Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

After Nathan shut the door, and business was finished, he turned to her. He had that twinkle in his eye. That lusty twinkle. His sly smile returned.

“Alone at last, my dear.”

Clarissa squealed and ran for the bed in mock fright.

45

“What do you think is going on?” Ann asked.

Zedd stretched his head up to try to see. It was hard to get much of a look past the wall of legs around them. The Nangtong spirit hunters jabbered orders, which he couldn’t understand, but some of the spears pointing down from the circle surrounding them settled on his shoulders, delivering an unequivocal message that he had better stay where he was.

He and Ann sat cross-legged on the ground, guarded by a ring of Nangtong, while others of them were sitting in conference a ways off with a party of Si Doak.

“They’re too far away to hear clearly, but even if we could hear them, it probably wouldn’t help much. I only speak a few words of Si Doak.”

Ann plucked a long blade of grass and wound it around a finger. She didn’t glance over at Zedd. They didn’t want to give their captors the idea that they were sane and capable of plotting.

Ann let out a high-pitched cackle, just to keep up appearances. “What do you know about these Si Doak?”

Zedd flapped his arms like a bird about to take to wing. “I know they don’t sacrifice people.”

A guard thunked a spear shaft on Zedd’s head, as if to discourage him from any ideas of flying off. Zedd howled with laughter, instead of cursing, which he was longing to do.

Ann glanced over out of the corner of her eye. “Beginning to reconsider your attitude about letting these Nangtong live as they wish?”

Zedd smiled. “If I wanted to let them live as they wish, we’d be in the spirit world by now. Just because you believe in letting wolves be, that doesn’t mean you have to let them eat your flock at will.”

She grunted to concede the point.

Off in the distance, beside a slight rise, the negotiations dragged on. About ten of the Nangtong and an equal number of the Si Doak sat cross-legged in a circle. The Nangtong counted out loud, accompanied by exaggerated arm movements. They pointed Zedd’s way. They made unintelligible but seemingly heartfelt speeches.

Zedd leaned toward Ann and whispered, “The Si Doak are peaceful enough, as far as I know; I’ve never heard of them making war or using force against neighbors, even weaker neighbors, but when it comes to matters of trade, they’re ruthless. Most people in this part of the wilds would just as soon bargain with a wolf. Other peoples teach their young people to fight; the Si Doak teach them to barter.”

Ann looked off in the other direction, as if disinterested. “What makes them so good at it?”

Zedd glanced up at their guards. They were all watching the bargaining, and paying little attention to the helpless prisoners.

“They have the rare ability to walk away from a deal. Others get their mind set on something and soon start settling for less, just to have a deal. The Si Doak won’t do that. They’ll simply walk. When need be, they’ll cut their losses without regret and move on to something else.”

One of the Si Doak, the one wearing a rabbit fur over his head, slapped a pile of blankets in the center of the circle. He pointed off to a small heard of goats and made an offer Zedd understood to include two of the animals.

The offer seemed to incense the Nangtong. Their chief negotiator leaped to his feet and stabbed his spear at the sky repeatedly, apparently to express his outrage at the low price. Zedd noted that he didn’t walk away. There was honor involved; the Nangtong had that much invested.

Zedd nudged Ann. He tilted his head back and howled like a coyote. Ann, getting the message, joined in. They both yelped and bayed as loud as they could.

The negotiators fell silent as they all looked toward the prisoners. The head Nangtong negotiator sat back down.

A thunk on both their heads silenced Zedd and Ann. Talking resumed over at the bartering session. A Nangtong emissary was sent to have a better look at the goats.

Zedd scratched his shoulder. The dry mud was getting uncomfortable. He guessed it was less uncomfortable than having his heart cut out, or his head cut off, or whatever it was the Nangtong did to sacrifices.

“I’m hungry,” he muttered. “They haven’t fed us all day. It’s near to mid-afternoon, and they haven’t fed us.”

He barked at his captors to show his displeasure. The negotiations halted for a moment while they once again looked toward the prisoners. The Si Doak all folded their arms and remained silent as they stared at the Nangtong.

The Nangtong quickly resumed talking, their tone changing, becoming conciliatory. Chuckling interspersed their casual chatter. The Si Doaks’ response was short and curt. The one with the rabbit skin on his head gestured toward the afternoon sun and then off toward his home.

