The Eye of the Hunter (63 page)

Aravan and Faeril rode along in silence for a mile or more, but at last Faeril spoke. “I would ask two questions of you Aravan: First, is there not some truth in their tale of the flood? Second, do not we also say, ‘Only Adonknows’? How is that different from saying, ‘Only Rakka knows’?”

Aravan laughed. “Ah, Faeril, now thou dost seek what I can only speculate at, yet will I try to answer all.

“As to the truth of the flood: There are many legends
from around the world of a great deluge. Some of these legends come from places where now and again mighty waves race over the ocean to flood the hindering lands in their path. Other tales come from places where island realms have sunk beneath the sea. Still others come from places where vast cyclones spin inward from the ocean, driving rain and great tides before them. Some legends come from lands below the mountains above, where all rain is funnelled down the slopes and into the vales, and when a great storm strikes and lasts for days, their world is flooded. Lastly, there are rivers which heavy storms cause to overflow their banks. At times, massive rains upland and down will swell these streams beyond what has e’er been encountered in the living memory of Mankind.

“As to the desert Kingdom, I suspect that long past a catastrophe occurred in the Avagon Sea. A great shifting of the earth, a sinking island, a detonating firemountain, who can say? In any event, mayhap waters from the sea rushed o’er the land, slaying nearly all in its path. Perhaps a family
did
escape the destruction, fleeing to a high cave, taking the best of their stock with them—ram and ewe, cock and hen, bull ox and cow, buck goat and doe, mayhap more than these few, mayhap less. Taking, too, seed grain and vegetable stock. And when the flood subsided, they emerged safe and whole and gave thanks to their god.

“If I am right, then this example or something just as plausible is the basis of their legend. And like many self-centered peoples, they believe that what has happened to them must have happened to all of the peoples of all the world, and that it was their god, angered by the sins of his people, who caused it.”

“Then, Aravan, if you are right, they have taken a legend, caused by some natural catastrophe, and have attributed it to Rakka.”

“Oh, wee one, I did not say that it was a
natural
catastrophe…only that it was a catastrophe. Natural or not, I cannot say. Yet I
do
say that it was not worldwide, regardless as to the claims of the priests of Rakka-who-loves-you.”

Faeril nodded. “
Hmm
. No matter what they say about Rakka’s beneficence, it seems to me that he rules through fear rather than love.”

“Exactly so, Faeril. According to the priests, Rakka expressly says,
‘Fear Me and obey Me, for I am the Lord of
all.’
Yet I say of any god who uses fear to cause obedience he is no better than the Great Evil, Gyphon Himself!”

“All right, Aravan, I accept that. But what about my second question? I mean, we say, ‘Only Adon knows.’ How is that different from the refuge taken by the desert Kingdom’s priests when they say, ‘Only Rakka knows’?”

Aravan laughed and clapped his hands, declaring “Faeril, thou hast answered thine own question.”

Again Faeril twisted about to look at the Elf. “How so, Aravan? How so?”

“Just this, wee one: When the priests said, ‘Only Rakka knows,’ they were indeed taking
refuge
behind their faith letting it protect them from a search for the truth, using that answer to keep hard questions at bay, giving distorted meaning to the saying, ‘My faith is my shield.’ For to hide behind doctrine and words recorded in ancient scrolls means refusing to look at alternatives wherein a believer would have to explore new ideas or speculations or facts which run contrary to hidebound literal orthodoxy. They believe that to search for truth is to question the god himself and demonstrates an appalling lack of faith, and that the Evil One is directly at the root of a curiosity that questions the tenants and tales of the ‘one true way to salvation.’

“Yet when
we
say, ‘Only Adon knows,’ we are admitting an ignorance of the moment, believing that somewhere, can we just ferret it out, we can discover the truth. We believe that Adon encourages curiosity and upholds the search for truth, no matter where such a search may lead, for He has nothing to hide.”

Faeril threw open her hands before her. “Oh, I see,” she exclaimed. “In the one case, the saying is used to shield a person from discovering a truth that might cause him to reevaluate his faith, perhaps overturning his entire set of fundamental beliefs; whereas in the other case, the saying is used as a jumping-off place for the search for truth to begin, regardless as to what changes in faith its finding might bring about.”

