The Starfollowers of Coramonde by Brian Daley Read Free Book Online Page B

you, when first you returned from the Dark Rampart, you would have
taken it back into the mountains, would you not? Hearing Van Duyn’s news, you’d
have had us all depart for the Highlands Province, is that not true also? But
this morning you are of the persuasion that Death’s Hold is the place. Gil, my
very hold on Coramonde is in jeopardy. Subject-states threaten to fall, not one
by one but in rows. Where you would have been wrong the first time, and the
second, how can you ask me to squander a Legion I need so badly? Every man
under arms is crucial.” He faltered, then met the American’s glare. “Had you
not returned with that Legion when you did, I’d have dispatched orders to its
Marshal.”
    Gil whitened,
the scar and powderburn standing out vividly. “All right, Coramonde’s in
trouble; so are you. Where do you think it’s coming from? Bey, where else? Nail
him and you settle all your hassles right there and then. Are you too dumb to
see we have to get him for your sake too?”
    “Which
Yardiff Bey?” the Ku-Mor-Mai shouted back. “The one in the Dark Rampart?
In the Highlands Province? Death’s Hold? I dare not be prodigal with what loyal
units are left me. If you were in command you’d say the same.”
    The American
lost hold of his bitterness. “You’re going to do nothing while Bey and his
people chip away at you? When are you going to learn to take the first swing?
Are you scared to go after him for a change?”
    Both knew
they were on their way to irrevocable words. Springbuck was first to avert it.
    “Yes, I am
afraid. I fear for Coramonde, and myself as well. Everything I ever learned
about the sorcerer makes me wary. He can do more damage with a lie than most
men could with a regiment at their back. He draws out that ductile gullibility
in all of us. You’ve deceived him, because you used tricks of war altogether
new here, but he never makes the same error twice. Never. I am afraid this
fresh spoor is one more trick. There are uncounted lives hinging on this; I
cannot divert Coramonde’s remaining manpower, not on such tenuous grounds.”
    Gil, too,
pulled back, ashamed. The Ku-Mor-Mai was right; in his place Gil would
have been just as cautious; the man in charge had to be. He scratched his
cheek, and thought.
    “Springbuck,
I’m sorry. You had it straight, I had it garbled. I never meant you’re, y’know,
a coward.” He sat down alongside the other. They knocked mugs.
    “It’s funny
about Dunstan, he was so full of contradictions. He’d be so placid, introverted
really, until he flew into one of those berserkergangs. I took it into my head
that somehow he was like a key to the Crescent Lands; if I could understand
him, it would clarify everything for me here. And when he began hanging out
with us, when he’d learned how to laugh, I felt this Chinese Obligation.”
    Gil drew
himself back to the present. “Springbuck, it was so clear, Dunstan in Death’s
Hold. You’d have believed it too.”
    The son of
Surehand shook his head. “I believe you as much as myself. I trust not my own
senses either, where the Hand of Salamá is involved. What’s needed is proof.”
    Gil jumped
up, pacing the thick carpet. “Proof? All right, now we’re clicking. You want
hard evidence, I’ll get it.”
    He broke off.
“Do you still think you’ll have to go south, against Shardishku-Salamá?”
    “I am
uncertain. The question is whether or not I will be able to. Coramonde’s
upheavals continue.”
    “But if we
take Bey out of the picture, it’ll take pressure off you.”
    “Past all question.”
    “So when I
find Bey, be set to move fast. The next problem’s how to get to Death’s Hold.
What’s the normal route?”
    The Ku-Mor-Mai rubbed his jaw. “Most trading fell off during the thronal war, but the Western
Tangent is open. I would be dubious of traveling with merchant convoys, though;
insecure. An alternative suggests itself. You might go south with