Rakki touched Zomu lightly on the shoulder. “It will not be forgotten,” he said.
When Rakki emerged back into the open, he stopped and stared toward Jemmo, still talking with Wakabe. Jemmo looked for a moment in his direction, and Rakki knew that he could see him. Then Jemmo turned away.
* * *
Rakki thought hard for the rest of the day as to what he should do. Calling off the expedition under some pretext was out of the question—it would seem an admission of weakness. Finally, he took Shingral and Gap Teeth, his two guardians, aside and told them, “The plan for tomorrow is changed. I have information that Shell Eyes may be in danger.” He looked at Gap Teeth. “I want you to stay and watch over her. Guard her closely at all times.”
“My own life shall be lost first,” Gap Teeth confirmed.
“We will make up our number with another who is loyal,” he told Shingral. Then, to Gap Teeth again, “If you have doubts or need wise words while we are gone, talk to White Head. White Head, you can trust.”
“I will remember,” Gap Teeth said.
Later, Rakki spoke again with Zomu. “One of my trusted warriors will watch over Shell Eyes. But we now need another for the journey tomorrow. I pick you as my choice.”
“I will come with you,” Zomu said.
* * *
They left at the first brightening of the next day: Rakki, Shingral, Zomu, and two others whose names were Alin and Dorik. The route took them away from the direction of the swamp lands, skirting the Dry Country of the previous excursion to enter even higher regions where colder winds brought squalls of rain and at times snow that collected as ice in the crevices and gulleys. The party had brought heavier skins, which they put on over their regular garb, and wrappings to protect their feet. Rakki realized the usefulness of the Oldworlders’ foot-sheaths now, and wished he had saved some. The surroundings grew harsher and bleaker.
It was late in the afternoon and they were following a trail along the side of a precipice, when Rakki, in the lead, heard a sudden cry behind him. He spun around to find Shingral on his knees, slowly buckling over, with Alin standing behind him, gripping him by a shoulder. Alin drew back his arm to reveal the bloodstained length of sharpened metal as he pulled it from Shingral’s back, then released him to let him fall forward. For a moment Rakki could only stare, confused. Then he took in Dorik and Zomu moving around on either side of Alin, leveling their spears toward him as they hemmed him around, his back to the edge of the drop.
Then he understood. Jemmo had never wanted Shell Eyes dead; he wanted her for himself. And he had guessed Rakki’s reaction perfectly. Zomu had been serving Jemmo all along. The ruse had been to separate Rakki’s two bodyguards. The odds would have been too risky with both of them along. Now it was all obvious. But too late.
Rakki moved to unsling the gun from his shoulder. He had five of the precious bullets in it—but he would never have time to bring it to bear. Three spears advanced upon him as Alin completed the semicircle.
“What was the price of this teachery?” he hissed at Zumo as they closed, driving him back.
“An Oldworld weapon to carry. And Jemmo would rule anyway.”
“You don’t get this one!” Rakki threw the gun away behind him, into the chasm, but before he could draw his edged club, they rushed.
He seized Zomu’s spear, arching his body to pull it by him, drawing Zomu on. As Zomu pitched forward off-balance, Rakki dropped onto his back, at the same time planting a foot in Zomu’s stomach and using his leg as a pivot to carry Zomu onward and over, sending him screaming into the abyss. But the other two were upon him. He twisted away to take the worst out of a thrust from Alin that pierced his side, leaving him lying along the rim of the drop; and then Dorik, declining to present his own spear and risk the same fate as had befallen Zomu, used it instead as a prop to slide his body forward feetfirst, propelling Rakki over the edge.