The Tower of Fear

by Glen Cook

  Back in the heart of the quarter there were places accessible only by descending as many as five flights.

  The third level was the highest with any access to the maze.

  Yoseh had trouble imagining what it must be like when all the people were moving around up there. Be like a swarm of bees pouring out of their hives.

  Higher up there were places rounded in shape that did resemble big hives. Other than at the center of the quarter most of the fourth-level places stood free.

  He wondered what the quarter might have become in another hundred years if the Herodians had not forbidden this endless piling on. Six or seven levels, so complicated nobody from outside could find his way around?

  Though the sprinkle was not heavy he came across several low places where accumulated drainage ran in tiny brooks, into catch basins and on. At each pool there were women filling jars. Not a lot of the water would go to waste.

  One of the runoffs, though, ran into a ladder well. He imagined it must get pretty damp down in the maze when there was a lot of rain.

  At the highest levels even the wooden pathways were painted white. White and white and white, and he the only body moving. The misty drizzle made it difficult to see far. He felt lost in some strangely weathered desert.

  He turned back, his nervous energy not diminished. But he was soggy now and getting miserable.

  What the hell was going on in Qushmarrah? Everyone seemed to be up to something. He could not understand his place in the middle of it all. He wished he had stayed in the mountains-except when he thought of Tamisa.

  An impossible dream, of course, but his heart quickened, anyway. Maybe the impossibility was half the attraction.

  He was thinking about asking Nogah to let him go inside the maze to explore but there was something going on when he got back, Fa’tad digging men out of the alleyway and hurrying them off. Yoseh was astonished. Some had exchanged their Dartar black for Qushmarrahan-style clothing. Wrapped in cloaks against the wet, keeping their heads down, they did not give themselves away.

  “What’s happening?” he asked Medjhah.

  “Someone came to see your girlfriend’s brother-in-law. Fa’tad wants to know where they go.”

  Naszif shook his shoulder. Aaron grumbled, “What?”

  “Somebody at the door. I think this is it.”

  A thrill of fear. Aaron tried to bounce up but he was too sore. He had stiffened up terribly while he slept.

  He put the peephole to its first use.

  He closed it, whispered, “A woman. Alone. Ugly.”

  An almost smile from Naszif. “Let her in.” He stepped over where he would be out of sight behind the door when it opened.

  Aaron opened up. “May I help you?” He did not look at the woman, glancing up and down the street instead. He saw nothing but Dartars and normal traffic. No one appeared interested.

  The woman said, “I’m the one you’re waiting for.” She sounded amused.

  “Come inside.” He stepped aside. “You woke me up. What do you mean, you’re the one I’m waiting for?”

  “You have a message from one General for another, don’t you?” she asked as she pushed past.

  “Not me. They just figured I’d be watched. Naszif has the message.” He closed the door.

  The woman eyed Naszif, surprised but not uneasy. “They didn’t mention you. I’ll tell them to pay closer attention.”

  Aaron was uncomfortable. The woman talked and acted like a man. “Shall I stir up the fire and heat some water?”

  “I won’t be here that long. Thank you, anyway. All right, Mr. Naszif. What’s the message?”

  “General Cado would like to speak to Colonel bel-Sidek concerning Nakar the Abomination and possible destinies of Qushmarrah. That’s all I’m authorized to tell one of his agents. I could say more to his face. On my own, I’ll say the General seems ready to offer whatever guarantees the Colonel feels are necessary to maintain his safety during their talks. The General thinks we’ve reached a crossroads. He thinks the interests of Herod and the Living may be allied at the moment.”

  Aaron gawked at Naszif. The man always had had a tendency to be pompous, but nothing like this. Had he taken lessons when he became a Herodian?

  He grinned.

  So did the woman. “Interesting. He might go for it out of plain curiosity. That’s all of it?”

  “For the moment. Unless you wish to take me to Colonel bel-Sidek.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll see what he thinks and let you know.” She turned to the door.

