D & D - Red Sands (5 page)

Marix mounted the wall. Jadira fretted as she waited her turn. She could hear the soldiers quite plainly. They liad lost their torches while running, but they couldn't fail to catch her if she didn't start climbing soon.

Marix's suede boots vanished. Jadira dug her fingers into the ragged holes and started upward. She was scarcely three paces up when the Faziris met beneath her. She sighed silent thanks to Mitaali that they didn't think to look up.

The house at Jadira's back ended three stories off the ground. Several pairs of hands plucked her from the wall and pulled her onto the roof. Marix and Tamakh had her.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Ask the cutpurse," said Marix. Not far away, Uramettu was sitting on the prostrate thief.

"Let me up, you savage," he growled.

"Tut, tut, that's no way to speak to a lady," said Marix.

"What do you want of me?" asked the thief, fear creeping into his voice. "I took nothing from you. By the Thirty Gods, you had nothing to take!"

"There's little need for money in the dungeons of the sultan," said Tamakh.

The thief groaned. "Prisoners! I should have known, with half the imperial guard after you. Now, I am doomed!"

"We are not so fell as that," Marix said.

"I've been seen with you! The soldiers will be looking for me now, too. I'm ruined, ruined!" he moaned.

"Be still and listen to me," said Jadira. "We must be gone from Omerabad before the sun rises. If you can show us a safe way out, we'll take you with us and share everything we have with you." "And what could you possibly have to share that I might value?"

"Freedom," said Uramettu.

The cutpurse groaned melodramatically. "Where will you go? Fazir is wide, and the eyes of the sultan see far."

"A good question," said Tamakh. "Where
can
we go?"

Marix and Jadira exchanged a private look. "Tantuffa was my original destination," Marix said. "Lord Hurgold would grant us sanctuary from the sultan's wrath."

"Tantuffa by the sea? That's a hundred leagues from here," objected Tamakh.

"What choice do we have?" Jadira said. "To the north lies cold Nangol, where the men wear skins and eat horseflesh. East, and we'd face the mountains upon which the vault of heaven rests. South are the slave dealers of the Crimson Sea—"

"Who I know well enough," said Uramettu. "West to Tantuffa seems the only route. At least from there I can buy passage on a ship bound for Fedush."

"You're all mad," said the thief. "As soon as day breaks on the road to Rehajid, the Invincibles will trample you into bloody dust!"

"Who are these Invincibles?" asked Marix.

"The sultan's own," Jadira said bitterly. "The same murderous devils who attacked my people and killed my family."

"So we won't follow the road," said Uramettu.

"Is there another way?" queried Tamakh.

Jadira entwined her battered fingers and considered. There
was
another way, a way hardly less deadly than the royal road.

"We can cross the Red Sands," she said.

"The desert?" exclaimed the astonished thief.

"Yes, through the desert to the Shammat Mountains, then over the plains of Kaipur to the sea and Tantuffa."

"It is certain death!" declared the thief. "Let me go. I want no part of this madness!"

Uramettu stood, and the thief sighed with relief. "Is that the only word you know?" she said scornfully.

"Have you a better scheme?"

"The city is large," the thief said. "I can hide from the sultan's men. They will—-"

"—offer gold to every citizen of Omerabad," finished Jadira. "You would be betrayed in the first hour."

"I could throw myself on the mercy of the grand vizier."

"The same Lord Azrel who crops the ears of gossips and beheads short-changers in the market?" asked lamakh. The thief covered his face with his hands.

"I won't deceive you," said Jadira. "The desert will be a hard trial; burning hot by day and cold as death by night. But it
can
be crossed, for I know it as Marix knows i he forests of Dosen or Tamakh knows the precincts of his temple."

"And the Faziri will think thrice about pursuing us into the Red Sands," added Tamakh.

"But even if I survive, what will I do? Where will I go?" moaned the thief. "This is my home."

