The Mink has come to the bright sun's light,
His pick is lifted high;
He hears the gentry's whooping yell,
And sees them gallop by.
"Now all too long we've felt the yoke,
And cringed and fawned and died!
'Tis time we turned upon the squire,
To skin his rotten hide!"
--Ruck's Ballad of the Mink
Revel was sitting beside the hole in the wall, now filled with rocks, of
course; he had replaced the four small guns in his belt and found, by
breaking open the chest they'd lain on, a number of boxes of ammunition,
with which he'd stuffed his pockets. Experiment had shown him how to
load, and tradition of the ruck told him that to shoot, one pointed the
end at something (or someone, he told himself grimly) and pulled the
small curved projection. The woman should have helped him, but she was
sulking in a corner, weeping. She had not wept an hour before!
He wondered if he were the first rucker to hold a gun. Surely the first
to have four such tiny weapons, at least.
He heard voices from beyond the wall, filtering in, oddly distorted,
through the air spaces between rocks. That was Jerran.
"Yes, he came down here, and threatened me with his pick all dripping
yellow, said he'd killed a lot of gods. Crazy, that's what he was!"
Jerran's voice broke, a neat bit of acting. "Sure there's an emotion
trail! You think I wasn't scared of that maniac? Wasn't he excited? He
stayed here a minute and then left again."
That was clever. Jerran had explained away the psychic scent left by the
Lady Nirea. He must be talking to a god. But another voice spoke now,
and Revel sat up, thinking, The gods don't make sounds!
"Was there a girl with him, a girl of the gentry in a silver gown?"
"No, Lord Ewyo--" it was her father, then!--"he was alone."
"He may have hidden her body somewhere," said a heavy voice. Rack, by
the Orbs, Revel's brother Rack! "He's turned violent today."
"I understand he's your brother?" said Ewyo.
"Aye. A strong violent man, but worse today than ever he's been."
"No rucker would dare harm Lady Nirea," whined Jerran.
"No rucker should dared have touched her," barked the squire. Then, his
voice respectful, he asked, "Can you tell me if she's dead, priest?"
There was a croak like a bull-frog's, a chugarum with words in it. "She
lives."
"Where?"
Revel sucked in his breath. If the priest could see all, as they'd been
taught, he was doomed. Then, before any other voices beyond the wall
could speak, Nirea--he had been a muddleheaded and drooling fool not to
seal her mouth--Nirea screamed. "In here, father! Tear down the
barricades!"
Revel was on her in two bounds and hit her a crack on the jaw, a vicious
blow that sprawled her into a pile of clay tablets (inscribed with
writing she had refused to read to him), dead to the world. Then Revel
was at the hole, waiting tensely with a gun in his hand.
"What can lie in the rocks?" he heard Jerran say. "The voice was a
ghost's."
"Hold your tongue," roared Ewyo. "You'll make a fox for the hunt, small
yellow man!"
* * * * *
A gap appeared. "Look in there," said Ewyo, and a head came thrusting
in, the head of a squire's servant topped with the distinctive peaked
cap and green ear flaps. Revel could not shoot a rucker. He hit the man
full in the mouth, and the head disappeared with a howl.
"Tear them down, he's in there. We'll let the zanphs harry him a bit,"
said Ewyo. "Hear that, rebel?"
"Send in your zanphs," yelled Revel, grinning. "Let 'em come in,
squire!"
The gap grew. Up over the rocks charged a zanph, its six legs scrabbling
frantically, its snake's head darting back and forth to search him out.
He let it see him and utter its war cry, a hiss that became a growl.
Then he pointed the gun's muzzle at its face and calmly pulled the
curved metal below the barrel. There was a crash as of a mountain
falling; dust rained on him from the roof, echoes raged together; and
the zanph, its skull fragmented all over four yards of floor, sank to
the furred belly and slowly rolled over.
[Illustration]
"Send me a globe!" roared Revel, delirious with glee. "Send me a god,
Ewyo!"
