The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (15 page)

             
"Why are there no others of your kind?" said Fual. "I always understood satyrs dwelt in Atlantis."

             
"They do, but not of my tribe. I come from the Saturides, far to the north, having been seized by Foworian slavers. I was sold in Gadaira, but escaped and fled into the mountains. When I found a tribe of satyrs they thought, because I was a stranger who spoke a dialect different from theirs, that I must be a spy sent against them by the human beings. They drove me off with sticks and stones—and here I am."

             
"You wish to return to the Satyr Isles?
"

             
"
Oh, yes!
Could you help me?" She seized h
is wrist imploringly.

             
Fual, cheerful again, said: "Have no fear, Tiraafa. My lord can arrange anything."

             
"Maybe," granted Vakar. "What ended your relations with ~Sendeu?"

             
"The maidens of the village complained to their fathers, who forbade their sons to visit me. No longer having the food they brought, I had to steal or persuade the children to bring me some, and the headman swore to kill me."

             
"We have had our troubles with Egon too," said Vakar.
"A right friendly fellow.
But as we seem safe for the moment, let us get some sleep and plan our next move in the morning."

             
"As you wish," said Tiraafa. "However, I have had no love for months, and expect as part of the price of your rescue—•"

             
She began sli
ding her hands up his arms towards his neck in
a
way that reminded Vakar of Bili.

             
"Not me, little one," said Vakar. "I am
a
sick man. Begin with Fual, and in another day I may be able to help out. Fual, the lady wishes love; attend to it."

             
And Vakar, not waiting to see how Fual took this unusual command, curled up in his cloak and dropped off to sleep.

-

             
"As I see it," said Vakar as he shared Tiraafa's meager breakfast next morning, "we must all head north to Gadaira, where I can put Tiraafa on a ship for her native land while we proceed up the Baitis to Torrutseish.
How far to Gadaira, Tiraafa?"

             
As satyrs seemed to have no notion of measurement she was unable to answer his query. By questioning her closely about her erratic course from Gadaira to Sendeu, however, Vakar got the impression that the distance was somewhere between one and three hundred miles.

             
"Too far to walk," he said, "especially in
a
country where the
peasantry sacrifice
strangers to their gods. Whose horses are those I saw in the paddock last night?"

             
Tiraafa replied: "They belong to the village, which really means Egon as he and his relatives control the village.

             
They rear these creatures not to use themselves but to sell in Gadaira."

             
"Do they not plow with them?"

             
"What is plowing?"

             
It transpired that neither Tiraafa nor the Sendevians had ever seen a plow. Vakar said:

             
"If we could steal these horses we should both provide ourselves with transportation and express our love for Headman Egon. They could not follow us, and we could sell those we did not need in Gadaira."

             
"Why are you going to Torrutseish?" asked Tiraafa.

             
"To seek the advice of the world's greatest magicians.
Do you know which of them
is the best
?"

             
"Not much, but when I was captive in Gadaira I heard the name of Kurtevan. All of us satyrs are magicians of a sort, and such news gets around among the brotherhood."

-

             
Prince Vakar peered out of his hiding-place. The twelve horses were pegged out in the meadow, and the youth who guarded them sat with his back to a tree, wrapped in his black Euskerian mantle, with his long copper-headed spear across his legs. With this (probably the only metal weapon in the village) the horse-herd could stand off a prowling Hon long enough for his ye
ll
s to fetch help. Vakar looked at the young man coldly, with neither hatred nor sympathy. He knew that many self-sufficient peasant communities looked upon city-folk as legitimate prey, for their only contact with cities was when the latter sent tax-gathering parties among them, and from the point of view of the villages these were mere plundering expeditions for which they got nothing in return. But while he realized that the Sendevians' attack on him was not due to sheer malevolence, he would not on that account spare them if they got in his way.

             
Tiraafa peered around her tree and called softly: "Olik!"

             
The young man sprang up, gripping his spear,
then
laughed.
"Tiraafa!
According to my orders I ought to slay you."

             
"You would not do that! I loved you the best of all.
"

             
"
Did you really?
"

             
"
Try me and see.
"

             
"
By the gods, I will!"

             
Olik leaned his spear against his tree and started for Tiraafa with the lust-light in his eyes. His expression changed to amazement as Vakar leaped out of the bushes and ran full-tilt at him. Vakar saw his victim begin to turn and fill his lungs to shout just as Vakar's sword slid between his ribs up to the hilt.

             
Vakar, sheathing his blade, said: "Can either of you ride?"

             
Tiraafa and Fual, looking apprehensive, shook their heads.