'"Vbu will be alive," said Uramettu. "With life, there is always hope." The thief continued to mutter about the dire fate that awaited them.

"Will you help us?" Jadira asked him. "Will you guide us out of the city?"

The cutpurse sat up, rubbing the small of his back. "If I must, I must." He hopped to his feet. "But I curse the ill-fated hour that brought us together."

Marix began a retort, but Tamakh's hand on his arm

stayed his tongue. "He is the only one who can lead us out of the city," Tamakh reminded him. "The hour that brought us together was not as ill-fated as he might think."

The
Royal
Road

Jadira awoke with a start.

She didn't remember falling asleep, or even lying down. The last thing she did recall was the thief Nabul agreeing to help them. There were alarums in the street below: the tramping of soldiers' feet, horses, shouts. After that, she knew nothing.

Jadira turned her head and discovered the comfortable pillow under her head was Marix's arm. The young man pushed pale hair back from his eyes and asked, "Are you well, lady?"

"What—what happened?"

"You swooned. Too much tumult and too little food have wrung you out."

She sat up abruptly. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long—perhaps one notch of the candle."

"Tamakh? Where's Tamakh?"

The priest set a hand on her shoulder from behind. Jadira flinched. Tamakh said, "Fire Star is setting. Dawn will break when it touches the horizon. Nabul will be back before then, and we must go."

"You mean you let that sniveling thief go?" asked Jadira.

"I was against it," claimed Marix.

"He convinced me of the truth of what he said," Tamakh said. "We could not hope to cross the Red Sands with only the clothes on our backs and no food or water." His round face relaxed, and he smiled. "Besides, Uramettu went with him."

"So they're off finding provisions?" asked Jadira. When the priest nodded, she groaned. "We'll never see them again, or if we do, it will be because he betrays us to the sultan's men."

"You must have faith," said Tamakh gently. "Our fate is bound with Nabul's by the god's annealing fire. He will return. What else can he do? The soldiers would likely slay him on sight."

The black dome of heaven warmed slowly to deep purple as the Fire Star declined to its rest. The air seemed to stir like a living thing with the coming of the sun. The purple sky gave way to rose red. Nabul returned.

Uramettu boosted the thief to the neighboring rooftop. She clambered lithely up and pulled a chain of bags up from the alley. Nabul produced a plank from a hiding place on the other roof and bridged the alley with it. He crossed, and Uramettu came over with the provisions.

"Four-and-thirty food shops in Omerabad, and all I could find was wheel bread and yogurt," said Nabul in disgust. "Six-and-twenty wineshops, and I couldn't even find a mug of wheat beer!"

"What is this?" asked Marix, sloshing a goatskin bag in small circles.

"Water. It'll go rancid in the heat, mark my words." Jadira rolled her eyes.

While Nabul unburdened himself from the rest of his ill-gotten gains, Jadira helped herself to bread and yogurt. From the folds of his robe, Nabul produced a small copper pot, a mallet, a coil of coarse twine, cloth lor two
keffiya,
and a lump of soft white chalk. He squatted on the tar-and-leaf roof and began to draw.

"The main gates of the city will be filled with armed men," he said, scribing squares west and south. "Our best chance lies at one of the posterns, here or here." Nabul made two dots.

"Posterns will be guarded," Marix observed.

"Two men at most. No match for five desperate fugitives," said Jadira.

"Let us try the nearest one," Uramettu said. "An hour hence and the sun will be well up."

Off they went. Nabul led them on a merry trail across the housetops of Omerabad. Up a story, down a story, leaping alleys and skirting courtyards. They trod the roofs of the rich and the poor, the tapered peaks of shrines, and the flat tops of shops. Finally Nabul stopped.

"The city wall," he said. Ahead of them, the stone curtain reared twelve paces high, well above the level of the nearest houses.

