by Glen Cook
He developed a tormenting itch in his bladder.
18
Naszif had gone to Government House with the Living’s guide, it seemed forever ago. He had thought Aaron ought to stay, just in case. Now Aaron wished he had asserted himself and had insisted he go, too. Or at least had told Naszif to tell General Cado to send his family home. He was painfully alone here.
Would Naszif return now he had played out the part General Cado had given him? He hoped not, but feared that was a futile hope. He had caught the eyes of the mighty and they were not going to let him slip away.
Someone tapped on the door.
His heartbeat doubled. He started to sweat. He went to peek through the peephole.
It was the Dartar Yoseh.
He opened up. “Yes?” He smiled. He liked the boy despite himself.
“Fa’tad wants to talk to you.”
Aaron did not respond. He stared into the street. It was almost dark out. The rain was not yet a downpour but it was a real rain now, and steady. What they called a soaking rain. The sewer channel was alive, snorting and gurgling. When the weather cleared, Qushmarrah would have a newly scrubbed look and a fresh, clean smell.
“Sir, Fa’tad wants to know if he can come talk to you.” Sir? Better keep an eye on this boy. “Fa’tad al-Akla?” “Yes sir.” The Dartar was amused. “I understand, sir. He scares me, too.”
Aaron snorted, a predictable response from a man whose courage had been questioned. “He can come. As long as he doesn’t blow trumpets and make a Dartar carnival out of it.”
“He’ll be here in a minute.” The boy hurried away.
What now? Aaron wondered. He did not retreat from the doorway. The street was as vacant as ever he’d seen it, barring the presence of the Dartars. Tonight, at least in this area, they had made no pretense of leaving for their compound.
Fa’tad had on his polite face when he arrived with Yoseh and the boy’s older brother. Nogah? To make him feel more comfortable, having someone around he knew at least vaguely?
“I’m sorry I can offer no hospitality,” Aaron said. “But welcome to my home, anyway.”
Fa’tad looked around, comparing the actuality to reports he had received. “Thank you. That you have received me is hospitality enough.”
“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“Ha!” Fa’tad snorted. “You do that almost as well as a Dartar.”
Aaron was puzzled. The man must have heard something he had not said. He was just trying to be courteous.
Fa’tad said, “I am hoping you will help me carry off something that should get your boy back. If we move fast.”
Aaron was not so naive as to assume Arifs well-being meant anything to Fa’tad al-Akla. The old nomad wanted to use him. But that was all right. He would play if it looked like Fa’tad could deliver.
“Tell me about it.” He hoped he could separate fact from tall tales. He accounted himself a little too gullible. Look what bel-Sidek had told him. “I won’t guarantee anything.”
“Well spoken! Always examine the horse’s teeth. Very well. I will tell you everything.”
When dogs fly, Aaron thought. “Go ahead.”
“When I chose to follow the standard of Herod I was promised the treasures of the citadel, which would be of great help to rny people. Six years have passed. I have not yet glimpsed those treasures. General Cado has made no effort to breach the citadel. A few days ago, curiosity sparked by the kidnapping, I began investigating the Shu labyrinth. From criminals captured inside I learned of a legend about a secret entrance to the citadel. I searched for it. I found it. But it is sealed by spells as potent as those protecting the citadel above. I thought to best the spell by tunneling around the blockage. But then we all learned what the kidnappings are about. It was evident that my method of attack would be too slow. You follow so far?”
“I follow.” Aaron smiled weakly. “I don’t necessarily believe, but I follow.” He felt wildly daring, talking that way to Fa’tad al-Akla.
Fa’tad smiled back. His raptor’s face seemed to fall into a smile naturally, which was astonishing. “A skeptic. Good. A man does well to be skeptical in times like these. So. The nature of the game, and the stakes, changed last night. And then again this afternoon.”
Startled, Aaron asked, “This afternoon? What now?”
“General Cado has disappeared. Rumor says the Living have taken him captive. I presume to prevent him from interfering with their effort to resurrect Nakar the Abomination.”
