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Barsoom Tales II: Romance, Revolution and BLOODY REVENGE!!! -- COMPLETE
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<blockquote data-quote="barsoomcore" data-source="post: 3663517" data-attributes="member: 812"><p><strong>Another Fine Mess: 3</strong></p><p></p><p>"The truth is, my friends, that only my brother Achmed knows where the gold is."</p><p></p><p>Tariq beamed around at his guests as the setting sun emblazoned his tent. Outside, riding gallos rasped at each other, rattling their hobbles as they shifted, restless and surly. Some group of herders were sharing songs off at the edge of the camp, their ululating voices lending a quiet undercurrent to the conversation.</p><p></p><p>Out beyond the tent flap, the flat surface of the tall mesa they sat atop lay steady beneath a whirling flow of dust devils, shimmering like a curtain before the vista of the endless desert far beyond.</p><p></p><p>Etienne leaned forward, his brow knotted in cautious suspicion. Sand crusted on his dark leather garb. He toyed restless with the hilt of a dagger at his belt.</p><p></p><p>"Your brother Achmed who was captured by the Kishaks only days ago."</p><p></p><p>Elena sniffed.</p><p></p><p>"Tragically captured, I think he said."</p><p></p><p>She had to give it to Tariq; the man was utterly without scruples. There was no chance of them getting those guns back now. They sat surrounded by his warriors, and Elena knew that it was only their tenuous connection to the infamous del Maraviez family that had kept them alive thus far. One false move could doom them all.</p><p></p><p>"And you're afraid to go rescue him?"</p><p></p><p>To Elena's surprise, it was Nevid who had spoken. He studied Tariq with the same intensity he'd been studying the rowboat seat earlier, and Elena wondered just what the dreams he'd had were about.</p><p></p><p>Tariq simply stared in disbelief at the slim young man. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.</p><p></p><p>"I, Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait, afraid? Impossible! Afraid. You do not understand the insult, civilized fool, and so I forgive you this once. God wishes us to be generous to our guests."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin scowled.</p><p></p><p>"God also wishes us to sacrifice our own lives for our brother's. Do you forget the passage from the Sayings: 'For he who gives up all that God has given to him for the sake of another is redeemed by God and made a prince in His grace'?"</p><p></p><p>It had been over a year since Arrafin had studied scripture, but her mind was not one to let quotations or facts drop aside. Her anger at Tariq's theft and his carefree manner with religious dogma made her smoulder with suppressed fury as she glared at the man.</p><p></p><p>At last Tariq betrayed a flash of irritation. He scowled at Arrafin.</p><p></p><p>"Do not trouble me with scholar's jibes, girl. I have the scars of seventeen Kishak sabres on my body. God has granted me strength to slay eighty-one of those red bastards, and I pray he will send more my way!"</p><p></p><p>He raised his hand in a devout gesture and the warriors around him cried out in joyous uplift.</p><p></p><p>"Then why not rescue your brother?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq spat and stood, towering over Arrafin and her friends where they sat on the rug. He shook his fist at them.</p><p></p><p>"Why not? You ask me why not? The Kishak lapdogs are fortified behind tall walls, foolish girl, with guns and towers. We will not throw our lives away so uselessly. No, if God wants Achmed out of there, he will send us a sign. We are well enough without him."</p><p></p><p>Elena looked over at Fayeeda, who sat with them as well. The younger girl shrank back from her uncle's rage.</p><p></p><p>"How was your father captured, Fayeeda?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq sat down in a pout as the beni Howetait girl found her voice and spoke.</p><p></p><p>"The mercenaries. They patrol on armoured beasts, with many guns. They. We could see them riding around the hudra here, we shouted to warn them, but they couldn't hear. They ran into the mercenaries. We could hear the guns. Many fell. Father."</p><p></p><p>She drew a breath.</p><p></p><p>"He was alive, pinned beneath his gallo. They dragged him out and they took him."</p><p></p><p>Isaac took the cigar from his mouth and picked at a bit of leaf that had come loose. He spoke without looking up.</p><p></p><p>"Who are these mercenaries? Naridic?"</p><p></p><p>Every Naridic person in the tent, including Arrafin, gasped. Tariq grabbed a knife and stabbed it into the rug, cursing.</p><p></p><p>"I would gut you for that, Saijadani, were you not my guest."</p><p></p><p>The many warriors around them pressed in, murmuring among themselves. Elena shot Isaac a look of exasperation. He returned it, then turned back to Tariq.</p><p></p><p>"So, they're not Naridic. Who are they?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq snarled at Arrafin.</p><p></p><p>"You are beni Howetait. Why do you travel with these dogs?"