The Tower of Fear (13 page)

The governor’s ship and two fast war galleys escorting her had bulled their way past commercial traffic beyond the Brothers and now several delayed vessels were coming in behind them. Including Meryel’s two ships with the arms down in their holds. There would be no trouble getting them off-loaded and safely away. The whole Herodian colony would be going crazy and would cease to function for a few days.

Would the old man take the opportunity to welcome the new tyrant? He had before. But if Meryel was right and there was some special operation shaping … Could it have something to do with the new governor? Doubtful. The General had talked in terms of months.

Might as well go back to work. The governor’s arrival would make no difference in his life, at least today.

As he was passing the new shipyards, put up where the old public baths had stood till they had been demolished because they offended Herodian morality, a man fell into step beside him. “So. Billygoat. Haven’t seen you in a while. What’s up? What’re you doing these days?”

“Working in the shipyard. As if you didn’t know.”

Bel-Sidek did know. He kept track of those few of his men who had come home from Dak-es-Souetta. “What is it?”

“The younger men there, they bring me their problems. I had a beauty turn up today. You were the only one I could think of who could maybe help solve it. And like a gift from Aram, here you are. I saw you, it was like a command from the gods.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Wait till I explain. I don’t know if you’re connected or not, but you’re the only one I could think of who might know somebody involved with the Living.”

Bel-Sidek did not respond.

“One of the guys—certainly not connected in any way—has convinced himself he knows the identity of a Qushmarrahan who was as guilty of treason during the war as al-Akla. He kept it to himself. But now he’s stumbled across something to make him think the traitor is in a high place in the Living. He fears that once in Herodian pay, always bought.”

“Eh!” Bel-Sidek rolled it around in his mind, a small part of him hoping he wasn’t sweating, blanching, or otherwise giving himself away. “Exactly what do you want, Sergeant?”

“Mainly, I want to figure out if the guy is imagining things. He believes it, but people believe impossible things every day. I never heard of any traitor but al-Akla. I sure as hell ain’t heard of one that was as important as him in how things came out.”

“I know of no such man myself but that doesn’t mean one didn’t exist. Come. I’ll buy you a lunch while we let reason gnaw at this.” Bel-Sidek suspected he had given himself away but had a feeling the risk would be worthwhile.

“I won’t name you any names, Colonel.”

You will, my friend. You will if we want you to. He glanced at the man. And maybe you wouldn’t. You were always a stubborn bastard.

“We’ll set the hounds of reason loose first, eh?”

They went into a place that served good
bheghase,
a thick and spicy fish and vegetable soup into which the fish was introduced two minutes before serving. It was an indulgence bel-Sidek allowed himself too seldom.

He savored a few mouthfuls before saying, “Granting that no names need be named, I’ll have to have a clue or two with which to work. Is your friend a veteran?”

“Who isn’t?”

“A point. Not many. Dak-es-Souetta?”

“No.”

“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. A vet, but not of Dak-es-Souetta. Works in a shipyard. Must be a building tradesman. Most of those were in the field engineer outfits assigned to the Seven Towers. I presume he knows about whatever because he saw it happen. If it happened.” He looked at Billygoat.

“You fishing for an opinion?”

“Yes.”

“He believes it, like I said. If he hadn’t sounded like a man trying to carry an unbearable load I wouldn’t be here.”

“The Seven Towers. I’ll have to research it. The Herodians had me in chains while that was happening.”

“I can suggest what to look for.”

“Uhm?”

“The Seven Towers were supposed to hold out long enough for the allies, the reserves, and the survivors of Dak-es-Souetta to assemble on the Plain of Chordan. But they didn’t.”

“Could one traitor have been the reason the strategy didn’t work?”

Billygoat shrugged. “I was five men down the chain from you.”

“I’ll find out. I’ll ask someone who was there. Thank you, Sergeant. Enjoy the
bheghase.
” Bel-Sidek limped away hurriedly, headed for the Pellan merchantman. Two of the men on his stevedore crew had fought at the Seven Towers. One had been an officer, a military engineer.

He rounded the two up. “Take an early lunch.”

