But some small comfort could be derived from the fact that the Vawnee had left a good hundred of their number on the road or between it and the place where the pursuers had halted. Nor were all of them dead-at least, not when first found. —
Kleetos of Mahrtospolis was dragged before Thoheeks Bili, now sitting a captured and relatively fresh horse-a mind-speaking warhorse, stolen from dead Vawn Kindred and overjoyed to be back with a man such as Bili, whom he considered “his own kind.”
Young Kleetos, who had survived the beastly mountain march without a scratch, was no longer handsome, his nose having been skewed to one side by the same blow which had torn off his visor and crumpled his beaver, Further, his captors had not been gentle in removing his helm, so that new blood mixed with old on his smoothshaven-in adoring emulation of Vahrohneeskos Drehkos-face. But even though the flesh around both eyes was swollen and discolored, the eyes themselves flashed the feral fires of pride and hatred. The battered head was held stiffly and high, and his carriage was as arrogant as his bonds and limp would permit.
“Duke Bili,” said Bohreegahd Hohguhn, respectfully, “I r’membered you as sayin’ that first day you took me on as how you wanted nobles alive, an’ this here gamecock be a noble, if ever I seen sich!”
Bili’s grim expression never wavered. He snapped coldly, “Your name and house and rank, if any, you rebel dog!”
Kleetos opened his blood-caked lips and spat out a piece of tooth, then proudly announced, “I be Kleetos, of the ancient House of Mahrtos, Lord of Mahrtospolis and lieutenant to my puissant lord, Vahrohneeskos Drehkos Daiviz of Mor-guhn, commander of Vawnpolis! Have you a name and rank, heathen? I’ll not ask your house. In consideration of the fact that your mother probably never knew your father that well, such a question might embarrass you!”
Hohguhn’s backhanded buffet split the boy’s lips and sent him staggering, but gleaned no sound other than the spitting out of more teeth.
Bili raised his visor and dropped his beaver to reveal a wolfish grin. “You’ve got guts, Kleetos of Mahrtospolis. I’d thought such had been bred out of the old Ehleen houses. Too bad you’re a rebel. But what’s this about Drehkos Daiviz? He planned this damned ambush?”
The boy drew himself up. “My Lord Drehkos planned and led today, heathen. He captained the first line, I, the second.”
“And Vahrohnos Myros had charge of Vawnpolis, eh?” probed Bili.
The prisoner shook his head, then staggered and would have fallen but for Hohguhn’s strong grip on his arm. “Not so, heathen. Unfortunately, Lord Myros of Deskahti is not always . . . ahhh, reliable, being subject to fits and faintings and senseless rages. No, Vahrohnos Lobailos Rohszos of Vawn be Lord Drehkos’ deputy.”
Bili whistled softly. Who in hell could predict the strategies of a man with no formal war training? This upcoming siege might well run into Thoheeks Duhnkin’s shearing time if the city was at all well supplied, prepared and manned . . . and there was but one way, now, of ascertaining that. He swung down off his mount and strode over to the prisoner, drawing his wide-Haded dirk.
CHAPTER XI
Kleetos gulped, despite himself, then said, “If you mean to murder me, I would ask a few moments to pray for the forgiveness of my sins.”
Bill’s answering smile looked sincere, and his voice was as smooth as warm honey. “Murder you? Why, lad, I would never condone or perpetrate such a crime. After all, are not we both noblemen of the Confederation, even though you be Ehleen and I Kindred?”
Turning to Hohguhn and extending the hilt of the dirk, he snapped, “Lieutenant, loose this gentleman immediately! Find him a horse and bring me his sword.”
At the same time, Bili mindspoke, “You treacherous, boy-bugging swine of an Ehleen whoreson! For the thousandth part of a silver thrahkmeh, I’d have your balls out and your yard off and then bugger you with your own prick!”
Satisfied that the prisoner, like so many pure-blood or
near-pure-blood Ehleenee, lacked the mindspeak talents hereditary to Horseclans Kindred, Bili took the limping boy’s arm and gently led him over to give him a drink of the powerful brandy-wine-water mixture in his own bottle.