grovel at the feet of the smelly To-gai-ru and we do not even know for certain that Yatol Bardoh is assembling any force against Yatol Mado Wadon. There lie our answers."
"We can walk right in," Paroud agreed. "Greetings, possible traitors! We are ambassadors from Yatol Wadon, whom you wish to kill!"
Moripicus narrowed his eyes as he stared at the sarcastic man from Cosinnida.
"We are no such thing," Pechter Dan Turk put in. "We are... merchants. Yes, merchants! Traveling the road about Jacintha."
"Without wares?" Moripicus said dryly.
"In search of wares!" Pechter Dan Turk insisted.
"Without money?" said Paroud, before Moripicus could point out that obvious shortcoming in the disguise.
"We... we," Pechter Dan Turk stammered over a few possibilities, then just shook his head and blurted, "We buried our money in the desert nearby! One cannot be too careful about thieves, after all!"
"Yes, and when we tell that to hungry renegade warriors, they will take us into the desert at spearpoint, and when we cannot give them any money, they will run us through and leave us for the vultures to pick clean!"
"But..." Pechter Dan Turk started to argue, but he was cut short by Moripicus.
"We are scholars."
The other two looked at him doubtfully.
"Is not the Library of Pruda now reassembled in Dharyan-Dharielle?"
Moripicus asked. "So we will become scholars, walking the road to the Library of Pruda, and if any of the soldiers down there take exception to that library now being in the city of the Dragon of To-gai, we will simply agree. Tell them that we despise the thought of our great scholarly works being in the hands of dirty Ru dogs."
"Yes, we are going merely to ensure that the precious works survive,"
Paroud added, catching on to the possibilities.
"Scholars, scholars from Pruda, and without political aspirations or affiliations, except that we all hate the To-gai-ru," said Moripicus.
"An easy enough mask to carry," agreed Paroud, who did indeed hate the To-gai-ru.
"Then why go to Dharyan-Dharielle?" asked the oblivious Pechter Dan Turk.
"The place is crawling with Ru!"
The other two just looked at each other and rolled their eyes, then started back to the southeast, to strike the road far out of sight of Dahdah.
Several merchant caravans were in the oasis, as usual, but the place was dominated by the presence of the soldiers. They were everywhere, at the water's edge and mingling about every caravan with impunity. They inspected wares, and simply took what they wanted.
Pagonel felt the eyes upon him as soon as he walked into the oasis area.
He was not wearing his Jhesta Tu robes for this dangerous return trip, but he certainly did not seem to fit in among the dirty rabble and loud merchants. He took care not to make eye contact with any of the warriors, so as not to begin any confrontation. He was here to gather information, not start a war.
He moved quietly across the shade of a line of date trees nearer to a merchant wagon, whose owner was apparently confronting a soldier.
"You cannot just take what you wish to take!" the merchant cried, and he reached for a silken swatch the soldier held.
The soldier pulled his hand back and blocked the advancing merchant with his free hand. "I have a sword," he warned, flashing a toothy smile.
The merchant backed off a step and waved his fist in the air. "I have a sword, too!" he insisted.
"Ah yes, but I have three hundred swords," the soldier retorted, and he nodded. Three other men descended on the poor merchant, herding him back toward his wagon, slapping and kicking him repeatedly, and laughing all the while.
"The authorities in Jacintha will hear of this!" the man cried. "I have friends in Chom Deiru!"
That was all the soldiers needed to hear, but not to any effect the merchant had hoped. He was still waving his fist in the air when the nearest soldier drew out a dagger and plunged it into his side. He wailed and fell away - or tried to, for the other two similarly drew out knives.
The three fell over him, stabbing him repeatedly even as he slumped down to the ground.
Pagonel had to fight every instinct within him not to intervene, reminding himself repeatedly that to do so might hold greater consequences than the unfortunate murder of this one man.
"Are you a friend of this man?" the soldier with the clean hands and silk swatch demanded when he turned to see Pagonel standing there watching.
"I am a simple traveler," the Jhesta Tu mystic replied.