by Harold Lamb
“Power, Nureddin, is built upon a multitude of swords. Sword-arms can be bought. Wealth we must have, and it comes from the labor of the low-born who are the peasants of Jhilam, and now—"
“The Kashmiris mutter and shirk, feeling the breath of the wind of rebellion, my lord."
“Aye, due to sight of Rao Singh, who is of the accursed brood of Sattar Singh. Verily they shall not see him long."
He leaned closer to the astrologer.
“The Mogul must have his tribute—silver coins, while gold mohars accumulate in the treasury of Jhilam."
He threw back his head with a silent laugh that changed to a grimace of hate.
“Nureddin, how shall we deal with the lion cub of Jhilam?"
The courtier meditated, seeking a clue in the face of his master.
“'Tis plain, my lord, the scoundrel came to Jhilam to stir the fires of strife. Is he not then a rebel against the Mogul? Should he not be impaled upon a spear and left to rot where the kites and the low-born may find him?"
Shaista Mirza smiled grimly.
“The stars have not taught you—policy, Nureddin. Nay, is it well to mention the Kashmiris to Jahangir? He is their overlord— though he keeps his army south of the hills.
“Harken—Rao Singh has outraged the seraglio of the Mogul. So shall we send a rider in haste with news of his capture and a prayer that Jahangir name the manner of his punishment. Thus will we have the sanction of the Mogul for our action. And the Kashmiris shall know this."
The astrologer bent his head and touched the floor with the tips of his fingers as a sign of mute admiration.
“O wise reader of men! 'Tis an excellent plan. But if the punishment be not death?"
“A simple matter. The boy will sicken and—follow the shadow of his mother. He mourns for Kera—the wanton. So shall he welcome the false contentment of hashish."
“And Kera of Kargan?" Nureddin looked up curiously. He had not understood why Shaista Mirza had ordered Jaffar to slay the girl brutally.
Moreover Nureddin was a trifle anxious concerning Kargan Khan. If the truth were known the Kirghiz could muster a force of warriors who were hardy men, bold riders and fearless.
“Jaffar mutilated the maiden as I bade him," responded the Persian softly. “Already I have decided to send a messenger to the Kirghiz tribe, relating how Kera was laid in the dust of death by—a certain one. Bember Hakim, our worthy physician, saw the deed."
The astrologer glanced admiringly at his lord. Truly Shaista Mirza was a master of human fate.
“Then will come Kargan Khan to Jhilam like the breath of the storm-wind to see vengeance done. And when he comes he will look upon the body of the slayer of Kera. Because of this he will yield me the hand of friendship which he has withheld until now—"
Sudden suspicion flared in the cold eyes of the mirza and an oath trembled on his lips as he stared through the portal. A fisher-boat had drawn in to the landing-stage of the floating island.
Then he saw that the figure in the boat was Bember Hakim, escorted by the mighty Jaffar.
The physician performed the triple salaam as he came into the presence of his master. As a mark of favor Shaista Mirza bade him be seated on the carpet. Bember Hakim's white cloak with the pearls was stained with mud and his thin face was blue with cold.
“Wherefore are you late?" demanded Nureddin sharply.
“Lord, and Monarch of Exalted Mercy," said the physician to Shaista Mirza, “as you bade me, I awaited the gray rider of the steppe. The words that you were divinely pleased to utter I repeated to him."
“What thinks the unbeliever?"
“Lord, one escaped death, a wretched Cheker Ghar, the buffoon. He upbraided me with treachery, and barely I escaped with my life. Yet even in the cold—and the snow fell—I crept back to the cavern from the rocks above and heard the Cossack vow—"
He hesitated in fear of the man who watched him silently. “What, fool?"
“He vowed, lord, to seek vengeance for Kera, and to—slay the master of Jhilam."
Nureddin laughed, but Shaista Mirza moved no muscle of his face. “It is well, Bember Hakim," he said, and the Arab knew he was pleased.
After a moment's thought he continued.
“Thus we have two alive who are our foes. Of Khlit of the Curved Saber I have heard some talk. A wandering Christian who was once khan of a northern clan. He dares not ride to the Mogul with his news, for he is under the ban of outcast."
He played with the golden chain at his throat, frowning slightly.
