permanently? Can you go on? Can you send other mothers’ sons into the fire between Heaven and Hell? Will you hesitate in the critical instant when hesitation could be fatal?”
Nassim understood. His future depended on his answer. And Indala would be unerring in tasting his sincerity, or lack thereof.
“I am Sha-lug.” And, though he suspected Indala understood perfectly, he clarified. “I’ll come through this. It won’t fog my mind nor stay my hand when the arrows are in the air.”
“Well said.” Then, “Just a moment.” A man had appeared. He looked like young Az with three decades added. Indala gestured, giving him permission to approach. He came, whispered into the sheikh’s ear. Indala nodded. Nassim thought he was unhappy behind his aplomb.
Indala said, “I’ll send instructions before I retire.”
The message bearer bowed his way out. Nassim thought he lacked enthusiasm.
Indala said, “That was interesting. Gherig has a new castellan, Anselin of Menand, younger brother of Regard, King of Arnhand. He arrived at the head of a great troop of westerners, most of them Brotherhood of War.”
Nassim had nothing to say, other than an unhappy grunt.
“It would seem you worry them, General.”
“I doubt they think that much of me.”
Indala said, “Perhaps. So. Tell me about the boy, Azir.”
Surprised, Nassim did so.
“He has potential, then?”
“A great deal. So long as he receives proper guidance now. He’s brilliant. He’s quick. Men like him, most of the time.”
Indala nodded. “Good. I’d hoped. That was his father’s brother who just left. The son of my second youngest brother. They’re competent soldiers, too. But their men don’t like them.”
“Do they take on airs of privilege?”
Indala’s forehead crinkled into a deep frown. Then, “Exactly. They think too much of themselves. Because they’re related to Indala, Nirhem, and Sufik.” Nirhem and Sufik were uncles of Indala, deceased, who had been champions almost as great as Indala himself.
“Family connections. Being an outsider, I can tell you that family connections are the burden that keeps this entire kaifate from moving forward.”
“Most men won’t trust anyone but family.”
“So you marry your cousins and can’t imagine any allegiance beyond a tenuous loyalty to tribe. And that’s why a handful of Arnhanders were able to carve a kingdom and a half-dozen lesser principalities out of the Holy Lands.”
“That and most common folk don’t care who runs things as long as they deliver peace. Which isn’t common in the Holy Lands, historically.”
“One more reason the Crusader states persist. They’ve provided decades of peace where they’re in control. They’ve prospered because of that and the pilgrim trade. At Tel Moussa we fought Gisela Frakier.”
Indala chuckled. “Of course. We Believers of Qasr al-Zed would rather squabble amongst ourselves. Though I’m changing that. I wonder, then, why al-Minphet and the monolithic Sha-lug haven’t reclaimed the Holy Lands. Gordimer the Lion can’t be beaten in battle. And has hordes of warriors trained up from birth, probably the best in the world.”
Nassim started to respond. Indala raised a hand. “The question was rhetorical. The answer is: er-Rashal al- Dhulquarnen and Gordimer the Lion. Neither can escape the conviction that an army operating so far from their immediate control represents a personal threat. And they’d rather not take the field themselves.”
“The paranoia of princes.”
“Always justified. The higher you rise the more men want to bring you down. And those two create enemies indiscriminately, casually, willfully, almost deliberately. As though daring Fate to do its worst.”
“Add stupidly. They had no need to turn me against them. As they have no need to tempt the spite of the Night.”
“Let us consider those two. In particular, let us consider Gordimer. How much under the sorcerer’s thumb is he?”
“At the risk of sounding like a fakir, Gordimer is more under the Rascal’s control than he could ever believe. At the same time, he’s far less so than er-Rashal thinks. The relationship hasn’t been tested. It’s been ages since they faced anything where their ambitions diverge. Nowadays, Gordimer wants nothing but to hole up in the safety of the Palace of the Kings, where he indulges all the vices he found so despicable in his predecessor. Er-Rashal makes sure that he can indulge. So he gets a free hand.”
“Didn’t er-Rashal have the same understanding with Abad?”
“You know he did. Abad was farther gone than Gordimer is ever likely to be. If the honor of the Sha-lug faces a large enough challenge the Lion will find his roar. He’ll come out and fight. If that challenge crosses the sorcerer’s ambitions in a way that they need different outcomes to satisfy them, things might get interesting.”
“That’s worth some thought. Especially how to goad Gordimer.”
“An army from the north,” Nassim said.
“Yes?”
“There was a prophecy, when Gordimer removed Abad. It was vague. Those things always are. Gordimer interpreted it to mean that an army will come to al-Qarn to overthrow him. That it might consist of his own people is the nightmare that torments him.”
“In other words, you.”
“Could be. I wish. But, think. He does have enemies who aren’t Sha-lug. We all do. The New Brothen Empire wants to launch another crusade.”
“The Chaldareans talk about it all the time, General. But when the armies come together they fight their own kind.” Indala held up a hand to forestall a response.
Indala had not been aware of the prophecy overhanging Gordimer. Might that have been a true vision passed along by the Night? Might Gordimer fall to Qasr al-Zed? Unified, Qasr al-Zed and al-Minphet would have the power to drive the Unbeliever from the Holy Lands.
“This is marvelously interesting, General. Food for a feast of thought. But I’m feeling my years. I need rest. Before we part, though, I must tell you that your would-be paramour tonight claims to have come out of the Idiam. Says he’s a resident of the dead city.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I’ve never visited the haunted desert. I have no idea what’s true there and what isn’t. But I’m inclined to agree. The young man is one of er-Rashal’s agents. He may be Sha-lug. He may not. Er-Rashal’s men are good at not attracting attention. Remember that they’re out there. Stay out of places like the one where you were found tonight. Pull yourself together. Azir speaks highly of you. He thinks you’re invaluable. I want you to demonstrate that to the full war council tomorrow.”
When Nassim merely bowed his head in acceptance, Indala said, “I had a taste for vice myself when I was Azir’s age. If you stay here long you’ll hear of my adventures from my relatives. But a man of attainment has responsibilities. You have responsibilities. I want you here tomorrow afternoon, alive, sober, and not hungover.”
“It shall be as you say.”
“My personal guards will see you to your house.”
Nassim had been given use of a small establishment not far away. He shared it with Bone, old Az, and several young bucks from Tel Moussa.
Indala’s guards would make sure the Mountain did not wander during his journey. The message was plain.
Nassim did not look forward to the disapproval he would face from Bone and Az once they heard from Indala’s men. Those old campaigners had little give or understanding left.
Decades had escaped since a young Nassim had faced a disappointed professional sergeant. That Nassim had learned from those instructors then. He prayed that his lessons would take this time, as well.
There was a near full moon up. He enjoyed the silvery light. It went well with the chill of a winter night.