Aravan reached down and squeezed Faeril’s shoulder. “Exactly so, Faeril. Exactly so.”

* * *

The rain that had fallen upon them days past had left wide pools of water standing on low-lying hardpan, and the companions took every opportunity offered to replenish their
canteens and goatskins as well as to drink deeply themselves, but only after assuring themselves that the water was fit, for some they found was not.

As they travelled through the renewed desert, the camels grazed every night, and in those places where the growling, grumbling beasts even though hobbled might wander far, they were staked out on long tethers ’mid the vegetation.

Still the days were hot and at times they would travel among barren dunes. Yet always they managed to find suitable grounds to camp. And inasmuch as it was now December, the nights in the desert were cold and the morning dew rich.

Five days after leaving the watering hole, they arrived at their next goal, a well, late in the night.

The following day they spent resting, and that night, Year’s Long Night, beneath the moonless stars they stepped through the solemn Elven ritual celebrating the winter solstice, Urus joining Riatha and the others in the stately dance.

* * *

At dawn they set out for the next goal, a well a hundred thirty miles hence.

In mid of day on the fourth day of travel they came to where the map proclaimed the well to be, yet were found nought but dunes thereat. Aravan again sighted on the Sun and looked at Riatha’s map. “Either the marking on this chart is wrong or the well is gone…or mayhap it never was.”

Riatha glanced ’round at all the sand. “Mayhap, Aravan, the well is indeed here but buried ‘neath the drifting dunes.”

“It matters not,” rumbled Urus. “No well, no water…yet we still have plenty. I say we press onward for the oasis beyond.”

And so they continued forth, now heading for the first of the three remaining oases marked on the map on their zigzagging route to Nizari.

* * *

Down they went through the desert, the nights cold, the days hot. The wind began to blow once more, and as they went, the greenery and blossoms wilted, and in mere days were turned brown. Yet there was forage for the camels,
and the first oasis they came to and the one after were shaded and green and thriving.

As they drew nigh in the morning to the last oasis before Nizari, they saw a caravan leaving, heading into the Sun. And when the companions came in among the palms, there breaking camp was a young Man anxiously peering easterly after the distant receding silhouettes.

All five dismounted, and Aravan stepped to the Man and spoke to him. Clearly the Man was unnerved by Aravan’s tilted eyes, and he held his right hand on the hilt of his curved knife in its scabbard, the fingers on his left hand curled in a sign of warding, his gaze nervously darting at the other four. Yet he answered Aravan’s questions; both were speaking in Kabla, the tongue of the desert.

Finally, Aravan stepped away, and the Man loaded the last of his goods and mounted up. And crying,
“Yallah! Yallah!”
while whacking his camel with a long riding stick, he galloped off, his dromedary
hronking
loudly in protest at such ill treatment, the camels of the companions groaning and turning their heads and malignantly eyeing the five suspiciously, as if expecting some dastardly deed.

Gwylly, his emerald eyes aglitter, asked, “What did he say, Aravan?”

Aravan glanced about at the others. “The Man was frightened, not only of us but of the Red City, or of something which preys upon the dwellers therein. People are disappearing—”

Stoke!
exclaimed Riatha and Urus together.

“Mayhap,” continued Aravan, “yet not only are people vanishing, the city guard seems to be stopping everyone, asking after their identity, wanting to know their skills, their place of trade. It goes hard on those who cannot prove who they are or what they do, those who cannot get others to vouch for them.”

“Akka!”
spat Riatha. “They will never capture Stoke that way.”

“Perhaps it is not Stoke they are after,” suggested Gwylly. “Perhaps instead it is they, the guard, who are causing these ‘disappearances.’ It could be that Stoke is not in Nizari at all but somewhere else entirely. After all, we do not know that the city of Faeril’s vision is indeed the Red City. It could be another place altogether.”

Faeril looked back at Aravan. “What else did the Man say?”

