Swords From the West (9 page)

Stooping, he peered into Nial's face.

"I trust you with this tiding. The Altyn-dar is a place of strong stone, without embrasures within reach of the ground, and with only one entrance. This gate and the walls and corridors are all guarded by picked Tatar soldiers, commanded by an orkhon of Barka Khan. The only others allowed within, upon a signed order of this orkhon or the khan, are rare souls who, like myself, may be called in to judge the worth of jewels, or to repair broken gold work. And they have always two guards within sight, one beside them, and one within the chamber. Moreover, they are searched to the very toenails when they go out."

Thoughtfully the merchant nodded.

"Perhaps a skilled thiever could find his way over the wall of the Altyn-dar-except that it is in the center of the Sarai itself, the palace enclosure where the Tatars are quartered and few others admitted. The Tatars cannot be bribed, and I tell you truly that no thief could force a way in. Nothing has been stolen from the Altyn-dar. Nay, the only way in is the open entrance, without concealment."

"How?" asked Nial gravely.

"By a Tatar warrior, complete in every detail of his armor, and faultless in his bearing."

"But you have said they could not be bribed."

"True. And so my Tatar must needs be another, whom I can trust."

Nial laughed.

"I? Why, I know not a word of their talk."

"Words would not be needed, if this man bears a talisman."

"A talsmin?" Nial used the Arabic word. "A charm? Faith, have you got a cloak of invisibility?"

"Better than that." Eagerness shone in the close-set eyes of the Genoese. "I have made ready something that will admit a Tatar without question. And once within, he would not be watched. He could go where he wished, and could pass out without being searched, carrying the great emerald under his coat. And who would know where to look for him after?"

Nial shook his head slowly.

"Granting that, it is still thieves' work. You must find another for your mask and your token."

"Par Dex! Can I find one to trust twice-first not to betray me, and then not to make off with the Green Lion? I trust you, Messer Nial, and you will do this thing."

He stood over the younger man, tense with anxiety.

"I have aided you-aye, sheltered and brought you hither."

"And have I not done my part?"

"Nay, by God's head, you have not! For you swore to aid me in my venture."

Nial shook his head wearily.

"Not in such a venture."

"Will you deny that, when by your folly with that girl you lost my stock of jewels, you did swear to make good the loss if you could?"

Nial was silent, staring at the brazier. Tron's eyes fastened upon his troubled face.

"Will you recant your word? Then must I seek out another, and risk my life in doing so. For I will not draw back."

"What was the worth of the lost jewels?"

"What?" Tron shrugged indifferently. "Perhaps five thousand byzants, perhaps more."

"Then," Nial responded suddenly, his eyes blazing, "will I set my hand to this thing and do it. Upon one condition."

"How, then?"

"That my share in the theft will go to repay you for the loss of that cursed sack. Five thousand will pay you, and we will then be quitted of each other."

Tron nodded, closing his eyes to hide the triumph in them. The Green Lion would be his. For if Nial should fail, he knew of a way to get into the House of Gold himself. And, whether Nial brought the emerald to him, or he himself laid hand upon it, he need pay the boy nothing. The jewels he had lost in the serai had been almost worthless, merely carried for display, at need.

"Agreed!" he cried.

The Genoese had made his preparations shrewdly and had bought, piece by piece, a Tatar's attire at Tana. From one of his packs he produced a pile of garments that he made Nial try on at once. Skillfully he aided the young swordsman to fit on tunic and breeches and horsehide boots, tying the girdle himself and hanging upon it a metal seal-box and horn paper case. Over Nial's wide shoulders he flung a long blue coat with wide sleeves and embroidered collar. Then over this he placed something like a kaftan-a stiff black covering that projected beyond the arms, with twin letterings in cloth of gold over both sides of the chest. Finally he added a kalpak of white felt, a hat with a leather drop behind that covered Nial's hair, and a long eagle feather. So attired, Nial looked inches taller, and Tron surveyed him complacently.

"Eh, he who wore it formerly was larger in the waist. The shoulders are right-aye, it will do."

Nial's dark skin and high cheekbones needed no artificial touch. And Tron knew that many of the Horde had gray or blue eyes. He was more concerned with the details of the uniform, explaining that it was the dress of a gur-khan, or commander of a thousand. He showed Nial a baton, or short staff of white bone.

