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the real one be overlooked, I took advantage of a situation she brought on
herself and rendered her permanently quite fat. She is very short, and she
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almost certainly weighs at least a hundred halgs."
"Oh, great! Forget it! Klittichorn will just have to destroy civilization,
that's all. It's impossible."
"I am an Akhbreed sorcerer, and not without power and resources. This is
Akahlar. Nothing is impossible here."
"Then get yourself another sucker. This one values what he has."
"But you have unique qualifications of all those available, not the least of
which is that you speak English like a native and that is her own old native
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20the%20Winds.txt (53 of 138) [1/19/03 4:12:33 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Jack%20L.%20Chalker/Chalker,%20Jack%20L%20-%20Changewinds%202%2
0-%20Riders%20of%20the%20Winds.txt tongue. I don't make that the primary
qualification the last time I did the bastard turned traitor on me and wound
up cursed but you are the only one I
trust because I know of your distaste for Klittichorn."
Crim sighed. "I'll need a lot of help, and a lot of briefing as well. And I
still need convincing. What are you offering to spring her?"
"Nothing. Not a thing. She is of no value to me merely 'sprung,' as it were. I
need her here. The first one, anyone, who delivers her here, alive and
physically intact, will gain the ultimate. One wish, and no funny business
about the terms and conditions. Anything within the power of an Akhbreed
sorcerer, Crim. Anything. But it's all or nothing."
Crim stared hard at the. shadowlike horseman. "What's that sort of hovering
there? A tree limb? You son of a bitch, you're riding in some nice park or
forest all shaded and comfortable and I'm sitting out here in the middle of a
desert hot enough to fry meat! You want her that bad, you ask the impossible,
you give all the help and charms and information and everything else you have
and you deliver three wishes."
"Two and it's done. One for you and one for Kira. Any more haggling and I'll
make it a more open offer to others."
"All right, you bastard. But for that price you could just walk up to the Duke
and get her."
"Perhaps, but he could not get her safely to me. And, of course, I cannot
grant the only wishes that Pasedo would be interested in anyway, since even I
cannot alter what a change wind has done. Nor could I trust him if he knew her
value."
Crim sighed. "Very well, but this won't be easy. It'll take some time to
figure out how to do it at all. I'll give you a preliminary list of what I
think I'll need and soon. I'm only a few days from there now and we'll camp
tonight at the river gorge. Take it up with Kira tonight at the gorge in the
cool of the evening. If she still agrees, we'll make a good stab at it."
"This is the big one, Crim. Plenty for any whom you take into the plan,
although of course the nature of the girl and my motives will be between us
alone. Let the others wonder. But anyone who betrays us will find no refuge
anywhere."
"Yeah. And we won't mention my reward, will we? Even the most trusted people
can be tempted to knock me off and claim it themselves. No skin off your nose
but plenty off mine."
"Agreed, for now. So long as you have and control the girl. If you lose her I
reserve the right to broaden the offer. Now you are broiling and I have
dallied long enough, so go, get a drink and make your time. All this riding
fatigues me."
"Okay, you bastard. I'll see about your dirty work. At the gorge, tonight."
"At the gorge tonight," the strange dark rider echoed, then it turned and rode
off.
Crim watched it go, away from him, out into the desert, until it was one with
the rippling air. Only then did he turn and make his way back to the caravan,
but he only idly gave the "ready to move out" sign with his hand. He was
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already beginning to formulate plans not details, but a broad outline.
Some of this would require subtlety, and that was more of a Kira specialty.
Still, you couldn't dream of a greater reward, but by damn they were going to
earn every bit of it! And if Boolean had to be squeezed and sweated a little
bit in the process, all the better.
5
Of Slavery, Decoys, and Shadowcats
Comug, the chief slave administrator of the House of Hodamoc, did not like to
disturb his Master unless it was absolutely necessary. For one thing, the
General often took out his irritation on the slaves closest to him, although
he regretted it later. When you've spent hours in pain or are bleeding from
terrible wounds, a sincere apology isn't all that appreciated.
Still, this had to be done. He knocked on the door of the Master's study, then
waited patiently.
"Yes? What is it?" Hodamoc snapped irritatedly.
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"Comug, Master. A thousand apologies, but there is someone here who demands an
audience with you."
The door had not opened. "Did you say demands? Who is this who demands
anything of me?"
"A magician, Master. Third Rank by his garb. He says his name is Dorion and
that he is an urgent messenger from Yobi. It was because of this last that I
dared to disturb you."
For a moment there was no reply. Suddenly the door flew open, and the General,
looking more puzzled than angry, stood there. Comug bowed slightly and just
waited, being one of the few slaves who did not prostrate him or herself in
the
Master's presence. Since he dealt with the Master on a day-to-day basis it
would be rather impractical.
"Yobi ..." Hodamoc mused. "What the hell does that crazy old bag want of me?"
He sighed. "Still, she's Second Rank. It wouldn't do to piss her off without
first hearing her out. Very well, Comug. Alert the House Magician and
Security. If they clear him I will see him, but you can never be too careful
about his type."
"Master, he is as he says. Several of the slaves have seen him before in the
bazaars and he is not completely unknown. He is a permanent resident and exile
and does often do errands for Yobi. Had I not already checked on this I would
never have allowed him even this far."
The General nodded, subdued. After all, that was why Comug was around in the
first place and held the position he did.
"All right, then show him up."
Dorion was not the sort of fellow to inspire awe and terror. Of medium height,
perhaps five nine or ten to Hodamoc's six three, he was stocky, a bit chubby,
with a pleasant, cherubic face that he'd attempted unsuccessfully to harden by
growing a far too thin and wispy beard and moustache. His long reddish brown
hair was thin and stringy and had vanished on top to a fair degree, giving him
a monklike appearance enhanced by the rumpled wool earth-brown robe he wore.
His deep blue eyes had that glazed look so common to magicians, and while he
moved with confidence it seemed as if he were seeing by some method other than
the usual sight. He had one of those brassy magician's baritones, though,
which in incantations and spells might well sound commanding and authoritative
but which in normal conversation often sounded either insincere or shrill.
Dorion bowed slightly. "Your Excellency, I bring you greetings from Yobi of
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the
Sarcin Caves. I am Dorion, formerly of Masalur, a humble magician surviving
here by doing services for others."
"An errand boy, you mean," the General responded, unimpressed. "Very well you
asked for my time and while I cannot spare it at the moment I am willing to
grant an audience, so have done with it and dispense with the flowery and
meaningless rhetoric if you have not lost your capacity for speaking plainly."
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