That was a blow to the heart. And he had heard enough around Government House to suspect General Cado’s disappearance would throw the garrison into chaos.
Al-Akla continued, “Governor Sullo will try to assume Cado’s responsibilities. It’s one of the promises he made to the people who sent him here. I do not want him in control. Another promise he made was that he would, once he obtained the power, abrogate Cado’s treaties and begin looting Qushmarrah’s treasures-especially those of the citadel, which grow more fabulous with every telling.”
Aaron suddenly feared for his family, caught in a squabble between the Residence and Government House. He demanded,
“How can you know what Sullo promised anybody before he left Herod?”
“We may be savages, carpenter, but we do have our friends across the great shining water.” Fa’tad’s voice was edged with sarcasm.
Aaron began pacing. If this was even half true he had to get his family out of harm’s way. And what about Arif? His gut feeling about Governor Sullo was that the man did not give a damn what happened to Qushmarrah’s children.
“What do you want?”
“I want to divert Sullo. I want to appeal to his greed and so distract him while I find General Cado and steal Sullo’s witch. Without her he cannot go anywhere. What I need from you is for you to run breathless to Sullo to report that the Dartars are only a few hours short of breaking into the citadel from the maze. I hope he will chase us off and waste a few days hunting for the way. We won’t tell him where it is.”
It did not add up. Aaron said so. And he asked, “How does this get you into the citadel?”
Fa’tad thought a moment, as though trying to decide if he ought to say more. “Uhn. I intend to use his witch. She’s our only hope of getting in there in time.”
“But...”
“No more answers. No more questions. You know enough already to destroy me if you develop a sudden sympathy for Governor Sullo. I am going to return to my alley now, leaving you to reflect. Leaving you with the assurance that the first thing we will do once we break through is find your son. In fact, if you wish, you may go with us when we storm the citadel. Nogah. Yoseh. Come.”
Out they went.
Aaron snuffed the one candle he had had burning, sat in the dark thinking. Arif haunted every moment.
The nightmares were real now.
Yoseh asked, “Did you mean that about going after his son before anything else, sir?”
“Hell, yes. If the boy was unfortunate enough to inherit the soul of Nakar the Abomination, then he is the key to our survival. He has to be gotten away from the Witch. At whatever the cost.”
Yoseh did not like the tone of that but he had exhausted his store of daring.
Medjhah heard them stirring, came to meet them. He whispered something to Fa’tad that Yoseh did not catch. Fa’tad grunted and hurried toward the alleyway.
The darkness was crowded. The troop had a stranger under guard there.
“Colonel bel-Sidek,” Fa’tad said. “I had begun to fear we wouldn’t see you again.”
“But I had to come,” the veydeen replied. “It’s almost time for the fog to roll in.” He sounded amused. “Though I doubt there’ll be any fog tonight, in this.”
Yoseh thought al-Akla sounded like he was trying to suppress excitement when he asked, “Did you get me what I need?”
“No. Unfortunately. The man I thought might know has proven stubborn. He insists he doesn�
��t know. I’ve come to suspect the chances are at least even that he’s telling the truth.”
Fa’tad did not say anything for a minute. No one else said a thing. Then, “Give him to us. We’d find the truth in an hour.”
“No doubt. And then be dead before morning.”
“Eh?”
“No. I’ve alienated half my organization already. Basically, I’ve bet my life on you as the alternative to the restoration of Nakar. I won’t push the hard-liners any farther.”
Several men growled. A few made threats. The Qushmarrahan said, “Do as you will. But if I’m not back soon the hard-liners will take control. Before dawn the streets will be red with blood. You’ll recall that some misguided Qushmarrahans would rather spill Dartar blood than Herodian.”
Fa’tad grunted. Men stirred angrily. The Eagle said, “Go back to your men. Remember that the sands are running through the glass. A minute of delay may be the minute Nakar needs. Go.”
The Qushmarrahan went, limping.
Someone asked, “How come you turned him loose?”
