In the Shadow of Swords

by Val Gunn

  It was late when Munif went to meet with Nasir. Dassai had finally fallen asleep, much to Munif’s relief. Of course, it helped that he had plied Dassai with glass after glass of wine. After an hour, Dassai had relaxed enough to brag openly about his cunning in arranging the summoners’ massacres in the Mirani kingdoms. He had been especially proud of the innocent blood that had been shed. He spoke of his control over Prince Malek, his disdain for the Sultan and the entire royal family, and the incompetence of the Jassaj and siris. “It is only a matter of time,” he slurred just before he nodded off.

  Dassai had arranged a meeting with several members of the council. Soon he would convince a sufficient number of the majals to kill the Sultan.

  Munif mulled all this over as he approached the Miráshel. He hoped Nasir was waiting for him.

  As he entered the park he saw the Prince leaning against a statue of white stone. As he tried to raise his hand as a sign to

  Nasir that he was approaching, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed up against a tree trunk. Cold, rough ridges of bark dug into his back.

  “Niccolo!” Nasir hissed. “Another plot you willingly serve, I see. Whom are you paying off now for his favors?”

  Munif laughed and said, “So, tell me what you really think of me, my Prince.”

  Nasir jumped back, confused.

  “What’s going on here?” Nasir ran his hands over Munif’s shoulders. “Is that you, Pavanan?”

  “Yes, it is,” Munif said, chuckling. “Thank all that is good, I can finally speak to you. And I can talk to someone as myself rather than that spineless worm whose face I wear.”

  Nasir looked at him with wonder. “How?”

  “I discovered the location of Arzani with the help of Ilss Cencova. I killed him and used his skin as a disguise. These have been the darkest days of my life, my friend.”

  Nasir threw back his head to laugh heartily, then remembered where they were and stifled it; he spoke seriously and quietly. “I can imagine. What have you discovered? Where is Fajeer?”

  “I am safe for now,” Munif said. “He still needs men he thinks he can trust.”

  Nasir raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It’s a brave thing you do, Munif. I admire it.”

  “He suspects nothing. He is at his house, asleep—passed out, actually. However, not before he shared with me the details of his upcoming meeting.”

  Munif told him where he thought the location with the majals might take place. “I cannot believe they can actually do this, hold a gathering of such treachery in the very chambers of the council.”

  “Once we’re certain of the exact time, we’ll make our move,” Nasir said carefully. “There must be a reason he needs Niccolo there. I sense that he may have a sinister plan for you.”

  “So do I,” Munif agreed. “I find it difficult to believe he hasallowed the man to live this long. But I cannot expose myself too soon. I must allow this meeting to take place.”

  Nasir nodded. “We will be there with you, my friend. That I promise.”

  As Munif made his way back through the darkness, he hoped Dassai had not noticed his absence.

  Soon he would know for sure.

  14

  FAJEER DASSAI was wide awake.

  Munif entered the room to find Dassai stoking the meager fire in the hearth; he did not look up when Munif walked in. For that, Munif was grateful; he was not certain he had managed to suppress his shock upon seeing the man absolutely unaffected by a night of heavy drinking.

  “Nice of you to return, Niccolo,” Dassai said. “Where were you?”

  “I…” Munif noticed that the chair was gone. “I went out for a walk to clear my mind, Fajeer.” Munif hesitated, checking his voice as he spoke, hoping he had not resumed his own inflections after speaking with Nasir. “I assumed you were resting for the night,” he said.

  “Heed this warning,” Dassai spoke evenly as he stood and picked up his sword from the table. “I am not a drunk, nor do I sleep deeply.” He stood in front of Munif. “It would take something much stronger to leave me unconscious.”

  The perspiration on Munif’s upper lip was real. The slight tremor in his legs was not something he had feigned in order to match Arzani’s likely reaction. He was truly afraid for his life.