"Is that your talisman?"

"Nay." Tron grinned until his beard bristled. "More than this is needed. But this is the baton of your rank. Wear it in the girdle, so."

"What is the talisman?"

Paolo Tron shrugged.

"When the time comes, you shall have it. With it, you could ride from here to Kambalu, with the best horses led forward for you, and every wish granted."

"Where is the sword?"

"You need none. Agur-khan-"

"Messer Paolo, say what you will. I will not set foot in this treasure house without a good blade at my side."

Tron's thin lips curled in a sneer.

"'Twill serve you less than that baton. But I can get one in the bazaar. Then, too, you will need a new horse. It should be white, bearing a Tatar saddle. You have seen them. Good! I will give you thirty byzants, and five for the saddle."

And Nial reflected that the merchant had taken care not to have his own hand seen in this undertaking.

Making his way through the Moslem quarter the next day in search of a horse, Nial came face to face with the unexpected. Entering an arched street, he found himself in semidarkness amid familiar smells of frying mutton and onions, of leather and musk. Except for the cold, he might have been in the bazaar of Aleppo. Everywhere he saw the beards and turbans of Islam, occasionally the fur cap of an Alan or Russian.

If Tron had penetrated this city-within-a-city, he would have been stared at and mocked-for Islam is arrogant to its foes-but Nial, reared among Asiatics, sauntered by unnoticed in his chaban, pausing to handle rolls of felt or damask while he listened to the talk. He passed the open gate, with a loose chain hanging over it, of a mosque courtyard, and a glance showed him that scores of desert men were squatting where the sun warmed the stones.

Turning a corner beyond the mosque, Nial found himself in an alley, between lines of horses, where some tribesmen were arguing fiercely with a dealer. He noticed one of the horses, a powerful gray with saddle sores and marks of hard riding. But when a boy came up to accost him and be, him to look at leisure upon the splendid steed, he turned to stare at a shaggy steppe pony.

The boy, however, had seen him sizing up the gray and, after trying two or three languages, being clearly puzzled by the stranger, harangued him in broken Arabic.

"Nay, this one is not suited to your nobility. That one is tall and swift."

"He hath the look of the mule which sired him." Nial bargained with the ease of habit. "Moreover, he hath been ridden by a devil with sharp stirrups. Behold the marks. Nay, I go to see the beasts of-" he searched for a dealer's name-"Mahmoud the Blind."

"By Allah, is not Mahmoud here?"

The dealer, who had been listening with one ear, forsook the tribesmen and hastened over. He used a long staff, and the pupils of his eyes showed white in his pockmarked face. But he moved alertly as one who could see all before him. The boy whispered something that Nial could not catch.

"Ai-a," Mahinoud nodded complacently. "That gray steed is a Kabarda. It will run down a wolf."

"And leap a tent," put in Nial. "And turn in its tracks at a gallop. Verily this is the breeding place of all lies, and I go."

Loiterers on the balconies that overhung the alley-the whole quarter seemed teeming with men that day-grinned and coughed, nudging each other to listen to the chaffer. Mahmoud cast down his staff and lifted sightless eyes to the sky.

"May dogs litter on my grave! May the Ram come out of the skies, if there is one lie in all my words." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "A hundred byzants would not buy him, if his coat were sleek and fat. Yet will I sell him to Your Honor for less. For how much?"

"A fool would pay twenty."

"May Allah teach you wisdom, young lord. Verily, I know this horse, and he is from the stable of Barka Khan. Still, I will forego all profit and give him up for five-and-seventy."

"So do I know of him, and it was the command of the khan to have him slaughtered, and thou didst buy him from the skinner's market."

A cackle of laughter greeted this exchange. All the listeners were well aware that both men were drawing on their imaginations. While Nial examined the eyes of the gray, and forced open his jaws, and-remembering a certain Tatar trader-even lifted his tail, the boy brought forth saddles until he found one to Nial's liking. Meanwhile Mahmoud had come down to forty-six, in whispers, and felt for Nial's hand to strike palms on the bargain.

"Nay," quoth the swordsman, "first will I try his paces and see how lame he is. And I will pay no more than thirty, with five for the saddle."

