bride, not a sound of approval or otherwise came from the sprawling mass of pirates. When Kerin fell silent, he heard instead a chorus of snores.
Kerin jerked as something touched his arm. Peering through the moonlight, he saw a knife come out of nowhere and cut the lashing on his wrists.
"Be quiet!" whispered the invisible Pwana. The knife went to work on the cords around his ankles.
"What's toward?" murmured Kerin.
"What think you? I am not fain to let them roast me without protest."
"Why not release the girl, too? She's a captive."
"A good idea; one cannot have too many folk under obligation. Then we must needs cut the throats of these rascals, for they will not remain insensible for aye. I had but little of the drug I put in their beer."
"Slay sleeping men? That were—were—"
"Try not your silly Western notions of chivalry on me, youngling! Wouldst live or die? These scoundrels do far worse; for sport they gouge eyes and burn off private parts. Besides, they defied my well-reasoned logic. The only good enemy is a dead enemy!"
"But—but—"
Pwana snapped into full but naked visibility in the moonlight as he peeled off the tarncap. Kerin leaned forward to examine the object. It seemed a cap made of metallic mesh, like chain mail but of much slenderer links, such as might make a lady's purse or ornamental coif.
Pwana picked up and did on his sarong. Wadding the cap into a ball and tucking it into the garment, he snarled: "Then watch whilst I do the deed, milksop!"
The hermit first cut the young woman free. The twain spoke in low voices; then Kerin was shocked to see the girl step to the nearest pirate, pull out the man's knife, and go to work. She and Pwana went from man to man, seized the hair of each, tipped back his head, and drew the knife firmly across his throat. Then the throat cutter stepped quickly back from the widening pool of blood."That, my dear, is that," said Pwana in his everyday voice as, having cut the last throat, he wiped his blade on the corpse's kilt. "What is the late news from Salimor?"
"Sophi Dimbakan died," said the girl, "being succeeded by his brother Vurkai."
Kerin said: "That name is familiar. Is it not the name of the man who overthrew the previous dynasty, when the reigning Sophi was slain in the riots that followed the fall of his great tower? I've heard tales of that."
"Aye, Master Kerin," said Pwana. "The late ruler was the third of that name. The revolution came about from meddling in our affairs by an exiled Novarian king named Porimar, or Forimar in your tongue; just as you call our ruler the Sophi whilst we call him the Sohpi. I believe this Forimar hailed from your own Kortoli. He persuaded the Sophi to build a lofty tower in Kwatna, ignoring Salimor's many earthquakes. At the next severe quake, down came the tower.
"During the disorders that followed this catastrophe, this first Dimbakan, a sea captain, gathered a following. He announced that he would set up a government of the Western kind, a republic, with officers chosen by the votes of the masses. But for all his talk, he never brought this strange system into being. Instead, he declared himself the new Sophi, and his line has ruled Salimor for above a century.''
For an instant Pwana stood silently, absently pulling his whiskers and fiddling with his knife. Then he said: "Kerin, send your sprite out to the ship, to report how many now man it."
"Belinka!" called Kerin.
"Aye, Master Kerin?"
Kerin passed on the order from Pwana, and the little blue light danced out to sea. While Pwana asked more questions about affairs in Salimor, Kerin recovered his sword from among the dwarf palms. Belinka returned saying:
"I could find but one man aboard, and he asleep in the stern."
"Kerin!" said Pwana. "The fools have left but one lookout. If we take the ship, canst sail us to Salimor?"
"If weather stay fair, methinks I can manage the craft somewhat, having sailed small boats and watched Huvraka's men. For foul weather,
Kerin jerked as something touched his arm. Peering through the moonlight, he saw a knife come out of nowhere and cut the lashing on his wrists.
"Be quiet!" whispered the invisible Pwana. The knife went to work on the cords around his ankles.
"What's toward?" murmured Kerin.
"What think you? I am not fain to let them roast me without protest."
"Why not release the girl, too? She's a captive."
"A good idea; one cannot have too many folk under obligation. Then we must needs cut the throats of these rascals, for they will not remain insensible for aye. I had but little of the drug I put in their beer."
"Slay sleeping men? That were—were—"
"Try not your silly Western notions of chivalry on me, youngling! Wouldst live or die? These scoundrels do far worse; for sport they gouge eyes and burn off private parts. Besides, they defied my well-reasoned logic. The only good enemy is a dead enemy!"
"But—but—"
Pwana snapped into full but naked visibility in the moonlight as he peeled off the tarncap. Kerin leaned forward to examine the object. It seemed a cap made of metallic mesh, like chain mail but of much slenderer links, such as might make a lady's purse or ornamental coif.
Pwana picked up and did on his sarong. Wadding the cap into a ball and tucking it into the garment, he snarled: "Then watch whilst I do the deed, milksop!"
The hermit first cut the young woman free. The twain spoke in low voices; then Kerin was shocked to see the girl step to the nearest pirate, pull out the man's knife, and go to work. She and Pwana went from man to man, seized the hair of each, tipped back his head, and drew the knife firmly across his throat. Then the throat cutter stepped quickly back from the widening pool of blood."That, my dear, is that," said Pwana in his everyday voice as, having cut the last throat, he wiped his blade on the corpse's kilt. "What is the late news from Salimor?"
"Sophi Dimbakan died," said the girl, "being succeeded by his brother Vurkai."
Kerin said: "That name is familiar. Is it not the name of the man who overthrew the previous dynasty, when the reigning Sophi was slain in the riots that followed the fall of his great tower? I've heard tales of that."
"Aye, Master Kerin," said Pwana. "The late ruler was the third of that name. The revolution came about from meddling in our affairs by an exiled Novarian king named Porimar, or Forimar in your tongue; just as you call our ruler the Sophi whilst we call him the Sohpi. I believe this Forimar hailed from your own Kortoli. He persuaded the Sophi to build a lofty tower in Kwatna, ignoring Salimor's many earthquakes. At the next severe quake, down came the tower.
"During the disorders that followed this catastrophe, this first Dimbakan, a sea captain, gathered a following. He announced that he would set up a government of the Western kind, a republic, with officers chosen by the votes of the masses. But for all his talk, he never brought this strange system into being. Instead, he declared himself the new Sophi, and his line has ruled Salimor for above a century.''
For an instant Pwana stood silently, absently pulling his whiskers and fiddling with his knife. Then he said: "Kerin, send your sprite out to the ship, to report how many now man it."
"Belinka!" called Kerin.
"Aye, Master Kerin?"
Kerin passed on the order from Pwana, and the little blue light danced out to sea. While Pwana asked more questions about affairs in Salimor, Kerin recovered his sword from among the dwarf palms. Belinka returned saying:
"I could find but one man aboard, and he asleep in the stern."
"Kerin!" said Pwana. "The fools have left but one lookout. If we take the ship, canst sail us to Salimor?"
"If weather stay fair, methinks I can manage the craft somewhat, having sailed small boats and watched Huvraka's men. For foul weather,
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