The Quest of Kadji

At length the boy let himself be shamed into following her plan, and they rode forward into, the Perushka camp. The wagons were dilapidated and shabby, and the canvas that covered them was threadbare and patched in a thousand places. The Perushka themselves were a villainous-looking lot, with swarthy faces, filthy clothing and vicious eyes. Their women were bold and painted hussies, but the heavy application of cosmetics could not disguise knife-scars and the signs of disease. Even the dogs that came pouring out in a yelping chorus from under the wagons to herald the arrival of strangers were a mangy and mongrel lot, although they lost courage at the sight of mighty Bazan. As for the great grey wolf, he paced like a gliding, flame-eyed shadow at the heels of his mistress and ignored the hound-pack with the innate dignity of his kind.

The chief of the caravan was a lean, sallow, one-eyed rogue with a gap-toothed leer instead of a smile and a ragged fringe of whiskers that made him resemble one of the Hairy Men of the Hills of legend. Gold bangles flashed in his ears; bracelets. jangled about his dirty wrists; a gaudy kerchief bound his scabby and unwashed scalp; and the thick reek of cheap perfume which clung to him did not even disguise the stench of his unwashed body or wine-stained clothes.

Akthoob, like most Easterlings, was a merchant at heart, which is to say that among his people the ancient craft of haggling over a price had long since risen to the level of one of the fine arts. Thus Kadji left it to the small wizard to conduct negotiations for the purchase of supplies. And as Thyra was the only one who had any familiarity with the Perushka tongue, he left it to her to question the chief as to whether he or his people had seen anything of the fleeing Shamad. This left him with nothing to do, so he stayed with the horses. He might be wrong about the Perushka being thieves and vagabonds, but there was no question but that they were past masters of the art of horse-stealing, and there was no one else to stand guard.

Kylix the sun star had long since sunk in crimson glory behind the western horizon of the world when his two companions returned from their separate missions.

Akthoob was beaming, his lank and bony face glowing with a smirk of self-satisfaction. By this, Kadji correctly guessed that the little wizard had purchased provisions for many days from the gypsies, and at a price not too exorbitant.

Thyra, too, was radiant with suppressed excitement. “The chief—his name is Rukuz—says they saw two travelers at sunup, riding dead east along the highway. One was a tall, bright-haired man with white skin, but the other was lumpish and thick-set, and muffled in heavy robes. It can be no other than Shamed and Zamog!”

“Then they are, at most, only a day’s journey ahead of us,” Kadji said. “If we ride all night—pray to Mother Chaya there be no more snow—we could catch up to them by dawn.”

“I think so … but, Kadji … old Rukuz has offered us the hospitality of his people tonight … they have boar roasting in the fires, and there will be singing and dancing …”

He gave her a strange look.

“Well, we cannot spare the time. And if that one-eyed old rogue is as villainous a blackguard as he looks, I would not trust his wine to be without a sleeping-potion mixed therein … or saw you not the twinkle in his eye when I gave Akthoob the purse of gold wherewith to buy provisions? I have seen naked cupidity in my time, but the glint in his eye at ‘the sound of the chink of gold coins was virtual lust. I wouldn’t trust that old wolf any further than his own scruffy whiskers!”

The girl proved obstinate.

“ ‘Twould be an insult to refuse the hospitality of the caravan,” said Thyra stiffly. “We would be doing Rukuz an affront to his dignity; and I know these people, Kadji. They may look a bit rough-avised, but they are good folk at heat. We must stay, if only for the meal …”

The youth set his jaw grimly. “I am one day behind the false Shamad, and I will not fall further behind him by a single hour. To the Nine Hells with Rukuz and his dignity! I am sworn to a sacred mission of vengeance and honor and I will ride to the World’s Edge, if need be to strike down the traitorous Shamad! You may stay here for the ‘singing and dancing’ if you like; if these be such ‘good folks at heart’ as you claim, then you are safe in their company. But I am for the road.”

There was fire in the girl’s eyes but he paid it no heed. While she spluttered and argued he turned stiffly away and mounted his black Feridoon pony. Some of the Peruskha were drifting near to watch this altercation between the foreigners. Poor old Akthoob was flustered and apologetic, trying to calm the angry girl and appease the stiff-faced youth.