The Tower of Fear (25 page)

A while later still, he noticed men across the street, watching. Ferrenghi spies? Probably. Cado’s men hanging around the edges to see what they could dig out of the shadows.

Then came the messengers, moving grimly down toward the harbor, and later all the captains heading uphill, faces blank, without a word to the men.

He heard it from the veydeen first. Overheard it as the news spread like flashfire. Turok raiders were pillaging the territories between Agadar and Qushmarrah. The Agadar garrison had been cut to pieces. The survivors were holed up in the city.

There were a few Dartar auxiliaries at Agadar. How had they fared?

The veydeen looked like they wanted to work themselves into a panic. Like they felt defenseless. He was willing to bet that they had not gotten this excited when they had heard that Herod’s armies were approaching.

Then he began to get a glimmer. They feared chaos. They feared Cado would march out and leave the city open to destructive insurrection. An uprising by the few would bring reprisals down upon the many, sure as sundown.

He looked down the street at that door. Still nothing. Were they all dead in there? He glanced skyward. A few tall clouds lumbered toward the gulf. Would it ever rain again?

Even here on the coast it did not rain as much as once it had. And Qushmarrah needed a good rain, to sluice out the accumulated filth and stench.

The spies, or whatever, disappeared. The woman who interested Medjhah returned, flaunting herself again. The veydeen were blind, so preoccupied were they with gossip about Turoks.

“Watch this little pigeon fly away,” Medjhah said, laughing. He strolled toward the tall woman, who did look alarmed and did hurry. Medjhah kept on walking after her.

For a while Yoseh amused himself by trying to kill a fly that had developed a determination to nest inside his nose. Once he had won that contest he did manage to doze.

“Hey! Yoseh! Wake up! Look what we got for you.”

He jerked awake. The boy Arif stood before him, smiling shyly. His little brother was with him, holding his hand, which he dropped when Yoseh opened his eyes. The little one headed for the nearest camel.

The girl Tamisa was behind the boys, carrying something. Behind her, in the doorway, wearing a ferocious scowl, was the old woman. The other daughter, the older sister and mother of the boys, elbowed past her and carried a pot to the center of the street. She dumped it through a stone grate into the sewerage channel that ran there, went back into the house. She never looked at the Dartars at all.

“Good morning, Arif.” Agan Yoseh worked hard on his dialect. He only glanced at the girl but his cheeks got hot. He was intensely aware of Nogah watching through scantly cracked eyelids. “How are you today?”

“Mish brought you dinner. She made it herself. Dad said it was all right.” The boy plopped down beside him.

The girl stood there blushing. Yoseh wanted to tell her to do something but did not know what. He made an uncertain gesture. She took it as an invitation, settled onto a bundle at a very correct distance, sat formally upright with eyes on what she held in her lap.

The boy bubbled, “Did you hear about the Turoks, Yoseh? Are you going to go fight them?”

“Yes, I heard, Arif. I don’t know if I’ll have to go. I suppose someone will.”

The girl said, “Mother thought you’d go. That’s why she said I could bring this out now.” She offered, so he had to take the bundle. “Are you all right? After the way they knocked you around yesterday…”

“I’m fine. Just a few bruises.”

“That’s good.”

Yoseh glanced at the old woman. She had taken her place outside the door with her mending, daring traffic to trample her. All along Char Street the regulars were out, refusing to let the Dartar presence disturb ancient routine. He opened the bundle, saw nothing really familiar. He tried a few nibbles, found everything mouth-watering. “This is great. But there’s way too much here for me. Mind if I share with my brother?”

“No. That’s all right. Go ahead.”

“Nogah. Come help me with this.”

As Nogah approached, the girl realized he was not Medjhah. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Three. Medjhah and Nogah right here and Amar, who is a troop leader in Quadideh’s company.”

Nogah settled, went to tasting, nodded pleasantly. “This is excellent. What is your friend’s name, Yoseh?”

“Tamisa.”

“You’re a very good cook, Tamisa.”

She blushed. “I got a lot of help from Laella and my mother.”