The band descended a shaky iron trellis affixed to the side of a tannery. Nabul scampered down easily, but the others had trouble with the thorny creepers entwined in the lattice. Together again on street level, they huddled in the deep shadows opposite the postern gate. A single Faziri, armed with a long spear and wooden buckler, paced to and fro in front of the single portal.

"Who's the most innocent-looking among us?" asked Jadira.

Without hesitation Nabul replied, "The priest."

"I agree," said Jadira. "Tamakh, you must divert the guard so the rest of us can overcome him silently."

"How?" said Tamakh, looking uneasy.

"Lure him over here. We'll do the rest," Marix said, tapping his palm on the pommel of the sword.

"I cannot be the cause of bloodshed," Tamakh said.

"Do you have a better idea?" asked Marix.

"Almost certainly," said the priest and walked out of hiding. With great dignity, he stepped into the street. The first rays of the sun peeked over the wall, highlighting Tamakh in shafts of gold. Halfway to the gate, he halted.

Tamakh gestured to the empty air. "
Kobit
," he said sonorously.
" Namis kobit vobay . . ."

The guard spied Tamakh. He ported his spear and strode toward the priest. As he drew nearer, his steps faltered.

"Vobay namis, Agman!"
said Tamakh. Though he spoke at normal volume, the priest's words seemed to ring like the tolling of a great bell. Jadira felt a numbness take hold of her arms and legs. She saw Uramettu flexing her own ebon arms as if to preserve feeling in them. Nabul shivered violently, and Marix's face showed surprise.

"Agmas, nam kobituri vobay moiitu. Moritu!"
With this last, Tamakh's voice rose, and he flung out his right arm toward the soldier. Four paces from the portly priest, the soldier froze.

The spear rolled off his shoulder, and he remained rooted to the spot.

"By the Thirty Gods! What happened?" asked the thief.

Jadira nodded sagely. "Magic."

Tamakh rejoined them. "We can proceed. The guard will offer no trouble."

They passed on either side of the motionless soldier. Nabul waved his hand before the man's eyes. The guard never blinked. Tamakh reached out and gently, with his figertips, closed the man's eyes.

"What did you do to him?" asked Marix.

"He is under a glamor, a paralyzing spell. He will hear .md see nothing till the sun reaches its zenith."

"If I had such a talent, I would be the king of thieves!" Nabul said wistfully.

They hastened through the gate, though not before Marix relieved the Faziri of helmet, cloak, spear, and shield. Nabul took four coppers from the enchanted man's purse.

The road, white as a bolt of fine cloth, stretched out to the horizon. "The royal road to Rehajid," Jadira said. "Come; we can't be long on it."

The city fell away behind them. They marched briskly lor half a league, but the ex-prisoners were in poor shape and tired quickly. Jadira and Tamakh rested on the sloping bank of the road. Nabul crouched nearby, muttering to himself. Marix, armed with a collection of Faziri weapons, stood on the road and watched the way back to Omerabad. While his back was turned, Uramettu padded off among knife-bladed grass.

There would be pursuit.

Azrel, emir of Bindra, vizier to His Magnificence Julmet
III,
was not a kindly man. The servants who awakened him from his nightly unsound sleep often got a beating for their trouble; of course, they received a worse lashing if they failed to waken him at the appointed hour. The physician who could not cure the emir's dyspepsia earned a flogging, and his tailor hobbled con stantly from being kicked. Yet, Azrel was the sultan's eyes and ears, the harsh but effective power behind the Eternal Throne. By war and threat of war, Emir Azrel had enlarged his master's domain from the steppes of Nangol to the shores of the Crimson Sea. By subtlety and craft he enriched the Faziri Empire beyond the bounds of any previous vizier.

Now Azrel sat in the guardroom of the palace prison, boiling with unconcealed anger. Facing him was a tall, fork-bearded Faziri soldier in the scarlet cape and lion-etched armor of the Invincibles. The soldier's handsome yet immobile face reflected none of the emir's hostility.