It took until nightfall for Karl-Jagutu to catch up to his Khansguard, who he greeted from at least a mile out across the plains of Daisha with a piercing, high-pitched whoop.
They whooped and chattered and birdcalled back, some turning to smile and gesture for him to hurry and join them. There were twenty-six Abakan swamp hunters, tiny little men with sharp eyes and strong bows riding on fat little ponies, and one extremely nervous Captain, a man who had long been in the pocket of a certain Jonn Dodger. This latter's employment had been extended to new duties, and long years of dealing with too many Dodgers had him less than excited for the change.
This latter's name was Erwin of Gethsemene, once Guard-Captain of a militia unit in a place called Gotland, which was now a mere part of a place called Irondale. He had been deemed Highly Useful by Big Daddy Jonn even before the monster known as Kilhorn had moved into Gotland full-time. Kilhorn had done this to better prosecute his killing in another place once called Caelint, which was where Erwin was now, except Caelint was now a mere part of a place called Irondale too. Erwin had seen a bit too much of Dodgers for one lifetime.
Still, he tried not to look unprofessional as he half-turned in his saddle to observe his new assignment, Karl-Jagutu, former Khan of Aren, who was at present cantering his horse - full sized, though he looked tiny riding it - in circles, kicking up clouds of dust and blowing up clouds of smoke from one of his ever-present cigars. Two mounds wrapped in cloth were thrown over his horse's back, one before and one behind his saddle, no doubt some pilfered supplies from Firbalt.
He was shrilly shouting out something in Abakan, which Erwin only knew was Abakan because that was where all these damned insane savages were from, some swamp, apparently, in the Colonies, where they didn't wear decent clothing and enjoyed great excess of smoking that raaha stuff Heimar always used to smoke dipped into a noxious elixir they called Babar, and that was how they all talked. In Abakan. Loudly. All of them together, over each other and even their supposed liege, all the time. But then at some incomprehensible signal, all the soldier-savages stopped making noise in unison, and, still about a half-mile off, Karl-Jagutu leapt up in his saddle and began, of all things, to sing.
This time Erwin could understand the words, because it was sung in a version of the sailor's tongue, which every person of worldly experience knows to some extent. That Karl-Jagutu chose to sing in that tongue at that moment may have been for Erwin's benefit, or any Daishan peasants in the area's benefit, or perhaps even for your benefit, or maybe Karl-Jagutu just liked to sing in other languages.
Karl-Jagutu sang:
Ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba-bad boy gonna come
Bad boy gonna come, bad boy gonna come-a
Run off to the town and a-tell ev-ery-one-a
Ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba-bad boy gonna come
Bad boy gonna come, bad boy gonna come-a
When I sing me song go and tell what me a sung-a
Now
(Pause)
I was born a disciplined child
The Tiger Blood make me got so wild
I was born a disciplined child
The Tiger Blood make me got so wild
Ey - Down in the swamp, Abaka, home
A little brownskin roughneck child was born
Inna the swampland, hey-o-o
Inna the swampland, hey-o
Him learned how to raid and him learned how to fight
Him learned how to run them swamps at night
Inna the swampland, hey-o-o
Inna the swampland, hey-o
Ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba, ba-ba ba-ba-ba
Ba-ba, ba-ba-bad boy gonna come
Bad boy gonna come, bad boy gonna come-a
Karl-Jagutu wild old, imagine now that him a-young-a!
At about this point in the song Karl-Jagutu had caught up with his men, or at least he'd gotten within a hundred yards or so, and with their sharp eyes they spotted what he was carrying before and behind his saddle. With renewed vigor, the whooping and chattering began at double the volume, and twenty-six fat ponies were soon being kicked into action on every side of Erwin and his horse as the Khansguard raced to meet their once-Khan.
Erwin, not nearly as sharp of eye and confused by the sudden ruckus, took a few moments to realize what he was seeing. When a pair of tousled heads sprung up from the mounds of cloth, there could be no doubt - a couple of young ladies! And apparently of relatively decent breeding and etiquette! And with smiles on their lovely faces!
Erwin had seen quite enough of Dodgers for more than one lifetime!