There was silence beyond the wall; then the priest croaked, "He has a
gun. Certainly this is more than a matter of a kidnapped daughter,
Ewyo!"
Jerran's voice rose in a laugh. "It is, Lord Ewyo, it is!"
What the hell did the old fellow mean? Revel shrugged. He'd learn later.
Now was the time for action.
Going to the prostrate girl, he slung her over his shoulder, a limp
light weight. The tattered silver gown flapped as he walked to the hole.
"Stand back," he cried. "I'm bringing your daughter to you, Squire!"
Another zanph showed its horrible reptilian head; he blasted it out of
existence with another shot. There were outcries from the squire and his
servants, and the priest rumbled, "Sacrilege!"
Rack's head showed between the rocks. "Calm down, boy," he said, his
staring walleye gleaming in the lantern light. "You've been living too
fast--"
"Not fast enough, Redbeard. Out of the way!"
Rack slowly withdrew, and after kicking a few more boulders from his
path, Revel stooped and went out into the tunnel.
"At him!" croaked the priest, a thin man in a radiant blue-green robe,
the double scalp lock waving like twin plumes on his shaven head. "Pull
him down!"
"Ewyo dies if I'm touched," said Revel coolly, pointing the handgun at
the squire's belly.
"Kill him--with that little thing?" said the priest. His voice seemed to
come out of the ground, not from such a gaunt frame as his. "You bluff,
rucker."
"Look at your zanphs if you think so." He glared at them. There was
Ewyo, burly in peach satin and white silk, his long-skirted coat pushed
back from a lace shirt, skin-tight pants held by knee-high black boots,
a cabbage rose thrust into his cocked hat. There was the priest, lean
and savage beneath two hovering globes. Three servants of the squire,
Jerran and Rack made up the rest.
"Come here, Jerran," he ordered. Smiling lazily, the little man ambled
over. "Take a couple of these miniature guns from my belt. They're
loaded. You point them--"
"I can use a gun," said Jerran, "though I never had my hands on one this
size."
"They came to us from the Ancient Kingdom," Revel told him.
"Ah," said Jerran, nodding as he pulled two guns from the big man's
waistband. "I thought they might have. The ballads say they used such
weapons. Everyone carried 'em." He faced the squire, and his small body
appeared to swell and toughen as he went on. "Lord Ewyo, please to
precede us with your servants and that feather-brained priest. We'll go
to the ladders."
* * * * *
Ewyo grunted. Orders from a rucker, to him, _him_, the greatest
landholder in Dolfya! But after another glance at the mutilated zanph,
he turned and walked down the tunnel.
"Wait a minute," said Revel, but Jerran turned to him with a face as
hard and ruthless as a woods lion's. "Shut up, lad," he said. "I'll
handle 'em. You just tend to the wench. She's awake, in case you didn't
know."
He knew now, for she had just bitten him on the rump. He hoisted her a
little higher and absently smacked her buttocks. "Lie quiet, damn you."
She lay quiet. He went on marveling at Jerran's commanding new presence,
but said nothing. He was behind a born leader now.
Jerran said, "Priest, tell your gods to stop trying to get at my mind.
I've shut it off from 'em. You follow Ewyo."
The priest turned on his heel. The servants scuttled after their lord,
and Rack sat down on a rock and pulled at his beard, looking thoughtful.
"I don't think it'd be overstating it," he said mildly, "to tell you two
you're in trouble."
"So are the gentry, brother," Revel answered.
"That'll be seen. Well," Rack said, squinting his good eye, "I'll be
seeing you. Or not, as the case may be."
"Come along," said Jerran, and walked off, followed by Revel with the
Lady Nirea.
Ewyo had vanished. His servants, uncertain, were grouped under the
ladder, and the priest was mounting up, his radiant robe billowing to
show scrawny, hairless legs. The two gods lifted through the murk.
"Ewyo," said Revel, and Jerran interrupted. "Is gone. Did you expect to
hold him captive, lad?" He shook his yellow skull. "Too much trouble for
two men. Up you go."