“'Tis unlikely that this aged unbeliever will seek Kargan Khan, yet—shall we leave no hole through which the fox could creep. Mount, Bember Hakim, this day, and ride by the Baramula caravan-trail to the Kirghiz tribe.
“Seek Kargan and say to him that if he would look upon the murderer of his daughter to come to the Wular davan with speed. Your tongue is shrewd, Hakim—speak him well, but haste."
He sighed and fell to stirring the brazier.
“Nureddin, the dice fall as we wish—since we have doctored them. For who would play with life with unloaded dice? A fool! And who would invoke a god to aid him? A simpleton.
“Yet is this Khlit crafty after a fashion. Nureddin, talk with Rao Singh. The youth saw not the death of his wanton. Declare that Khlit sabered her. Thus will we plant a seed that may bear fruit."
“If he doubts, my lord—"
“Eh—remind him that Khlit owes his outlawry to Kera—" Bember Hakim had told his master all that had passed—“also that Khlit escaped hurt when Jaffar attacked Rao Singh."
“Yet the fight at the ford—"
“He saw it not."
Shaista Mirza turned to the waiting sword-bearer. “Jaffar, choose a following—nay, t'were best to ride alone. Fear you the Curved Saber?"
The broad Turk bared his teeth and touched his scimitar significantly.
“Then seek the man about the northern end of the lake. Take with you some trinket from Rao Singh. Say that the youth sends a message to the ear of Khlit, having promised you the jewel as reward. If he is puzzled in spirit by this and relaxes his guard— slay him. Do not fail this time."
Now as the four were ascending the bare gardens of Jhilam over the terraces to the palace proper, Jaffar espied in the distance on the crest of a hill something that might have been a rider on a dark horse.
Whereupon, after marking the position of the watcher at the forest edge, he mounted hastily without waiting to don his armor and spurred to the spot.
Here he found tracks in the snow made apparently by two animals. Doubtful now of what he had seen, he went forward into the pines, following the tracks leisurely. After a while they separated.
Jaffar turned his horse after one trail, taking the precaution of poising a primed pistol in his free hand. He was an experienced warrior, yet too vain of his strength, which was bred more of flesh than of spirit.
He hastened forward at a curious sound. It resembled the groan of a man. It proved to be but a mule.
A sick mule, wasted and trembling upon its legs. On its back was bound the blackened body of a man long, long dead, with arrows sticking from its chest. Jaffar's eyes widened and he cursed aloud until he remembered the soldier slain by order of Shaista Mirza a fortnight ago.
Then he thrust his pistol back into his girdle and had turned homeward something hastily, for the sight of his own handiwork was not pleasant, when he saw a strange form creeping from the thicket at his side.
It was a lean man in a green cloak, a knife between his teeth, which were set in a grin of hate. Seeing that he was observed, the man leaped forward, running with bent knees, silently intent.
Jaffar plucked the pistol from his belt and fired, only to see one corner of the cloak jerk. He had no time to draw a second weapon.
A black horse burst from the farther side of the thicket, snorting under the spur.
The Turk whirled to meet the rider of the black horse. Another second and his own mount had been knocked f
rom its feet by the impact of the other's horse and Jaffar with a shrill cry of terror fell headlong.
For an instant before the creeping man with the knife reached him, Jaffar's eyes rolled in fear while he fumbled with his sword. Then Cheker Ghar with a low chuckle of joy sprang upon the powerful Turk, knife in hand.
That night Jaffar returned on his horse to his lord and to Jhilam. His horse wandered back to its stable by instinct. Yet slowly, for tied to the saddle-girth of Jaffar was the halter of the mule. Upon the back of the mule was the victim of Shaista Mirza.
And, as Nureddin observed sagely, the one was not more dead than the other.
Thus did Khlit throw down the gage of war to Shaista Mirza and did Cheker Ghar avenge her to whom he had given his allegiance and whom he still praised as the Flower of the Hills.
It was long before the conjurer was seen in the vicinity of the Wular.
VII
Jaffar's death did not disturb Shaista Mirza, after the first moment when the body of his sword-bearer was brought to him. His anger had blazed up at sight of the dead Turk and he spurned the body with a slippered foot.
“Fool," he whispered, “to be outwitted by a mummer and a graybeard. Waste not a dinar on burial, but cast this carrion into the lake."