One man, bel-Pedra, depended entirely upon his income from stevedoring. “We’re liable to get fired.” There were limits to the sacrifices you could ask.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“I’ve just discovered that I need some background about the Seven Towers and what happened there. Something’s come up where it could be important for me to know. Malachi?”

Malachi was the man who had not yet spoken. He got off the bale where he had been seated, settled on the battered timber decking of the pier. “You’ve been through the pass, sir?”

“Never. We went out along the coast road.”

“Yes. Demolishing the bridges behind you so the enemy, if victorious, had to come to Qushmarrah through the hills.”

“Do I detect a critical note?”

“Call it a disgruntled note, sir. For five generations that was the strategy. But when it was put to the test it didn’t work.”

“It should have.”

“In theory.” Malachi used a finger to sketch an imaginary chart. “The road runs into the pass heading due east but when it gets to the crest it elbows sixty degrees south. There are four towers on the outside of this curve, two on either side of the summit. Three on the inside curve, with the middle perched on the crest. No names, just numbers, with the odds to the outside, evens in, counting from the far end. Number Four is the keystone piece. It’s three times as big and defensible as the others.

“Note the angular relationships between the towers. When all seven are intact only One and Seven have much of a shadow where they don’t get supporting fire from the other towers. That isn’t big enough to exploit well. Four has no shadow at all.

“Interesting from your professional viewpoint, I’m sure,” bel-Sidek said. “What went wrong?”

“I don’t know. We took away every option but reducing the towers in series.”

“Sounds like the hard way.”

“Hard, but the cheapest way for them. Also the slowest, which is why we wanted them to do it that way. Their sappers and engineers were good, but we made them pay dear to take One, Two, and Three. What happened later I don’t know. I was in Three.”

“Bel-Pedra?” bel-Sidek asked.

“I was in Five, sir. I don’t think I can help much. They went after Four like lions for three days and didn’t get nothing but bloody noses. Then the sun comes up on the fourth morning and there’s the Herodian standard showing up top and heralds down front telling us they’d make us rich if we’d just open up. We dumped the toilet pails on them and they went away. Five minutes later we were taking fire from the heavy engines on top of Four. Whatever happened, the guys there never had time to destroy those.”

Bel-Sidek pursued that tale a little, not because he was interested but because he did not want his next question to sound especially important. He got the two men to discuss Herodian tactics in the assaults on the various towers. Then he asked Malachi, “Did they try to get Three to surrender before they attacked?”

“Oh, they tried that with everybody. A matter of form. They have some kind of law. They got the same answer every time, and they expected it.”

“Uhm. Bel-Pedra, you’d better get back to work. Malachi, I have a chore for you.” He let bel-Pedra depart. “Go over to the new Herodian shipyard and find Bhani Sytef. You want a list of all employees who were at the Seven Towers. You want to know which tower they served in. He’s supposed to know things like that, but with so many working there I’d be astonished if he actually did. Just get a list of those he does know about. If it isn’t enough I’ll get back to him.”

Malachi rose. He looked puzzled. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. But the big boys are trying to connect some people up with some other people and the only lead they’ve got is that maybe these guys were all in the same outfit at the Seven Towers.”

Bel-Sidek was well known to the Living in his quarter, but very few knew him to be khadifa of the waterfront. At every level he appeared as the agent of the men a step or two up the chain of command. There were risks. Bel-Sidek felt having access to all his men all the time was worth those risks. The harbor quarter was the busiest for the Living and needed the most direct attention.

“They want to ask people from outside the movement first?”

Bel-Sidek shrugged. “I don’t decide how things get done, I just do the job.”

“Nothing ever changes, does it?”

“Not in the army.”

Malachi left. And he returned much sooner than bel-Sidek expected.

“You were wrong, sir. He knew them well. There were only three men he couldn’t pin down for sure.” He proffered a piece of paper.

“I’ll see that he gets a commendation. Back to work. I fixed you with the Pellans.”

Bel-Sidek settled and ran a finger down the list. His finger jerked. “I should’ve guessed.” And it all fell into place, right along with the solution. He wanted to run to the General immediately. But he still had to assemble the gangs to work Meryel’s ships.

