Free The Quest of Kadji by Lin Carter Page A

retreat now, dragging their dead away to be devoured at leisure and in safety from these strange beings who fought and slew so terribly, not only with cutting steel, which they knew all about, but with miniature bolts of purplish lightning, which were frightening and wholly new to their experience.
    One wolf there was that did not flee; indeed, he seemed to be fighting on their side, and came trotting back after the others had been driven away. And Kadji thought he knew that grey phantom with burning gold eyes, and turned to its master with a thrilling surmise, to see who it was be had rescued from the ravening fangs. And found himself staring into the white, tense, but beautiful face of a young slim girl with eyes of smoky and amberous gold, under a flying banner of flame-red hair.
    iv. Thyra
    HE MUST have called her name aloud in his surprise, for she turned curious eyes upon him.
    “You seem to know my name, warrior,” she said in a clear voice like a pure golden bell. “But I know you not . . . unless . . . yes! I have seen you before; in Nabdoor, was it not, although you were dressed differently then—”
    “So were you!” he returned, and she laughed, a lovely sound.
    “So I was, come to think of it! But then you went robed in an Ushamtar kuruz , with leggings, and girdle, and belled cap . . . whereas now you look more like one of the Kozanga clansmen than any Ushamtar . . .|”
    Kadji grinned; upon quitting Khôr he had thrown off the Ushamtar garments and donned his true tribal raiment, which fortunately he had concealed in Haral’s saddlebags against discovery.
    “I am Kadji the Red Hawk, the son of Goraky the Tall, who was the son of Zarouk the Lord Chief of the Chayyim Kozanga Nomads,” he said proudly. “And I have seen you—you three times: once in Nabdoor, when you went in ragged scarlet like a wench of the Perushka; the second time in the streets of Khôr, when you went in the fine silks of an Imperial princess; and the third time in the great halls of the Khalidûr, when you looked upon the naked face of him men believe to be Yakthodah the Holy Dragon. Emperor . . . but whom both you and I know to be a vile and villainous impostor!”
    Her eyes widened in incredulous amazement, and he laughed in a gush of loud, boyish humor at her expression. But she did not contradict him—it was obvious that she was following the flight of Shamad, too, for she had looked on the face of the dead man and must have known, even as had Kadji and Akthoob, that he was not the True Emperor.
    Before she could speak, the little Easterling, whining and snuffling, spoke up miserably.
    “The snow falls heavier and yet more heavy, and we sit here talking as if ‘twere the balmy breezes of spring caressing our frozen ears, and not winter’s bitter blasts,” he complained. “Can we not bundle our saddle-blankets together into some fashion of tent, to shield us against the blizzard?”
    “There is no need,” Thyra offered quickly “I have a small tent stored on my mare, and collapsible tent-poles. If we all work together, perchance we can put it up, even in this heavy snow . . . and then we can rest and talk in comfort.”
    THE TENT was not easily erected in the rising gale, cumbered with the weight of thick-falling snow; but at length, and with much exertion, it was erected, and proved surprisingly capacious, although once three horses, three people, and an enormous grey wolf had entered and the tent flap was sealed against the wind, it was somewhat crowded.
    Thyra’s plans seemed to have been made far in advance, as if she had received some premonition of Shamad’s flight and the rising of the kugars . For the wicker-work pannier her mare had borne disgorged other supplies besides the tent: food and drink, and even a. shallow porcelain dish of charcoal, which Akthoob set aflame with a solemn magical Word and a mystic sign of his left hand. As the baking warmth of the ruddy charcoal steamed his garments dry and thawed