The Kingdom - Page 79/201

Her eyes turned merry and it seemed as she spoke that she was able to read minds along with lying convincingly, "I always have need of an extra sword hand to ensure the safety of my caravan's travel. Not to mention the joy I receive having pulled one over on a Thyanian. Tell me, what is it you did to bring the paranoid lot of them down upon you so hard?"

"I refused to honor a Prince's command."

She whistled softly in a very unladylike fashion. She was an attractive woman, but easily 20 years my senior. She looked me over thoroughly as she drew abreast of me on her camel. "Safe passage in return for safety. Is it a deal?"

"Deal," I said, having to give it little thought.

She smiled smugly and I immediately regretted the hastiness of agreeing to the assignment of being a caravan guard. My benefactor looked ahead and gestured to me as she said, "Bruton, see that the young man has a tent allotted to him when we camp."

"Yes, my Mistress Siryian," said a man of black skin color that would've easily made three of me.

The man was far from fat though. Quite simply, he was the strongest looking man I'd ever encountered. The camel he rode on was larger than the rest and for good reason.

Bruton gestured to me and then to the rear of the caravan and the meaning was clear. He wanted me to fall back to the rear of the column and join the rearguard.

Obediently I did as commanded. All along the way there I couldn't help but think I had just signed by life away. If we were attacked I would most likely be the first to go, positioned at the rear of the caravan. Such was the price of freedom.

I reached the rear of the caravan and joined the ranks of the rearguard. It was readily apparent that I might find my death by way of choking on dust before the blade of an enemy.

"What did you do to get put back here?" asked one of my fellow guardsman disinterestedly, as he made a pass with the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the sweaty grime off his face.

"I'm not quite sure."

"Well, you're here now. Welcome to the south end of a camel. The name's Thanuel and this is Jarken." Thanuel finished by gesturing to a short but powerfully built man, who was also sweating profusely from the heat of the day and the exertion of walking.

Jarken gave me a congenial enough word of welcome and I attempted to do the same, but found myself hacking on the dust. "Pleased to meet you," I said hoarsely after a moment.