             
"Well then, as it looks as though these beasts have never been ridden either, you both start from the same point."

             
Vakar walked out into the field, where the horses had laid back their ears and were tugging on their tethering-ropes and rolling their eyes at the sight of strangers and the smell of blood. He selected the one who seemed the least disturbed, gen
tl
ed it down, and began twisting its tethering-rope into
a
bridle.

-

             
Several days later, riding bareback, they halted in sight of Gadaira. Vakar, looking toward the forest of masts and yards that could be seen over the low roofs, said:

             
"Fual, before we take our little sweetheart into the city, one of us must go ahead and buy her clothes, or the first slaver who sees her will seize her.
And as you're
a
better bargainer than I, you are elected."

             
"Please, sir, then may I walk? I'm so stiff and sore from falling off this accursed animal that the thought of solid ground under my feet seems like a dream of heaven."

             
"Suit yourself. And while you're about it, inquire for a reliable sea-captain sailing northward."

             
An hour later Fual was back with
a
gray woolen dress and a black Euskerian cloak with a hood. The dress concealed Tiraafa's tail and the hood her ears. Fual said:

             
"I learned that Captain Therlas sails for Kerys in three or four days with a cargo of cork and copper, and that he is said to be a man of his word." The little Aremorian hesitated,
then
burst out: "My lord, why don't you set me free? I'm as anxious to see my home again as she is, and I could keep an eye upon her until Therlas dropped her off on her wild islands."

             
"I didn't know you so wished to leave me," said Vakar. "Have I treated you badly?"

             
"No—at least not so badly as most masters—but there is nothing like freedom and one's home."

             
Vakar pondered. The appeal did touch him, as he was not unsympathetic for an aristocrat and the ex-thief was at best an indifferent servant. On the other hand Vakar was appalled by the prospect of finding a reliable new slave in this strange city, even though he did need someone with more thews and- guts than his sensitive valet.

             
"I'll tell you," he said at last. "I won't free you now, because I badly need your help and I think Tiraafa can take care of herself. But when we win back to Lorsk with our mission accomplished I'll not only free you but also provide you with the means of getting home."

             
Fual muttered a downcast "Thank you, sir," and turned his attention to other matters.

             
They found lodgings and sold eight of the twelve horses, keeping the four strongest for their own use. Vakar took a variety of trade-goods in exchange for the animals: little ingots of silver stamped with the cartouche of King Asizhen of Tartessia; packets of rare spices from beyond Kheru and Thamuzeira in the Far East; and for small change the ordinary celt-shaped slugs and neck-rings of copper. Fual, looking with undisguised hostility at the horses, suggested:

             
"At least, sir, you might buy a chariot so we could continue our journey in comfort
...
"

             
"No. Chariots are all right for cities, but we may be going where there are only foot-tracks for roads."

             
When the time came they escorted Tiraafa to the docks and saw her aboard ship with provisions for the journey. She kissed them fiercely, saying:

             
"I shall always remember you, for as human beings go you are quite fair lovers. I hope Captain Therlas will equal you in this regard."

             
On an impulse Vakar pressed a fistful of trade-copper into Tiraafa's hands and helped her aboard. Fual wept and Vakar waved as the ship cast off, and then they turned away to the four horses hitched to one of the waterfront posts. Vakar vaulted on to his new saddle-pad and clamped his knees on the barrel of the beast, which under his expert training had become quite manageable. Fual tried to imitate his master, but leaped too hard and fell off his mount into the mud on the other side, whereat Vakar roared. He was still laughing when he glanced out to sea, and the laugh died as if cut off by an ax.

             
"Fual," he said, "mount at once. Qasigan's galley is coming into the harbor."

             
A few seconds later the four horses were headed away from the waterfront through the streets of Gadaira at a reckless gallop.

-

             
A hundred and sixty miles up the Baitis lay mighty Torrutseish, the capital of the Tartessian Empire and the world's largest city, known by many names in different places and ages. In Vakar's time it was so old that its origin was lost in the mists of myth.

             
In the days of Vakar Lorska, the king of Tartessia had extended his sway over most of the Euskerian nations: the Turdetanians, the Turdulians, and even the Phaiaxians who were not Euskerians at all. The city of Torrutseish, preeminent among all the cities of the world for its magic, stood on an island where the Baitis forked and rejoined itself again. Prince Vakar approached it up the river road, leading his two spare horses and followed by Fual (who kept his seat by gripping a fistful of his mount's mane.) To their left the broad Baitis bore swarms of dugouts, rafts of inflated skins, and other fresh-water craft.