no one takes a runner seriously if his oil is rancid or the robes he sheds at the line are tattered or dirty？〃 That particular example was one I'd been guilty of and rued ever since。
Janos bared his teeth。 〃I would wager you are holding up a mirror to their thoughts。 And I agree。 Continue。 You hold the speaker's glass。〃 Even in that fearful； sun…blazed moment； I admired Janos' ability to hold his tongue； rather than burst out with the obvious ideas that were occurring。
〃This night；〃 I said。 〃You； me； Sergeant Maeen； one other。 Each man with someone to guard his back； as I've seen you train the Praetorians。〃
Janos was taken aback。 〃But the others…〃
〃No。 Let the others play roles as sheep； so there can be no possibility of mistake。 You； Evocator； must stay with them。 We need a spell like you cast before 。。。 Uncertainty。 Or something like it。〃 I remembered what Janos had said in the armorer's shop about sorcery on the battlefield； but thought this might be different。 My plan bore no more semblance to battle … if it worked … than the slavers' attack on us in two or three days would。
〃Better than uncertainty；〃 Janos suggested； 〃can you manage a spell that might suggest terror at the right moment？ Such as a peasant might feel when a lightning storm strikes in midsummer out of a clear sky？〃
〃Once I am aware of what； exactly； Lord Antero's plans are；〃 Cassini said with acerbity； 〃I can e up with devices fully as subtle and sophisticated as any you have； in your own field； which I would never have the temerity to interfere with。〃
Janos held back the urge to snap a retort。 〃Very well。 Four of us； eh？ The best time will be 。。。 just after moonset； which will give us a sufficient amount of time before dawn。 Tinderboxes 。。。 we'll scrape tar from our animals' packs； soften it in the fire； and smear our bird arrows with it。 Once inside the oasis； we will take brands from their own fire to light their deaths 。。。〃 And his muttering became inaudible as he filled out my plan。
When the moon went down； the four of us crept out； equipped as Janos had planned； plus we each carried short； thrusting spears。 Sergeant Maeen had chosen the hot…tempered Lione as our fourth； saying his quickness to violence was exactly what we needed here。
In the oasis three fires still burned； indicating the nomads' camp； at least there was no danger of our being lost。 We circled until we were a quarter arc away from our camp； then we struck for the oasis。 The place was parklike； with thick brush and palms stretching up； but with little grass or vines to trip and snare。 We found one of the winding paths that travelers had worn between the water pools and the open areas suitable for campsites； and padded toward the nomads。 Janos had told me to keep my gaze away from their fire； to avoid losing my night eyes； but it was hard。 It also became difficult to see objects between us and fireglow the closer we got to die camp。 I stumbled in mud and nearly fell into one of the pools； but the sergeant steadied me。 Then his hand forced me down； into a kneel。 I saw a bulk ahead of us that was not one of the palms but a sentry。 Another bulk closed on it； and I heard a 〃Hunh！〃； just the sound of a man who's been punched below his lungs。 Janos let the sentry sag down； and I saw steel glitter as he pulled his dagger out of the body。
Now we were on the fringes of their camp。 Janos waved us up。 We crouched； hidden by brush； and looked at the camp。 There were two tents that looked as if they could hold ten men or so each。 That would be； I guessed； where the nomads slept。 Stretched out on the ground； between the banked fire and the tents； were sleeping men and women。 I saw the gleam of metal and followed the chains from person to person。 The slavers had already found part of their 〃flock；〃 evidently。 There was a half…awake man guarding the slaves； and another guard as well； who stood outside a small conical tent。 I guessed it would belong to the nomads' leader。
I shuddered as if a chill wind had blown across my soul and felt my invisible being wandering in a dark desert； a desert filled with great beasts I would rather have slaughter me unknowing than show their ghastliness openly in my final moment。 Cassini's spell was working。
Maeen and Janos nocked war arrows； while Lione and I uncovered our tinderboxes； blew sparks into a low flame； and held our tarred arrows into them。 Flame 。。。 and Janos hissed。 Bowstrings twanged 。。。 just as arrows hit with that solid and most final thunk。 The sentries dropped without cry。 Lione and I loosed our fire arrows at the tents； and Maeen and Janos quickly followed suit。 Then we rose and charged。
Baldly written on white linen； these events might make me seem guilty of being either suicidal or a lie maker。 Nothing could be further from the truth。 Imagine yourself a desert nomad； sleeping peacefully； and perhaps dreaming of how you are about to reap a rich harvest of foolish merchants out there in the desert。 Then screams 。。。 flames 。 。。 raw fear shatters down at you 。。 。 you seize your sword 。。。 and stumble out of your tent。。。 and are confronted with four howling demons。 A spearthrust ing out of the night； dropped； then blood…dripping swords slashing； constantly moving； like desert dust devils with deathsteel in one hand； gouting fire from torches taken from your own fire setting your tents ablaze。 Now； with those terrible facts in front of you； might you not do as those slavers did？ Might you not also drown out our howls with your own screams and pelt away into the night？ And might not the gruesome sight of six of your rades' disemboweled corpses lend speed to your feet as you fled into the desert？
I was beside that conical tent； sword ready for the killing lunge； when the flaps came open； I thought it fitting that the nomad chieftain meet his death at my hands； but as I braced to strike； a woman stumbled out into the firelight。 I now thank the gods I was not then the warrior Janos or Maeen were； nor die warrior I myself became later。 I was slow enough in launching my attack to catch myself； and my sword tip went wide。 The chief's concubine； I thought； and then I saw； in the fire flicker； the silver that cuffed each of her wrists and stretched between。 Another poor captured being； destined for slavery。
The woman was young； and she wore the puffed shirt and baggy trousers of a man。 Her black hair dropped in waves to her shoulders。 I noticed； as if we were standing in the midday sun and I had a god's time to appreciate； that she wore gold and the sparkle of gems at her throat。 She was also quite beautiful。
〃Who are…〃 we each asked at the same moment； or at least I guessed we did； because the woman spoke in an unknown tongue。 I said something about 〃rescuers；〃 and she seemed to understand。 She looked beyond me； I turned and saw the rest of our soldiers run into the firelight。 Among them was Cassini。 The slaves were on their feet now； and Janos and Maeen moved among them。 Maeen had found keys and was unlocking their chains。 Janos preferred the direct approach and used his great blade to pry the chain links apart。
The woman saw something and walked past me； paying no heed to the bloody sword in my hand She walked to one of dead nomad bodies that lay face up and bent over it。 I recognized dead man…he was the band's chieftain。 Very deliberately the woman spat in his face； laughed harshly； and said something else in her own language。
〃Janos！〃 He freed the last of the captives and came to me。 He pulled firewood from a pile and tossed it into the flames； they roared up。 The captives seemed bewildered。
Janos tried Trader's Tongue。 Only one man seemed to understand； and that very slightly； so Janos began motioning； trying to make his signs universal； as he spoke。
〃You are free〃…casting aside one of the chains…〃we must go on 。。。 we travel east〃…tapping chest and indicating…〃you must e with us 。。。 slavers will return 。。。 tomorrow〃…motioning to the other darkness and arcing his hand like the sun rising…〃with more men 。。。 more weapons〃… again； the chain； and then fingers spread； spread； spread again； showing numbers。 〃e with us 。。。 you are free。〃
The men and women looked at each other； hesitant。 No one moved。 Finally； the b