The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Tully said, ‘He says it isn’t a slave’s place to show initiative.’

Arutha said, ‘Tully, do you think he can be trusted?’

‘I don’t know. His story is strange, but they are a strange people by our standards. My mind contact with the dying soldier showed me much I still don’t understand.’ Tully spoke to the man.

To Arutha the Tsurani said, ‘Tchakachakalla tell.’ Fighting for words, he said, ‘I Wedewayo. My house, family. My clan Hunzan. Old, much honor. Now slave. No house, no clan, no Tsuranuanni. No honor. Slave obey.’

Arutha said, ‘I think I understand. If you go back to the Tsurani, what would happen to you?’

Tchakachakalla said, ‘Be slave, maybe. Be killed, maybe. All same.’

‘And if you stay here?’

‘Be slave, be killed?’ He shrugged, showing little concern.

Arutha said, slowly, ‘We keep no slaves. What would you do if we set you free?’

A flicker of some emotion passed over the slave’s face, and he turned to Tully and spoke rapidly. Tully translated. ‘He says such a thing is not possible on his world. He asks if you can do such a thing.’

Arutha nodded. Tchakachakalla pointed to his companions. ‘They work. They always slaves.’

‘And you?’ said Arutha.

Tchakachakalla looked hard at the Prince and spoke to Tully, never taking his eyes from Arutha. Tully said, ‘He’s recounting his lineage. He says he is Tchakachakalla, Strike Leader of the Wedewayo, of the Hunzan Clan. His father was a Force Leader, and his great-grandfather Warchief of the Hunzan Clan. He has fought honorably, and only once has he failed in his duty. Now he is only a slave, with no family, no clan, no nation, and no honor. He asks if you mean to give him back his honor.’

Arutha said, ‘If the Tsurani come, what will you do?’

Tchakachakalla indicated his companions. ‘These men slaves. Tsurani come, they do nothing. Wait. Go with . . .’ He and Tully exchanged brief remarks and Tully supplied him with the word he wished. ‘. . . victors. They go with victors.’ He looked at Arutha, and his eyes came alive. ‘You make Tchakachakalla free. Tchakachakalla be your man, lord. Your honor is Tchakachakalla’s honor. Give life if you say. Fight Tsurani if you say.’

Fannon spoke. ‘Likely story that. More’s the odds he’s a spy.’

The barrel-chested Tsurani looked hard at Fannon, then with a sudden motion stepped before the Swordmaster, and before anyone could react, pulled Fannon’s knife from his belt.

Longbow had his own knife out an instant later, as Arutha’s sword was clearing its scabbard. Roland and the other soldiers were only a moment behind. The Tsurani made no threatening gesture, but simply flipped the knife, reversing it and handing it to Fannon hilt first. ‘Master think Tchakachakalla enemy? Master kill. Give warrior’s death, return honor.’

Arutha returned his sword to his scabbard and took the knife from Tchakachakalla’s hand. Returning the knife to Fannon, he said, ‘No, we will not kill you.’ To Tully he said, ‘I think this man may prove useful. For now, my inclination is to believe him.’

Fannon looked less than pleased. ‘He may be a very clever spy, but you’re right. There’s no harm if we keep a close watch on him. Father Tully, why don’t you take these men to soldiers’ commons and see what you can learn from them. I’ll be along shortly.’

Tully spoke to the three slaves and indicated they should follow. The two timid slaves moved at once, but Tchakachakalla bent his knee before Arutha. He spoke rapidly in the Tsurani tongue; Tully translated. ‘He’s just demanded you either kill him or make him your man. He asked how a man can be free with no house, clan, or honor. On his world such men are called grey warriors and have no honor.’

Arutha said, ‘Our ways are not your ways. Here a man can be free with no family or clan and still have honor.’

Tchakachakalla bent his head slightly while listening, then nodded. He rose and said, ‘Tchakachakalla understand.’ Then with a grin he added, ‘Soon, I be your man. Good lord need good warrior. Tchakachakalla good warrior.’

‘Tully, take them along, and find out how much Tchak . . . Tchakal . . .’ Arutha laughed. ‘I can’t pronounce that mouthful.’ To the slave he said, ‘If you’re to serve here, you need a Kingdom name.’

The slave looked about and then gave a curt nod.

Longbow said, ‘Call him Charles. It’s as close a name as I can imagine.’

Arutha said, ‘As good a name as any. From now on, you will be called Charles.’

The newly named slave said, ‘Tcharles?’ He shrugged and nodded. Without another word he fell in beside Father Tully, who led the slaves toward the soldiers’ commons.

Roland said, ‘What do you make of that?’ as the three slaves vanished around the corner.

Fannon said, ‘Time will tell if we’ve been duped.’

Longbow laughed. ‘I’ll keep an eye on Charles, Swordmaster. He’s a tough little fellow. He traveled at a good pace when we brought them in. Maybe I’ll turn him into a tracker.’

Arutha interrupted. ‘It will be some time before I’ll be comfortable letting him outside the castle walls.’

Fannon let the matter drop. To Longbow he said, ‘Where did you find them?’

‘To the north, along the Clearbrook branch of the river. We were following the signs of a large party of warriors heading for the coast.’

Fannon considered this. ‘Gardan leads another patrol near there. Perhaps he’ll catch sight of them and we’ll find out what the bastards are up to this year.’ Without another word he walked back toward the keep.

Martin laughed; Arutha was surprised to hear him. ‘What in this strikes you as funny, Huntmaster?’

Martin shook his head. ‘A little thing, Highness. It’s the Swordmaster himself. He’ll not speak of it to anyone, but I wager he would give all he owns to have your father back in command. He’s a good soldier, but he dislikes the responsibility.’

Arutha regarded the retreating back of the Swordmaster, then said, ‘I think you are right, Martin.’ His voice carried a thoughtful note. ‘I have been at odds with Fannon so much of late, I lost sight of the fact he never requested this commission.’

Lowering his voice, Martin said, ‘A suggestion, Arutha.’

Arutha nodded. Martin pointed to Fannon. ‘Should anything happen to Fannon, name another Swordmaster quickly; do not wait for your father’s consent. For if you wait, Algon will assume command, and he is a fool.’

Arutha stiffened at the Huntmaster’s presumption, while Roland tried to silence Martin with a warning look. Arutha coldly said, ‘I thought you a friend of the Horsemaster.’

Martin smiled, his eyes hinting at strange humor. ‘Aye, I am, as are all in the castle. But anyone you ask will tell you the same: take his horses away, and Algon is an indifferent thinker.’

Nettled by Martin’s manner, Arutha said, ‘And who should take his place? The Huntmaster?’

Martin laughed, a sound of such open, clear amusement at the thought, Arutha found himself less angry at his suggestion.

‘I?’ said the Huntmaster. ‘Heaven forfend, Highness. I am a simple hunter, no more. No, should the need come, name Gardan. He is by far the most able soldier in Crydee.’

Arutha knew Martin was correct, but gave in to impatience. ‘Enough. Fannon is well, and I trust will remain so.’

Martin nodded. ‘May the gods preserve him . . . and us all. Please excuse me, it was but a passing concern. Now, with Your Highness’s leave, I’ve not had a hot meal in a week.’

Arutha indicated he could leave, and Martin walked away toward the kitchen. Roland said, ‘He is wrong on one account, Arutha.’

Arutha stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching Longbow as he vanished around the corner. ‘What is that, Roland?’

‘That man is much more than the simple hunter he pretends.’