Swords From the West (28 page)

"Surely that was the letter your men stole, and that I stole from the farangi with the head of a lion and the heart of a stupid boy. Now he lies within the chains of your power here in this tower."

"Nay, below. In a chamber beneath the quarters of the dogs my servants."

"By the stair?"

"The first chamber by the door into the bazaar." Mir Farash blinked uneasily as he emptied the cup. "We will give him up to the Tatars for gold, perhaps. Who knows what his portion in life is to be? There was a prophecy told in the serai of Samarkand that this Lord Nial would carry his sword to Kublai Khan despite all that lies in his way. Our kismet will be known before the moon is full."

"How?" Alai whispered.

But Mir Farash was lost in his thoughts. She watched him for a moment, then sang under her breath the song of a wizard who leaped from height to height on a winged horse, and of a horde of warriors who sought to shoot him down with their arrows.

"Aye, the Horde," he breathed, his hands quivering. "The Horde that finds its way over the mountain barrier. It goes where the wind goes, and how can it be turned aside?"

"Then it is coming?"

"It is drawing near the gates. It is coming with power to crush and to slay."

"By what road?"

Alai's voice no longer caressed. She cried out the words, penetrating the drug stupor that enveloped the Persian's brain. Already she had discovered where Nial was confined, and something more. Mir Farash fought against fear of peril and dread that the Tatar warriors might raid the city of Gutchluk. The letter that Gutchluk sought might have tidings of an attack to be launched upon Paldorak. Gutchluk had known that the stolen tube contained a letter. But Alai knew that Paldorak had nothing to dread from the Tatar regiment coming up the Zarafshan valley. The gate at the summit of the pass surely could never be forced. And Mir Farash had spoken of gates.

"By the other road, from Khodjent, from the north." The Persian's voice was only half conscious.

And Alai drew a long breath of satisfaction. So a second division of Tatars was on the march toward Paldorak through the northern valley. She remembered the break in the barrier hills there.

"Where lies the gate upon this road?" she demanded.

Mir Farash shook his head slowly.

"The path of the valley is open-open, if Gutchluk cannot close it."

He seemed to be asleep, although his hands moved restlessly at his throat. No longer heeding him, the Tatar girl investigated the room swiftly, taking up a rose-colored khalat she had noticed in one corner, and searching until she found one of the Persian's long turban cloths. Then without a sound she picked up his girdle cloth and long scimitar. Slipping out of the lamplight, she drew on the pink khalat, which covered her own long-sleeved coat, the two making her appear almost the size of the slender Persian.

More carefully she coiled her dark tresses close upon her head and wound the white silk turban cloth fold upon fold, glancing at the motionless figure on the divan for guidance, until the heavy turban became the image of Mir Farash's, except for the long end which she drew across her lower face. Winding the waist cloth above her hips, she thrust the scimitar sheath through it and slipped through the curtain.

"Ohai," she called with the Persian's intonation. "By Siva, who waits below? "

A rustle answered her, and she stepped into the shadows beyond the stair. The hag appeared, muttering, with a candle. When the woman had vanished into a room, Alai descended the stair quietly, passing her own room, and searching through the dark corridors until she found another flight of steps leading down. It was then the early hours of the morning and the only souls awake seemed to be a half dozen Kara Kalpaks who yawned over dice by the main gate.

Alai dared not risk calling for a light. In half darkness or moonlight her figure might pass for the Persian's. She made her way down to the lowest corridors, seeking for a door that might lead to the bazaar. Instead, she found a tribesman squatting against the wall by a smoking lantern; he scrambled to his feet at her approach. The door behind him was bolted.

"I will take the farangi with me," Alai murmured, keeping her distance from the light. "Do thou go and saddle two horses swiftly. Bring them into the alley of the bazaar."

Evidently Mir Farash was feared, for the man almost stumbled as he hastened to unbar the door at the corridor end and vanish into the darkness. Alai possessed herself of the lantern and entered the room he had been watching. And Nial, waking at the sound, looked up indifferently, then in amazement, as the girl tossed the loose turban end from her face.

"Be silent," she whispered. "Come!"