The Nangtong man in charge pulled a blanket from the stack in the center and inspected it with grudging admiration. He passed the blanket to his fellows. They nodded with appreciation of its worth, as if just discovering it. The man sent to have a look at the goats returned with two. He showed them off to his associates, and they oohed and aahed, as if realizing for the first time that these goats were much more impressive than they had at first thought, and not at all the scraggly animals they had expected to find.

The Nangtong had apparently decided that, no matter what, they didn’t want to return home with the prisoners. Any useful commodities were better than two crazy people. They couldn’t very well send the spirits two crazy people. Any exchange for them was better than nothing, especially in view of the waning interest of the Si Doak.

The Si Doak remained stone-faced. The Nangtong had made a mistake; they had betrayed their need to sell what they had. There was nothing the Si Doak valued more than a motivated seller.

A price, whatever it was Zedd couldn’t tell, was suddenly agreed upon. The head Si Doak and the head Nangtong stood, hooked arms at the elbows, and turned around each other three times while so locked together. When they parted, both sides fell to happy chatter. A bargain had been struck.

The Nangtong started lifting blankets. The goats were tethered. The Si Doak headed for their prizes. The guards thunked Zedd and Ann on the head as the Si Doak approached, apparently in warning not to spoil the deal.

Zedd had no intention of spoiling the deal. The Si Doak didn’t sacrifice people. As far as he knew, they were gentle people; the worst punishment they dispensed to someone who committed a grievous wrong was banishment. A banished Si Doak sometimes starved to death because he was so heartsick at being sent from the only home he knew. A misbehaving child was set straight by everyone ignoring him for a day. It was a horrifying punishment to a Si Doak child, and resulted in best behavior for a good long time after.

Of course, Zedd and Ann weren’t members of the Si Doak community, so it was entirely possible, in fact probable, that such treatment didn’t extend to them.

Zedd leaned toward Ann and whispered, “I don’t think these people would hurt us, so keep that in mind. If they decide not to take us, the Nangtong may just slit our throats rather than have to suffer the humiliation of having to return with two crazy people.”

“First you want me to play in the mud, and now you want me to be a good little girl?”

Zedd smiled at her sarcasm. “Just until our new keepers take us away from the old.”

The Si Doak elder, the one with the rabbit fur over his

head, squatted before his new acquisitions. He reached out and felt Zedd’s arm muscles. He grunted disapprovingly. He felt Ann’s arms and made a sound as if pleased at what he found.

Ann lifted an eyebrow to Zedd. “Seems I’m more agreeable to them than a skinny old man.”

Zedd smiled. “I think they find you better suited as a human oxen. They’ll give you the hard work.”

Her satisfied expression vanished. “What do you mean?”

He shushed her. Another Si Doak squatted down beside the elder. He had goat antlers fixed to his head. He wore what had to be a hundred necklaces over his buckskin tunic. The necklaces, some hanging to his crotch, others tight at his throat, and the rest every length in between, held teeth, beads, bones, feathers, pottery shards, metal disks, gold coins, small leather pouches, and carved amulets. He was the Si Doak shaman.

The shaman took Zedd’s hand and gently held his arm out. He released it. Zedd let it drop. The shaman chattered his disapproval. Zedd understood enough to gather that he was supposed to hold his arm up. He didn’t let on that he understood any of the words, and instead let the shaman lift the arm out again, and use a hand signal to indicate he meant Zedd to hold it there.

While the Nangtong guards still held spears on the two prisoners, the shaman retrieved long, coiled stalks of grass from one of the pouches at his waist. He chanted as he wove the grass around Zedd’s wrist. When finished, he wove the grass around Zedd’s other wrist, and then did the same to Ann.

“Any idea what this is about?” she asked.

“It binds our magic. The Nangtong need do nothing to render our magic useless, but the Si Doak have to use some kind of magic of their own to suppress ours. This shaman is a man of magic. He has the gift. He’s something like the Si Doaks’ wizard.” Zedd glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Or maybe you could say he’s like the Sisters of the Light, with their collars. Like the collars, we won’t be able to get these wristbands off.”

Once they had the grass woven around their wrists, the Nangtong withdrew their weapons, picked up their portion of the blankets, collected their two goats, and quickly made good their escape.