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The tribesmen sat their horses, facing Travis, watching him with the feral eyes of the wolves they claimed as forefathers, wolves that possessed the cunning of the wild, cunning enough not to rush breakneck into unknown danger. Travis walked forward. "Menlik, I would talk " There was an outburst from the horsemen, protests from Hulagur and one or two of the others.
But Travis was none too happy to have Deklay in on this. Travis dismounted, letting the pony push forward by himself to dip nose into the pool. "This is," Travis pointed politely with his chin "Menlik, one who talks with spirits.... Hulagur, who is son to a chief ... and Kaydessa, who is daughter to a chief. They are of the horse people of the north." He made the introduction carefully in English.
He studied the Tatar outlaws. There were five of them beside Hulagur, lean men, hard-faced, narrow-eyed, the ragged clothing of three pieced out with scraps of hide. Besides the swords with the curved blades, they were armed with bows, two to each man, one long, one shorter. One of the riders carried a lance, long tassels of woolly hair streaming from below its head.
Menlik, Hulagur, and Kaydessa were riding with Travis, offering him one of their small ponies to hurry the trip. He was still regarded warily by the Tatars, but he did not blame them for their cautious attitude. "Ah " A flicker of light from the point ahead. One ... two ... three flashes, a pause, then two more together. He had been read.
Hulagur not only did not understand, he was also impatient. He jerked at the rope with such sudden force that Travis was almost thrown. Then Kaydessa dragged as fiercely on the lariat in the other direction and burst into a soaring harangue which drew the rest of the men closer. Travis flexed his upper arms, and the slack gained by Kaydessa's action made the lariat give again.
Then over the lip of the other slope rose a wave of men their curved swords out, a glazed set to their eyes heading for the Amerindians with utter disregard for any personal safety. Menlik in the lead, his shaman's robe flapping wide below his belt like the wings of some oversized predatory bird. Hulagur ... Jagatai ... men from the outlaws' camp.
"Yes, we knew that if we could get beyond the machines, there was freedom for us. And we planned many of us planned. Then nine or ten sleeps ago those others were very excited. They gathered in their ship, watching their machines. And something happened. For a while all those machines went dead. "Jagatai, Kuchar, my brother Hulagur, Menlik...." She was counting the names off on her fingers.
"I come carrying this and not pulled by your ropes." He held up his bow in an exaggerated gesture so that Hulagur could understand. Coiling the lariat, the Mongol looked from the Apache bow to Travis. Slowly, and with obvious reluctance, he nodded agreement.
Payment was being extracted for long slavery. The Apaches dropped from the heights, waiting for Menlik to leave the wild scene. Hulagur had dragged out the body of the helmeted man and the Mongols were stripping off his equipment, smashing it with rocks, still howling their war cry. But the shaman came to the dying smudge fire to meet the Apaches.
Somewhere ahead was water, one of those oases of growth and life which pocked the whole mountain range to the preservation of all animals and all men. Menlik and Hulagur pushed on until their mounts were hard on the heels of the two ridden by the girl and Travis.
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