In the Heart of Darkness(119)

"Will they make their escape, do you think?"



Rao shrugged. "I should imagine. We stopped the couriers, and we've been"—a gesture toward the ridge; a wide grin—"distracting the Malwa."



He turned and began loping toward the dell where their own horses were hidden away. Speaking easily, despite the rigorous pace, he said over his shoulder:



"As I told you before, Maloji, those men are capable."





Capability was unneeded. The escape, at the end, was child's play.



Garmat simply marched across the ramp connecting the Axumite trader with the wharf, and presented himself to the captain. Before he had even reached the man, the captain was goggling.



"Stop looking like a frog, Endubis," he growled.



The captain gaped.



"And close your mouth, fool. Spies may see you."



Endubis' mouth snapped shut. The captain glanced hurriedly at the shore, scanning for danger with an experienced eye.



Like all Ethiopian merchant captains, Endubis was no stranger to combat. Such merchants served as a reserve for the Kingdom of Axum's navy. No seaman could reach the rank of ship captain, even in the merchant fleet, without the negusa nagast's approval. For all their relaxed customs in other areas of life, the Axumites were never casual about their naval power.



"Trouble?" asked Endubis.



Garmat smiled, thinly. "You might say so. The entire Malwa Empire is baying for our blood."



Endubis winced. "The Prince?"



"He is well." Garmat made a little gesture with his head. "In that warehouse. With his dawazz and the sarwen. Some others."



The adviser examined the ship briefly. "Thirteen men, in all. It will be crowded, but—"



"We'll manage," muttered Endubis. The captain turned and began bellowing orders. His seamen immediately scurried about the ship, preparing for departure.



"I wish you'd gotten here tomorrow," Endubis grumbled. "I'd have a cargo, then. I hate sailing empty. Surest way I know to poverty."



Garmat grinned. "Not so, Endubis. An empty ship will make a fast trip, and we'll not be too crowded. As for poverty—" His hand dipped into a pouch, came out, spread wide.



The captain, again, was goggling like a frog.



"You'll accept Malwa coin, I assume?" murmured Garmat. "Oh, and look! I believe there's even a ruby here. No—three rubies."



On the way out of Bharakuccha's harbor, a Malwa vessel hailed them and tried to come alongside.



"Ignore it," commanded the Prince. "Sail on."



The captain glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "That'll make it hard on the next Axumite trader," he pointed out.



Eon shrugged. "There won't be any 'next Axumite trader.' We are at war, now, with Malwa."



The captain sighed. "Ah. Too bad. It was good business."



The officer in the bow of the Malwa ship hailed them again. His voice sounded angry.



"You can outsail them?" demanded Eon.



Endubis sneered. "That Malwa tub?" He disdained any further answer, beyond the orders he shouted at his seamen.



An hour later, the officer commanding the Malwa vessel broke off the pursuit.



He was practically gibbering.



Some of his rage was due to the superior seaworthiness of the Ethiopian ship. Most of it was due to the bare black ass hanging over the stern of the Axumite vessel, defecating. And the great, gleaming grin on the face above it.



* * *



A week later, in the port at Tamralipti on India's opposite coast, another Malwa naval officer grinned with sheer delight. As well he should. He had made more money that day than in the previous three months put together.



His lieutenant was grinning, too. His own cut of the nobleman's bribe was enough for a lavish spree in the Bay of Bengal's most notorious harbor district.



The lieutenant gestured with his head toward the merchant ship which was even now passing the harbor's breakwater.



"Should we notify Murshid and his men? There's a fortune in that nobleman's chests. And his wife's young. Pretty, too, probably. She and the other women would bring a good price."



The commanding officer stroked his beard, considering the question. He and his officers made a tidy profit, on the side, selling information on lucrative targets to the local pirates.



He did not ponder the matter for very long.



"No," he said firmly. "Not with that escort."



"There weren't more than thirty of them," argued his lieutenant. "Murshid can muster three ships, with over a hundred—"



The commander glared.



"A hundred what?" he snarled. "Three-to-one odds, you're talking about—four-to-one, at best. Murshid's rascals against—those?"