It was a high peaked saddle, and he had to sit forward in the Tatar fashion to keep his knees down. As he tightened the rein Mahmoud hissed warningly, and the boy trotted after him. At the entrance of the alley a voice called softly, almost in his ear:

"Well done, Lord Ni-al. Come in by the door around the corner."

In the shadow of the balcony opposite him he saw a veiled girl and he recognized Shedda's voice. When he was clear of the corner he threw the rein to the boy and strode to the door.

"Will it please your nobility," cried the boy hastily, "to make payment now before entering there?"

"Why? /,

"Because it happens often that young masters go in there with gold, but never has one come out with anything at all."

Nial smiled as he knocked on the door and then pushed it open. He had a certain matter to settle with Shedda, and he had always found the boldest course the safest. The courtyard proved to be empty, but several pairs of slippers lay outside the house door. Instead of entering here, Nial, who did not wish to take off his boots, climbed the narrow stone stairs leading up to the balcony.

This had lattice work around it, and was littered with worn rugs and garments-women's gear. Shedda stepped from the window, holding a great cat on her arm.

"Was not the door of hospitality open, that the noble lord should climb by the women's stair?" she asked impatiently.

And then, sinking down on the best cushions, she smiled. She had discarded her veil, and her splendid hair lay uncovered upon slim shoulders. But Nial could only stare into eyes that matched his own.

"So you have come," she added, "to the house of Mahmoud the Blind to give me back my dagger."

She motioned to the rug beside her, but Nial, looking away with an effort-the magicians have less power in their eyes than a girl of Shedda's training-kept his feet.

"Thou shalt have thy dagger back," he said quietly, wondering why she esteemed the thing so much, "in return for the jewels that were stolen in the semi."

Chin propped on her hand, she gazed at him curiously.

"What jewels were they?"

"In my bed, the evening thou didst come to-" somehow Nial could not utter the word steal-"to make pretense of looking at our chests."

Shedda looked amused.

"Did one rob the young lord while he talked with me? I did not know it."

If she had sworn an oath, he would not have believed. As it was, he thought she spoke the truth. He drew the little blade from his wallet and balanced it in his hand.

"Who was the thief, then?"

"I saw him not, and I know him not. Were there many jewels?"

"Many, and not mine."

"The farangi merchant's?" Shedda pondered, watching him beneath lowered eyelids. "Did he send thee here to me? Knowest thou the work he has in hand?"

Nial's fingers tightened upon the knife, until the sharp edge cut into his skin. Shedda was stroking the cat, but she missed not the least of his movements.

"Did the rich farangi bid thee give back my dagger and say aught?"

"Not a word. I came to buy a horse."

He wondered again how a girl with Shedda's face could be a slave in the open market, and what she wished of Tron, and how she managed to leave Yashim's caravan. And Shedda seemed to follow his thoughts. Putting the cat aside, she rose to her feet without effort, brushing her hair back from her cheeks.

"Not even a word for the men of Islam?"

"Islam? The Moslems?"

"Hush!" She laid a hand lightly on his arm, and the scent of jessamine crept into his nostrils. "0 my lord, hast thou not heard of the Night of judgment that is coming, when the men of Islam shall have power in their hands and shall cast down the Tatar?"

"Nay, Shedda, I have heard many prophecies, but not this."

Nial thought he heard something move in the room beside him. And he remembered the throngs in the Moslem quarter. Something, no doubt, was brewing among them. Such men were restless as a broken thorn bush under the wind.

"Did the farangi, Tron, not tell thee, my lord, that he is one of us, preparing for the night?"

"He has naught but jewels in his mind," said Nial grimly, "especially those he lost on that other night. Art thou an owlet, Shedda, to whisper in darkness, and to flit from Yashim's house to this?"

"Nay." She laughed gaily. "A parrot am I, to say only what pleases my masters. Now I have escaped from Yashim's guards-they looked too long on the bribe I held out-and I hide in this nest. Do not betray me to Yashiro, Lord Ni-al!"

By some magical change she seemed to have become a different woman, full of mirth. The hot blood throbbed in Nial's throat, and he longed to snatch her up and bear her off with him upon the gray charger. Instantly Shedda became silent.