  “I urge you to waste no time. The General feels we’re up against a lethal deadline. Minutes may be critical.”

  “I’ll tell him not to fart around.”

  She left them aghast.

  “Now what?” Aaron asked.

  “Now we wait some more.”

  Aaron started digging around trying to find something to eat.

  “There she goes,” Medjhah whispered. “Give her a minute, then tell Nogah.”

  Yoseh looked at the woman frankly. “Walks like a man.”

  “They can’t all be young and graceful. Unfortunately. Now. Go.” Medjhah got up and strolled toward one of the wagons used by the masons. It was a large four-wheeler, covered, and the driver was huddled inside.

  “Nogah?” Yoseh said into the darkness in the alley.

  “We saw her. Go get in the wagon with Medjhah.”

  Puzzled, Yoseh walked toward the wagon. Medjhah had disappeared. The driver was outside, checking the harness on his oxen. Yoseh looked inside the wagon. It was empty except for Medjhah.

  “Come in, little brother.”

  Yoseh clambered over the tailgate. “What are we doing?”

  “We’re going to follow the woman.”

  “Why?”

  “Fa’tad thinks she can lead us to the chief of the Living.”

  Yoseh tried to reconcile that with what he understood of what had happened last night. He could not. “Why does he want to do that?”

  Medjhah shrugged. “Not now.” The wagon rocked.

  Nogah climbed inside. Kosuth followed him, then Fa’tad and two of his old-time cronies, then Juba from their own bunch. Juba was not a relative but always had been a sort of adoptive cousin.

  “Tell him to get moving,” Fa’tad said. He nodded to Yoseh and Medjhah.

  Medjhah said something out the front of the wagon. The Qushmarrahan clambered up onto the driver’s seat and yelled at his oxen.

  The wagon lurched forward. “Real racing chariot here,” Nogah cracked. Nobody laughed. Yoseh thought Fa’tad looked more sour than usual. Hard to tell, though. He was wearing his face cloth, which he did not often do.

  As they passed each of the other stations occupied by Dartars someone came to report to al-Akla. Each told him the woman had continued uphill. He received their remarks with sullen grunts.

  Yoseh began to suspect the old man’s problem was much like his own. He did not know what the hell he was doing. Maybe circumstances had conspired to abort this master plan, or had thrown other possibilities into his path, so that he was unsure how to proceed.

  The wagon reached the head of Char Street, squeaked and rumbled through the acropolis, and began to descend into the Hahr. The men who came to report now wore Qushmarrahan garb and were more circumspect.

  Finally, the wagon halted in a narrow, quiet street. The driver spoke for everyone when he asked, “What you want to do now, chief?”

  Bel-Sidek listened to Meryel carefully, but puzzled. He could see no percentage in meeting the Herodian, unless just to put him off his guard. The man wouldn’t expect an uprising while they were talking. “Why should I go to the trouble? Just to get rid of my curiosity?”

  “It’s the child-stealing thing,” Meryel guessed. “The man I saw specifically mentioned Nakar. I’d say Cado is in a panic about that business.”

  “Think he knows something we don’t?”

  “Either he thinks he does or he wants you to think he d
oes. He’s conversant with current events inside the movement. He directed his message to you specifically.”

  “He had the traitor and the carpenter to advise him. I want to talk to the carpenter more than I did before. Tell Cado’s runner I’m giving a meeting serious consideration. I’ll send a messenger to Colonel Bruda with instructions if I decide it’s in my interest to meet. After Cado’s man leaves talk the carpenter into coming to see me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You’re a persuasive woman.”

  She harumphed. “I’m going to be an exhausted woman if this back-and-forth keeps on.” She turned around and marched out.

  “Got to do something to show her I appreciate her.” Bel-Sidek settled, leaned back, closed his eyes, let his thoughts run with the problem of the citadel. In moments he felt frustrated and powerless.