Whereupon he fell silent and retired to his chamber, playing long games of chess with Nureddin while he awaited word from his messengers.
The first to arrive was the rider he had dispatched to the Mogul. Jahangir was rejoiced at the capture of Rao Singh. In the royal firman were many words of flattery and praise for Shaista Mirza.
Jahangir ordered that Rao Singh be confined in the prison cells of Jhilam. Death was the penalty for breaking into the imperial seraglio, but the cautious monarch suggested that the Kashmiris might resent the infliction of such a punishment on the son of Sattar Singh. Hence the decree of imprisonment.
Shaista Mirza spat upon the firman, then tossed it contemptuously to the astrologer.
“Behold the word of a monarch who is bound by the cords of his fear! Still it must suffice. When Bember Hakim returns, bid him prepare the drug that eats into the brain and creates a fever in the limbs—a wasting sickness. Did not the hakim prepare this physic for Rani Begum?"
Nureddin bowed in understanding. So the mirza had been the author of Rani Begum's death! After all, the astrologer reflected, it was wise, for so long as the brood of Sattar Singh lived, the Persian's seat upon the throne of Jhilam was not secure.
But Bember Hakim was slow in making his appearance. Knowing the uncertainty of travel over the northern passes where only the horns of mountain sheep and stags marked the caravan trails, Shaista Mirza was not disturbed. The man's patience where his schemes were involved was as great as his anger at the failure of a subordinate.
Yet he did not go again to the floating island, having in mind perhaps the death of Jaffar. He sat on the carpet of his sleeping chamber, hearing the reports of his vizier, the treasurer of the Jhilam fief, and playing at chess often—sometimes discussing with Nureddin the science of the stars.
Although a keen watch was kept around the outer gardens of Jhilam, Khlit was not to be seen. Shaista Mirza had issued a firman declaring death the penalty for any Kashmiri to give food or shelter to the outcast, also promising a mohar of rupees to whoever would bring tidings of Khlit.
No one came to claim the gold, and it is certain that the Cossack was given fodder for his horse at the Wular villages. The Cossack kept to the forest, pitching his yurt where he could watch Jhilam without danger of discovery.
This course of action suited Khlit well. He was accustomed to playing a lone hand, and the numerous followers of the Persian gave him no cause for concern. He hunted occasionally when he needed meat, and slept little, sitting in the door of his yurt, his sword across his knees and the brace of pistols on a sheepskin at his side. And he groomed and fed his horse painstakingly.
“Hey, black imp of hell," he observed caressingly, “eat well— yet not too much; for the day will come when you must gallop with the dogs of Satan at heel. Hey, that will be a ride of rides."
So Khlit waited in his yurt overlooking the fortress, and Shaista Mirza sat in an inner room and meditated.
Then came Nureddin to his master, smiling, with news on his bearded lips.
“O Lord of Exalted Wisdom," he announced, “there came Bember Hakim alone and pale with the cold of the hill passes. Verily the thin blood has dried in his veins and the fingers of one hand are scourged with frost. Barely he could whisper his message—"
“What said he, parrot-tongue?"
“This, my lord. He gave me a signet from Kargan Khan—" Nureddin handed the mirza a ring which his master scanned keenly and placed in his girdle, satisfied—“and reported that the wrath of the Kirghiz hill chief was like the blind rage of a wounded tiger—"
“Nay, a witless buffalo!"
“Aye, my lord. Kargan Khan musters his riders and girds on the sword of vengeance. In spite of the snow he will ride down the Baramula trail to the Wular davan, even as you advised."
The hard eyes of the Persian gleamed.
“Furthermore Kargan Khan would look upon the body of his child, so that the edge of his anger shall be sharp. Even now he tears his beard and cries upon his gods to speed the arrow-stitches of retribution."
Shaista Mirza stroked the wrinkled skin of his forehead reflectively.
“Why do men utter the name of a god when they feel pain? 'Tis like to the vain cry of a child newborn, Nureddin. Aye—not even the hand of a god may lift the shadow of destiny. Say on."
“On the fifth day will Kargan Khan be at the Wular davan by the grave of Kera. So said he at the border of his land. For three days Bember Hakim rode hither."
