“I see that you and your blond giant friend have been given nothing to do. I’ll have to remedy that. Call him over.”
Pug sighed. So much for their free time. He waved for Laurie to come over, and they were put to work loading wagons.
TWENTY - Estate
The weather had turned cooler during the last three weeks.
Still it hinted at the summer’s heat. The winter season in this land, if a season it properly was, lasted a mere six weeks, with brief cold rains out of the north. The trees held most of their bluish green leaves, and there was nothing to mark the passing of fall. In the four years Pug had abided in Tsuranuanni, there were none of the familiar signs that marked the passing seasons: no bird migrations, frost in the mornings, rains that froze, snow, or blooming of wild flowers. This land seemed eternally set in the soft amber of summer.
For the first few days of the journey, they had followed the highway from Jamar, northward to the city of Sulan-qu. The river Gagajin had carried a ceaseless clutter of boats and barges, while the highway was equally jammed with caravans, farmers’ carts, and nobles riding in litters.
The Lord of the Shinzawai had departed the first day by boat for the Holy City, to attend the High Council. The household followed at a more leisurely pace. Hokanu paused outside the city of Sulan-qu long enough to pay a social call upon the Lady of the Acoma, and Pug and Laurie found the opportunity to gossip with another Midkemian slave, recently captured. The news of the war was disheartening. No change since the last they had heard, the stalemate continued.
At the Holy City, the Lord of the Shinzawai joined his son and the retinue on its journey to the Shinzawai estates, outside the City of Silmani. From then, the trek northward had been uneventful.
The Shinzawai caravan was approaching the boundaries of the family’s northern estates Pug and Laurie had little to do along the way except occasional chores: dumping the cook pots, cleaning up needra droppings, loading and unloading supplies. Now they were riding on the back of a wagon, feet dangling over the rear. Laurie bit into a ripe jomach fruit, something like a large green pomegranate with the flesh of a watermelon. Spitting out seeds, he said, “How’s the hand?”
Pug studied his right hand, examining the red puckered scar that ran across the palm “It’s still stiff. I expect it’s as healed as it will ever be.”
Laurie took a look. “Don’t think you’ll ever carry a sword again.” He grinned.
Pug laughed “I doubt you will either. I somehow don’t think they’ll be finding a place for you in the Imperial Horse Lance.”
Laurie spat a burst of seeds, bouncing them off the nose of the needra who pulled the wagon behind them. The six-legged beast snorted, and the driver waved his steering stick angrily at them. “Except for the fact that the Emperor doesn’t have any lancers, due to the fact that he also doesn’t have any horses, I can’t think of a finer choice.”
Pug laughed derisively.
“I’ll have you know, fella-me-lad,” said Laurie in aristocratic tones, “that we troubadours are often beset by a less savory sort of customer, brigands and cutthroats seeking our hard-earned wages—scant though they may be. If one doesn’t develop the ability to defend oneself, one doesn’t stay in business, if you catch my meaning.”
Pug smiled. He knew that a troubadour was nearly sacrosanct in a town, for should he be harmed or robbed, word would spread, and no other would ever come there again. But on the road it was a different matter. He had no doubt of Laurie’s ability to take care of himself, but wasn’t about to let him use that pompous tone and sit without a rejoinder. As he was about to speak, though, he was cut off by shouts coming from the front of the caravan. Guards came rushing forward, and Laurie turned to his shorter companion. “What do you suppose that is all about?”
Not waiting for an answer, he jumped down and ran forward. Pug followed. As they reached the head of the caravan, behind the Lord of the Shinzawai’s litter, they could see shapes advancing up the road toward them. Laurie grabbed Pug’s sleeve. “Riders!”
Pug could scarcely believe his eyes, for indeed it appeared that riders were approaching along the road from the Shinzawai manor. As they got closer, he could see that, rather than riders, there was one horseman and three cho-ja, all three a rich dark blue color.