Now Loklann saw that the newcomers were a ring around others who did not fight. Women. By Oktai and man-eating Ulagu, these bastards were leading out all the women in the palace! And the fight against them had broken up, surly raiders stood back holding their wounds.
Loklann ran forward. “A Canyon! A Canyon!” he shouted. “Ruori Rangi Lohannaso,” said the big stranger politely. He rapped a string of orders. His party began to move away.
“Hit them, you scum!” bawled Loklann. His men rallied and straggled after. Rearguard pikes prodded them back. Loklann led a rush to the front of the hollow square.
The big man saw him coming; gray eyes focused on the calde’s chain and became full of winter. “So you killed Don Miwel,” said Ruori in Spañol. Loklann understood him, having learned the tongue from prisoners and concubines during many raids further north. “You lousy son of a skua.”
Loklann’s pistol came out. Ruori’s hand blurred. Suddenly the knife stood in the Sky Man’s right biceps. He dropped his gun. “I’ll want that back!” shouted Ruori. Then, to his followers:
“Come, to the ship.”
Loklann stared at blood rivering down his arm. He heard a clatter as the refugees broke through the weary Canyon line. Jonak’s party appeared in the main door—which was now empty, its surviving defenders having left with Ruori.
A man approached Loklann, who still regarded his arm. “Shall we go after ‘em, skipper?” he said, almost timidly. “Jonak can lead us after ‘em.”
“No,” said Loklann.
“But they must be escorting a hundred women. A lot of young women too.”
Loklann shook himself, like a dog coming out of a deep cold stream. “No. I want to find the medic and get this wound stitched. Then we’ll have a lot else to do. We can settle with those outlanders later, if the chance comes. Man, we’ve a city to sack!”
Iv
There were dead men scattered on the wharfs, some burned. They looked oddly small beneath the warehouses, like rag dolls tossed away by some weeping child. Cannon fumes lingered to bite nostrils.
Atel Hamid Seraio, the mate, who had been left aboard the Dolphin with the enlisted crew, led a band to meet Ruori. His
salute was in the Island manner, so casual that even at this moment some of the Meycans loolced shocked. “We were about to go after you, captain,” he said.
Ruori looked toward that forest which was the Dolphin’s rig. “What happened here?” he asked.
“A band of those devils landed up that way, near the battery. They took the emplacements while we were still wondering what it was all about. Some of them went off toward that racket in the north quarter, I believe where the army lives. But the rest of the gang attacked us. Well, with our gunwale ten feet above the dock, and us trained to repel pirates, they didn’t have much luck. I gave them a dose of flame.”
Ruori winced from the blackened corpses. Doubtless they had deserved it, but he didn’t like the idea of pumping burning blubber oil across live men.
“Too bad they didn’t try it from the seaward side,” added Atel with a sigh. “We’ve got such a lovely harpoon catapult. I used one just like it several years ago off Hinja, when a Sinese buccaneer came too close. His junk sounded like a whale.”
“Men aren’t whales!” snapped Ruori.
“All right, captain, all right, all right.” Atell backed away from his violence, a little frightened. “No ill-speaking meant.”
Ruori recollected himself and folded his hands. “I spoke in needless anger,” he said formally. “I laugh at myself.”
“It’s nothing, captain. As I was saying, we beat them off and they finally withdrew. I imagine they’ll be back with reinforcements. What shall we do?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” said Ruori in a bleak tone. He turned to the Meycans, who stood with stricken uncomprehending faces. “Your pardon is prayed, Dons and Doflitas,” he said in Spaflol. “He was only relating to me what had happened.”
“Don’t apologize!” Tresa Carabán spoke, stepping out ahead of the men. Some of them looked a bit offended, but they were too tired and stunned to reprove her forwardness, and to Ruori it was only natural that a woman act as freely as a man. “You saved our lives, captain. More than our lives.”