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such relish. At night they would huddle together in a mass of snoring,
foul-smelling bodies. Each would transfer a number of his vermin to those
sleeping next to him. Their bed was a large flat stone inside the inn, beneath
which a small fire was kept burning to provide warmth. They were a happy folk
with great attention paid to manners, almost to the point that it was
impossible to talk straight to them.
Weeks passed and Casca finally reached the junc-tion where the Indus was
joined by the Panglong
Shoa. The two formed a raging muddy torrent where they merged. The great peaks
of the Naga Parat were far behind and now the trail passed through ranges that
would lead to the desert.
Kicking Glam in the sides with his heels he turned north. Glam never failed
him, even when he slept on his back. The horse seemed to have un-limited
endurance and would continue on placidly ignoring the man on his back as if he
were carrying no more than a feather. In the heights of the Karakoram pass
Casca ate his pack horse and smoked enough of the remaining meat to last him
for another week, which should see him through and beyond the Suget.
Finally the Suget side of the pass showed the veins of the mountains, red
streaks and bands of granite, massive slabs where the alternating heating and
cooling of the mountain-made cracks that final-ly split and let the boulders
break away to leave fresh scars that the winds and time would smooth away in a
few centuries.
Four days more and Casca looked out over the basin of the Karim, stretching,
it seemed, forever.
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The descent from his present height of eight thou-sand feet to the floor below
was quick and un-eventful.
The trail was worn and the thicker air made him almost drunk after his months
in the thin air of the
Kushan and Indus valleys.
Twelve
THE TARIM
Tsin-ta i and the map were on the money. The trail leading to the east on the
edge of the endless wastes of the Tarim basin was liberally sprinkled with the
bones of man and beast; the strangest were the skeletons of the camels, their
curved spines looking like huge skeletal snakes with legs.
Examining several of the human remains with a professional eye, Casca found
indicators that spoke of violent death; a clean cut in the skull made by a
sword, cracked ribs which could have come from a blow with a club or mace and
several had ar-rowheads lodged in the ribs. There was no sign of wooden shafts
or anything of wood. As the desert provided little wood, the raiders would
naturally have taken any they found usable, even for extra kindling to throw
on their fires.
In the three days it took Casca to reach Ho-T ien, he encountered two
caravans, one of which numbered over three hundred pack animals carrying
cargoes of rare spices, gems, ivory, slaves and the item most coveted by the
matrons of Rome: silk. The caravans were well-armed, escorted by hired bands
of mercenaries and slaves who preferred to work for the caravan masters rather
than the desert raiders. Many of the mercenaries were Huns re-maining from the
Eastern tribes that hadn t been forced out by the pressures of the Hsuing-nu
and had been migrating in ever greater numbers to the west.
These were tough men who had spent so much time in the saddle that their legs
were de-formed they could hardly stand on even ground. As children their faces
had been seared with red hot irons to stop the growth of beards, leaving only
the upper lip with long mustaches that reached below their chins. In contrast,
Casca also noticed a number of blue-eyed riders from the Caucasus mountains
who were like giants next to the gnome-like Huns when standing. But in the
saddle, the Huns with their laminated bows were the equal if not the master of
all they met.
Casca hoarded his water even though his map showed water only a few days from
Ho-T ien. He felt relief when he reached the banks of the Khotan. He crossed a
river shallow enough to be forded and made his way into a prosperous city. The
predomi-nant race was the same as Tsin, from Han. These were the merchant
princes who bought and sold cargoes for trans-shipment east and west. Though
the largest bulk of commerce went to the west, there was little that the Han
needed from the barbarian countries to the west. When the merchants reached
their destinations, they would sell all goods, animals and slaves and then
wait until enough of them were gathered to hire a new batch of guards to
protect them and make the long jour-ney back, this time much faster without
the hindrance of pack animals. One successful journey could make a man as rich
as a Persian prince. The dangers were great as attested to by the thousands of
bones lying along the trail but so were the re-wards.
Casca made his way through clean streets with-out the familiar garbage smell
of Europe. Bright in-telligent faces watched his progress with interest. This
was a city that thrived on visitors and anyone unusual might mean money.
Adjusting the small packet that contained the let-ters from Kushan to the
Peacock Throne, Casca swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to a dirty
stableboy with eyes much older than his 12 years.
Flipping the child a copper coin, he entered the Inn of the Circling Road.
All saloons and taverns have a sameness to them, though the talk may be in
different tongues and un-familiar drinks. Men sat to talk business or politics
Huns, Mongols and Hsuing-nu all had an un-spoken agreement that no blades
would be drawn in the city of Ho-T ien and all arguments would be settled
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outside the boundaries of the town. Their chieftains knew well the value of
the Silk Road, for supplies and weapons could be obtained only with difficulty
elsewhere. Though occasionally the city was sacked by a tribe who felt strong
enough to get away with it, this had not occurred in ninety years.
The inn was a two-storied building of ba ked mud, bricks and stone. The inside
was lit by the central cooking fire and tallow or oil lamps. Most of the
customers had bare arms and chests, or at most, tunics of thin material, their
skins and furs put away for the night, which was cold enough to frost a man s
breath in these high altitudes with days hot enough to bake a man s brains in
his own pan.
The weeks spent in Kushan with Tsin learning what he could of the language of
Chin, Served him in good stead. Taking a room from the keeper, he spent the
next week talking and listening; the melodic tones of the Orientals came to
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