“Even so, yours was the hand in control.” With nothing at risk Nogah could assume the burden of conversation. Yoseh mostly listened. So did Arif, with big, serious eyes, while the little one, Stafa, clambered all over a surprisingly patient camel. Yoseh saved him from a fall and set him on his feet. He marveled that these children of Qushmarrah were so well fed.

Dartar children, even now, were little more than bags of bones living on the edge of starvation.

Nogah got the girl to relax. Once she did, she turned into a chatterer. Some of her preoccupations seemed pretty shallow, though.

Arif grew bored. Looking disappointed in his new friend, he began wandering around looking at animals, weapons, and supplies.

Nogah asked Tamisa, “Who was the woman who came to your door during the night? I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful.”

“Reyha? Beautiful?” Tamisa laughed. “She’s an old hag. She must be at least thirty.” Then her eyes grew big. She looked worried. She had said something she should not have.

“Maybe we’re talking about different women. Come to think of it. The one I saw just stood outside your door for a few minutes.”

Yoseh asked, “Is Reyha the one whose son was taken here?”

Tamisa nodded. “She and my sister have been friends all their lives. They even had Arif and Zouki the same day. She came because she was having trouble with her husband.”

Yoseh said, “I’ve seen this Reyha, Nogah. If it’s her you fell in love with last night you’d better worry about how fast you’re going to go blind.”

Nogah chuckled. “It doesn’t matter who she was. She was that kind of woman you only see once, for a moment, and never again, but remember all your life.”

“Ach! You’re starting to sound like Father.”

“I’m his son and heir. You two go ahead and talk.” He got up and went and got his horse onto her feet. He hoisted the veydeen boys onto her back. Arif became frightened and wanted down. Stafa was as happy as a child his age could be.

Tamisa asked, “How does your brother know somebody came to our house last night, Yoseh?”

He reflected. It wasn’t exactly a secret around here, was it? “He spent the night in the alley so nobody could get in or out of the maze.”

“Oh.”

“More of us are going to stay tonight. I know I am.”

“Oh. Oh.” Flustered. “I think I’d better get back to my chores. Before my mother … Arif. Stafa. Come on. It’s time to go.”

Yoseh sat there wondering if he’d said something wrong.

12

Aaron had been distracted all morning. Not enough to make mistakes but enough to slow him down. Cullo had commented, not unkindly, expressing a genuine concern. Aaron had not been able to shake it.

Billygoat sat down beside him as he started on his lunch. “Think it’ll rain? Looks like we got some clouds coming in.”

Aaron grunted. It did not look like rain. Just clouds.

“City could use a good washdown.”

Aaron grunted again.

“You ever notice the difference between men and dogs, Aaron? A dog comes to you begging, you give him the sorriest scrap, he’s properly grateful. A man comes to you desperate, you try to give him a hand, four times out of five he turns on you. Makes the whole damned thing your fault. On the whole, I think I like dogs better than I like men.”

His piece spoken, Billygoat got up to go.

“Wait,” Aaron said. “Sit down. You’re right. I’m sorry. I apologize.”

Billygoat harumphed. “I reckon that means you got another problem to hit me with and be ungrateful about later.”

“No! Look, I said I’m sorry. The problem I had—it got solved, all right, but then it didn’t, either, really. It only made more problems.”

“Yeah. That’s the way she goes, most times. You hear about that child-stealer got caught over my way yesterday? Tried to grab a kid, got hisself chased down and stomped to death. That ought to ease your worries some.”

“I heard. I also heard he used some kind of sorcery, same as the one who took the child where I live. And the Dartars were chasing that one up Char Street almost the same time the other was getting himself killed. If there’re two of them maybe there’re three or four or a hundred.”

“I swear. You ain’t going to be satisfied till your boy does get got. You live in Char Street. I come over Char Street this morning. You got two thousand Dartars packed in there asshole-to-elbow. Who you think would be dumb enough to try something with odds like that?”

“The Living might.”

“Heh! We’re getting around to something here, aren’t we?”

Aaron told most of it, keeping the names out.

Billygoat listened. He thought. He said, “I figure they lied to him, not you. Handy way to twist his arm. Anyway, what you worrying about it for? Ain’t your problem. You’re starting to get silly, like some of these fools around here all in a panic because of some Turok bandits all the way around to the other side of the gulf.”

