“Yes, Aryenis told me of that, and of the finding of Carius—a most strange event, and one with a hidden meaning, I feel sure. But what of these wars you speak of? Aryenis says that you, Harilek, are a soldier by trade—one holding high command. But your friends also have been fighting, though it seems they are not soldiers at all times.”
“For six years our people have been at war, the greatest war of all history—so great that men speak of it as ‘the world war,’ since, save one or two of the smaller nations, not one people in the world but was engaged fighting upon one side or the other. And being so great, all men, whether soldiers or not, took part in it. At the end, when our people were victorious, we three, having no wives or children to call us home, set out on this journey, seeking change of scene and adventure.”
“Are you of those who fight for love of fighting, then? Would you stay here and fight for us with your wondrous weapons, which Aryenis tells me slay at arrow-shot distance with naught but a little noise, killing mailed men as though they were clothed but in silk?”
Forsyth turned to me.
“What about it, Harry? Are you going to chip in with this bally war? I like these people, but I thought we’d come out on a rest cure, as it were.”
“Depends very much on what it’s all about,” put in Wrexham. “If it’s a tribal blood feud, I’m not joining. But if it means a smack at the beasts in the gate for their mishandling of Aryenis, and of other people, too, by the look of the place, then I’m for it.”
“Yes, every time,” said I, thinking of the first time I saw Aryenis, and of the long hair that Wrexham had tangled his hand in the first night.
Kyrlos was watching us reflectively, the firelight playing on his grave features. He is a handsome man in a way, with rather a high-coloured countenance, pronounced eyebrows over dark blue eyes, and a somewhat aquiline nose. Not over-given to speech, but we found him well worth listening to when he opened his mouth. I turned to him again:
“We are not of those who fight for fighting’s sake, nor for profit after the manner of the mercenaries of old times. We have seen years of war wherein thousands of men died every day.” (Kyrlos opened his eyes at this.) “But under certain conditions we might join with you. Will you first tell us somewhat concerning this coming war of which you speak? Is it against the Shamans who took Aryenis captive? We gathered from her that they are an evil people and stirrers-up of strife.”
“Yes, it is against these same Shamans. But, as you know but little of this land, perhaps I had better first tell you somewhat of our people, so that you may the better understand the reasons for the war. Save the Shamans, who came here whence we know not, all the Sakae are of the same race, and entered this country many, many hundreds of years ago. We believe that then they were one people under one ruler. But for centuries now we have been—according to our books—divided into four clans known by colours. Of the origins of these names I cannot speak. Some hold that it is from the colour of the ornaments which are favoured by the different clans, others say it is some relic of old pagan worship which has lost its meaning, and now remains but a name. But these be matters of conjecture—of no great import. My clan—the Blue Sakae—is the biggest of all, though the Green Sakae, who live next to us, are not greatly fewer in numbers. Then there are the Red Sakae, who live beyond them. These three are much alike in manners and customs. The fourth clan, which is smaller than the other three, is known as the Brown Sakae, and differs greatly. These have retained all the old savagery of our people, are entirely pagan, and unaffected by the civilization which—together with Christianity—was brought by Greeks who came to this land in the beginning of the ages.