“That he had left because he was afraid he, too, might ‘disappear’ one night. As well, he detested the guard…which leads me to believe that this young Man was not an upstanding citizen with a worthy trade.

“He also said that Nizari was some seventy-five leagues west southwest, which agrees with our map.”

Urus crossed his arms over. “Was he telling the truth, do you think?”

Aravan nodded and laughed. “I believe that he was afraid to lie, else the evil
Djinn
before him would summon over the huge
Afrit
to tear him to tiny shreds.”

* * *

Forty days and forty nights after setting out from the Ring of Dodona, from the crescent gorge of the Kandrawood, just after dawn they topped a ridge and came into sight of Nizari, the Red City of Assassins, crimson buildings clutched against dark, ruddy mountains, a high red wall encircling the town entire. And as the rising Sun glanced off the dome of the scarlet citadel above the city, Faeril turned to the others and softly said, “This is the place of my vision.”

Early 5E990
[The Present]

D
own from the ridge rode the five, their eyes focused on the crimson city in the distance, fiery in the rising Sun, vivid against the iron-red rock of the mountain slopes behind, as a brilliant ruby set in bloodstained stone.

Riatha called out so that everyone could hear: “I would remind ye all that in the Great War of the Ban as well as in the Winter War, the peoples of Hyree were among our foe. They did then worship Gyphon, and some may still. Fair warning: be wary.”

Gwylly turned in his saddle and peered up at the Elfess. “How about the K’affeyah people? Were they foe as well?”

“I think not,” replied Riatha. “Even though Modru declared it a
jihad
, a Holy War, the nomads of the desert are a stubborn lot and would not be easily swayed. The Word of Shat’weh is what they live by, and he had said nought concerning the War between Gyphon and Adon.”

“Well then, if they didn’t side with anyone, it seems to me that this Red City, being on the edge of the desert as it is, mostly of Karoo rather than of Hyree across the mountains, it seems to me most likely that the city remained neutral, too.”

“Thou couldst be right, Gwylly. Yet heed: this
is
the City of Assassins, and in those days many were in service to the Evil One. For selfish gain, ’tis true, yet still in his hire. Hence, ’tis best that we ward ’gainst treachery within.”

Long they rode and closer they drew to the city, and now
individual structures could be made out: low, flat-roofed buildings for the most part, though here and there taller buildings stood. Jutting up among the structures were scattered high, slender minarets or soaring obelisks—at this distance they could not tell which. The whole of it seemed to follow no regular pattern, as if the city streets twisted and jinked throughout.

But dominating all was the adjoining citadel, its scarlet, onion-shaped dome rising to a tall spire. The dome was set in the center of a massive rectangular building, and its position was such that the five speculated it sat in a wide courtyard. The fortress was walled about with mighty battlements, and one of the high ramparts abutted against and towered above the southwest wall of the city.

The city itself sat at the foot of a rust-red mountain, the bastion guarding the mouth of a pass running through the range to the west. And
this
was why the Sultans of Hyree claimed Nizari, for it sat across the principal trade route through the Talâk Mountains.

* * *

It was mid-morning when the five came to the camel grounds outside the city walls, for here, as in all cities ringing the desert, because of their stench and their offensive habits, camels were not permitted into the town except to deliver or pick up goods. The five dismounted and led their groaning, growling, sneering camels through the lot. The beasts already staked there eructed and malignantly grimaced in return, but the companions were by now so used to the creatures that they did not notice the horrendous stink, and they dodged spat cuds without a second thought.

When they located the yardmaster, Aravan spoke with him to arrange for the boarding of the camels. As with every other encounter in this realm, the Man nervously eyed the companions, noting the strange eyes and the huge one’s size, readily agreeing to
anything
that this
Djinn
asked of him.
“Jamal, Jamal,”
the yardmaster called. Two young Men popped out from the large tent nearby.
“Dabbir matrah liddwâbb!”
The young Men ran forward to care for the string of camels, though Aravan stopped them long enough for the companions to take from the cargo what they would need in the city.

As Gwylly retrieved the knapsack with his clothing and a
few personal items, he looked about, noting that the helpers were just as afraid of the five as the yardmaster seemed to be.