Aaron had not heard that news yet. He had to have the story told.

*   *   *

Bel-Sidek glanced around as he left his home. “It gets any thicker out here people will be climbing over each other.”

Hadribel’s men began forcing a way through the press.

“Gently,” bel-Sidek told them. “Let’s not attract attention.” They were already. Raheb Sayed had them fixed with her basilisk’s eye.

“How will Cado respond?” Hadribel asked. The news about the Turoks had come only a moment before word that it was safe to approach the traitor’s house. What Hadribel really wanted to know was if this was likely to become an opportunity for the movement.

“No telling. That son of a whore is as crafty as Fa’tad, in his way. Wouldn’t surprise me if he made the whole thing up just to see how everybody jumps. We’ll be very careful with General Cado.”

“How can we get the old man out through this mess?”

“By investing heavily of patience, I suspect.”

They crossed Char Street, entered an alleyway. Even there they faced foot traffic trying to beat the press on the artery. The walk took so long Hadribel felt compelled to scout their destination again.

“Still safe,” he concluded.

“Let’s get it done.” Bel-Sidek was uncomfortable with this. But he had to know.

Hadribel hammered on the traitor’s door. The woman responded. She looked at them without recognition, uneasy but not frightened, as though used to finding strange men at her door.

“My husband isn’t here. You’ll find him…”

“I know,” bel-Sidek said. “It’s you we want to see.” He pushed forward. She had to retreat or be trampled. Bel-Sidek, Hadribel, and two of Hadribel’s men were inside before she protested.

“Please relax,” bel-Sidek said. “You’re in no danger. We want to ask a few questions.”

She looked for someplace to run. There was no place. They had taken all those away. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The questions were predictable. Bel-Sidek had decided to answer them honestly. “We are the Living. We want to know where you went last night.”

She started shaking. She said nothing.

“One of our men was murdered last night. A very important man. My commander. It was done by a woman. You were out and in that area. If you felt you had a reason, if you suspected who the man really was…”

Her eyes grew huge. Her mouth hung. She swung her head back and forth in little jerks. She tried to speak but could not force anything out.

“You didn’t do it? How can we believe that? Where did you go?”

“I … can’t … say.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re evil, wicked men. You’d go terrorize people just because they’re my friends.”

“I don’t intend debating relative morality or our duties to the city that nurtured us. We believe we’re right. We’re convinced our ends are just. A hero of Qushmarrah was murdered in his bed. We mean to find the woman responsible. If you’re not guilty, show us.”

The woman spat. “You haven’t done enough to us already, have you? You overlooked one member of the family.” She spat again. “To hell with you. Go ahead. Kill me. You’ve taken away everything I have to live for, anyway.”

Hatred fouled the air. Bel-Sidek was startled by the fever of it. “I’m not going to kill anyone. I don’t think you did anything but go to Char Street to visit your friend Laella. But my comrades want something more convincing than my guesses.”

“What if I said I did go there?”

“I want to know what you told her and what or who you saw in the street, coming and going.”

She sat down on the floor, against a wall. “You see? No matter what I tell you, you won’t be satisfied. You’ll want more. And there’ll be nothing in it for me but pain. You want me to talk to you, give me my son back.”

“I’d be tempted. If I had him. We don’t make war on children. They aren’t responsible for the crimes of their fathers.”

The woman stared at him for half a minute, radiating hatred and disgust. She spat again, directly at him. “You want me to believe and trust you, telling me a bald-faced lie like that? After you dragged my husband out last night to show him that you do have Zouki?”

Bel-Sidek stepped back, told one of the men, “Don’t mark her. Hadribel.” He took Hadribel aside. “Tell me what you did with the traitor again.”

Hadribel repeated his story.

“Did he see the boy?”

“She thinks so.”

“The General said we’d pretend. I think I smell something. The old man had a dark streak. It may have infected part of the movement. I want to know.”

Hadribel scowled. He had worshipped the General, too. He did not want to think the old man had done something less than perfectly righteous. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Bel-Sidek went to supervise the woman’s interrogation.