  He must have dozed. When a soft sound startled him awake he found the room full of Dartars. Where had they come from? He scanned them quickly, careful to show no fear. They were like dogs that way. They could smell it on you.

  One asked, “Have you got the boy back yet?”

  He shook his head. He had forgotten that one and his threats.

  “You have only nine more hours.”

  Bel-Sidek smiled thinly. When the fog came in no Dartar would be in a position to cause him any grief.

  Another sat down in front of him. “He suffers from youthful idealism still. When he is as old as you and I he will see the inconsequence of someone else’s child when matters of policy are at hand.”

  Fa’tad! And still armed with that gently nasty sarcasm with which he commented on things Qushmarrahan.

  “You’re surprised, Colonel bel-Sidek.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m somewhat surprised myself. I’ve come here with no specific objective in mind.”

  Liar, bel-Sidek thought. Fa’tad was the last man on earth to make a move without knowing exactly what he was doing.

  “Perhaps I’m squandering the treasure that is the knowing of how to find you. Maybe I had a hunch you might have something to say to me, knowing these hands hold the balance of power in this factious city.”

  Bel-Sidek looked the old warrior in the eye, spied a twinkle there. “Do my ears deceive me? Do I hear an offer to change sides again?”

  “Change sides? No. You didn’t hear that. We don’t change sides. We’re completely faithful to the cause of the Dartar tribes. But there have been times when we have been deceived and deserted by those who styled themselves our friends.”

  “I can’t debate that with you. Nakar himself decided that the drought had hurt Qushmarrahan agriculture too much to allow sending any of its product away from the city. Cado can pay your hire only because so many thousands of stomachs were quieted during the war.”

  “Yet there were ways Nakar could have shown gratitude for services past and have ensured those services in the future had he been less miserly. But at that moment he had no need of our savage lances. He had not yet sensed the gathering Herodian storm. When he did he whistled, expecting us to come running like dogs. Treacherous curs that we are, we answered maltreatment with maltreatment.”

  “Stipulated,” bel-Sidek said, pleased that he had found a sarcasm to match Fa’tad’s. But the Dartars were not amused.

  Fa’tad observed, “This thing with Nakar is most inopportunely timed. Given another three days, possibly four, we would have had what we came for and would have begun our preparations to leave the Herodian standard. We came so close. But that’s the story of our generation.”

  Bel-Sidek eyed Fa’tad narrowly. The man was up to something for sure.

  He would bite. For the moment. Maybe he would learn something. “What did you come for?”

  “The treasures of the citadel. We’ve made no secret of that. They were promised us by the Herodians. They never meant to keep their promise, of course. They knew we couldn’t get inside. But we persevered, and finally found the way, and it turns out we can’t get into the citadel till probably two days after the citadel comes to get us.”

  “The rumors are true? There’s a tunnel from the Shu maze?”

  “There is a passage. But like the citadel itself it’s sealed off by unbreakable spells. There is, however, nothing to keep determined men from bypassing the blockage by cutting through the rock and going around. But that is going to take too long.”

  Bel-Sidek leaned back, unafraid now, confident he had a handle on the situation. The old man wanted to trade horses. And he was sneaking up on the point rather quickly for a Dartar. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You would like us to leave Qushmarrah. You know the circumstances under which we would blow away like milkweed seed. Are you wedded to the strategy of your predecessor, who never abandoned his allegiance to the dark gods?”

  That allegation startled bel-Sidek... Azel had claimed he had met the General in temple. And Azel had been Nakar’s private assassin. “I’m not married to the concept.”

  “Ah. I feared the entire ruling council of your movement was guilty of a cynical manipulation aimed at effecting the restoration of Nakar. We have a basis for discussion.”

  “Uhm?” Let him lead. Let him lead.

  “There is another way into the citadel.”

  “If you’re going to suggest that I know it you’re sniffing the wrong trail. I’d have used it to clean the place out long ago. That wealth would buy a lot of weapons.”

