Law of the Wolf Tower: The Claidi Journals Book 1 by Tanith Lee (black authors fiction txt) 📕

them, five men appeared, less than a quarter of a mile off.

I managed an especially unsuitable idiot question.

‘What are those?’

‘Horses,’ said Nemian. ‘And the others, on the horses, are the mad knife-men from the town.’

I noted no one was trying to start the sheep and chariot. Then I realized we’d never get away. For the bandits had seen us, and I saw their white grins flash, as all the buckles and bangles and buttons and knives were doing. They smacked the horses’ sides lightly, and these new beasts came racing at us, like a wind or a fire.

(I’ve never seen a horse before that. In the House the chariots were drawn by – you’ve guessed – slaves.

They’re rather beautiful, aren’t they, if you know horses. The long heads and the hair flowing back, just as the bandits’ long hair flowed back.)

In about ten seconds, so it seemed, there they were on the hillside with us, all reds and tans, and metal-and-tooth flash.

‘Couldn’t let you go,’ said one, ‘without saying Hi.’

They laughed. They had an accent, intense, guttural, and somehow extra threatening.

Their politeness was unsettling not because it wasn’t real, but because, as Nemian had said, they wouldn’t afford politeness.

Nemian, now, said nothing.

The Sheeper didn’t seem talkative either.

The horses were polished as any floor.

One of the bandits swung off his horse. He walked over on long legs.

‘Not from these parts?’

Nemian said, ‘No.’

‘South? Peshamba?’

Nemian said, ‘Yes, we’re heading for Peshamba.’

The bandit leaned on the side of our chariot, companionable. From inside his shirt he drew a small glassy thing, some sort of charm? He gazed down at it in silence, as if all alone. How odd. Another bandit, still mounted, craned over as if to see. This other one gave a sudden whoop (which made me jump). He drew out his (ghastly) knife and flipped it in the air, catching it gently in his teeth.

The bandit leaning on the chariot took no notice. He closed the charm in his fist and put it away. Then he looked straight into my eyes.

His were dark, like his long hair that hung to his waist. He was the colour of strong tea with a dash of milk. A colour that toned well with the horse he’d ridden. I’d thought he would be older. I never saw anyone so – I don’t know what to say – Terrible.

I shrank.

To my surprise, he at once looked away, and right at Nemian now.

‘Any money on you?’

‘Money,’ said Nemian.

‘They use it in Peshamba, or whatever big place you’re headed for,’ helpfully explained the bandit.

‘You want some money,’ guessed Nemian. From one of his host of pockets he took a flat leather case, and offered it to the bandit.

The bandit accepted it, opened it.

The bandit and I both stared with curiosity at the weird turquoise-green leaves of paper which were revealed.

Then the dark eyes glanced at me sidelong. I felt sick and sidled back.

‘Right,’ said the bandit. ‘Well I can’t use this.’ (He sounded as if he was saying it wasn’t good enough!) ‘Any coins?’

‘Sorry,’ said Nemian. He didn’t seem worried. Just well-mannered and willing to talk, as though the mad bandit killers were perfectly normal people met in a garden.

One of the other bandits, (not the one with the knife) called, ‘Tell the tronker to shake out his coat. And what’s that bird got hidden?’

Tronker? Bird?

The chariot-leaning bandit gave him a casual look.

‘I don’t think they’re good for much,’ he pityingly said. Oh, we’d let him down properly.

‘Come off it, Argul,’ said the other bandit. ‘She’s all right, that bird, eh?’ (Ah. The ‘bird’ was me.)

All the old tales raced through my bubbling mind. Horrible stories, with death at the end of them.

But I glared up at the talking bandit on the horse. I felt so terrified I thought I was going to be sick or cry, but instead I screamed at him, ‘You touch me and I’ll bite your nose off!’

There was a shocked silence.

Then all at once they all burst out laughing.

This included the chariot-leaning bandit, the other four bandits, and Nemian. Nemian!

Even the Sheeper was smiling – perhaps thinking we’d all now be best friends.

And I was appalled. What had I said – done—

Nevertheless my fingers had curled. My nails felt strong and sharp. How revolting it would be to bite that bandit – but my teeth were snapping.

I’d slapped Jade Leaf, I’d escaped the House. I won’t be stopped, not any more.

The bandit called Argul shifted away from the chariot. ‘Better watch out,’ he told the other bandits, ‘she means what she says.’ He handed the leather container with money back to Nemian. ‘I can see,’ said Argul to Nemian, ‘you’ve got enough on your hands with that bird you’ve got there. She scares me all right.’

‘Yes, yes,’ warbled the other bandits, ‘he’s got real problems there.’

Then the bandit leader spun round, ran at his horse, so I thought he meant to knock it right over, and leaped – leaped – up the side of it, as if it were only a little still rock.

Next second he was astride the horse. And unruffled, the horse looked down at me from a dark smooth eye.

‘So long,’ cheerfully called the bandits, ‘have a lovely day!’ as they galloped away back down the hill.

We didn’t get to the hill village until late in the afternoon.

Nemian said nothing about the bandits. He had said all he wanted, earlier, when he told me they were mad.

Somehow I kept thinking they’d appear again, mad minds changed, to rob, terrify, shame and slaughter us. They didn’t.

We had some sheep cheese and lettuce and some beer. I got hiccups.

I was fed up. In a mood, as Daisy used to say.

The sky turned deep gold and we rumbled over yet one more hilltop, and there was the village. It wasn’t a thrilling sight. Huddles of lopsided huts all over the place, a huge rambling rubbish tip you could smell from far off. Dogs wandered, snarling. A few sullen human faces were raised to