Leaving the light in the corridor, she passed out into the alley. When he followed she took him by the hand, leading him into the gloom of an archway opposite.

"Wait for a little," she cautioned him. "Do not speak. There are ears awake in this place."

"You have a sword."

Impatiently she thrust the sheathed scimitar into his hand and placed her own hand upon his lips. Then she watched while slouching figures emerged from nowhere and hawk-like faces peered in at the half open, lighted door. The prowling tribesmen passed on, and presently the Kara Kalpak appeared, leading two restive saddled horses. He seemed startled when Alai and Nial came up from the darkness, but the girl put a stop to his questions by mounting with a leap and trotting off, raising echoes in the alley courtyards.

Not until she reached an open square, where only hungry dogs moved, did she draw rein and wait for Nial.

"Wallahi." She bubbled over with pent-up laughter. "Where have I not been! Oh, it is good to breathe clean air again. Did they take your great sword away, valiant Lord Nial?" A glance at his grim face silenced her amusement. "But you have another sword, and now must it clear a way for our escape. I know the way. There is a path to the north, to the great caravan road at Khodjent. Aye, the Tatars are in that valley, moving upon Paldorak. They will take vengeance for the blood of Neshavan. They will greet me as a friend. Come, before Mir Farash rouses to search for us, or Gutchluk makes new magic!"

"What befell Abu Harb?"

"Up yonder he is-" Alai inclined her head toward the ruin upon the height-"bound, in Gutchluk's hands. Perhaps he is dead by now."

At Nial's exclamation, she told him of her visit to the court beyond the pool and her words with the old Arab.

"He bade me go, and what he hath seen I know not. As for Gutchluk, I think he is no more than a man skilled in trickery who throws his voice from place to place, like the conjurers of Ind. Aye, he makes his voice fly back from cliffs. I lied to him about the letter of the khan."

"You stole the silver tube!"

"Nay, I hid it. You would not cast it away, so when anger came upon me, when we watched the Kara Kalpaks, I went down to the horses, sending Abu Harb away. I took the tube wrapped in its silk and hid it where no thieves pillage, under the stones of the shrine, the grave. But first I looked to see what was within it."

"The devil!"

"A writing, bordered with crimson and heavy with gold, with gilt lettering. Aye, how could I read it? It was the Mongol writing, from one great khan to another."

"So the seal is broken," Nial said gravely.

"What harm? Gutchluk hath it not and the Tatars will not find it upon you, 0 slow of wit. Come! Soon the moon will be low."

But Nial shook his head slowly, his hands gripped on the saddlehorn.

"Go, little Alai, seek the men of the Horde. I may not take the road while Abu Harb is a captive. We have shared his salt."

"His salt! And hast thou not shared mine, that day near Talas? Have I not made smooth thy path, putting aside the thorns and spying out the peril that was hidden?" She urged her horse closer to his side, her eyes dark with sudden anxiety. "Think, Lord Nial, how the path of safety lies there below us. Among the Tatar warriors thou wilt have honor, and I also-for the name of the noyon, my father, is not forgotten among them. In the camp of war thou art like to a raging torrent; none can stand against thee."

Nial smiled reminiscently.

"I thought it was thy wish, little Alai, to serve this wizard khan."

"0 fool, to believe that!" Impulsively the girl lifted her head. "Kai, I can reveal to thee the wisdom of unknown things. Thou canst take command in the Horde, crush these snakes of Paldorak and make a kingdom out of these hills. Together we can ride where the eagles play."

Timidly her fingers brushed his throat and lips, while the moonlight painted in elfin colors the loveliness of her face, eager as a child's.

"Only come away, now. Up there is an evil power that will break thy sword and destroy thee. Come with me!"

"Nay, Gutchluk is a man." Nial laughed under his breath. "And if he hath slain Abu Harb, he shall know the taste of steel."

The girl's arms fell to her sides. She knew beyond doubt that he could not be turned from his purpose-that he would always make his own path and follow it.

"Then will I show thee the door of Gutchluk," she whispered, "and I will wait until thy coming."

When she gathered up her rein she was singing, so softly that he barely caught a word or two, something about a lion among men that would never be chained. Behind them the alleys of Paldorak resounded with shouts that were like the snarling of dogs.

