The Tower of Fear (18 page)

Aaron did manage to lower his voice. He let it all spill out.

Bel-Sidek interrupted. “I see I’m going to have to tell you more than I wanted. But trust you some, trust you all the way. Naszif isn’t dead. We didn’t kill him. Come. Walk. We’re drawing too much attention.”

And, Aaron noticed, Dartars were pouring into Char Street from the acropolis. He walked.

Bel-Sidek said, “You were right about Naszif. He betrayed your tower out in the hills. And he was still an agent of the Herodians. In fact, they had adopted him into their society and he had become a vice-colonel in their army.”

“Naszif?”

“Yes. But now he’s our man again. We’ve reclaimed him. He’ll be working for Qushmarrah. His wife and son have lost nothing. And only you, outside the movement, know about this. I want you to forget. Everything. Tell no one anything and go on living your life. Can you do that, Aaron?”

“I can. But you probably won’t let me.”

“What?”

Amazed at himself. Talking back to an officer. Serpent tongue letting anger six years old spew out. “It’s people like you that can’t leave anything alone. You can’t as long as there are people like me whose lives you can spend.” A strange, almost drugged feeling, like he was outside watching somebody else speak the unspeakable. “You go play your games with Fa’tad and General Cado. Just leave me and my family out of it. Leave us alone.”

Bel-Sidek gulped air as he searched for something to say. “It’s your struggle, too, Aaron.”

Aaron spat into the dust. Then he laughed hoarsely. “Your ass. My struggle? The only people who aren’t better off since the conquest are your class. And the monster who lived in the citadel. If I had any real sense I’d turn you in to the Herodians. But I’m an old dog and you people trained me too well when I was a pup. I can’t turn on you now. Go away. Leave me the hell alone.”

Aaron lengthened his stride. Bel-Sidek could not keep up.

As the anger evaporated, Aaron began to be afraid. Stupid. Stupid to let your mouth run away like that. Those were dangerous men. Crazy dangerous.

*   *   *

Bel-Sidek stopped. He could not keep up. He fought down the anger that nipped at him like a fire trying to get started. He had faced these blowups before. He did not like them. In part that was because he could not quite grasp the frustration that fueled them, in part because he heard enough truth in them to have his conscience wakened. He did not want to feel guilty about being true to his beliefs.

It would not be a good day. Like it or not he was going to spend it reexamining everything that he was, agonizing over his own goals and those of the movement.

When you looked at the situation the way an Aaron did there was no mystery why the movement had trouble attracting recruits. There went a man who had lost as much as any in the war, and he put at least as much of the blame for that on his own overlords as he did on the Herodians.

That kind of thinking—with its damnable core of truth—was an enemy more dangerous than all the spies Cado might have on his payroll. That kind of thinking might lead men to denounce the movement simply because they preferred Herodian order to the chance of a chaos that might interfere with commerce.

Bel-Sidek limped toward the waterfront, trying to shut out the pain in his leg and in his heart. Each hundred steps he glanced back to see how much the Dartars had gained upon him.

*   *   *

The Dartar column entering the Gate of Autumn seemed endless. The civilians awaiting their turn to get into Qushmarrah were sullen and growing more so.

Even to Yoseh it seemed that Fa’tad was sending in every man he had. And that just did not make any sense. What was so damned important about that Shu maze?

“Nothing, I’ll bet,” Nogah said. “Just Fa’tad tying to get Cado to think he thinks it’s critical. Maybe so Cado will take it away and make a fool of himself looking for something that isn’t there.”

“What difference does it make?” Medjhah asked. “We get paid the same whether we dig around or we don’t. Why worry about it?”

Somebody else said, “Yeah, kid. What you getting fussed for?”

Nogah: “He hopes we’re on the job a month. You didn’t see that veydeen slip he was making sheep’s eyes at yesterday.”

Medjhah: “Oh, she was tender, my brothers! Young and sweet. Her eyes were like almonds toasted and glazed with honey. Her lips were a bed of rose petals.”

Yoseh snapped, “Knock it off, you guys.”

Medjhah: “Best of all, she wasn’t very bright. She was making calf eyes right back at him.”

Nogah: “Sounds too good to be true. If she can cook I’m going to take her away from him.”

