I nearly had her - my horse was gaining on Mei-Juin as I chased her into a wooded area. I saw her duck to avoid a low branch, risk a glance behind her to check my progress, and get thrown from her horse as a net was cast over her. I pulled up quickly in case a similar surprise was prepared for me and found myself surrounded by people stamped from the 'No Messing About' mould armed with an assortment of unpleasantly functional looking weapons, including what seemed to be a couple of Orrian guns. I'd seen these in action once and, although more noisy than effective, I didn't want to act as a test target.
Further along the trail I saw that some compatriots of my gun-wielding captors were bundling up Mei-Juin and dragging her in my direction. The collection of weapons parted for a sultry red-head who moved like a Tlaxu and looked twice as dangerous. She was dressed in earthen tones but also bedecked in lashings of cheap jewelry. Had it not been for the extensive arsenal of weaponry about her person, she could have passed for a dockside floozy in Llaza (although come to think of it, they tend to be pretty heavily armed too...).
'You have just become prisoners of the Bandits of Dailat,' she announced. 'Thanks for the horses, by the way.'
Bandits of Dailat. They were well known in underworld circles and had a reputation for honour (as these things go amongst brigands). It was enough to give me some hope that we wouldn't be dumped in an unmarked grave out here in the hinterland.
'I ought to point out that I'm worth a pretty good ransom to the right people,' I told she of the brazen hair and brazen attitude.
The redhead raised an eyebrow. 'And who would they be?' she cocked her hips and gave me a look to tell me to continue. I obliged (they were very persuasive hips).
'Merchant's League. You'll find my badge of agency about my person, if you'd like to search me.' I found myself giving her a suggestive leer whilst the more sensible part of my mind cringed in disbelief.
'What about her?' A flick of red hair in the direction of Mei-Juin.
'She's worth bounty.' That got me a tight smile.
'So are we.' The redhead glanced at someone behind me. I turned around in time to get a spear butt in the face, and slid from my horse.
I awoke to find myself in a dark place, hands and feet tied, face pressed against planks of rough wood, between which narrow glimmers of light shone. Carefully I sat up, experiencing a sensation not unlike the kind of hangover that five bottles of jinka rum can give you. I was feeling sick, and it wasn't just the blow to the head. The floor was moving and there was the overpowering animal smell of tembu. Sluggish thought processes eventually met in my head and came to the conclusion that I was on the back of one of these creatures, probably in a cargo howdah.
Further examination of my surroundings supported this theory, and in the scattered beams of light I saw that I was not alone. The other figure shifted its weight as I sat up.
'Very kind of you to sell me out,' said Mei-Juin. Like me, her feet were bound but the bandits had left her arms free. She sat with them folded across her chest, a scowl on her face.
'Don't complain. I made you valuable to them. Actually I'm surprised they didn't ask you to join them, being a known fugitive from the League.'
'I guess they didn't trust me,' she replied with an odd note of strain to her voice.
'They must have heard about you,' I retorted in a bantering tone. 'I don't suppose you know where they're taking us?'
'Nyerdhan. I heard Gem - that's what they call that flashy bitch with the barbarian's hair and cheap jewelry - discussing it whilst you were sleeping.'
'Unconscious is the term, I believe.' No reply to that. Mei-Juin slid her legs beneath her and gave out a grunt, seemingly of pain. I wasn't going to enquire just yet, but I noticed her cradling her left arm.
'You've given me a lot of trouble,' I told her. She laughed shortly.
'I could say the same about you!'
'One thing I don't understand. Leaving the real Mei-Juin alive, that was a careless oversight wasn't it? It meant you had very little time to act before she arrived in Nirhamsa and blew your cover.'
For a while I thought I wasn't going to get an answer, then Mei-Juin (I couldn't keep calling her that) took a deep breath and told me that the assignment had been dropped on her at very short notice and that she had been forced to leave the 'removal' of Mei-Juin to others. Evidently they had failed. Even though she wouldn't tell me who her employers were, it was nice to know that they were every bit as good at giving out impossible tasks and expecting miracles as mine were. We shared some employee complaints and war stories, I pointed out that she was far more pleasant company when not disguised as a snotty noblewoman, she said that I was just as irritating as before, I tried to weasel her real name and employer's identity out of her but she merely responded that if I was having trouble with calling her 'Mei-Juin' I should use her other disguise name, Malishi, before the tembu must have stumbled, shaking our crate and knocking her against the side. Her stoical mask slipped and she let out a cry of pain. I shuffled over to check on her and found that her arm had been broken, when she was thrown from her horse.
'You need that seen to,' I said. Pointing out the obvious, Vallans.
'I'm fine,' she replied through gritted teeth.
She could have given stubbornness lessons to the Jade Gibbon, but regardless of her wishes I banged on the side of the crate, calling out that we needed medical attention in here. After a while the rocking motion of the tembu stopped and somebody opened the crate.
At this point I should confess, lest my next incarnation be reborn as a woodlouse, that I wasn't entirely concerned about Malishi's well-being. With a broken arm to nurse, I figured she could be less trouble when we did get free from the bandits. This 'getting free' was what I had in mind. It's a trick that was old since before the Lord of the East Sun sat on the Throne of Heaven - fake an illness, call in your jailers and overpower them. Unfortunately since it is such an old trick the Bandits of Dailat were well familiar with it and rather than obligingly send one weak individual (dressed in clothes my size) to check on us they surrounded us with hardened bandits armed with Orrian guns and a blue-jade tipped Llaza staff ready to unleash deadly magic. Gem took one look at Malishi's arm and had her hauled, not un-gently, out of the crate.
'This bounty, it's payable dead or alive, right?' she asked me.
I shook my head. 'Alive only.' The bandit leader muttered curses and then turned to her men. 'You three, take her on ahead to the Master-in-Waiting, tell him to patch her up. I don't want to get a reputation for selling damaged goods.'
Several days had passed, judging by the light that filtered into my crate. Several days of berating myself for finding a very clever way of freeing Malishi and not me. Several days of trying to reassure myself that the bandits would turn her over to the Merchant's League anyway, so in the long run it wouldn't matter. Several days of persuading myself that she wouldn't be able to escape from three men whilst she still had a broken arm. Several days of kicking my heels.
It was cool and dark, so it was evening. My crate had been set down on the ground, and damp was seeping up from beneath. I was trying, without much success, to get some sleep despite being cold, damp and hungry when the lid of my crate opened with a faint creak. A small face, softly lit in moonlight, looked in. A face I was very happy to see. Not that I was going to let the owner know that - he might ask for a pay rise.
'You took your time.'
'You can stay in the box if you like Rishta,' replied Dhalooth, 'or I've found a couple of shandix that nobody seems to want right now.'
Slowly I stood up, rubbing life back into my cramped limbs. We had stopped in a forest. The bandits were asleep, even those who were supposed to be on guard. No need to ask what had happened. Tree-folk can be virtually invisible amongst the trees, and Dhalooth's Skill of Raindrops can knock out a man with just the gentlest touch. The Empire learned the hard way not to tangle with the salsham'ai on their home turf - and now Dhalooth had taught the same lesson to the Bandits of Dailat. Not that they would ever know what hit them, of course.
'Where's the girl?' asked my little friend.
'Nyerdhan,' I told him briskly, adding: 'I hope.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Rishta, you haven't lost her again?'
(c) 2006 The Creative Conclave.
Contact us.
