“The Sky Horde of the Saaur and the Emerald Queen promise you victory in this life and immortal reward in the next. Our spies return to tell us the unbelievers lie in wait just three days’ march to the south. Soon we shall move to crush them, then fall upon the heathen cities and reduce them to cinders. Each victory comes more swiftly than the last, and our numbers grow.”
The woman called the Emerald Queen stepped forward to the very edge of the dais and looked down on the faces of those nearest to her, both Saaur and human. Pointing to one man, she said, “You shall be my messenger to the gods this night!”
The man raised his fist in triumph and ran up the first four steps to the dais. He threw himself across the final two, so his head was on the floor before his mistress. She raised her foot and placed it on the man’s head for a moment in ritual, then removed it, turning to move back into the tent. The man rose with a grin, winked back at his comrades who cheered him, and followed the Queen into her pavilion.
“Oh, this is very bad,” whispered Nakor. He glanced around and saw the celebration was building in intensity. Soon men would be drunk and fighting, as much as was allowed, and given the lax discipline Nakor had seen in this part of the army, he suspected much brawling and even bloodshed were tolerated.
Now he would have to work his way through a company of very drunk, drug-crazed killers, and seek a way across the river to Calis—assuming he could locate Calis’s camp.
Nakor was never one to worry, and this certainly wasn’t a time to begin. Still, he was anxious that he not delay too long, for now he knew what was behind all the conflict that had been under way for the last twelve years, and what was more, he realized he might be the only man on the world who would fully understand all the different aspects of what he had just seen.
Shaking his head in consternation at the complexities of life, the little man started negotiating his way back away from the edge of the Emerald Queen’s pavilion.
A courier rode up and asked, “Are you Captain Calis?”
Calis said, “I am.”
“Orders. You’re to take your company and ford the river”—he motioned to some place to the north of him, so Erik, who sat nearby, assumed a ford must be close at hand—“and conduct a sweep along the far bank, for ten miles downstream. Gilani tribesmen were seen by one of our scouts. The generals want to keep the opposite bank free of such pests.”
He turned and rode away as Praji said, “Pests?” Looking after the retreating courier, he shook his head in disbelief. “Obviously that lad has never encountered any of the Gilani.”
“Neither have I,” said Calis. “Who are they?”
Praji spoke while he casually picked up his kit and made ready to ride out. “Barbarians.” He paused and said, “No, savages, really. Tribespeople. No one knows who they are or where they come from. They speak a tongue only a few can master, and they rarely give anyone from outside a chance to learn it. They’re tough, and they fight like maniacs. They wander the Plain of Djams or up in the foothills of the Ratn’gary, hunting the big bison herds or chasing elk and deer.”
Picking up his own bedroll, Vaja said, “Most of the trouble folks on this side of the river have with them is over horses. They’re the best damn horse thieves in the world. A man’s rank is earned by how many enemies he’s killed and how many horses he’s stolen. They don’t ride them; they eat them. So I heard.”
“Will they give us much trouble?” said Calis.
“Hell, we probably won’t even see one,” answered Praji. He tossed his bedroll to Erik and said, “Hang on to that for me for a minute.” He bent to get a bag that contained the rest of his personal belongings. “They’re tough little guys, about half again the size of dwarves,” and with an evil grin he pointed at Roo: “just like him!”
The men laughed as Praji reclaimed his bedroll from Erik and they started moving toward the picket line of horses. De Loungville and Foster began calling orders to the company to ride. Praji said, “They can vanish into that tall grass across the river like they were spirits. They live in these low huts they put together out of woven grass, and you can be standing ten feet from one and never see it. Difficult folks to figure.”
“But they can fight,” said Vaja.
As they started readying their horses, Praji said, “That, indeed, they can do. There, Captain, now you know as much about the Gilani as just about any man born in these parts.”
Calis said, “Well, if they want to avoid trouble, we should be able to make a swing ten miles to the south and back before sundown.” As if concerned over something, he looked back at the main body of the camp, then said to De Loungville, “Leave a squad to look after things.” Lowering his voice, he said, “And tell them to keep an eye out for Nakor.”