</p><p></p><p>"I am beni Hassan. Who are the mercenaries?"</p><p></p><p>Tariq blinked in surprise.</p><p></p><p>"You look beni Howetait. Truly, you are beni Hassan?"</p><p></p><p>"Truly."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin relented to Tariq's curiousity, sensing that this conversation was serving to relax the tension in the tent.</p><p></p><p>"My mother was beni Howetait. Of al-Hourani's tribe, west of Tallal. My father was beni Hassan from Al-Tizim."</p><p></p><p>"Of course you are from Al-Tizim, your voice tells me so. But you are still of the desert, yes, child?"</p><p></p><p>Arrafin nodded carefully.</p><p></p><p>"I love God."</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda mustered the courage to speak.</p><p></p><p>"I have never been to Al-Tizim. Is it very beautiful?"</p><p></p><p>Elena settled back on her pillow as Arrafin began describing the endless marvels of her ancient city. She leaned over to Isaac and Nevid.</p><p></p><p>"We still don't know who these mercenaries are."</p><p></p><p>"Shaeric. They're with Laird Connaught's army, probably either the Fourth or the Sixteenth company. Musketeers and lancers, mostly, hired by the Kishaks to pacify the northern marches. Savage and merciless, but not very well-disciplined."</p><p></p><p>Elena blinked at Nevid.</p><p></p><p>"I'm not even going to ask how you know that."</p><p></p><p>"Arrafin's not the only one who studies, you know."</p><p></p><p>Isaac leaned back, his voice a dark rumble.</p><p></p><p>"What I'm more interested in is how the mercenaries knew to put together that ambush. Certainly seems like our friend Tariq has benefited from the event."</p><p></p><p>Etienne listened with half an ear to both conversations. Arrafin's descriptions of Al-Tizim's vast markets and great avenues filled him with homesickness for his own Pavairelle, now far behind them across the Inner Sea. He thought of their last sight of the Free City, burning in the fires of revolution as the citzenry at last overthrew their Kishak overlords.</p><p></p><p>He thought of his last visit to the Blood Council's sanctuary, and of Blood Sister Torokan's forbidding seriousness.</p><p></p><p><em>"Etienne. Thank you for coming. I know that you and your friends are busy in these days, but there are words I must speak to you."</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The half-Kishak nodded, trying to give off an air of nonchalance.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"I know. Arrafin. And sorcery. And that Laughter of Stones guy. What was he? Some kind of immortal warrior, right? Does he hunt down sorcerers? I should try and protect Arrafin. I need to be watchful."</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Torokan's severe expression softened.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"Etienne, listen to me. You must be cautious of your friends. Sorcery is very dangerous. Arrafin may lose control at any moment. I wish for you to help me. To be my eyes and ears among your friends."</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"You want me to spy on them?"</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Torokan pursed her lips and straightened just a bit. She was about to speak when Etienne shrugged.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"Sure. What do I have to do?"</em></p><p></p><p>Etienne recalled Torokan's instructions as he watched Arrafin describe the Plaza of Kings before the great Palace in the heart of Al-Tizim.</p><p></p><p>"That pool is supposedly the pool where Suelekar Ben Azan was annointed King, you know. Some scholars think it's been rebuilt many times since then, but the legend is that not a stone has been replaced."</p><p></p><p>The thin Naridic girl touched the strange amulet at her neck. She started as Tariq shouted.</p><p></p><p>"Suelekar Ben Azan! The King of Kings! Praise God!"</p><p></p><p>All around them warriors echoed Tariq's cry. Arrafin blinked.</p><p></p><p>"Yes. Praise God."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda had never known an evening like this one. There had been guests in the camp before, of course, even foreigners, but always Father had controlled every gesture, every nuance of conversation. Fayeeda would never have dared to speak in front of Father, and any guest would have sat in polite humility before the great chieftan that Achmed al-Musharran beni Howetait was.</p><p></p><p>Or had been. Fayeeda scarcely knew what to think. But these foreigners were not swayed by Tariq's bluster. The big one with the guns stood up.</p><p></p><p>"Fine. Achmed knows where the gold is, Achmed's in the fort, let's go to the fort."</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda clapped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. The others simply shrugged, even Arrafin, and rose. Tariq laughed in disbelief.</p><p></p><p>"You are fools, and you should thank God that when he made you fools he made you unmanly, so that you would not beget more fools."</p><p></p><p>Fayeeda couldn't keep quiet any longer.</p><p></p><p>"But you'll die! How can you possibly get in to the fort?"</p><p></p><p>Isaac gestured.