  Fa’tad eyed him. “That has a certain plausibility. Nevertheless, the information exists within your organization. Those children have to be delivered somehow. Hanno bel-Karba was a careful planner. He would have made arrangements to ensure that such a critical piece of information did not get lost if misadventure overtook him... Ah! I see you’ve thought of a name.”

  The Dartars stirred. Fa’tad gestured. They were still.

  Bel-Sidek had thought of Carza. And now knew why Cado wanted to see him. Cado wanted that name. He was holding a trump he hadn’t known he had. Why shouldn’t he play it himself?

  Fa’tad said, “You’re wondering why you should give these dogs of Dartars anything. The immediate answer is simple. We have you in our power. And Nogah here has sworn to kill you when the fog comes in. Your successor will face either Nakar the Abomination or, if he is smart enough and quick enough to abort that, the implacable hostility of five thousand Dartars that would keep him from ousting Herod forever. Your cause is dying. In a few years it will expire from old age. On the other hand, if we were to get into the citadel you might find us grateful enough to aid your cause. And you’ll have gained an unvanquishable fortress from which to strike at Herod. Perhaps even through the Shu maze. Is that treasure, that you never had, suddenly more important than the goals of your movement?”

  A central point, bel-Sidek reflected. If the treasures of the citadel would buy independence, wasn’t he bound to pay? It was a cheaper fee than any they had considered paying before.

  “One question. Suppose that treasure is just as much an illusion as the supposed treasure of the king of the Shu maze?”

  “Then I’ll have made a great fool of myself. I’ll have given Qushmarrah away and will have done nothing but return a few frightened children to grieving parents. I’m confident of the wealth, however. I visited the citadel occasionally in older times.”

  “As did I. Can we state this as a clearly defined undertaking? So I’ll know exactly where we stand.”

  Fa’tad reflected. “Given the secret of entry into the citadel, which exists somewhere within your organization, my forces will penetrate the fortress. They will deliver the children held captive there. To you, if you like. They will terminate any possibility of the resurrection of Nakar. They will take of the treasure of the citadel as they desire. They will hand the fortress over to your forces. They will leave the city to you and the Herodians.”

  “A good deal, on the face of it,” bel-Sidek said. And he believed that. But he wondered what lay behind the smiling face. I
t seemed too simple, too straightforward, and maybe too small for Fa’tad al-Akla.

  Unless he was under a lot of pressure from home and would have to leave soon, anyway.

  That was a good possibility.

  “Any my part? Other than learning how you can enter the citadel?”

  “Don’t make Cado a deal when he comes looking for one.”

  One of the Dartars, who was watching the street through a crack in a boarded window, said, “The woman is coming.”

  Fa’tad nodded. “I’ve been a little slow. It’s your move, Colonel bel-Sidek.”

  “Can you keep your man away?”

  Fa’tad seemed amused. “I think I can restrain his ardor so long as he and I are certain he will have the chance to deliver the boy. Still, the deadline he set seems to me a sound one. Why wait for Nakar? The deal stands if you deliver the information before the fog comes in. I can be reached in the alley below the place you formerly occupied.”

  “And if I can’t get the information?”

  “We’ll find you again.”

  Meryel burst in. “Sisu, what the hell are you doing? You’ve got twenty men sitting around... Shit.”

  Fa’tad bowed slightly and walked out. His men followed. Bel-Sidek watched thoughtfully.

  “What the hell? That was al-Akla.”

  “He followed you here.” Bel-Sidek told her the story.

  “What’re you going to do?”

  “First I’ll see if my conscience says I have to go through with the General’s plan.”

  “You want Nakar back? If you think you owe somebody that, you’re crazier than the old man was. You even consider it, you can kiss me good-bye.”

  “There are those who would approve.”

  “So?”

  “I merely state that for the record.”

  “You think al-Akla would keep his bargain?”

  “Possibly. He certainly handed me ammunition to spend against him. I’m tempted to give him what he wants, then tell Cado he’s looting the citadel. Let them get into it. Let the Living deal with the survivors.”