“He was telling the truth. And I have no wish to leave your body on a Qushmarrahan street, to be torn by dogs and abused by children.”
No one argued with that.
“We aren’t in a position to deal with rebellion. Too much is happening.”
Yoseh was puzzled. But Fa’tad was not going to explain. Fa’tad was being Fa’tad, whose thoughts were known to none.
Yoseh wondered why he did not, at least, have the veydeen followed.
Azel pried himself away from the window. What the hell was he watching for? He couldn’t do anything if he did see something coming.
He needed to move around. His body was going to petrify.
“Getting too damned old,” he muttered, feeling his wounds far more than he would have years ago.
His stomach was a knot. He had not eaten. He had just plain forgot.
He headed downstairs.
He stopped off to mix and gulp an analgesic draft, went on to the kitchen. He ate what was available without complaining. He learned that the stores situation was not as grim as he feared, though there would be nothing fresh for a while.
After eating he limped down to look at Nakar and Ala-eh-din Beyh. Nothing had changed. Unless the darkness was a little deeper.
He stood there a long time, letting silence surround, enfold, enter him. He wondered if the General’s scheme would have worked. Nakar always had possessed a keen sense for danger.
Might still find out if the Witch came around in time.
Yes. It could work out. It could.
“There you are. I heard you were roaming around.”
Startled, Azel faced Torgo. He turned a retort into a grunt. “Catching up on my worrying. Any improvement in her?”
“Not yet.” The eunuch was troubled. “I’ve never seen her sleep so deep so long.”
“She wouldn’t listen.” Azel moved toward the doorway. “But maybe we’re not so pressed. I been watching the Herodians. If they’re trying to get in they’re doing a good job of hiding it.”
“That’s good to hear.” Torgo had something on his mind but could not quite get to it. “I’m going to eat now. Want to come along?”
What the hell? Just as polite, Azel replied, “Sorry. I just ate. Going to go back up and watch now.”
“Later.”
“Sure.”
Azel watched the eunuch out of sight. Maybe he would be easy, after all. The General’s scheme might get its test yet.
With Torgo safely in the kitchen Azel sneaked into the Witch’s bedchamber.
No woman looked her best in the midst of sleep but she looked worse than he expected. She seemed aged a decade since he had seen her last.
He left in a hurry, unsettled, pained.
Colonel Bruda scowled at his visitor. “Don’t press me, Governor. I spent the day in the mud and rain, prospecting for a body I never found. I’ll have more of the same tomorrow if General Cado’s disappearance is a false alarm. If it isn’t, I have my orders. They’re very specific when it comes to dealing with the civil authority.”
Sullo smiled and nodded. He had not yet spoken.
“I’ve been back a half hour and haven’t sat down yet, let alone cleaned up or fed myself. I’m in a bad mood. I won’t play power games. I’ll stick to my orders regardless. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly clear, Colonel. Perfectly. I’ll keep that in mind. Meantime, might I broach the matter which brought me here?”
“Certainly, Governor.” He doubted Sullo would. “Though I’d appreciate brevity. I want to get after this supposed disappearance.” He had Colonel bel-Abek waiting in the next room.
“Of course. I came to express my support and to inquire if the military have prisoners we might use in experiments meant to help penetrate the citadel gate.” Bruda looked at the man, wondered how he could, without
Rose’s knife, put him out of the way neatly, with no kickbacks.
Keeping the reins onQushmarrah would be hard enough without Sullo intriguing and interfering. “I’ll find you some volunteers. How soon do you need them?” “Annalaya expects to start about midnight.” Bruda grunted. “I’ll get you started. Now. If you’ll excuse me?” Sullo smirked. “Of course, Colonel. Of course.” Bruda turned his back, headed for the next room, determined to find out what had happened. Bel-Abek had been in the middle of it...
Bel-Sidek had not yet wrung himself dry when Zenobel arrived. The man stamped in, stared at him like he did not know whether to be angry or conciliatory.