</p><p></p><p>"If Nevid there can't talk us in, well..."</p><p></p><p>Arrafin giggled.</p><p></p><p>"Maybe Elena can... attract one of the guards."</p><p></p><p>Elena scowled ferociously at her friend, but Arrafin only snickered louder.</p><p></p><p>The five were heading for the tent flap, stepping over incredulous warriors, when a sudden cry from outside stopped them. Four turned to Arrafin.</p><p></p><p>"What was that?"</p><p></p><p>She frowned.</p><p></p><p>"Somebody's coming. Foreigners."</p><p></p><p>Her eyes widened and she whirled on Tariq.</p><p></p><p>"You told them we were here! You betrayed us!"</p><p></p><p>Tariq laughed.</p><p></p><p>"Of course. I have invited our Shaeric neighbors to join us. They were most anxious to meet you, and God wishes us to be hospitable to our neighbors. It seems that you, my friends, are captured."</p><p></p><p>Etienne sighed.</p><p></p><p>"Tragically captured, I think you called it."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="barsoomcore, post: 3663517, member: 812"] [b]Another Fine Mess: 3[/b] "The truth is, my friends, that only my brother Achmed knows where the gold is." Tariq beamed around at his guests as the setting sun emblazoned his tent. Outside, riding gallos rasped at each other, rattling their hobbles as they shifted, restless and surly. Some group of herders were sharing songs off at the edge of the camp, their ululating voices lending a quiet undercurrent to the conversation. Out beyond the tent flap, the flat surface of the tall mesa they sat atop lay steady beneath a whirling flow of dust devils, shimmering like a curtain before the vista of the endless desert far beyond. Etienne leaned forward, his brow knotted in cautious suspicion. Sand crusted on his dark leather garb. He toyed restless with the hilt of a dagger at his belt. "Your brother Achmed who was captured by the Kishaks only days ago." Elena sniffed. "Tragically captured, I think he said." She had to give it to Tariq; the man was utterly without scruples. There was no chance of them getting those guns back now. They sat surrounded by his warriors, and Elena knew that it was only their tenuous connection to the infamous del Maraviez family that had kept them alive thus far. One false move could doom them all. "And you're afraid to go rescue him?" To Elena's surprise, it was Nevid who had spoken. He studied Tariq with the same intensity he'd been studying the rowboat seat earlier, and Elena wondered just what the dreams he'd had were about. Tariq simply stared in disbelief at the slim young man. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I, Tariq al-Musharran beni Howetait, afraid? Impossible! Afraid. You do not understand the insult, civilized fool, and so I forgive you this once. God wishes us to be generous to our guests." Arrafin scowled. "God also wishes us to sacrifice our own lives for our brother's. Do you forget the passage from the Sayings: 'For he who gives up all that God has given to him for the sake of another is redeemed by God and made a prince in His grace'?" It had been over a year since Arrafin had studied scripture, but her mind was not one to let quotations or facts drop aside. Her anger at Tariq's theft and his carefree manner with religious dogma made her smoulder with suppressed fury as she glared at the man. At last Tariq betrayed a flash of irritation. He scowled at Arrafin. "Do not trouble me with scholar's jibes, girl. I have the scars of seventeen Kishak sabres on my body. God has granted me strength to slay eighty-one of those red bastards, and I pray he will send more my way!" He raised his hand in a devout gesture and the warriors around him cried out in joyous uplift. "Then why not rescue your brother?" Tariq spat and stood, towering over Arrafin and her friends where they sat on the rug. He shook his fist at them. "Why not? You ask me why not? The Kishak lapdogs are fortified behind tall walls, foolish girl, with guns and towers. We will not throw our lives away so uselessly. No, if God wants Achmed out of there, he will send us a sign. We are well enough without him." Elena looked over at Fayeeda, who sat with them as well. The younger girl shrank back from her uncle's rage. "How was your father captured, Fayeeda?" Tariq sat down in a pout as the beni Howetait girl found her voice and spoke. "The mercenaries. They patrol on armoured beasts, with many guns. They. We could see them riding around the hudra here, we shouted to warn them, but they couldn't hear. They ran into the mercenaries. We could hear the guns. Many fell. Father." She drew a breath. "He was alive, pinned beneath his gallo. They dragged him out and they took him." Isaac took the cigar from his mouth and picked at a bit of leaf that had come loose. He spoke without looking up. "Who are these mercenaries? Naridic?" Every Naridic person in the tent, including Arrafin, gasped. Tariq grabbed a knife and stabbed it into the rug, cursing. "I would gut you for that, Saijadani, were you not my guest." The many warriors around them pressed in, murmuring among themselves. Elena shot Isaac a look of exasperation. He returned it, then turned back to