“Too much so. The corruption runs deeper than I thought.
Some whom we believed to be righteous actual y skimmed the take of lesser thieves.” Let him think she meant the men of action he so despised. “Go into my father’s tent.
Examine the records. Find out where the money came from. Find out where it went. Create an exact and detailed inventory of everything stored there.”
“Lady? Could you be more specific?”
Yasmid thought she had been clear. “Over the years my father received thousands of gifts and untold treasure as his portion of booty. It al ended up in that moldering atrocity of a tent. There is no reliable inventory. Therefore, there is no way to know what was stolen.”
“I understand, Lady. That is something I can sink my teeth into. How much help wil I have? How much leeway in questioning recalcitrant witnesses?”
“Consult me on a case by case basis. For assistance feel free to conscript any cleric not already handling an assigned task.” That would get the old men out of her hair.
“When shal I begin?”
“Up to you. Habibul ah has warrants prepared. Inform me of any exceptional discoveries or outstanding efforts to obstruct you.”
The imam took his leave, accompanied by Habibul ah.
Yasmid permitted herself a smug smile.
Ibn Adim would do her work. He would suffer the odium of the investigated while finding out if someone had been hiding in her father’s tent.
Even Habibul ah thought she had suffered a seizure that night.
She was convinced that she had suffered a hal ucination brought on by the swami’s talk about her father having seen the ghost of Haroun’s father.
It was al power of suggestion, rooted in what she thought she had heard from the pilgrim camp.
...
Being King of Hammad al Nakir meant suffering frustrations and indignities and things always going wrong.
Megelin suspected that a diabolical force was thwarting him. It made his life uglier even when he did nothing.
The disaster on the salt lake should not have happened.
He had failed through no fault of his own. The antiques who commanded his battalions did not carry out their orders.
Those saboteurs. They undermined him al the time. He would be rid of them if he could.
Sadly, he dared do nothing obvious. Some had been around since his father was a pup. They were fixtures. The soldiers—the few who remained—considered them tutelary spirits.
Patience was his only tool. They must surrender to the inevitable soon enough.
But patience was not in Megelin’s nature.
And these rumors, prevalent since Magden Norath had been so stupid as to get himself kil ed, about his father’s return…? What to do? How to respond? True or false, they impacted everything, every day. The possibility that Haroun bin Yousif was out there touched every decision anyone made.
Megelin was not sure what he would do if his father did reappear. He understood that the Royalist faithful would let the man to do as he pleased and would support him.
Haroun bin Yousif, despite his faults and failures, was now a demigod.
The question nagging Megelin, and anyone else who cared, was, where was the revenant king? Why did he not show himself?
As ever, Megelin obsessed about Norath’s death. He had witnessed nothing. He had been too thoroughly protected.
But that creature he and Norath had been there to meet…
The Star Rider. The oldest vil ain of al . Possibly the Evil One incarnate. What had become of that wicked old troublemaker? Was he the one making everything go wrong? Was he stil feeding the insanity of the Disciple?
Why, then, meet Norath and himself? And why stay away now?
Megelin had expected to see the man again after the excitement of the murder subsided. Nothing ever happened.
Impotent in his own capital, amongst his own subjects, Megelin did nothing but brood. Alone. Always alone.
People were rigidly proper in his presence and accepted his every directive. But once they left his presence something happened. Even simple orders would not be executed properly. Because he would not go see for himself it was impossible to tel if insubordination was responsible.
The nearer people were to him the more pathetic Megelin seemed.
Thousands hoped the murder of Magden Norath was a good omen.
...
Haroun answered the chal enge, “Mowfaq al-Tiriki. Tel Snake I’m back from Al Rhemish.”
The guard unshuttered a smal lantern. He thought on his feet, too. “I’m new. Does Barking Snake know you?” Haroun put suspicion into his voice. “Everyone knows al-Tiriki. Who are you? What’s going on?” He drew a knife, making sure the sound could be heard.
The guard responded by drawing a sword. “You are under arrest. In the name of the Disciple, drop the knife.”
“I don’t think so, pup.” Haroun backed away. A suitable clot of darkness presented itself. He stepped inside, released two smal , prepared spel s. One interfered with the guard’s eyesight. The other made it hard for any eye to fix on Haroun bin Yousif.
The guard became frustrated. He muttered. What should he do? Stick to his post? Run to his superiors?
Either choice could be wrong. He would be the goat whatever might go badly.
Haroun flitted from shadow to shadow, circling. He would not go to ground here, now, but might find something he could use. Not so, however. Just minutes proved that the Invincibles had cleaned the place out.
The sentry decided to report. Haroun retraced his approach. As midnight loomed he slipped back inside the Disciple’s tent. He went to his best hide and buried himself.
He fel asleep tel ing himself it was time to hatch a real plan.
A passive life was not his style.
What a fool. He had endured so much to get here but had no fixed purpose now.
...
Elwas brought the man in, though he was a man mostly by reason of having done a man’s job. He was about fifteen. “Tel the Lady Yasmid.” Sometimes mumbling, often stumbling, the boy told his story.
“Mowfaq al-Tiriki?” Yasmid asked Elwas.
“A senior lieutenant of Farukh al-Fadl. One of the criminals we haven’t yet caught.”
“You wanted me to know about it because?”
“Because al-Tiriki vanished as thoroughly as the pilgrim did.”
“The same man?”
“Probably not. Boy. You did say he was clean-shaven?”
“Almost. He had been shaved recently. I couldn’t tel much else in the dark.”
Yasmid thought the lad confident beyond his years. He had faced up to danger in the night. He was standing steadfast here. She would commend him to Elwas later.
“Anything else? About the man?”
“He smel ed bad, Lady. He had not bathed in a long time.” That was not unusual. She raised an eyebrow.
The boy said, “I prefer to keep myself clean. In accordance with the early teachings.”
Yasmid looked to Elwas. He shrugged. “Some young men are extremely fastidious. Al-Tiriki would have sweat a lot during a journey from Al Rhemish.”
“I won’t turn the world upside down again but I do want the Invincibles to keep a sharp watch. Al-Tiriki could give us some insight on what’s happening in Al Rhemish.” She made a smal gesture indicating that the interview
