Джеффри Лорд: The Torian Pearls

The animals' horns curved forward, and each horn divided into two sharp points at the ends. All four points were painted red and one of the animals had a diamond-shaped patch shaved on its forehead. Otherwise they looked very oxlike-broad, thick bodies covered with grayish hair and supported by four heavy splayed-out limbs. They looked built for strength and endurance, not speed.

The four men reined their mounts to a stop when the nearest one was about ten yards from Blade. None of them dismounted. One of them picked up his bow, nocked an arrow to it, and held it with the arrow's point toward Blade. Two others shifted in their saddles so that between them they could look all around the horizon.

It was a display of military skill that impressed Blade. These people didn't look hostile, but they were obviously as suspicious of him as he would have been in their place. So they would be efficiently on their guard until they could be sure that he was harmless and alone.

The fourth man rode the ox with the diamond blazed on its forehead. He raised one hand in a gesture of greeting. Blade noticed he kept the other hand very close to the hilt of his shortsword.

«Ho, wanderer. Why do you wander here, alone on the trail of the Kargoi?» As always, the alterations in Blade's brain during his passage into this Dimension made the words reach him as plainly as English.

«The Kargoi have left their trail on the land where I choose to walk,» replied Blade. His English thoughts left his lips as the clicking, hissing speech of the Kargoi. He'd chosen those words to give the impression of a man who wished the Kargoi no harm but did not fear them and would not. With warriors like these there was always a delicate balance. Be too proud, and provoke them to a pointless fight. Be too polite, and be considered a weakling or a coward who can be killed without a second thought.

The leader's face showed no reaction to Blade's words. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the faint sigh of the wind and the fainter dripping of the last of the rain.

Then he shifted his hand, until it actually rested on the hilt of his shortsword. It was a gesture meant to be noticed. Blade smiled politely to show he had noticed, met the leader's eyes and held them. Except for the smile and the fixed eyes, Blade's face was as expressionless as the warrior's.

Without saying a word, Blade wanted to send a vital message:

«You may be able to kill me, and you may not be. It does not matter to me whether you can or not, or whether you even try. It does matter to you, for you will certainly die whether I do or not.»

It was a message Blade wanted to send and keep sending until it was firmly impressed on the leader's mind.

Few men will provoke a battle after they've been firmly assured they are certain to die in it.

The silence went on. Blade did not take his eyes off the leader, but he shifted his footing slightly. Now he could either stand to face an attack or run to deliver one. It would depend on whether the archer loosed his arrow, or the leader insisted on using his sword.

The silence went on for a little longer. Then the quiet, grim promise in Blade's leveled eyes and poised body sank into the leader's mind. Slowly he moved his hand away from his sword hilt, and rested it in his lap. Blade noticed that the movement was slightly jerky. He took his eyes off the leader, but didn't relax.

He'd met and held the man in a silent clash of wills. The man might take this gracefully, as from one warrior to another. Or he might feel a wound to his pride that could drive him to violence more surely than any wound in his body. It was impossible to guess, for the man's face remained expressionless. It seemed a face that would remain expressionless even if the man were being slowly tortured to death.

Then the leader's other hand flickered in a brief signal. The archer thrust the arrow back in its quiver and laid his bow across his lap. Blade took a deep breath, let it out, and relaxed his own stance, one arm dangling freely and the other hand braced against one hip. He smiled again, and this time the leader smiled back.

«It takes courage to speak harshly to warriors of the Kargoi,» the man said. «It takes even more courage to speak harshly to them without saying a word.»

Blade suddenly felt almost friendly toward the leader. The man had pride, but it was the pride of a warrior who knew he was so good that he didn't have to prove it by meaningless bloody little fights. It was also the pride of a warrior whose followers knew that he was good. He could refuse a fight in full sight and hearing of the other three men without losing their respect.

He looked like a good man to have on one's side in a new Dimension. Other warriors of the Kargoi would listen to him and his judgments. They might not obey him or follow him in battle, but they would hardly slip a knife into a stranger under his protection. Without shedding a drop of anyone's blood, Blade had won his first victory in this Dimension. To win the same victory in other Dimensions he'd had to kill as many as a dozen men.

The leader crossed his arms on his chest. «Who are you, and what do you seek in this land where the Kargoi have left their trail?»

«My name is Blade. I seek the Kargoi.»

«I am Paor. You seek us alone and naked?»

«I have not heard that one needs to come to the Kargoi with an army, if one does not wish them harm. Their warriors can tell an enemy when they see one and do all that is needed. But those who are not enemies ….» Blade shrugged.

Paor smiled. He obviously recognized the flattery, but still enjoyed hearing it. Few men can resist being praised for their honorable behavior.

«Indeed, you know the ways of the Kargoi,» said Paor blandly. «I think the time has come for you to know them better. You shall come to the camp of the Red People and speak before their baudzi.» He turned to one of the other men. «Agik, join Bayus on his mount. Blade, mount upon Agik's drend and we shall take you with us.»

In a minute the two warriors were doubled up on one drend. In another minute Blade was mounted on the back of the vacant one. Paor took the reins of Blade's mount and tied them with a length of rope to his own straps. Then he remounted and dug his heels into the flanks of his drend. The beast grunted irritably, then lurched into motion. The other warriors fell in behind Blade, and the little party trotted off across the plain, through the twilight.

Minute by minute, the drends slowly increased their pace from a leisurely walk to the rolling trot Blade had seen first. Soon they were moving fast enough so that a man would have had to run in order to stay ahead of them. More important, it seemed as though the drends would be able to keep going long after most men had run themselves breathless and collapsed, to be trampled underfoot.

Blade now understood why the mounted warriors of the Kargoi carried bows and swords, but no lances. The drends were too slow and solid. Even the best warrior mounted on one could hardly press home a charge against an opponent who was free to move.

On the other hand, this same slowness and solidity made the drends excellent platforms for archery and swordsmanship. Did the Kargoi rain arrows on their opponents from a distance, then close in and go to work with their swords? Blade was intrigued by the idea. He'd never fought a cavalry battle in slow motion before!

The light was almost gone now, but the sky was clearing. The drends trotted forward, staying in the trampled-down trail but instinctively avoiding the ruts left by the wagon wheels. Off to the left Blade saw the loom of the forest that lay between the plain and the sea. The trail seemed to be running almost parallel to the edge of the forest. No doubt the rich animal life of the forest offered the Kargoi excellent hunting.