Tariq. "So, they're not Naridic. Who are they?" Tariq snarled at Arrafin. "You are beni Howetait. Why do you travel with these dogs?" "I am beni Hassan. Who are the mercenaries?" Tariq blinked in surprise. "You look beni Howetait. Truly, you are beni Hassan?" "Truly." Arrafin relented to Tariq's curiousity, sensing that this conversation was serving to relax the tension in the tent. "My mother was beni Howetait. Of al-Hourani's tribe, west of Tallal. My father was beni Hassan from Al-Tizim." "Of course you are from Al-Tizim, your voice tells me so. But you are still of the desert, yes, child?" Arrafin nodded carefully. "I love God." Fayeeda mustered the courage to speak. "I have never been to Al-Tizim. Is it very beautiful?" Elena settled back on her pillow as Arrafin began describing the endless marvels of her ancient city. She leaned over to Isaac and Nevid. "We still don't know who these mercenaries are." "Shaeric. They're with Laird Connaught's army, probably either the Fourth or the Sixteenth company. Musketeers and lancers, mostly, hired by the Kishaks to pacify the northern marches. Savage and merciless, but not very well-disciplined." Elena blinked at Nevid. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that." "Arrafin's not the only one who studies, you know." Isaac leaned back, his voice a dark rumble. "What I'm more interested in is how the mercenaries knew to put together that ambush. Certainly seems like our friend Tariq has benefited from the event." Etienne listened with half an ear to both conversations. Arrafin's descriptions of Al-Tizim's vast markets and great avenues filled him with homesickness for his own Pavairelle, now far behind them across the Inner Sea. He thought of their last sight of the Free City, burning in the fires of revolution as the citzenry at last overthrew their Kishak overlords. He thought of his last visit to the Blood Council's sanctuary, and of Blood Sister Torokan's forbidding seriousness. [i]"Etienne. Thank you for coming. I know that you and your friends are busy in these days, but there are words I must speak to you." The half-Kishak nodded, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. "I know. Arrafin. And sorcery. And that Laughter of Stones guy. What was he? Some kind of immortal warrior, right? Does he hunt down sorcerers? I should try and protect Arrafin. I need to be watchful." Torokan's severe expression softened. "Etienne, listen to me. You must be cautious of your friends. Sorcery is very dangerous. Arrafin may lose control at any moment. I wish for you to help me. To be my eyes and ears among your friends." "You want me to spy on them?" Torokan pursed her lips and straightened just a bit. She was about to speak when Etienne shrugged. "Sure. What do I have to do?"[/i] Etienne recalled Torokan's instructions as he watched Arrafin describe the Plaza of Kings before the great Palace in the heart of Al-Tizim. "That pool is supposedly the pool where Suelekar Ben Azan was annointed King, you know. Some scholars think it's been rebuilt many times since then, but the legend is that not a stone has been replaced." The thin Naridic girl touched the strange amulet at her neck. She started as Tariq shouted. "Suelekar Ben Azan! The King of Kings! Praise God!" All around them warriors echoed Tariq's cry. Arrafin blinked. "Yes. Praise God." ***** Fayeeda had never known an evening like this one. There had been guests in the camp before, of course, even foreigners, but always Father had controlled every gesture, every nuance of conversation. Fayeeda would never have dared to speak in front of Father, and any guest would have sat in polite humility before the great chieftan that Achmed al-Musharran beni Howetait was. Or had been. Fayeeda scarcely knew what to think. But these foreigners were not swayed by Tariq's bluster. The big one with the guns stood up. "Fine. Achmed knows where the gold is, Achmed's in the fort, let's go to the fort." Fayeeda clapped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. The others simply shrugged, even Arrafin, and rose. Tariq laughed in disbelief. "You are fools, and you should thank God that when he made you fools he made you unmanly, so that you would not beget more fools." Fayeeda couldn't keep quiet any longer. "But you'll die! How can you possibly get in to the fort?" Isaac gestured. "If Nevid there can't talk us in, well..." Arrafin giggled. "Maybe Elena can... attract one of the guards." Elena scowled ferociously at her friend, but Arrafin only snickered louder. The five were heading for the tent flap, stepping over incredulous warriors, when a sudden cry from outside stopped them. Four turned to Arrafin. "What was that?" She frowned. "Somebody's coming. Foreigners." Her eyes widened and she whirled on Tariq. "You told them we were here! You betrayed us!" Tariq laughed. "Of course. I have invited our Shaeric neighbors to join us. They were most anxious to meet you, and God wishes us to be hospitable to our neighbors. It seems that you, my friends, are captured." Etienne sighed. "Tragically captured, I think you called it." [/QUOTE]
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