  Dassai laid the flat of the blade against Munif’s neck. “If I thought for one moment that you might cross me, Niccolo, I would take off your head with one swipe of this steel. I would notwait for you to fulfill your promise to me and take your own life. I have no such patience. Do you understand me?”

  “Ye-yes… yes, I do. I have done nothing to betray you, I swear!”

  Dassai smiled a tight, humorless smile and put the sword down. “That’s good. I still see a good future for you, my dear man. And I would very much dislike it if I should have to change my plans at this late date.” Dassai sheathed his sword and set it back on the table. He turned toward Munif and let out a burst of hearty laughter. “Don’t look so frightened, Niccolo. I said a great future lies ahead for you. You will soon see.” The smile disappeared, and his eyes narrowed. “Now let me be.”

  Munif turned away and sat on his bunk. When Dassai returned to the hearth to stir up the fire, Munif furtively studied the sword on the table. He pondered its precision and its beauty, and considered that it must be ready for whatever might happen.

  Here was yet another opportunity for him to murder his nemesis. But he knew that he must not kill Dassai now. He must wait. Dassai was not stupid; he would be expecting that Arzani would be foolish enough to challenge him. He was always watchful, always poised for action.

  No, this was not the time for vengeance. On the other hand, neither would there be anyone sleeping here tonight.

  Of that Munif was certain.

  15

  CENCOVA WAS relieved.

  Until the Prince informed him of the meeting, he had no way of knowing that Munif was at this very moment wondering if Dassai had been completely truthful, or if he had been feeding Munif false information as a test of his mettle. For Cencova, this would be his opportunity to avenge the murder of so many—

  Hiril Altaïr foremost.

  Cencova arranged a force of siris and an alchemist to close the noose around the traitor’s neck. They planned their strategy with care, mindful of all possible contingencies. The only thing they did not plan for was failure. They had come too far for that to be an option. If they did not succeed in stopping Dassai, everything would be lost. Dassai would rule through his puppet Malek.

  As the first sun rose above the horizon, Cencova and Nasir felt very much alone. Since neither had a propensity for idle conversation, they watched the sunrise in silence. Each man considered his life up to this point. They agreed that they had had good lives—and that whatever sacrifices they were about to make were worth it, when they considered the many blessings they had received throughout the years.

  Behind them, a horse snorted. They turned to see Munif mounting the steed he had borrowed from the stables. Munif glanced their way, and when he had confirmed they were observing him, he turned the horse away from them and crossed his fingers behind his back. This was a familiar signal. It meant something had happened; there might be problems.

  Nasir and Cencova went over to where their own horses were stabled. They ducked behind a large bale of hay just as Dassai came out of the house. Through a space between the bales, they watched as he sprang onto his horse and kicked it into a gallop. They would have to put plenty of distance between themselves and Dassai so that he wouldn’t notice them following.

  Now, as they watched, Dassai and a group of men who had come to meet him moved up the road away from the city’s center. Then, from the east, they spied a large number of men also riding toward Dassai. Dassai waved a greeting as they joined him.

  Cencova recognized some of the men and was dismayed. Fajeer Dassai’s lies had indeed succeeded.

  Cencova and Nasir followed the riders at a distance for some time, counting
the numbers of men ahead and watching for newarrivals. They agreed that if they could gradually move up behind the majals, they would not likely be recognized. They were dressed plainly enough that they could assume the identity of servants and ride along unnoticed. Dassai would not know they were there until it was too late.

  There was much left to do.

  The council hall rested in the hills above Cievv. The look and design was more fortress than a place of commerce. The sessions were adjourned for another two weeks so Munif knew traffic to and from the hall would be sparse. As both men rode and closed in on their destination, each knew that Dassai was wise in his timing.

  As the main procession passed under the archway leading into the immense labyrinthine of buildings, Dassai veered away from the group and the main entrance.

  “There is someone who I must consult with before the meeting starts,” Dassai said after leading Munif to an elaborate structure which was windowless and had only a single door leading inward. “I will come for you in two hours. Stay near, is that understood?”

