The Tower of Fear (35 page)

A central point, bel-Sidek reflected. If the treasures of the citadel would buy independence, wasn’t he bound to pay? It was a cheaper fee than any they had considered paying before.

“One question. Suppose that treasure is just as much an illusion as the supposed treasure of the king of the Shu maze?”

“Then I’ll have made a great fool of myself. I’ll have given Qushmarrah away and will have done nothing but return a few frightened children to grieving parents. I’m confident of the wealth, however. I visited the citadel occasionally in older times.”

“As did I. Can we state this as a clearly defined undertaking? So I’ll know exactly where we stand.”

Fa’tad reflected. “Given the secret of entry into the citadel, which exists somewhere within your organization, my forces will penetrate the fortress. They will deliver the children held captive there. To you, if you like. They will terminate any possibility of the resurrection of Nakar. They will take of the treasure of the citadel as they desire. They will hand the fortress over to your forces. They will leave the city to you and the Herodians.”

“A good deal, on the face of it,” bel-Sidek said. And he believed that. But he wondered what lay behind the smiling face. It seemed too simple, too straightforward, and maybe too small for Fa’tad al-Akla.

Unless he was under a lot of pressure from home and would have to leave soon, anyway.

That was a good possibility.

“Any my part? Other than learning how you can enter the citadel?”

“Don’t make Cado a deal when he comes looking for one.”

One of the Dartars, who was watching the street through a crack in a boarded window, said, “The woman is coming.”

Fa’tad nodded. “I’ve been a little slow. It’s your move, Colonel bel-Sidek.”

“Can you keep your man away?”

Fa’tad seemed amused. “I think I can restrain his ardor so long as he and I are certain he will have the chance to deliver the boy. Still, the deadline he set seems to me a sound one. Why wait for Nakar? The deal stands if you deliver the information before the fog comes in. I can be reached in the alley below the place you formerly occupied.”

“And if I can’t get the information?”

“We’ll find you again.”

Meryel burst in. “Sisu, what the hell are you doing? You’ve got twenty men sitting around … Shit.”

Fa’tad bowed slightly and walked out. His men followed. Bel-Sidek watched thoughtfully.

“What the hell? That was al-Akla.”

“He followed you here.” Bel-Sidek told her the story.

“What’re you going to do?”

“First I’ll see if my conscience says I have to go through with the General’s plan.”

“You
want
Nakar back? If you think you owe somebody that, you’re crazier than the old man was. You even consider it, you can kiss me good-bye.”

“There are those who would approve.”

“So?”

“I merely state that for the record.”

“You think al-Akla would keep his bargain?”

“Possibly. He certainly handed me ammunition to spend against him. I’m tempted to give him what he wants, then tell Cado he’s looting the citadel. Let them get into it. Let the Living deal with the survivors.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know. Right now I’ll call off my own war, then get Carza where I can talk to him. If anybody knows the way in there, he does.”

“The carpenter refused to come,” Meryel said.

“So I suspected. Probably doesn’t much matter now.”

*   *   *

Yoseh settled into the bed of the wagon, glad to be out of the rain. He huddled up, pondered the incomprehensible ways of the mighty. The others piled inside. Somebody growled at the driver. The driver growled back, unimpressed. The wagon lurched forward.

One of Fa’tad’s cronies asked, “Think he’ll try to screw us?”

“It’s the Qushmarrahan way. On the other hand, I made him a tempting offer. An inspired improvisation, if I say so myself.” Al-Akla chuckled. “Driver! Turn left and stop. Nogah, Medjhah, Juba, I have a job for you.”

17

Aaron slipped into the main shed at the shipyard. Those who could were there, working out of the rain. The rest had been sent home. He found Billygoat caulking a small boat. There was always work for a caulker.

Billygoat gave him a strange look. “You coming in?”

“No. I just wanted to talk. You heard?”

“Yes. It’s around. How are you doing? How’s your family handling it?”

“I’m all right now. They’re taking it about like you’d expect. But we aren’t without hope. The Herodians know who did it. Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Billygoat wiped his hands on his clothing. He was not fastidious. “But this isn’t the place. Unless you don’t care who listens.”