“You have a problem, Khadifa?” Bel-Sidek could not help being envious of Zenobel. The man remained untouched by the disasters of the war. He was healthy, youthful, virile, handsome, energetic, and his family fortunes had suffered no insurmountable setbacks.
“I may have several. I’m not sure. Is is true you have Carza under arrest?”
That was getting around? How the hell did you get people to keep their mouths shut? “In a manner of speaking. He refuses to respond to an order so I’ve relieved him of the Minisia. I’m holding him here till I get what I want.”
Zenobel eyed him. He met the man’s gaze. Zenobel said, “What’s the problem? Maybe I can talk to him.”
“Maybe.” Bel-Sidek did not think it was likely. Carza did not like Zenobel. On the other hand, they were the same kind of fanatic. Carza might enlist Zenobel in his scheme.
Bel-Sidek began probing Zenobel’s attitude toward the dark gods. Zenobel did not put up with it long. “What’re you doing? I’m as religious as a turnip.”
“Carza was involved with the citadel in a scheme that, through sorcery, would’ve resurrected Nakar.”
Zenobel stared. And kept staring till Bel-Sidek asked, “Are you all right?”
“Why would he want that?”
“Would a resurrected Nakar not deliver Qushmarrah from the Herodian yoke?”
“Let me think for a minute. Hell. How about you fill in a little? Maybe I can get him to see straight. We talk the same language.”
They did that, Bel-Sidek reflected. Why not risk it? The worst would be that he would have to restrain Zenobel, too.
He told the story as he knew it.
Zenobel did not comment for a long time. Finally, he said, “I’ll see what I can do with him. I like the idea of getting the Herodians and Dartars at each other’s throats. That might set the fur flying all along the coast. But don’t you think taking Cado out gives Fa’tad too great an advantage?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ha! Don’t be coy. It’s all over the city. The Living have taken Cado captive. That’s the other reason I came. Bruda has put all Herodian troops on alert. He has patrols in Herodian residential areas to warn Herodian citizens that there may be trouble. The guard on the Gate of Autumn has been trebled. The Dartar compound has been warned to be prepared for civil unrest.”
“That snake!” Bel-Sidek muttered. “That bloody damned snake!” Al-Akla had grabbed Cado and
was handing the credit to the Living. Had to be. There was no other explanation.
Though that one did not make much sense.
“What?”
“Nothing. Go see Brother Carza. I have to do some thinking.”
He did a lot of thinking but did not get anywhere. He was not sure where he wanted to go now. He could make no strategic choices because he had no idea what Fa’tad or the Herodians hoped to accomplish, beyond the obvious.
There were tactical steps he could take. He did so, beginning with patrols meant to sweep the neighborhood of watchers.
One possibility nagged: suppose al-Akla had not grabbed Cado? Suppose some of his own people, in sympathy with those in the citadel, had?
He was a troubled and beleaguered captain, was Sisu bel-Sidek.
19
Aaron hunched against the wind whipping the rain in under the portico of the Residence. This was not going to work. They would just give him the runaround and not let him see anyone. And right now he was so miserable it was hard to care. Had the citadel not been right there, so close he could sense its evil, he would have gone home.
But it was there, a pitiless reminder that Arif was imprisoned, at the mercy of evil, and he was out here, able to do nothing but this to help.
The man he had spoken to earlier finally returned, seemed surprised to find him still waiting. “The governor will see you, Mr. Habid.” That seemed to surprise him, too. “If you will come with me?” He led the way past blank-faced Moretians. They made Aaron’s skin crawl. He had heard that they ate human flesh.
His guide’s Qushmarrahan was atrocious. Other than native staff, though, who were part of the furniture of the place, and beneath notice by official occupants, he was the one man in the Residence who spoke the language at all.
The man led him to a poorly lighted room where Governor Sullo was watching his witch. She was seated at a table, bent over a chart, using draftsman’s tools, working out something Aaron did not understand.
Governor Sullo greeted him with a limp handclasp and an insincere smile. He jabbered at the man. Aaron caught a few words, though not enough to make sense. He waited for the translation.