Yoseh’s protests only made the ribbing worse.

Veydeen in the streets paused to stare, startled by Dartar laughter. Yoseh said, “You’re ruining our image.”

He became tense as they passed through the acropolis, in the shadow of the Citadel. In an operation this size, how much chance Nogah’s troop would end up where they had been posted yesterday?

Nogah must have arranged something. He broke off the column at the same alley. As Yoseh helped unload he kept glancing at that doorway down the street. Every glance provoked a wisecrack.

The house was closed up this morning. The crone was not in her usual place on the street. Had his daring yesterday raised her bile? Had she sealed up the fortress till the siege of the maze was over?

Nogah flailed his injured arm to work out some of the stiffness. Already some of his cousins were pushing into the alleyway. Another six men, assigned by Joab, arrived and dismounted, turned their animals over to Yoseh. Yoseh asked, “You’re not going in there today, are you, Nogah?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re injured. Send me instead.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You’d miss your little veydeen doe.” He laughed and marched into the shadows of the alley. Yoseh started after him.

“Hold it, little brother!” Medjhah snapped. “Come over here.”

Yoseh went, reluctantly.

“You got a lot to learn about keeping yourself alive, kid. First rule of survival is don’t ever volunteer for anything. Where volunteers get sent men get killed.”

“Why does he keep me out of the maze?”

“He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not a child, Medjhah.”

“You’re no seasoned warrior, either. Qushmarrah isn’t the mountains. Right now you’re an apprentice. When Nogah is sure he can trust your judgment and ability to follow orders he’ll find something exciting for you to do.” Medjhah settled on a saddle he had pulled off one of the camels, leaned back against the wall.

Veydeen surged around the knot of animals, casting sullen glances at the Dartars impeding traffic. Medjhah ignored them till a trio of young wives came past, stealing glances at the mysterious nomads. He singsonged, “Come close, come closer, said the fox to the little hens. I cannot see you from here.” It was a line from a popular Qushmarrahan fable.

The tallest woman lifted her nose and lengthened her step. The other two giggled and whispered behind their hands and hurried to catch up. As she was about to fade into the crowd the tall one paused to look back.

Medjhah tossed her a wave. “We’ll see that haughty beauty again before the day is over.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s my irresistible charm. Veydeen women just can’t stay away.”

“More like they were carrying market baskets and they’ll have to come back this way to get home.”

“That, too. But I’ll bet you right now she comes along this side of the street and gives me a chance to tell her more about the fox and the hens.”

“You think so?”

“It’s a game. Teasing game. Flirting game. She and I both know nothing would come of it even if that was what we wanted. No Dartar is going to introduce her to any mysteries. Can you see sneaking into a woman’s home and bed dressed like this? Nobody would notice a Dartar who went calling while a woman’s man was away?”

“Get veydeen clothing. Step back there in the alley and change. Once you’re in the crowd nobody would notice you.”

Medjhah looked at him oddly. “I never thought of that.”

Yoseh shrugged. It seemed obvious to him.

Medjhah said, “We were talking about adventures before those hens came by flaunting themselves. Look at me, Yoseh. Perfectly content to sit here leaning against a wall, watching camels. You want to know why? Because Nogah has found me enough adventures already. Don’t go looking for trouble. You might find it.”

Yoseh nodded. There was sense in that.

They watched the women go to market for a while, Medjhah flirting whenever one would allow it.

The door down the street opened and the crone came out, followed closely by a woman whose face made Yoseh’s heart jump. Then he saw that she was not the girl. Her mother, perhaps. At least her older sister. The look was there, but time had weathered it.

The women carried baskets. The crone eyed him narrowly as they passed. After a glance the other paid him no heed.

Medjhah did not exercise his charm upon her. When she was out of sight he laughed. “Heart going pitty-pat, little brother? Here’s your big chance. Just walk over there and start talking. But what if her father is there? What if she has brothers? What if she spits in your face and screams for help?” Medjhah laughed again.

It was as if Medjhah could read his mind.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Yoseh. Come sit in the shade and watch the crazy veydeen. The parade is endlessly fascinating.”

But the doorway down the street was open an inch. He could see the white of an eye pressed to the crack. Somehow, that shook the roots of the daydream, as though reality threatened to intrude and force him to live out the fantasy.