The others had slowed work and were watching. Cullo and another Herodian were drifting their way. Aaron wondered if this made any sense, after all. “Part I don’t want anybody to hear.”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“You’ll get soaked.” He was already.

Billygoat shrugged. “As long as it isn’t pouring. I find rain relaxing.” The old man shoved his tools toward his helper. “Clean them up.”

Neither foreman stopped Billygoat. None of the workmen spoke to Aaron, though some eyed him with pity.

“You have friends in high places,” Billygoat said after they stepped into the damp. “Never saw anybody excused from work by order of the military governor.”

“Really?”

“Messenger was waiting when we came in. Had a letter saying you was to be let off as long as you needed, without prejudice, the way they say. Signed by Bruda and Cado, according to Cullo. He was impressed.”

“Trying to back me into a corner, I guess.”

They went in beneath the scaffolding on the lee side of the ship they were building. Not much moisture reached them. Billygoat sat on one timber balk, leaned against another. “Talk to me.”

Aaron told his story. Billygoat did not interrupt. When Aaron finished, he said, “It’s a grim tale. If it’s advice you’re after, all I can say is, you got to do whatever you got to do to help your boy.”

“I understand that. That’s no problem. But all those people are pushing me into the middle of their plots and politics. I don’t give a damn about any of that. I just want my son back. But whatever I do, somebody will claim I betrayed him. They could take it out on my family. How can I get out from under that?”

Billygoat picked up some sodden wood chips, pitched them at an invisible target. “I don’t know, Aaron. I wish I did. I wish I could give you some magic formula. But all I can say is I’m sorry. You got yourself in the classic trap that gets the little guy. Not your fault, but there you are. When the big guys go to butting heads they always figure if you aren’t with them you got to be against them. There’s anything practical I can do, I’ll help.”

“I don’t want to get you into it.”

Billygoat did not argue.

“There is one thing. Wouldn’t put you at any risk.” The real reason he had come.

“What’s that?” Billygoat kept throwing chips.

“Sort of an extra hammer.”

“Well?”

“You hear something’s happened to me or my family, ask around for somebody who was at the Seven Towers, in Four. Like Big Turi. Tell them I said it was Naszif that opened the door. They’ll know what that means. Would you do that?”

“Sure, Aaron.”

“Thanks. I’d better get back, see if there’s any news.”

*   *   *

Sullo and Cado watched while Annalaya tried reaching through the corpse of Ishabal bel-Shaduk in an effort to summon his spirit. The governors had set animosity aside for the moment, in the face of a greater threat.

The woman backed away from the cadaver. Cado thought she looked troubled. She shrugged, defeated. “Too late.”

Sullo took her into his arms, patted her back. “You did the best you could.”

Cado concealed amazement. What was this?
She
did not appear pleased. “I so wanted to please you, my lord.”

Cado thought her tone lacked sincerity. Who was using whom? Cado asked, “What’s our approach now?” Calling up the child-taker’s ghost had been a long shot but he had hoped.

The witch disengaged herself from Sullo. “We will have to find the way by trial and error. As Ala-eh-din Beyh must have.” And there was more hidden in her voice when she mentioned that name.

Mystery on mystery. “There’s a way?
Is
Fa’tad on to something?” That would not do. Let Fa’tad plunder the citadel and the Dartars would melt away faster than summer snow.

“The entrance appears to be a pattern gate,” the witch said. She had an odd accent, maybe atop a mild speech impediment. “It appears to be a complicated construct. Possibly a double pattern. Probably with inbuilt traps. The first steps seem too obvious for a sorcerer of Nakar’s attainment.” Again an oddity of voice, a chilliness, at mention of the name.

“A trap?” Cado had only the vaguest notion what she meant. He was of the old school: no commerce with sorcery.

“There are certain to be several, some obvious, some subtle, all deadly. That is the nature of a pattern. You create a pattern gate to keep people out.”

“Be careful, then. Colonel Bruda will give you whatever support you need.”

Sullo donned a smirk. “My people can handle this.”

“Perhaps.” Cado left them, perplexed by the woman, thinking Sullo needed watching. If—when!—they penetrated the citadel the man would go for the treasure like a shark to blood.