Chapter V

The God of Darkness

A faint haze hung about the moon, and the chill of the air told Nial that dawn was not many hours off. Even the shadows were blurred, as if a veil had been drawn across the height and the great ruin upon it. To the Scot, making his way cautiously along the dark side of the broken walls, this stone citadel appeared to be the work of an ancient civilization before the time of Cathay. Certainly neither Arabs nor Iranis would have known how to shape these massive limestone blocks.

Such ruins were held in superstitious awe by the tribes, and it occurred to him that Gutchluk had taken up his quarters here to be safe from intrusion. All the valley lay open to his watch, but he could not be seen from below, and it would be a simple matter to come and go as he wished at night. Abu Harb had insisted that not even the chieftains of the Kara Kalpaks knew the face of the magician khan; and Gutchluk might sit in the bazaar below or ride down the Zarafshan trail unnoticed. He sent commands by the blind guardian of the door, or in written messages. Perhaps Mir Farash knew his secret.

"Faith," the Scot murmured, "where will he be sleeping?"

Over rubble heaps and upended columns Nial climbed as quietly as possible, ducking under pale wraiths of fig trees, and more than once standing motionless when the hiss of a snake rose from the ground. Although he listened intently, he could hear no other sounds; the night wind carried away the fretting of Paldorak. And he saw nothing moving. Steadily he made his way toward the point where Alai had found the stagnant pool.

He did not come upon the pool, but when he crawled over the breast of a wall he looked down directly into the grassgrown courtyard. A triangular cross of wood stood at the far end, but nothing was to be seen of Abu Harb.

Investigating the roofless passage at the rear of the court, he came upon several small crates of pigeons, having been guided thereto by the faint rustling of wings. The crates bore different silver labels, and he knew these must be messenger pigeons.

That passage, too, seemed clear of debris, and he followed it to the gaping door of a half-fallen tower. It was free of creepers, and he found the steps within solid enough. Climbing without hesitation, he came out on the fragment of the upper flooring and risked thrusting his head over the parapet.

All that end of the ruin lay exposed to the dull glimmer of the scumcoated tank. But what caught his eye was a faint light coming from the ground a stone's throw away. Studying it, Nial satisfied himself that it rose through a square opening. Evidently the source of the light was below the level of the tower and court.

The opening would be a light or smoke hole, and he would have to search elsewhere for a stair leading down. Doggedly he descended the tower, and bethought him to search its lower chamber for other steps. He almost fell down them, for the tower had stairs leading below as well as up. They were also clear of rubbish, kept smooth by use.

"Now," Nial thought, "here is a runway, but whither?"

At the bottom of the steps he could feel both sides of a smooth, walled passage, and he wished heartily for the light he dared not use. In a moment he discovered twin gleams of green light that moved uneasily, keeping always together. It did not need a swift snarl to tell him this was a leopard or panther in the passage.

Drawing his long scimitar, Nial advanced slowly, watching for the animal's eyes to lower for a spring. Breathing heavily-to face a great cat in darkness is no light task-he swung the sword before him, and the beast whirled away. Nial went on, trying the stones before him with the sword tip.

Presently he was aware that the passage had opened into a larger chamber with rows of squat columns on either hand. Once his outstretched hand touched a face of cold stone. He felt it curiously, discovering that it was a statue with many arms. But behind it a line of reddish light stretched along the floor.

Nial made his way toward it, felt the heavy folds of a curtain and parted it cautiously.

He looked into a red chamber. At one end upon a polished dark stone sat a resplendent figure in a crimson robe with a face as black and impassive as the stone. Its arms were resting on its knees, and through its fingers were wound strings of precious stones that sparkled in the glow of the single lamp. The shade of the lamp was thin horn, colored red, filling the chamber with its hue, except for the face of the sitter directly above it.

Before the impassive figure stood a taboret hearing food, beside which knelt a figure in the plain khalat of a servant-an emaciated man with a shaven head that turned uneasily from side to side.

"A temple," Nial thought, "with a strange god therein."

He stepped through the curtain, sniffing the heavy, musk-tainted air. The servant faced him like a startled snake.