

She nodded. But she wasn't completely comforted. She didn't like the fact that she had reduced a man – no matter how evil he might be – to a drooling idiot.

Her spirits recovered on the second night back at the oasis, when the Khoresh Bedullin organised a feast of welcome and celebration.

They ate spiced roast lamb, and peppers blackened in the fire until their tough outer skins could be peeled away, then stuffed with flavoured rice and a cereal the Bedullin called couscous – light and fluffy, spiced with saffron and cumin and cardamom and garnished with plump sultanas and thin flakes of toasted almonds.

There were other delicious dishes of mutton or chicken, cooked in strange conical clay cookpots called tagines and mixed with more spices, dates, apricots and root vegetables. The cone-shaped lids of the tagines retained the flavoured steam from the cooking liquids, rendering the meat so succulent and tender that it fell from the bone.

The meal was eaten with the hands, and pieces of fresh flat bread were tom up to make implements. It was a delicious, greasy-fingered evening of eating to excess – a piece of indulgence the group felt they owed themselves after the hardships of their desert campaign.

Halt, Gilan, Evanlyn, Horace and the two Skandians were given a prominent position in the circle sitting around the massive fire. Selethen and Will, however, were in the principal places of honour, seated to the right of Umar and his wife, Cielema, respectively. Evanlyn smiled at Horace and jerked her thumb towards the young Ranger, currently engaged in animated conversation with the Bedullin leader and his wife. The two older people roared with laughter at something he had said and he ducked his head, grinning, pleased that he had amused them.

'He falls on his feet wherever he goes, doesn't he?' she said, a trifle wistfully. Horace looked across the fire at his old friend and nodded.

'People like him,' he replied. Then he added, 'There's a lot to like, after all.'

'Yes,' Evanlyn said, her eyes fixed on Will. For a moment, studying her, Horace saw a brief shadow of sadness pass across her face. He jogged her with an elbow, a little more enthusiastically than good manners dictated.

'Sling us a peach, will you?' he said. She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.

'You don't mean that literally, do you?' she said. He smiled, glad to see she had shaken off her melancholy, knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist the pun on his use of the word 'sling'. He held up his hands before his face in mock horror.

'Please! Spare me that!' he said and they both laughed.

The Bedullin, as a general rule, didn't use alcohol, but out of deference to the two Skandians, several flasks of arariki, a brandy made from fermented dates and peaches, were provided. Now Erak and Svengal, at their own insistence, decided they would perform a sea chanty for the enjoyment and education of the assembled group. They stood on rather unsteady legs and began to bellow out the ribald tale of a penguin who fell hopelessly in love with a humpback whale.

Since the desert-dwelling audience had never seen either animal and so had no idea of the discrepancy in their sizes, much of the humour fell flat. So did much of the melody. But they applauded the enthusiasm of the singers, and the sheer volume at which they performed, and the two sea wolves resumed their seats, confident they had upheld the honour of Skandia.

Halt was quiet, Gilan thought. But then, Halt usually was quiet at events like this. Halt's eyes were intent on the animated young face of his apprentice as he talked and laughed with the Bedullin Aseikh and his wife.

'He did well,' Gilan said and Halt turned to him, a rare smile touching the bearded face.

'He did,' he agreed.

'Told you he would,' Gilan said, grinning.

Halt nodded acknowledgement. 'Yes. You did. You were right.'

Gilan shifted to face Halt more directly, remembering something Halt had said some days previously.

'But you knew, didn't you? You said to us when we were in Maashava that Yusal had forgotten that Will was out there. So you knew he'd survived. How was that?'

Halt's face grew serious as he considered the question. 'I think knew is too definite a term. I sensed it. I've always had a sense about Will. There's a feeling of destiny to that boy. I've felt it since the first day he joined me.'

'And now it's nearly time to turn him loose,' Gilan said gently. He saw a mixture of sadness and pride competing in Halt's eyes. Then the grizzled Ranger sighed.

'Yes it is,' he said.

After the feast broke up, Evanlyn's party sat with Umar and Selethen around a smaller fire. Cielema passed around coffee.

'Perhaps it's time we talked a little business,' Selethen began, his eyes on Evanlyn. 'There is the small matter of Erak's ransom.'

He paused expectantly, waiting for Evanlyn to produce the money draft and her seal ring. Both items had been recovered from Yusal. Evanlyn, however, showed no sign of doing so.

'His ransom?' she asked and he nodded impatiently. 'Yes. You agreed to ransom him. I'm sure you can recall that,' he added sardonically.

Evanlyn nodded several times, went to speak, then stopped, her hand raised in midair. Then, as if uncertain, she said to the Wakir, 'Just explain the concept of ransom to me if you would?'

Selethen frowned. He had hoped to hurry through this matter and have it settled before anyone thought too deeply about it. It seemed he wasn't going to get away with it.

'I think we all know what a ransom is,' he said evasively. Evanlyn smiled at him.