*   *   *

The big man brought a child into the cage. The other children whispered excitedly. There was something special about this one … He had been brought back once before. Apparently those who went out did not come back at all.

Arif lifted his gaze.

“Zouki!” He jumped up, then got scared all over again. The big man gave him such a funny look. Almost like he hated him … The big man backed outside and locked the cage but stayed outside staring. He was scary.

Arif edged toward Zouki. “Zouki?”

The other boy just sat there. There was something creepy about him. Something scary. Arif wanted to move away, to hide. “Zouki?”

Zouki looked up. There was no recognition in his eyes. For a moment. Then something stirred. He seemed suddenly old and dangerous and much more scary. Arif backed away, frightened.

“What did you do to him?” Arif shouted. “You’re a bad man.” He kept backing away, crying, terrified.

Thunder crashed outside the citadel. The rain fell harder.

*   *   *

Azel watched the soldiers from his eyrie. They had the place surrounded, the Postern of Fate covered. There would be no getting out. If the kid they needed wasn’t the one he’d brought in, the siege would turn ugly. There weren’t many stores laid in. Of course, if they busted in, things would get even uglier.

He should have done something about Sullo’s witch. She was the only tool they had. But he’d had no time, even had the notion occurred while it was practical.

When she woke, the Witch would see why he’d nagged her. This was what he’d wanted to prevent.

Torgo showed up for a little more seducing. “What are you doing?”

“Watching the show and wondering if I’m too old to learn to fly. How’s she doing?”

The eunuch looked worried. “Not good. She extended herself way too much.”

Azel spat out the window. That figured. She’d keep right on being more trouble than help. Just like a woman. “She better wake up before they figure out how to get in here.”

*   *   *

Aaron had not yet gotten the door closed when Naszif demanded, “Where the hell have you been?” Like he was some child who had wandered without permission.

“I arranged for someone to tell Big Turi who opened that postern if anything happens to me or mine.” He felt soaked to the bone. He started shedding wet clothing.

Naszif glared, angry, none too afraid, maybe with a touch of hatred.

“There’s nothing else to say,” Aaron said. “Did you see General Cado?”

“Him and the ugly woman both. Things are moving.” Implied, the suggestion that Aaron stick a little closer, in case.

He hung his clothes up, dressed dry, settled down with cheese, bread, and water. He did not offer to share. After a while, he asked, “What’s next?”

“Bel-Sidek wants General Cado to come to him if they’re going to meet. If that’s what bel-Sidek decides to do he’ll send a guide here. I’ll take him to the General. So we just sit.”

Sit around and wait for something to happen. As they had done at the Seven Towers.

He wished he had brought his family home. He was feeling as alone as he had in those bad old days. How soon could he get away from here? How soon would they be able to come back?

He thought about Arif up there in the citadel, so young, so much more alone than he, so surely terrified by the collapse of his safe little world. “Naszif?”

“Yeah?”

“Suppose we let everything else go and just worry about getting the boys back?”

Naszif grunted. He wanted to nap.

Nothing to do but sit there and think.

*   *   *

The rain was steady now, though not yet heavy. The clouds seemed to be stirring over the citadel. Yoseh paid no attention. He was soaked to the marrow, miserable, and only marginally grateful that it was no colder. The breeze was steady and merciless. And Medjhah had been right about snatching sleep while the chance was there—damn him!

Yoseh was on the street supposedly pretending to doze while he watched the animals and kept an eye on Tamisa’s place. But he was only supposed to pretend. His eyes kept crossing and his vision kept blurring. And Faruk, like he was psychic, kept coming out to plant a boot in his bottom whenever he started to nod.

There was not that much to see. A few people came and went at Tamisa’s but Fa’tad did not seem interested.

This life in the city of gold was just one breathless adventure after another.

*   *   *

Bel-Sidek was thoroughly irritated by the time Carza deigned to make his appearance. He was tired and the weather had awakened a pernicious ache in his leg. Neither improved his temper. More, several of his men from the waterfront, though told their help was essential, had begged off reporting because they did not want to miss work. That was not something to put a captain into a positive, optimistic frame of mind. What was he running here, some kind of social club?