The Maghri were attacking the farm, he and Khraishamo might die like trapped rats, and Rhodina was probably already dead. She might be able to convince the Maghri that she'd be worth more as a slave than a corpse, if she got the chance. She probably wouldn't. If the Maghri were in Kloret's pay their orders might be to simply kill everyone who might be a rebel.

Then someone started lifting the bar outside the door. By now Khraishamo was awake. They looked at each other, then picked up a handful of sacks apiece. The sacks wouldn't do much as weapons, but they might serve as shields long enough for them to snatch weapons from the Maghri. After that it would be a short fight, but Blade was determined to make it a bloody one. He saw the same determination in Khraishamo's eyes.

The bar clattered to the floor, the bolt was thrown, the door started to open, and Blade and Khraishamo got ready to fight. Then Rhodina hurried into the room, a short sleeping robe flapping around her knees and a broad smile on her face. She stopped as she saw Blade and Khraishamo.

«Why are you-? Oh, I see. You thought-maybe the Maghri were attacking. They're here, but they're friends! The people here-they're rebels, and they've promised friendship with the Maghri against Gohar.» She seemed ready to start dancing with delight and excitement. «I don't understand it or how it all is, but-«

«I don't understand it either,» said Blade. «But then I don't understand most of what's happening in Gohar these days. At least that explains why the Maghri weren't on their guard. They did expect this would be friendly territory.» Rhodina nodded, took Khraishamo's hand, and led him out the door. Blade followed.

Out in the barnyard the noise struck Blade like a physical blow. There were three or four hundred mounted Maghri in sight, and more coming every few minutes. On top of all the other noises, Blade now heard the rumble of cartwheels on the bricks of the yard. Several men were hauling carts piled high with grain sacks out of the barn. That explained the stored grain-it was intended to feed the men and horses of the rebels' Maghri allies.

For a few minutes the farm people seemed to forget that Blade and his friends existed. It would have been possible to escape in all the confusion, but things had changed now. They weren't in danger of being slaughtered by the Maghri, and if they could persuade the rebels' new allies to take them along when they moved on-Blade began to rehearse arguments to use on the Maghri chiefs.

He didn't need them. A few minutes later Gribbon came up, along with several armed farmhands and three Maghri. One of them carried a bronze-face shield and wore a chief's headdress.

«Blade,» snapped Gribbon. «You and your friends-get ready to mount up. We're moving out.»

Khraishamo and Rhodina looked at each other. Then Khraishamo shook his head. «I can't ride,» he said. «None of the Sarumi can. Our bones-«

«Can be left behind if you don't ride,» said Gribbon. «Either come with us and live, or stay here and be part of the soil. We aren't leaving any Bloodskin spies.»

Khraishamo's breath hissed between his teeth. «You're speaking strongly, Gribbon.»

«Yes, and you don't deserve it. I've really no time to speak at all.» He started to turn away. «If you're not ready to ride when your friends are, be ready to tell them farewell.»

«Wait,» said the Maghri chief. His Goharan was so heavily accented that without the computer's work on his brain Blade might not have understood him. The chief looked at Khraishamo, then at Rhodina, then at Gribbon.

«The fishman cannot ride,» he said. «But we have litters, for the sick and the hurt and the old women. I give him one, if he gives me this woman while he is with us.»

Khraishamo and Rhodina started, and Gribbon looked confused. «Yes,» said the Maghri chief. «Fishman-you have good woman. If you are no good to ride, you are not good for her. She needs a man, not-«

That was as far as the chief got. With a scream, Khraishamo lunged at the chief.

«No!» Rhodina's scream was even louder.

Either some last bit of sense or Rhodina's scream held Khraishamo back from killing the chief. Instead his fists smashed into the man's face like twin battering rams. The chief sprawled on the mud and dung-covered bricks, blood running from his nose and mouth.

By now Gribbon had his sword drawn and raised. From the way he was looking at Khraishamo, he would cheerfully have run the pirate through. By now Rhodina was embracing Khraishamo, both consoling him and restraining him. Gribbon couldn't strike at the pirate without hitting the woman.

Slowly the Maghri chief rose to his feet, wiping his nose on a filthy sleeve. He looked at Khraishamo, then drew his knife.

«Back, woman,» he said. «Now you will come to Sigluf's tents and stay. This fishman-he will die for my blood.» He looked at Gribbon, Gribbon nodded, and the chief raised the dagger.

Rhodina screamed again as Khraishamo threw her off and whirled to face his enemy. Gribbon raised his sword to strike. Blade saw that all of Gribbon's men were too busy watching Khraishamo's coming death to hold their weapons ready. He charged.

One of the men was in Blade's path. Blade swept him out of the way with a karate chop, then closed with Gribbon. The man struck clumsily, leaving Blade half a dozen useful openings. He took the best one, disabled Gribbon's sword arm, twisted the sword loose, then pulled Gribbon around in front of him. The edge of the sword was against the man's neck, right over the jugular vein.

«Gribbon,» said Blade quietly. «Order your men to hold back. If one of them so much as blinks an eye, you're a dead man.»

«That fool Bloodskin-«

«Give the order, Gribbon.» The man couldn't see Blade's face, but he heard the ice in his voice.

«Lower your weapons,» he shouted. «Let Blade speak.»

Blade lowered his sword, but didn't let go of Gribbon. He looked at Khraishamo. The pirate had Sigluf disarmed and spread-eagled on the ground. The man was struggling to free his hands, but he might as well have tried to free them from iron shackles. Khraishamo was holding on with all his strength.

«Let him up, Khraishamo,» said Blade. The pirate looked sharply at him. «Let him up, I said.» Blade controlled his voice with care. Privately, he agreed with Gribbon's description of Khraishamo as a fool, but he wasn't going to let anyone else know that. If he and Khraishamo could still work as a team, they might not undo the damage already done, but they could prevent more.

Khraishamo let go of Sigluf and stood back, pocketing the man's knife. The chief seemed too angry to speak coherently, so Blade filled the silence.

«Khraishamo has offered you a mortal insult. Is that true?»

Sigluf nodded.

«Yet I say you gave him an equally great insult first. You said he was no true man, and unworthy of the woman Rhodina. She is far too good for you.»

Sigluf sputtered and hissed, then managed to get out some coherent words. «Who are you, to speak to me about this?»

«I am the sworn blood-brother of Khraishamo,» said Blade. «His enemies are mine, and his honor and woman I will defend as I would my own.»

«You, sworn to a-«began Gribbon. Blade raised the sword again until the rebel leader could see it.

«Gribbon, I didn't ask you to speak.» Blade looked around. A good many of the Maghri were crowding closer, obviously interested but apparently not yet hostile.

«Warriors of the Maghri!» Blade shouted, in a voice intended to be heard all over the farm. He used the Maghri language, and Gribbon and the other Mythorans stared in surprise. So did Khraishamo and Rhodina. He ignored them.

«Warriors of the Maghri.» He pointed at Khraishamo. «This man is my sworn blood-brother. Your chief Sigluf has offered him a mortal insult. Yet my brother Khraishamo cannot fight your chief in the manner of the Maghri, on horseback. The gods so made him that he cannot ride a horse.