Free The web of wizardry by Juanita Coulson Page A

people had become very still. The tribal chieftain leaped up, panting, his knife out for another attack. Before he could strike, Gordyan seized him by the nape and threw him back to the dust. It was as though he had chastened an unruly boy.
    "They say you have a message for the Rena?" Gordyan asked coldly. "The Siirn Rena is most interested in this message from Nurdanth. Bring your paper, and that fair roan." With that, the big man turned and waded into the mass of onlookers.
    After a bit of open-mouthed wonder, Danaer hastily retrieved his helmet and caught up his reins, running in Gordyan's wake. The man plowed through the mob of people, parting them with his immense bulk and daunting presence. Taking double steps to keep up with the man's long stride, Danaer ripped a tag of cloth

    from his mantle and with his teeth and good hand bound the crude bandage around his wound to staunch the blood. Now and then he tripped on rough ground, threading his way through tents and camps and trying to remain within escort distance of Gordyan.
    He had known, in theory, the expanse of Siank Zsed. But now he began to comprehend the folly of his mission. It had been only the will of the goddess that had allowed him to get this far. If Gordyan had not come to fetch him, he would not have come out aUve. The Zised was made up not only of clan tents but of tribal councils of awesome size. Household pavilions and fattening pens and makeshift warehouses held the Zsed's vast properties. Danaer was overwhelmed by the extent of it all. Now he saw Siank Zsed in the flower of its strength and himself as a midge thinking to plague this monster. Not courage but rashness had guided him, as desperation had made the General send him on the errand.
    The tents increased in grandeur as Gordyan proceeded to the center of the Zsed, the area reserved for the Siim. Here were the best water and grazing for the Siim's people and herds. The ground rose gradually, and Danaer followed Gordyan toward the Mghest point of the encampment. They approached a veritable palace of a tent, with golden hangings marking the many entryways. More warriors guarded the pavilion. Here odors of food and the warm scents of earth and grass and clean water overcame the common stench of human and animal offal and dung-chip smoke Which filled the lower Zsed. Somewhere close by there was music and singing and happy voices.
    The guards glanced at Danaer, gauging him, as befit warriors, protecting their Siim. Just as Gordyan reached the curtain at the main tent, he stopped so short that Danaer nearly collided with him. "Now, this message." He grasped for the paper wedged in the roan's bridle. Danaer was faster, holding the General's letter tightly. It had become his safe conduct. "Your pardon and your favor, but I have sworn to deliver it only into the hands of the Siirn."
    The big man glared down at him, his jaw thrust out

    belligerently. At last Gordyan grunted assent, gestured for Danaer to wait, then ducked out of sight behind the golden hangings.
    Gordyan reappeared, to bid him enter the tent. As Danaer brushed past him, the giant growled, "That message should be of much importance, lit."
    The pavilion was lit by costly oil lamps and tapers, and the luxury of its furnishings—caravan booty of the best—made Danaer blink. The interior tent walls were tapestries; cushions and tables and chests were of the finest make, fit for a lord's castle. Yet this was but an entranceway, not the quarters of the Siim and his people.
    More guards attended curtained doorways. Like those outside the tent, they were heavily armed against any invasion of the Siirn's privacy. And like those of Gordyan, their garments were vivid with the black and gold colors of the Siim Rena, the leader of all Destre-Y.
    "Here, soldier." Gordyan pulled aside drapes. Each compartment was more dazzling than the one before, and more brightly lit. At a final portal, curtained in silver threads, Gordyan slowed his pace, pausing,