Revel sprang at the ladder and was soon crowding the heels of the
priest. That worshipful man reached the top of the ladder, turned and
knelt and thrust his face into Revel's. It was a vicious face,
hawk-nosed and mean. Now it barred his way, gloating openly.
"You're dog-meat, rebel. A shame to kill the Lady Nirea with you, but
the gods order it." He reached out a hand and planted it firmly on
Revel's face.
Hanging to the rung with his left hand, balancing the girl on the left
shoulder, Revel shot up his right and gripped the priest's wrist and
heaved up and back, ducking his head at the same time.
The robed man flew into space with a screech.
"Look out below!" roared Revel, and, chuckling, he finished his climb
and gave a hand to Jerran. "Where now?" From far below came the crunch
of a carcass landing at the foot of the ladders, on the lowest level of
the mine shaft. "One less priest!"
"Follow me, lad," said Jerran, and dashed for the entrance. There was no
god on duty there, but the two that had accompanied the priest were
mounting into the buttoned sky.
The girl was light on his shoulder, a delicious burden, he thought. He
hoped he could keep her. Just how, or where, he did not bother to
consider. Things were moving too fast for plans, at least plans about
women.
* * * * *
Jerran led him up over the crest of the hill above the mine. Beyond lay
the uncharted forests of Kamden. He had hunted mink and set rabbit
snares on the edges of it since boyhood, but had never seen its depths.
So far as he knew, no man had.
As they started toward the wood, the beat of hoofs became audible in the
quiet countryside. Revel couldn't see the horses, but he began to run,
easily and fast, with Lady Nirea bobbing and swearing on his shoulder.
Jerran kept pace.
Then they came up over the rim of the hill behind him, a pack of the
gentry on their huge fierce stallions, with a couple of hundred-pound
hunting dogs in advance, baying and yapping. The old terrifying viewing
call rose: "Va-yoo hallo! Va-yoo hallo allo-allo!" Thousands of the ruck
had heard the whooping cry moments before their grisly deaths. Revel
tightened his grip on the perfect legs of Nirea, and pounded on. He'd
ditch her if need be, but as long as he could hang on to her, by
Orbs....
The forest was closer. He could pick out individual trees, oak and
silver birch and poplar, standing thick in the matted carpet of thicket
and trash. A broad trail opened to the left.
"That way," gasped Jerran, pointing.
"The horses can follow down that road!"
"Don't argue--damn you--lad--just run!"
The gentry came yelling in their wake. A gun banged. Were they shooting
at him? Not with the woman slung down his back. The priests might
sacrifice a squire's daughter without a murmur, but no gentryman ever
harmed a gentrywoman under any circumstances. It was likely a warning.
That was why they kept whistling the dogs back, too, for the enormous
brutes could rip a human to scarlet rags in twenty seconds, and not even
a squire's command stopped them once they'd tasted blood.
He had reached the trees and the wide path. He plunged into it, Jerran
beside him; the older man was panting heavily now, but running as
strongly as ever. "A little behind me, Revel," he husked out. "See you
follow me close."
Jerran knew where he was headed ... Revel surrendered all initiative to
him. The ground thundered beneath him to the pounding of the horses. He
looked back as he ran. They were almost upon him, gay and gaudy in their
scarlet, green, fawn and purple hunting clothes; their faces were
bloodless, malevolent, and entirely without pity. Several of them
carried guns, the long clumsy weapons handed down to them by their
grandfathers from the time, a hundred years past, when gun-making was
still a known art. Ramrods were fitted below the barrels and the muzzles
flared like lilies. He'd back his new-found little guns of the Ancient
Kingdom against any such heavy instrument.
Jerran dived into what seemed a solid mass of brambles. Revel shifted
the girl and bent to follow; at that instant she grabbed the back of his
thigh and wrenched with all her might. He had been carrying her too low
again. The tug was just enough to throw him off balance, and rucker and
lady sprawled on the forest pathway, entangled together, struggling
frantically to rise, as the giant stallions of the gentry bore down upon
them.