would do well to remember these Tsurani can kill you with no pangs of conscience, for here they hold the belief that a slave possesses no honour. Kevin of Zun, tread most carefully, for your lot could be changed on a whim.' ->
'Damn,' said Kevin softly. 'Then they don't give you concubines for good conduct?'
Laurie's eyes widened a moment, then his broad laugh' attracted the attention of one of the Shinzawai warriors. His plumed head turned in their direction, and instantly the expressions of the two Midkemians on the wagon went blank. When the soldier turned away, Laurie let out a quiet sigh. 'They've not spoiled your sense of humour, it seems.'
Kevin said, 'If you can't laugh, you're as good as dead.'
Laurie wiped his face with a rag dipped in the basin Kevin held and said, 'As I tell my short friend here, many times : over.'
Pug regarded Laurie with a mixture of affection and aggravation. 'This from a fool who almost got himself killed saving my life.' He sighed. 'If that young Shinzawai noble hadn't been in the swamps...' He left the thought unfinished. Then his tone turned sombre. 'All the men captured with me in the first year of the war are dead, Kevin.
Learn to adapt. These Tsurani have this concept of wal, this perfect place inside where no one can touch you.' He put his finger on Kevin's chest. 'In there. Learn to live in there, and you'll learn to live out here.'
The redhead nodded, then, aware that Jican watched his back, took his basin back for a refill. With a regretful nod to Laurie and Pug, he proceeded to the next wagon in line. If he could, he'd slip out of the slave quarters in the evening and spend some time with these two. Trading some information might not prove useful, but it might ease the pain of homesickness a bit.
But as the evening wore on, he was given more work, until, exhausted, he was led back into the great house and commanded to sleep in the room set aside for him. A guard outside his door made any attempt to visit his former countrymen useless. But in the night he could hear faint voices, speaking words barely understood, yet familiar with accents well known.
Sighing in frustration, he knew his own companions were visiting with the two Islemen from the Shinzawai caravan.
He would get his gossip secondhand when he next had chance to speak with Patrick or one of the other men. Yet the lack of firsthand contact caused the most bitter pangs of homesickness he had felt since capture. 'Damn that bitch,'
he whispered into his hard pillow. 'Damn her.'
Chapter 6 Diversions
The wet season ended.
Lengthening days brought back the dry dust, and strong sunlight faded the plains grass surrounding the Minwanabi estate house; within weeks the hills would begin to lose their; lushness, until by midsummer all would be golden and brown. During the hotter weather, Lord Desio preferred to remain within the shaded comfort of his estate house, but admiration for his cousin often lured him outdoors.
Tasaio might be serving his family as a senior adviser, but the day never dawned that he failed to maintain his battle skills. Today, while the morning mists burned off the lake, he stationed himself on a hillside with his bow and sheaves of arrows, and straw figures set at varying distances for targets. Within a half hour they bristled with shafts fletched in Tasaio's personal tricolours: Minwanabi black and orange, cut with a band of red for Turakamu.
Desio joined him as his battle servant retrieved arrows between rounds. Aware of the young Lord's approach for some time, Tasaio turned at precisely the correct moment and bowed. 'Good morning, my Lord cousin.'
Desio halted, panting from his climb up the hill. He inclined his head, wiped sweat from his pink brow, and regarded his taller cousin, who wore light hide armour studded with precious iron garnered as a war prize from the barbarian world. Tasaio wore no helm, and the breeze stirred his straight auburn hair, clipped short in a warrior's style. The bow in his hand was a recurve, lacquered shiny black and tasselled at each horn with orange silk. Politely Tasaio offered the weapon. 'Would you care to try a round?'
As yet too breathless for speech, Desio waved to decline.
Tasaio nodded and turned as the servant approached, a bin of recovered arrows in each hand. He bowed before his master. While he remained on his knees,