The Tower of Fear (36 page)

He had moved across the street and up the hill a few doors from the place where Fa’tad had found him. He had gotten men in to replace Meryel’s workers but not enough to put out watchers adequate to his needs. He worried. He was surviving by the grace of Aram here.

Those of his own who
had
shown were his best, men who had stood with him at Dak-es-Souetta, willing to storm the gates of Hell if he gave the order. The five hardest were with him when Carza showed.

“I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much,” bel-Sidek said, not bothering to smother his anger.

“You have. You know damned well you have. Are you having trouble making up your mind? Or did you just chicken out on bringing down the storm?”

“Sit down.” Bel-Sidek nodded to two of his men. They sat Carza down. “No. I didn’t chicken out. I found another way.”

“Get your hands off…”

“Be quiet, Carza. I’ll tell you when to speak. Here it is. I know what the old man planned. And Cado knows. And so does al-Akla. They aren’t happy. Luckily they’re preoccupied with the citadel. It’s surrounded by Herodian troops. There’ll be no communication with the Witch. Additionally, I, personally, am categorically, adamantly, inalterably opposed to resurrecting Nakar.”

“You’re going to chuck the movement because you don’t like the way he worked?”

“I didn’t say that. I also suggested you keep quiet. I said I’d found another way. It has more to recommend it, in my estimation.”

“I’m listening.”

“Being intentionally abrasive won’t help.”

Carza made a sour face but kept his mouth shut.

“Al-Akla has offered to abandon the Herodian standard. He’s offered to leave Qushmarrah and return to his mountains. He suggested he might be persuaded to help clear the city of Herodians. I think it can be arranged so Dartars do most of the clearing.”

Carza got more sour by the second.

“To facilitate that sequence the Living need only deliver on a promise made al-Akla by Cado, six years ago, which he did not fulfill.”

“I’ll bite. What’s the payoff?”

“The contents of the citadel.”

Carza looked at him like
he
was the crazy one.

“Which would constitute no loss whatever because we’ve never had control of whatever’s in there.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

“How are you going to get him in so he can steal our city’s treasures?”

Bel-Sidek smiled a smile in which all the pain in his leg smoldered. “That’s why you’re here, old comrade.”

Carza pretended he did not understand.

“I served the General a long time, Carza. I knew him better than his wife did. But there were things he hid from me, just as there were things he concealed from her, because he valued our good opinion. For all his foibles and crotchets I loved him, though it’s obvious that at the end he’d become crazier than a troop of drunken rock apes. I don’t think you can convince me he wasn’t the sort who would ensure that his knowledge survived him.”

“Crazy? Why crazy?”

“What sane man would voluntarily resurrect Nakar the Abomination?”

“More than you suspect, evidently. Though that wasn’t the meat of the old man’s plan. What do you want from me?”

Bel-Sidek paced, giving Carza time to reflect. Then, “I want the key to the citadel. I want it badly.”

“And I can’t give it to you. I don’t know what it is.”

Bel-Sidek stepped to the door. “Sheed.” The man came in. “Go to the Minisia. Find Homena bel-Barca. Tell him Carza will be tied up for a while. He’s to act as khadifa till Carza comes back.”

Homena bel-Barca was an old friend. Despite being Carza’s second his ties were with the moderates.

“You can’t do this, bel-Sidek.”

“I’m doing it. You rejected my authority by refusing my request.”

“You push me, you’d better kill me.”

“I don’t want it that way, Carza. You’re valuable to the movement. But if you insist.”

Carza gave him a searching look, suspecting he might be serious.

He was, at the moment.

Meryel was right. He had to take charge. He had to show that he was in charge.

“Tell me what I need to know, Carza.”

*   *   *

General Cado was extremely uncomfortable clad Qushmarrahan and bundled against the rain. No one gave him a second glance but he could not shake a feeling that they all knew what he was and were snickering to themselves. All part of the Herodian curse. Everywhere but in the home provinces Herodians were out of place, stubby little bald men.

He’d never articulated the curse concept to anyone.

Hell. They were by damn in charge, short or not. They were masters by right of conquest.

He glanced at the guide Colonel bel-Sidek had sent, sniffing for the taint of treachery. This was the biggest risk he had taken since he had accepted battle at Dak-es-Souetta, counting on unproven Dartars to give him the day. For all he had known, Fa’tad’s offer had been just a ploy.

He could tell nothing. His companion was as bundled up as he, hunched over as he marched into the slanting rain. Just a brother in misery.

It was not weather to inspire flights of fancy leading to sudden treachery. It was weather for plodding straight ahead, for muddling through. The afternoon was leaden grey, depressing. The citadel, as they skirted it, was a lump of wet dark stone, filled with menace, an awakening viper coiled beneath twisting clouds.

Cado was concerned about his fleet. If the weather was no worse at sea, wonderful. The breeze would push the ships across the Gulf of Tuhn at six to eight knots. They should reach the far shore sometime tomorrow. The troops should be ashore and astride the coast road, behind the Turok raiders, before nightfall.

He hoped for a great and bloody success, the impact of which would strike Turoks and Dartars, the peoples of the coastal provinces and his detractors in the mother city. A few thousand Turoks taken unaware would make a potent statement.

From the acropolis they descended into the narrow streets of the Hahr. He wondered how much longer, how much more runaround to confuse him about where he was …

He caught a flash of motion from the corner of his eye. His companion grunted and pitched forward. Something hit him in the back of the head and on the shoulders. Darkness descended.

He awakened with his hands and feet bound and his head tied into a sack. He was in a wagon. And he was frightened—more for his troops than for himself. He had sent both generals into the field.

Bruda was good at what he did. But could he cope with a Sullo? Could he manage if things started falling apart?

It looked like Colonel bel-Sidek had decided it was time the Living moved.

He wondered if anyone would bother ransoming him. Taliga might not want to bother. His sister would profit if her husband fell to an enemy blade.

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 Arif’s 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 my 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.