Er-Rashal el-Dhulquarnen was a declared, dedicated enemy of God.
“He’s hiding out again,” Azer er-Selim said. “Most likely among his ancestors in the Hills of the Dead. That’s where he went before.”
The Mountain said, “None of that concerns us now. Once the decision has been handed down by God… We’ll know how to face our tomorrows.” He stared due north, toward the distant Idiam. And worried that the dead city there, though a hundred miles away, had infected his soul. He had not gone near it, yet, during his flights over the border of the dead realm. He had seen nothing to suggest that the nearer reaches of the Idiam differed from regions around it. There was even evidence that someone lived in the haunted territories.
No good Praman ventured there by choice.
Nassim feared Andesqueluz like he feared for his soul. Yet he seemed drawn to the haunted city. If only to slake his curiosity.
“Bone. Az. Tell me about Andesqueluz again.”
Bone said, “There’s nothing new to tell.”
“Try.”
Azer said, “Its reputation might make you think it was a major city, long ago. Yet I doubt that a thousand people ever lived there at one time. It’s on top of a mountain. Not that great a mountain, but the mountain, Asher. The buildings are all either carved from Asher or built from stone the mountain provided.”
Nassim grunted. “Their holy place.”
“The holiest of holies. For those pagans. Which they kept a closed kingdom. They raised their food on tiny mountainside plots. Pilgrims were required to bring a basket of soil to gain entry.”
“So few, yet we remember so much.” Vaguely suspicious of al-Azir’s knowledge.
“Every wall has its pictographs. They’re easily read. Andesqueluz exported fear. Its sorcerers extracted tribute from all the kings in this part of the world.”
“At a time when kings were little more than village chiefs.”
“Andesqueluz was powerful but it did something to offend the whole world. The world united and destroyed Andesqueluz, to the last babe in arms, then went away, shunning the city and the Idiam forever. The fear was that the evil hadn’t been destroyed, only the people had been. The evil just lay dormant. It couldn’t be destroyed because the soul of the mountain, Asher, is the Adversary Himself.”
Nassim heard nothing new. Again he asked the question that had been asked so many times. “What did er- Rashal want with those mummified sorcerers?”
It had to do with Asher, surely. El-Dhulquarnen had tried to resurrect Seska, the Endless, another wicked elder deity, already.
Az said, “I have had a new thought about that. After all these years. It doesn’t have to do with Asher. But it’ll still be unacceptable to the Faithful.”
“Do tell.”
“I think er-Rashal is after ascendance. He wants to become one of the Instrumentalities of the Night.”
“You’re right. True Believers wouldn’t want to hear that. You could get in trouble just for saying somebody could think that way.”
“Which is why the quest for ascendance went out of fashion.”
“I’m sure. Az, anything to that notion? I heard something similar on Artecipea. Would the Rascal have gotten involved in such a dangerous scheme on speculation? Wouldn’t he make sure he could become a god before he took chances?”
“I don’t know. He never thought like normal Faithful. But trying to become a god was common in pagan times. The pictographs in Andesqueluz say ascendance was the city’s reason for existing. The pagans must have succeeded once in a while. Which might explain why the Idiam is said to be haunted. If wicked ancients are still prowling the night.”
“You saw direct evidence?”
“No. But we all felt like we were being watched. All the time. Captain Tage’s bogon was our only direct contact with the Night.”
Nassim sighed. “Always nothing. Oh, well. We should enjoy an interesting summer here. What do you think? Will the Arnhanders help Gordimer? Or will they sit back and enjoy the spectacle?”
Er-Selim said, “That might depend on who barks loudest. Vantrad would center any action. It’s the biggest Crusader state and the one nearest probable points of contact. And Vantrad is positioned to interfere with Indala’s line of communication. But King Berismond is a diseased boy under the thumb of an older wife with a diseased mind. Whom Indala bought off somehow. There’ll be other Arnhanders, though, who’ll see the danger of a united kaifate.”
Nassim looked to the northwest. “This could be a situation made for Rogert du Tancret.”
“If Berismond is seen as indecisive or weak. And how can he not be with Clothilde manipulating him?”
“Al-Adil hinted that something might happen to Black Rogert.”
“That’s always a possibility. For any of us. An assassin could get in here, too. But du Tancret has a phenomenal sense for personal danger. The love of the Night, perhaps. Don’t base any strategy on the assumption that assassins will push him aside.”
“Just thinking out loud. It’s not my problem. We have enough to keep us busy here.”
Nassim went downstairs, thinking about Azim al-Adil. Young Az had found a way into his heart. He would be devastated if the boy followed Hagid and Ambel into the dark.
Indala had asked if Ambel’s end had left him a broken tool. Broken, not. But there were cracks.
The Sha-lug Mohkam approached Nassim as he approached his own quarters. He whispered, “There’s a letter came from Akir. He’s succeeded in buying twelve hundred pounds of firepowder. It will come by ship to Shartelle. We need to have people there to meet it. The Deves also offered a battery of six four-pounder falcons at six hundred eighty Aparionese ducats apiece if we take the set.”
“That’s cheap. What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re obsolete out there. Akir says they’ve survived repeated test firings, though.”
“If that’s what we can get. We can adapt. Why so generous with the firepowder?”
“Akir says they’ve found a way to produce it in quantity, less expensively.”
“Then the face of war will change.”
Mohkam shrugged. He was not one to care.
“Thank you,” Nassim said. “I need to rest, now.”
32. Tsistimed and the Chosen
There was no forgiveness in Tsistimed the Golden. And he was methodical about eliminating enemies. His biggest challenge in generations were the Chosen and their weird companions. No other enemy had come after him in more than a century. Others were content to wait for their doom to find them.
Ghargarlicea would enjoy a respite while he exterminated the threat from always-winter.
The Hu’n-tai At moved with the spring melt. They pursued the retreating freeze, guided by Chosen who had deserted their foul winter god.
It was not a war with much conflict. There was little left to find, other than starved bodies frozen alongside roads leading toward friendlier climes. Before summer’s peak the great lord of the steppe knew the Chosen would be no further threat.
No living humans remained north of lands Tsistimed ruled. He could shift ambition to the Ghargarlicean Empire, though that conquest would not now go as quickly as he would like.
The Hu’n-tai At needed time to regain strength. That could take decades.
Tsistimed was not pleased.
The wells of power continued to wane. He would not survive them by long.
Their power, and that of the Night, sustained him. While they went on, Tsistimed the Golden went on. When they failed, Tsistimed the Golden would die. 33. Realm of the Gods: Great Sky Fortress Korban Iron Eyes and his troop followed their own path back to the Realm of the Gods. When Heris and Cloven Februaren arrived with the
