Chapter 17

As the sun dropped behind the western hills, a quiet exodus left vacant the stilted lodges around the rim of the Chakcha fields. Silent women filed swiftly along well marked trails, the last in each line carefully removing the markers as she went. Just as silently, a small group moved the other direction, on their way to steal the ponies that Chakcha city's small army relied upon for swift movement.

"This way," Riggan gestured. The shelka, as the Chakcha ponies were called, were stabled in pairs of low barns just outside each of the city's four gates. He walked boldly up to the door of the nearest stable and noisily rattled the latch.

"Who's there?" The voice from inside the stable was sleepy, surly.

"Let me in! I've got a message from the King."

"What? What's this about a message?" The upper half of the door swung open and a tousled head poked out. The man's eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. Before he could do more than frame a protest, a club in the hand of a hairy woman met the side of his head. A meaty thunk, and he collapsed with a tired sigh.

"Good work, Kinna." Riggan swung the door wide. "All right, bring out the shelka. We'll just tie this fellow up and chuck him back into his nice warm bed."

The ponies were led out into the night where they were silently led away by a few of the women. Six more stables were just as easily raided, and at the last one Riggan and Kinna mounted ponies and trotted off to catch up with the rest of their squad. Hearing a confused hubbub from up ahead they reined in where a squad of soldiers stood surrounded by shaggy ponies.

"What's going on here? Who's driving these shelka this time of night?" The squad leader was almost hopping up and down with frustration.

"All right, soldier. What's going on here?" Riggan's voice held a calm assumption of authority that brought the soldier to attention instantly.

"I don't know, sir. We were marching along when we were suddenly surrounded by these shelka. One of my men said he saw someone driving them, but now we can't find anyone."

"Bring your men over here, clear of the shelka. I think we can figure this out."

"Yes, sir. All right, men. Follow me!" The squad dogtrotted over to where Riggan calmly got down from his pony to meet him. "Now then, sir, can you tell us what this is all about? Hey, you're Prince!" He stopped talking abruptly as a dozen or so small hairy women rose from the ditches along both sides of the road. They stood silently, pointing strange looking weapons at him and his men. Kinna moved from behind Riggan, holding her crossbow centered on the decan's chest.

One of the soldiers, contemptuous of any danger from this bunch of farm women, leaped at Riggan, swinging his club wildly. Kinna jumped between them, accidentally pressing the release of her weapon. It jolted in her hands, then everything went up in a swirl of lights as the club glanced off her head.

When she regained consciousness her head felt like someone was still pounding on it. She moaned weakly, then realized that strong arms held her on the back of a pony.

"It's all right, little one," Riggan soothed. "You just got a nasty bump on the head."

"Did Did Kinna kill soldier?"

"Not that one. He'll have a sore shoulder for a while, is all." Riggan's voice held a note of amused wonder, as though he was seeing her in a new light. "Do you realize, little Kinna, that you may have saved my life?"

She just sighed and nestled her aching head closer to his chest for the rest of the ride.

Morning dawned crisp and clear over the city and castle of the Chak, but the early morning calm disintegrated into noisy chaos as messengers scurried back and forth between the castle and the soldiers' barracks. Runners from the barracks ran to the castle to report missing ponies. On the way they met runners from the castle going to rouse the soldiers to search for the missing King Norgan. In the midst of the confusion, foremen from the fields straggled in to report that none of their field workers had appeared.

Eventually, longunused emergency plans were brought out and dusted off. Soon after, squads of foot soldiers were tentatively probing the edges of the forest. Almost immediately, one of the squads came dashing back out of the trees. Their sentan, commander of ten squads, met them a few hundred paces out into the fields.

"What's wrong with squad three, Decan? Speak up, Thirskel!"

"It's the missing women, Sentan Dorvik sir. They're throwing some kind of darts at us. Two of my men are hurt pretty bad!"

"Bring them over here and let me have a look at them."

The two men, one limping with an arrow through his leg, the other holding an arrowpierced arm, were brought before him.