“Then," calculated the mirza, “on the second day from now will we meet with Kargan Khan. It is well. You have talked with Rao Singh?"
“Aye. Yet not as if there was a purpose in my mind. I spoke as if by chance, saying that Khlit had slain the woman. At first he believed not."
Shaista Mirza frowned, but Nureddin raised his hand deprecatingly.
“Not in vain have I knelt at the feet of the master of wisdom of Rudbar, and disciple of the Refik. A thought came to me, and I had slaves fetch the body of Jaffar—before it was thrown to the Wular—as if by chance. And the slaves told the boy that Khlit had slain Jaffar. They told how the unbeliever was an outcast in the hills."
Shaista Mirza leaned forward expectantly.
“My lord," continued Nureddin smilingly, “the slaves were simple folk and Rao Singh saw that they lied not. Wherefore a doubt seized upon his spirit as the first sore of disease appears upon the body."
“And then—"
“I sought out Bember Hakim's accursed store of herbs and powders. I bade the warders give him opium, a little at a time. And Rao Singh began to brood. His doubt is heavy upon him. He remembers little of the fight in the valley, for his brain is dulled with the blow and with mourning for Kera of Kargan."
Nureddin stroked his beard tranquilly, aware that Shaista Mirza was pleased.
“One thing further shall I do before the day of triumph. Bember Hakim now lies abed, gripped by the demons of sickness, for his body is frail and he has endured much.
“The malady has affected his tongue, but he is doctoring himself with rank smelling herbs and by the second day he will recover. Then shall I send him to the chamber of Rao Singh, and his words will bear out my tale."
“Aye," assented Shaista Mirza; “Rao Singh knows that the Arab saw the affray in the Wular davan."
“The boy is feverish with his grief. Truly it is strange that he should grieve for one woman. Are there not round-faced maids of Persia to be bought as slaves? Or pale and handsome maidens from Georgia? And even the Kashmiris are not ill shaped, for I have seized certain—"
Shaista Mirza waved his hand impatiently and the astrologer was silent.
“Rao Singh is not like to Sattar Singh, Nureddin," he meditated.
&
nbsp; “He is empty of mind and foolish as a young stag—eh, thereby we shall profit. For by your arts Rao Singh will believe Khlit slew the woman."
He glanced up at the water-clock that marked the passage of the hours.
“Soon, Nureddin, we shall take Rao Singh to the Wular davan, and with him Bember Hakim. Then shall they bear witness that Khlit is the slayer of Kera. And Kargan Khan shall hear."
“Most wise lord!" mouthed the astrologer.
“Take care that the Hindu is plied well with opium. Thus by the arts of Bember Hakim he shall say what we will that he should. And Kargan Khan with his steppe wolves will scour Kashmir until he hunts down Khlit."
“Aye, lord, and with Rao Singh gone to the portals of death you will be purged of the brood of Sattar Singh."
“And sole master of Jhilam, in favor both with the Mogul and Kargan Khan."
He looked up where the sky showed through an embrasure in the wall. Suspense crept into his crafty face. “The omens are good, Nureddin? My star will be ascendant in the constellation of the East?"
“Lord, the star of your birth will rise that night, foretelling a mighty event."
In a bed-chamber of the Jhilam palace a wizened man coughed and muttered on the cushions of the floor, wrapped in his cloak, while he prepared certain mixtures of powders, which smoked in a brass pot over the flames.
He ordered his trembling slaves to fetch a young goat, living, and to let some of its blood run into a dish. Whereupon he consulted the book of the two hundred and sixty medicinal substances, as written by the Arab scientists. He prepared a broth of the goat-blood and the contents of the vials at his girdle.
The slaves cringed and choked in the smoke from the foul mixture in the pot. Then he drank the broth and sighed, announcing that the elements of disease had been vitiated and that he would sleep until Shaista Mirza summoned him.
During that night and the next day fur-clad riders threaded through the lower passes of the Himalayas on ponies that stumbled ahead in blinding snow and a sharp wind that swept in their faces like a keen sword.
The riders bore spears at their shoulders, and under their furs wore shirts of Kallmark mail. They stopped only to make an offering of food before the shrine of the Altai-Nor god—a felt image fastened to a tree-trunk beneath a rough wooden roof—to insure their safe descent of the dangerous pass.