John Dalmas - Return to Fanglith

I hoped that Larn might have foiled him, or at least been spared, and it seemed to me he might well have. For I doubt I have known anyone more favored by fate in hazardous circumstances. But luck is treacherous, and in enterprises like his, or mine, one can meet death as readily as victory, and more quickly.

The wisest course now, it had seemed to me, was to leave my Varangians a little distance from the castle-far enough not to be seen or heard by any watchman on the wall. I myself would halloo from outside and see what I could learn. If the situation seemed beyond salvage, we'd ride the rest of the night toward Palermo and perhaps some friendlier castle along the way. Almost any would be friendlier.

So I had left the Varangians on the dark and silent road and gone on alone until the wall loomed close before me. But not too close; I kept some fifty paces between it and myself, with my pistol in my right hand. Looking upward toward the parapet, I called out: "Halloo, the castle! Who is in command here?"

A watchman answered from atop the wall. "This is the castle of Baron Gilbert de Auletta," he called back. "The baron himself is at home and in command. Who asks?"

That told me part of what I wished to know: Larn and Gunnlag had not overthrown him. It would have been miraculous if they had, of course, unless Larn's sister had returned in their skyboat. There would have been half a score knights left, and thirty or more foot soldiers, after Gilbert had sent his troop into the mountains. In close quarters, even sky weapons would avail little against such numbers, especially in the presence of treachery, which Gilbert would surely attempt.

I ignored the watchman's interest in my identity, and continued my ploy. "I have been told that you have in the castle three holy monks from India, and their Varangian bodyguard. I have a message for them from the Bishop of Palermo."

I was less interested in what he said than how he seemed when he said it. For if my friends had been massacred, he would hardly tell me so. His considerable delay in answering suggested that he might have sent word of me to Gilbert. Thus I backed away a bit, shifting my shield from my saddle pommel to my left arm, turning my horse that my protection would be toward the wall. Bowmen could well be on their way to the parapet.

"Go to the gate," said the watchman at last, "and you will be let in. Then you may speak with Gilbert himself."

I was tempted, but my sky weapons would not protect me from ambush, from being rushed in close quarters. And for the first time, it occurred to me that Gilbert himself would probably have sky weapons now. "No," I said, "I will wait here."

While I waited, I backed my horse another twenty or thirty paces away. If Gilbert did have sky weapons, he'd hardly be skilled in their use, but he might well have learned how to fire them.

Shortly I spied another head above the parapet, and a different voice called to me-Gilbert's. "Who are you to disturb our rest here?"

His words were slow, his voice weak. Even in the quiet of night it was hard to hear him, and it seemed to me that he might have been shot by a stunner. I remembered the symptoms very well, from my first meeting with Larn and from scoundrels I myself had stunned while driving my first herd to Marseille.

"I am Arno de Courmeron," I said. "Your troop of horses came upon a misadventure in the mountains and will not be back. Any you may send after me will suffer the same fate.

"I have come for my friends, to take them to Palermo. If they are within, send them out unaccompanied and we will leave you in peace. Otherwise, Guiscard will send for them, and you will not like his messengers."

I expected either words of compliance, or likelier, some angry retort, but for a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then I felt a sudden tingling, and reined my horse to turn, for I recognized the weak touch of a stunner. It reached farther than my old one had. The beast wheeled, rearing, and half stumbled. Affected as I was, I was thrown from the saddle.

Larn:

I'd heard the exchange between Arno and the watchman more clearly than they had. And seen more clearly, too; to our scanner, the moonlit night might as well have been day.

I'd also seen Gilbert helped up the outside stairs to the top of the wall, followed by four knights or sergeants; their hauberks were longer than foot soldiers wore. Two had bows, while the others had pistols in their hands, and Gilbert gripped a stunner.

They lined up along the parapet, all but Gilbert keeping out of sight. I didn't waste any time settling downward to about a hundred feet from them, above and to the side. Then I slid the door open a couple of feet, while Arno and Gilbert had their friendly conversation. I did these about as fast as if I hadn't been stunned; all it took was light motions of the control rod in front of me, and a touch on the door control.

"Jenoor," I said quietly, "set your stunner on high, medium-wide beam, and take out the guys on top of the wall."

"Right, Larn."

As she knelt by the door, I saw Arno go down. "Quick!" I told her, and the men on the wall fell without another move. Without hesitating, I moved to just above the parapet. "Dad," I said, "the guys on the wall have got pistols and stunners. Will you pick them up? I'd rather not leave things like that with that crew."

"Right," he said, and moving to the widening door, jumped the forty inches or so down to the wall-top. He was back in maybe a minute, a pistol in each hand. An extra stunner was clipped to his belt and another pistol was shoved under it. "That's it," he said, and I lifted.

A minute later we were on the ground, and dad was outside helping Arno to his feet. Together they got aboard and I closed the door behind them for security, swiveling my seat to face them.

"Are you all right?" I asked Arno.

He looked around, saw Gunnlag and the rest of us. "Well enough," he said. "At that distance, Gilbert's stunner only numbed me a bit. And the horse, apparently."

"Good. I have an offer for you. Can you catch the horse again?"

"Probably. If your skyboat has not frightened him too badly." He looked around. "Where is your sister?"

"With our other skyboat," I said, and got him back to the subject. "Here is my proposal. Take the Varangians to Palermo, where they can get jobs as mercenaries if they want, and we'll take you with us to one of our worlds. They need warriors there who learn quickly and can lead."

Dad had been standing behind Arno, relaxed but with his hand on his stunner; he remembered what Arno had tried the last time he'd been aboard our cutter, nearly three years before. Now, as I made my offer to Arno, dad's eyebrows went halfway up his forehead. His Norman French was rusty, but he'd understood.

Meanwhile, Moise and Gunnlag were carrying on a murmured conversation in Greek. I hoped we weren't going to have any trouble from them. It didn't seem likely.

"Otherwise," I went on, still talking to Arno, "you have your rifle, your pistol, and your stunner. We'll leave some recharges with you, and our best wishes."

I could almost see him thinking. His wealth-his horse herd-had been lost. And while he could always start over… "I will take the Varangians to Palermo," he said, "and go with you. But I have already promised the Varangians that I will go back with them and pick up their wounded where we left them. And there are people here who would gladly see us dead. Did you kill Gilbert?"

"He's alive, but he'll be out of action for hours. We've got all his blasters and one of his stunners."

Arno nodded. "If I go to Palermo, how will you pick me up?"

"We can find you. Our wolves know how."

I turned to Gunnlag and Moise then. "Moise, tell Gunnlag to go with Arno. He will take the Varangians to Palermo, where there are jobs as mercenaries if they want them."