  “As you wish,” Munif said.

  The door opened and Dassai entered, leaving Munif alone with the horses. He knew this was the perfect opportunity to meet with Cencova and Nasir. They could prepare the siris for impending confrontation. A few minutes later Munif and the others were reunited.

  “I think it is time to bring in the alchemist,” Cencova said, “I have an idea that may just work in our favor.”

  “Tell us what you have in mind,” Munif responded.

  16

  THE CIRCULAR chamber was massive.

  It had four entrances, each accessed by a long flight of polished stone steps that descended into the dimly lit room. Immense marble columns of various colors and grains supported a stunning silver dome. A single sconce on each pillar held an oil lamp, providing illumination for the chamber.

  Carved high on the walls were words in the ancient language of Náhk: Tueil Acaran Mehl Sirion. The phrase, which meant Hope Is the Wellspring That Flows Within, had long been adopted by the Rassan Majalis.

  Above, on the interior of the dome, a mural depicted the heavens and the earth: the suns, moons, and stars, and the lands and seas of Mir’aj. Intricate patterns were etched in the stone floor. At consistent intervals, laid out in a great ring, were dozens of chairs. At the westernmost point of the chamber, like the setting in the ring, was the High Seat reserved for the majal who had been appointed to oversee the Rassan Majalis.

  Munif was tense with anticipation.

  He had never been in this place before. According to tradition, only members of the council were permitted in the chamber. There were no tours for the curious, and those who occasionally tried to approach the High Seat were gently but firmly ushered to a small area just outside.

  Dassai walked just ahead of Munif, his confidence evident in his gait. Munif so longed to run a blade through him that he was visibly shaking. For the past week or more, his every thought had been consumed by the moment when he would slay Dassai and the manner in which it would be done. He paused for a moment, placing his hand on the wall to steady himself. He wondered if everyone in the room could hear his beating heart; it was pounding in his own ears. Sweat dampened his upper lip and forehead.

  Dassai glared over his shoulder, making it plain he would not tolerate Arzani’s weakness. Munif lowered his hand and concentrated on keeping his gait steady. Though he was trained to feign sobriety even while extremely intoxicated, there was little he could do to counteract the dizziness that always hit him when he was anxious or stressed. As he fought to restrain the shaking in his hands, he was mildly heartened to reflect that this show of emotion would help him impersonate Arzani more accurately.

  Munif casually inserted his hands into the folds of his robe and felt around until he had confirmed—for the third time in as many minutes—the presence of a small vial. Cencova had obtained it from the alchemist and had instructed Munif and Nasir in its use. Munif rolled the small cylindrical container between his fingertips, carefully avoiding contact with the sharp metal tip of the lid. Once it pierced his skin there would be no going back. The spell would last only five minutes, and he was still not certain when to use it. Should he release it too soon, the alchemy would wear off before their plan had sufficient time to succeed. After five minutes, it would cease to protect him from the thing that Cencova was going to unleash on Dassai and the others; he would be just as blind as the rest.

  He decided he would wait to use it until Dassai spoke his first words.

  He walked slowly down the steps, taking in every detail of the hall. Of the chairs, only eight were occupied. The High Seat was empty. He did not recognize the faces but knew each person there represented a threat. These were the men whose vast wealth held sway over the various kingdoms of Mir’aj. Munif was certain that even though they weren’t directly responsible for the slaughter of the rahibs, dozens of innocent victims, along his own agents—these majals had approved of the outcome. It was all done to increase the consumption of Azza. Therefore, their own wealth could only increase.

  Munif contemplated the nature of greed. What kind of a man bullied his way into riches so vast that he’d never be able to spend them in his lifetime? It was far better to be a man of humanity than one of avarice.

  It seemed a sacrilege to allow this group of tyrants to use the sacred chamber for their rapacious schemes. Munif’s hatred for men like these ran deep. The only thing that kept him from springing into a mad frenzy of action was his awareness that the results would be far better if he waited for the right moment.

