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Ennar, disconcerted by the too-quick success of his attack, was unprepared for this. Ross rolled, trying to escape steel-fingered hands, his own chopping out in edgewise blows, striving to serve Ennar as he had Tulka.
The faces of both men were smeared with dust and when the others sighted the body they, too, rubbed dust into their cheeks, reciting a string of words and going one by one to touch the dead chieftain's right hand. Ennar, resigning his burden to the others, slid from his tired horse and stood for a long moment, his head bowed.
Fortunately, his hands were bound so he was able to grasp the coarse, wiry mane and keep his seat after a fashion. The nose rope of his mount was passed to Tulka, and Ennar rode beside him with only half an eye for the path of his own horse and the balance of his attention for the prisoner. They headed northeast, with the mountains as a sharp green-and-white goal against the morning sky.
Ross did not know why he cried out, except that Foscar had only an ax and dagger which were both still sheathed at his belt. The chief sat very still, and then his horse gave a swift sidewise swerve as if in fright. Foscar collapsed, limp, bonelessly, to the trodden turf, to lie unmoving face down. Ennar whooped, a cry combining defiance and despair in one.
Though Ross's sense of direction was not too acute, he was certain that they were making for the general vicinity of the hidden village, which he believed the ship people had destroyed. He tried to discover something of the nature of the contact which had been made between the aliens and the horsemen. "How find other chief?" he asked Ennar.
He charged, stooping low in a wrestler's stance, but Ross squatted even lower. One hand flicked to the churned dust of the ground and snapped up again, sending a cloud of grit into the tribesman's face. Then their bodies met with a shock, and Ennar sailed over Ross's shoulder to skid along the earth. Had Ross been fresh, the contest would have ended there and then in his favor.
"They want slave back it is so." "My people strong too, much magic," Ross pushed. "Take me to bitter water and they pay much more than stranger chief!" Both tribesmen were amused. "Where bitter water?" asked Tulka. Ross jerked his head to the west. "Some sleeps away " "Some sleeps!" repeated Ennar jeeringly.
He was content merely to be free of his bonds, a small favor, but one he savored dully. He did not know how long the debate lasted, but at length Ennar came to stand over him with a message. "Your chief he give many good things for you. Foscar take you to him." "My chief is not here," Ross repeated wearily, making a protest he knew they would not heed. "My chief sits by the bitter water and waits.
They seemed to be talking, though there was still a good distance separating the mounted man and the blue suits. Minutes passed before Foscar's arm raised in a wave to summon the party guarding Ross. Ennar kicked his horse to a trot, towing Ross's mount behind, the other two men thudding along more discreetly.
In the end, Ennar summoned two slaves who dragged Ross into the open where a council assembled about a fire. A debate was in progress, sometimes so heated that the speakers fingered their knife or ax hilts when they shouted their arguments.
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