‘I hadn’t really thought about it that much, but it does sort of make sense,’ Hook-Beak conceded. ‘If that’s the way it really stands, we’d better hustle right along. As soon as we get up there, we’ll probably have to start building forts and such. We don’t want to come up against those snake-men on open ground if we can avoid it.’
‘I think you’re right, Sorgan,’ Narasan said. ‘The rest of my army should be arriving fairly soon, but let’s get some advance forces up to the top of the falls as quickly as we can. I definitely don’t want those snake-men creeping up behind me like they did last time. I’m getting just a little too old for surprises.’
Ara came through the door of the round room about an hour later. ‘Supper’s ready,’ she announced. ‘Come along and eat it before it gets cold.’
‘I think you’re in for a treat, gentlemen,’ Veltan said with a note of pride. ‘Ara’s probably the best cook in the whole wide world.’
‘I’d say that she’s wasting her real talent, then,’ Jalkan declared with an obscene leer. ‘A woman with a body like hers could make a fortune in Kaldacin.’
A chill came over Omago. ‘I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, Jalkan,’ he said in a flat, unemotional tone.
‘Are you blind, man? This servant sets my blood to boiling. I’d pay good gold for the chance to get her in bed.’
Without even thinking, Omago drove his fist into the scrawny Trogite’s mouth, knocking him flat on his back.
Jalkan stumbled back up, spitting blood, teeth and curses as he clawed at his knife-hilt.
Keselo’s sword, however, came out of its sheath more smoothly and rapidly. The young man put the point of his sword against the bone-thin Trogite’s throat. ‘Drop it Jalkan,’ he said quite firmly. ‘Drop the knife, or I’ll kill you right here on the spot.’
‘But this peasant just hit me!’ Jalkan screamed. ‘That’s a hanging offence! I’m an officer!’
‘Not any more, you aren’t,’ Narasan declared in a flat tone of voice. ‘I’ve put up with you for much too long already, and you’ve just given me something that I’ve been waiting for. Your army career is finished, Jalkan, and good riddance.’
‘You can’t do that!’ Jalkan screamed at Narasan. ‘I paid gold for my commission! GoldV
‘You just forfeited the gold, Jalkan. You’re done.’ Narasan turned. ‘Padan, chain this scoundrel and take him back to the beach. I’ll decide what to do with him later – after I get my temper under control.’ He turned to Omago. ‘Did you want to deal with this yourself, or would you rather that I did it? I’m not too clear about the customs here in the Land of Dhrall. It was your wife he insulted, though, so I think it’s only proper that you should decide his fate.’
‘Just get him out of my sight, Commander,’ Omago said, clenching and unclenching his fists.
‘I’ll take care of it, then.’ Narasan looked at Padan. ‘Get this scummy lecher out of here,’ he ordered.
‘My pleasure, Commander,’ Padan said with a broad grin. ‘Did you want to go peacefully, scummy lecher? Or would you rather have me kick your behind every step of the way back to the beach?’
‘Nicely put, Padan,’ Red-Beard said admiringly.
‘I’ve always had this way with words,’ Padan replied modestly.
There were several strangers in the round map-room with Veltan the next morning when Omago arrived.
‘Ah, there you are, Omago,’ Veltan greeted him. ‘There are some people here I’d like you to meet.’ He gestured at an imposing, grey-bearded man wearing clothes made of furry animal skins. ‘This is my older brother, Dahlaine of the North.’
‘Omago,’ the bearded one said, briefly nodding.
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Omago replied a bit uncertainly. There was something about Veltan’s brother that made Omago just a bit nervous.
‘You’ve already met my sister Zelana,’ Veltan continued, ‘but this is my other sister Aracia.’
Aracia wore splendid clothes and a superior expression.
‘Ma’am,’ Omago said politely.
‘Dahlaine and Aracia thought it might be wise to bring the leaders of the armies they’ve hired here so that they can observe,’ Veltan said. ‘They’ll almost certainly be coming up against the creatures of the Wasteland before much longer, and it won’t hurt if they know what they’ll be facing.’
‘Let me take care of this, Veltan,’ the bearded Dahlaine said. He turned back to Omago. ‘Veltan tells us that you’re the leader of his army,’ he said.
‘I don’t know if I’d go quite so far as to call my people an army,’ Omago said. ‘We aren’t really all that familiar with weapons, but Commander Narasan’s promised to see to it that we’ll get the training we’re going to need.’
‘Have you ever heard of horses?’ Dahlaine asked.
Omago frowned. ‘I don’t believe I have,’ he admitted.
‘A horse is something like a cow – except that it doesn’t have horns, and it can run much faster than a cow,’ Dahlaine explained. He reached out and put his hand on the shoulder of a lean man with a scarred face. ‘This is Prince Ekial, the leader of the horse-people. Quite some time ago, Ekial’s people tamed the horses and taught them how to carry things. After a while, it occurred to some clever fellow that if a horse could carry heavy bags of grain or loads of firewood from one place to another, it could probably carry people just as well – and a horse can run much faster than a man can. The horse people did that for quite some time, and then a war came along. The horse people found that fighting from the back of a horse could be very effective. Since there aren’t any horses here in the Land of Dhrall, the servants of the Vlagh won’t have any idea of what they’re encountering. I’m fairly sure that they aren’t going to like horses and the men who’ll be riding them very much at all – that’s the ones who’ll survive, and I don’t think there’ll be very many survivors.’
‘Do you actually sit on an animal’s back when you want to go somewhere?’ Omago asked the scar-faced Prince Ekial.
Ekial shrugged. ‘It’s easier than doing the walking ourselves,’ he replied, ‘and horses love to run. If you’ve got a good horse, you can go from here to there about five times faster than you could if you did the walking yourself.’
‘Can we get on with this?’ Aracia said abruptly. ‘I have other things I need to attend to.’ She turned to look at Omago. ‘Please don’t get all excited, Omago,’ she said. She pointed at a tall woman who had a very long knife hanging from the leather belt encircling her waist. ‘This is Trenicia, the queen of the warrior women of the Isle of Akalla. Different places have different traditions and different customs. On the Isle of Akalla, the women rule, and the women do the fighting.’
‘What do the men do?’ the horseman Ekial asked curiously.
‘As little as they possibly can,’ the warrior woman said in a sardonic tone. ‘Over the years, they’ve foisted just about everything off on us. We have