  Dassai walked to the center of the hall and waved his hand, indicating that Arzani should stand behind him.

  “Say nothing if you want to live,” Dassai whispered.

  17

  MUNIF WATCHED.

  Dassai was across from him preparing to negotiate with the eight figures seated in the chamber.

  Munif’s fingers squeezed the vial as he fought the urge to fidget. He wished it contained affyram instead.

  “It gives me great pleasure to have been granted audience in this splendid hall,” Dassai began. “I come bearing news of a grave plot, one that originates with the highest authority of all: the Sultan of Qatana.” Dassai looked around him, visibly pleased with himself.

  Munif pressed his thumb hard against the needle-like tip of the vial. He turned it upside down in his palm and felt the cold sting as the fluid entered his bloodstream. His vision began to dim as Dassai continued his speech.

  “There is a tremendous and nefarious force at work. This force seeks to undermine our livelihoods. Do you agree?” Dassai paused as the attendees murmured their support.

  Munif was nearly blind now and could make out only thefaintest of light and shapes. He could no longer see the seated men, nor could he see Dassai, who was directly in front of him. He began to panic, realizing that without his sight he could not confront the man who was his last hope for retribution.

  Dassai continued, “The Sultan plots against the council, to weaken its foundations.” He paused. “My proposal is simple. The time has come for Sultan be removed and his son Emir Malek placed in his stead, under my control.”

  Munif couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dassai was advocating the assassination of the Sultan.

  One of the council members rose and gestured the others to silence. “With all due respect, Fajeer Dassai, while I believe you have our best interests at heart, I have to admit that I am grave doubts.” The majal paused; his colleagues all nodded in agreement.

  “Your skepticism is understandable,” Dassai said. “But I bring proof.”

  The majal who had spoken murmured to his colleagues. Munif grew tense with anticipation.

  The majal broke off his conversation. “Very well, Fajeer Dassai. Give us the proof and we will bring this matter to the full council.”

  The words drove a dagger through Munif’s heart.

  18

  ILSS CENCOVA knew it was tim
e.

  He looked across the chamber. Behind every column stood a siri at the ready. Cencova and Nasir had brought their men in through the building’s four entrances; each man had silently taken his position after Dassai and Munif entered.

  Nasir stepped from the shadows. Each of the men held a slender rod of platinum three feet in length. Cencova made eye contact with each one. The agents advanced from behind the pillars, readying themselves for the fray. Cencova had great confidence

  in the agent’s capabilities.

  Cencova turned to face the column and looked up at the casing that surrounded the lamp. His target was a small round opening. Reaching up, he inserted the rod into the opening and let go.

  He had released their most powerful defensive weapon. A swirling energy swallowed the platinum and consumed the fire. A pulse of blinding white light bounced off one pillar, only to hit the next and the next.

  The light continued to intensify, expanding to the summit of the dome. Shards of brilliant white rained down upon the chamber. There were screams of shock and terror, then of agony.

  Cencova raced down the steps. Like Pavanan Munif and the rest, he had taken the alchemist’s antidote. He could see perfectly well in the dazzling light. Bodies were scattered on the floor, writhing and whimpering in pain.

  Cencova performed a quick head count. There were six… seven… eight. Where was Dassai? Damn it all, has he escaped again? impossible!

  He looked again, scouring the chamber. His heart beat wildly.

  There was no sign of Munif, either; both had vanished.

  19

  FALLING STARS showered upon them.

  The effect that was both magnificent and devastating; Munif was grateful the potion had performed as promised, allowing him to see normally amid the luminescent maelstrom. After his initial surprise and wonder, he turned his attention to Dassai.

  Dassai drew his cloak over his head and crouched down. He scuttled behind the nearest council chair, and then ran swiftly toward the steps leading up to the southern exit.

  Munif hastened in pursuit. It was the first time, he realized, that he’d ever seen Dassai try to escape anything. The light was