His spirit was restless. That communicated itself to his flesh. He began to pace.

*   *   *

Azel was plagued by an unaccustomed flux of the spirit. He was restless, uncomfortable, almost haunted as he moved through the Dartar infestation. What the hell were they doing? Why the hell couldn’t they leave the labyrinth alone?

He fretted as he drifted through the press of Char Street. He did not like the feelings plaguing him. It was almost if he were suffering a premonition of disaster.

He slipped into the old man’s house as quickly as he could. Almost too quickly to pay attention to safety. And that bothered him, too. A man dared not put caution aside.

The old man was in his bed. Azel said, “I’m here. Again. You seem determined to use me up.”

He frowned. He did not like what he heard from his own lips. It was not like him to complain.

“Things have begun moving quickly. It cannot be helped.”

“What is it this time?”

“The man you tracked to Government House. He turned out to be an officer of high standing among the Herodians. We want to turn him to our own advantage. We have him under control now but we don’t expect our leverage to hold up.”

“This is where I come in.”

“The boy you took the other day is his son. We have informed him that we have the child in our control. I want you to convince him of that fact.”

“How?”

“Take him there. Show him the boy. Then get the child into our hands as soon as possible. Have him be the next one examined.”

“That’s asking for trouble. If I take the man inside he might recognize something. And the woman isn’t going to accept that without a squawk. Nor will she be pliant about who she takes for examination. It pleases her to imagine that she’s the driving force behind everything and that we’re parasitic hangers-on trying to profit from her researches. She tolerates us because she finds us useful occasionally.”

“She has failed to see all the implications of her husband’s death.”

“She’s lived a long time, General, and most of it completely out of touch with reality. She’s surrounded by sycophants content to feed her fantasies.”

“Then it’s time she was awakened.”

Azel listened as the old man told him what to do. He indicated his understanding and approval with a single nod. “There’s one piece of news. Concerning the new civil governor, who seems eager to make enemies.”

“Go ahead.”

“He’s chosen the villa of the widow of General Hanno bel-Karba as his residence. A damn fool idea that can’t have come to him overnight. He must have had people here ahead of time, looking for ways he can make trouble. Word is, he’s already sent the General’s widow a letter ordering her to vacate by sundown tonight.”

The old man remained silent for a long time. Then he said, “I wanted the organization to stay out of sight and mind. But this cannot be tolerated. I suppose he’s threatened to evict her?”

“Of course.”

“The man is mad. He
wants
to get himself killed. But that is nothing to you. On about enduring your own travails.”

*   *   *

General Cado was livid. He’d just heard from Sullo’s own mouth a plan for confiscating the properties of the widow of General bel-Karba. Insanity! His pate was scarlet. He sputtered with rage.

Cado faced away from Sullo until he regained control. Then he faced around. “You come with a certain reputation, Marteo Sullo. I assumed that most of what I’ve heard was slander from the mouths of your enemies. But today I’ve learned that they have been too kind. Maybe they were ashamed to tell the whole truth about your arrogance, your vanity, your
stupidity.
”

Now Sullo sputtered.

“You came here planning to embarrass me, eh? Stealing that old woman’s house looks like an easy way, eh? Because she enjoys my favor? Maybe that’s true. But did you bother to find out who she is and what she means to the people of Qushmarrah? The hell you did. You fool. You try to take that woman’s home and the very least you’ll do is end up dead. If you stay ahead of death for long it could mean the end of every Herodian in the city.”

Sullo sneered, but beneath his sneer there was a hint of uncertainty, a varnish of fear.

Cado shifted to a gentler tone and pressed his advantage. “You saw the entire strength at my command yesterday afternoon. Twelve thousand Herodian troops not of the first quality or they would be out facing the Suldan of Aquira. Five thousand Dartar mercenaries commanded by an unpredictable madman who could turn on us any minute. With them I control Qushmarrah—just barely—because ninety-nine out of a hundred Qushmarrahans don’t give a damn who runs things as long as certain precious institutions are left alone. That old woman is one of those institutions. Her husband never lost a battle in his life, whether single combat or massed armies. He is revered as a warrior demigod. These people believe he was struck down by assassins in Herodian pay.