“I know only . . . little . . . of your speech. You understand?”
Pug nodded, his heart pounding while his mind worked furiously. Kulgan’s training was coming into play. First he calmed himself, clearing the fog that had gripped his mind. Then he extended every sense, automatically, taking in every scrap of information available, seeking any useful bit of knowledge that might improve his chances of survival. The soldier nearest the door seemed to be relaxing, his left arm behind his head as he lay back on a pile of cushions, his attention only half focused on the captive. But Pug noticed that his other hand was never more than an inch from the hilt of a wicked-looking dagger at his belt. A brief gleam of light on lacquer revealed the presence of another dagger hilt, half protruding from a pillow at the right elbow of the man in orange.
The man in black said slowly, “Listen, for I tell you something. Then you asked questions. If you lie, you die. Slowly. Understand?” Pug nodded. There was no doubt in his mind.
“This man,” said the black-robed one, pointing to the man in the short orange robe, “is a . . . great man. He is . . . high man. He is . . .” The man used a word Pug didn’t understand When Pug shook his head, the magician said, “He family great Minwanabi. He second to . . .” He fumbled for a term, then moved his hand in a circle, as if indicating all the men in the tent, officers from their proud plumes “. . . man who lead.”
Pug nodded and softly said, “Your lord?”
The magician’s eyes narrowed, as if he were about to object to Pug’s speaking out of turn, but instead he paused, then said, “Yes. Lord of War. It is that one’s will that we are here. This one is second to Lord of War.” He pointed to the man in orange, who looked on impassively. “You are nothing to this man.” It was obvious the man was feeling frustration in his inability to convey what he wished. It was plain this lord was something special by the lights of his own people, and the man translating was trying to impress this upon Pug.
The lord cut the translator off and said several things, then nodded toward Pug. The bald magician bobbed his head in agreement, then turned his attention toward Pug. “You are lord?”
Pug looked startled, then stammered out a negative. The magician nodded, translated, and was given instruction by the lord. He turned back to Pug. “You wear cloth like lord, true?”
Pug nodded His tunic was of a finer fabric than the homespun of the common soldiers. He tried to explain his position as a member in the Duke’s court. After several attempts he resigned himself to the presumption they made of his being some sort of highly placed servant.
The magician picked up a small device and held it out to Pug. Hesitating for a moment, the boy reached out and took it. It was a cube of some crystal-like material, with veins of pink running throughout. After a moment in his hand, it took on a glow, softly pink. The man in orange gave an order, and the magician translated. “This lord says, how many men along pass to . . .” He faltered and pointed.
Pug had no idea of where he was, or what direction was being pointed to. “I don’t know where I am,” he said. “I was unconscious when I was brought here.”
The magician sat in thought for a moment, then stood. “That way,” he said, pointing at a right angle to the direction he had just indicated, “is tall mountain, larger than others. That way,” he moved his hand a little, “in sky, is five fires, like so.” His hands traced a pattern. After a moment Pug understood. The man had pointed to where Stone Mountain lay and where the constellation called the Five Jewels hung in the sky. He was in the valley they had raided. The pass indicated was the one used as an escape route.
“I . . . really, I don’t know how many.”
The magician looked closely at the cube in Pug’s hand. It continued to glow in soft pink tones. “Good, you tell truth.”
Pug then understood that he held some sort of device that would inform his captives if he tried to deceive them. He felt black despair wash over him. He knew that any survival hopes he entertained were going to involve some manner of betraying his homeland.
The magician asked several questions about the nature of the force outside the valley. When most went unanswered, for Pug had not been privy to meetings on strategy matters, the question changed to a more general nature, about common things in Midkemia, but which seemed to hold a fascination for the Tsurani.