The new governor’s galley was trying to warp into its pier and having a hell of a time even with help from several tugs. Bel-Sidek smiled and murmured, “I hope that breeze is an omen.”

*   *   *

Medjhah shaded his eyes and peered at the harbor. “Ships coming in. Fancy ones.”

Yoseh yanked his attention away from the girl’s house. Medjhah pointed.

Three ships were crossing the slice of harbor visible from Char Street. “Warships?”

“The two on the outside. Must be somebody important.”

“Ferrenghi, probably.”

It took Medjhah a few seconds to get it. “Yeah. They all think they’re big stuff, don’t they?”

Yoseh’s attention drifted back to that doorway. The girl was there again. And the old woman was giving him a truly ferocious look.

He felt puckish. He winked at her.

She was astonished. She was scandalized. Then, for an instant, a smile threatened to crack the dried mud of her face. Then she became more the basilisk than ever.

“Now what the hell?” Medjhah grumbled.

A dozen Dartar horsemen were hastening down the hill, speaking to the men at each entrance of the maze. Each pause caused an immediate stir. Yoseh guessed, “Fa’tad is calling us in for some reason.”

Soon he was proven right. A man told them to call everybody out of the labyrinth and get ready to move out.

“I’ll go get them,” Medjhah said. He had grown bored watching the animals and the traffic in Char Street. “Give her a good-bye kiss for me, too.” He laughed as he went into the alley.

Yoseh began checking and tightening the animals’ tack. At least they did not have prisoners to worry them, like some of the other groups.

They had become part of the scenery quickly and the curious crowds had thinned. But now people began coming out again, to see the Dartars packing up as hastily as they had arrived.

Yoseh glanced down the street. The girl was watching and the crone was glaring. The three ships were out of sight.

Medjhah was taking a long time. Should he go see? No. These veydeen would steal the animals, or scatter them at the least, just for meanness.

He realized he was alone in a street with hundreds who hated him. He drew himself up and tried to look older and tougher and a lot more fearless than he felt.

He was worried.

Then he heard Nogah cursing Joab and Fa’tad, the veydeen and ferrenghi, Cado and the gods, and anyone else who occurred to him. Yoseh felt better immediately.

A couple of disgusting, frightened veydeen stumbled out ahead of Yoseh’s brothers and cousins. Their hands were bound behind them. One tried to run. Somebody stuck a spear between his legs. He pitched forward. Nogah jumped on him and kicked him viciously three or four times. Yoseh was astonished and appalled.

Then he noticed the cut and stain on Nogah’s left sleeve. Blood did not show well against the black, so the wound had not been obvious. Which was why they all wore black.

Nogah growled, “Are the animals ready?”

“Yes. Is that bad?”

“No. But it hurts like hell.” He yelled at the others, telling them to get the prisoners coffled up and get themselves mounted.

“It’s still bleeding some, Nogah.”

“That’ll keep it clean.”

“You want me to look at it?”

“Here? In the damned street?”

“Oh.” Of course. Not in front of the veydeen.

“Thanks anyway, kid. The ache will remind me that even things that live under rocks can hurt you if you aren’t careful.”

Yoseh glanced at the prisoners. They did have a texture that reminded him of grubs.

It was not long before Joab came up the hill, the column re-forming behind him. As Yoseh turned his camel into line some impulse caused him to wave to the girl in the doorway. Though not blatantly. No.

For a wonder the crone wasn’t looking.

For a double wonder the girl returned his wave shyly. Then she fled into the darkness inside her home.

He did not wake up till they reached the compound and everyone started telling him he had to get changed into his best apparel. A new civil governor was arriving from Herod and everyone had to turn out for the welcoming parade.

He was still bemused when they formed up on the plazas of the acropolis, five thousand men in black, perfectly motionless on their mounts. Opposite them, across an aisle a hundred feet wide, were the Herodian infantry in their white and red, only their officers mounted, twelve thousand strong.

With this driblet in the tide Herod held Qushmarrah. Yoseh thought it a vain and foolish thing to parade the weakness of the occupying forces.