was over. Then, “Elwas, when next you run into Ibn Adim tel him I want to see him when he has a moment free.” Yasmid bint Micah was no despot in the time-honored mode but Elwas executed her wishes as though she was.
Ibn Adim was on his knees in front of her within the hour.
“Up. I hear you’re starting the audit today.”
“I was assigning tasks when al-Souki came.”
“As you inventory I want you watchful for signs of squatters.”
“You think…?”
“Nothing. See if those thieves didn’t move their families in where my father never goes.”
“I see. Of course. I’l keep my eyes open.”
“My father says his tent is haunted. Ask about ghosts.”
“As you wil , so shal it be.”
...
Haroun found it more difficult to steal food. Outsiders roamed the empty reaches of the tent. They did not find him. They did discover the vixens and kits. The latter were nearly grown. They caused a great deal of excitement.
Haroun hid elsewhere and waited out the scramble.
They found no evidence of his presence.
He learned that he could slip out nights with little risk. ...
Yasmid was exhausted. Trivia that would never have come near her during wartime inundated her now. Nobody wanted to be remembered for having made a decision should blame ever be assessed.
“Elwas, in six months these people wil expect me to change their babies. Let’s start a war.” Elwas started to say something serious.
Yasmid burst out laughing.
“Lady?”
“I’m sorry. Your expression. When I was eight I saw that look on my father’s face when Nassef asked if he couldn’t start a war so he wouldn’t have to waste time listening to people with the brains of chickpeas whine about trivia.”
“Makes you wonder.”
“Elwas?”
“How many wars happen because somebody with the power to start them was bored or sick of listening to nitwits?”
“So pass on the bit of tedium you’ve brought me now.”
“There has been an increase in petty theft and vandalism.”
“Oh?”
“I think bored kids are stealing things and destroying property. There is no pattern. There are no witnesses.
Nothing taken has much value.”
“Then let parents and sons know that the parties responsible wil be exposed to public humiliation when we catch them.”
“Excel ent. That’s al I had.”
“Then I’m cal ing it a day. You do the same.”
“Thank you, Lady. Perhaps we should consider mandating shorter days and longer nights.”
Elwas was a good man, she reflected as she withdrew into her private quarters. He left her wearing a smile when he could.
It never occurred to her that Elwas bin Farout al-Souki, Jirbash al’Azariyah, or any of several others young enough to be her sons, might be infatuated.
It did not occur to those young men that they were besotted by the daughter of the Disciple because it was not the mad fascination brought on by the proximity of a beautiful young woman.
Habibul ah saw it. Habibul ah understood. He remembered the young Yasmid and never missed a chance to see today’s Yasmid. He had been besotted for generations.
Despite the stresses and irritations of her day Yasmid went to her rest happy and almost content.
...
A chil took Yasmid in her sleep. Fright clamped talons round her heart. She was a maiden again, wakening to terror in the night. The feeble mutton tal ow lamp did not help. It set wicked shadows fluttering al round.
Something terrible was near by, watching, slavering in its hunger to defile her.
Seconds passed before she recal ed that she was a grown woman, old enough to be a grandmother but cursed with a son who would not give her grandchildren.
Reflection tamed her fright. Amused, she began to slide back down into the sink of sleep, wondering why Megelin did not wed. It was not that he preferred men. His worst enemies had found no evidence to suggest that.
The boy just did not relate.
Something pricked her senses again. She jerked involuntarily. She squeaked. She was wide awake, shaking, chil ed to the core. She rol ed and sat up, seized an unconsecrated Harish kil dagger that had been a gift from the last master of that cult. It needed only to enforce the slightest cut to cause an excruciating death.
The lamplight did not reassure her. There was a man-shaped shadow fading in and out. Someone was there.
How had he gotten in? Only Habibul ah had access at night.
He would never dare.
Yasmid rose slowly, ready to fight. She fixed the intruder with a hard stare. He remained a pattern of shadow inside a dancing shadow. It was hard to stay focused.
How long would it take for help to arrive once she yel ed?
“Show yourself.”
The shadows coalesced.
“It was you!”
Haroun stepped out of the shaghun cloak of darkness. “It was me. And after waiting so long I decided to take a chance.” He advanced another step. He was almost close enough to cut. Almost.
He would come no nearer. Not even when his own wife held the knife. No tel ing where her heart lay after so long.
Yasmid put the kil dagger aside, careful y. It could bite her as easily as him. “Come talk to me. It’s been a long time.
You must have a grand tale.” Tomorrow was soon enough to decide what to do.
“Not so much. I spent most of it in prison.”
“Sit.”
That boy Invincible was right. Haroun smel ed perfectly awful. The smel might lead to difficult questions tomorrow.
Chapter Eighteen:
Inger told Nathan Wolf, “This is ugly beyond anything I can grasp.” She reread the brief report. Eleven years old.
Tortured. Raped repeatedly. Discarded in an al eyway near the Western Gate, probably stil breathing at the time. She had not been found for days. No one had been looking.
Wolf said, “I nearly puked, Majesty. I wil spare you the ful ugliness. I won’t spare you a demand that we do
