because it worked.
He had to produce evidence that was not obviously manufactured.
He should start where he had run into the woman, being a little more careful to avoid an ambush. A visit to the cemetery would be in order, too. He would do that first, and try to find those squatters. They should make useful witnesses.
Mist’s people had her mansion cleaned out already, he imagined.
This might be too big a task. He was a bit player, not the Empire Destroyer. He could not do much more than keep water from boiling.
How to get Varthlokkur involved?
He was involved, just not political y. Would he appear as a witness?
He explained it al to Carrie before taking a nap, after which he meant to change into clothing suitable for knocking around the countryside. She listened, interested. Carrie was a changed girl now that she lived in the castle. She took her role as his companion seriously. She mentioned that her grandmother had been married at her age. She no longer whined about everything.
Her family thought she had scored a coup by connecting with a palace wizard. Her age was not an issue.
He figured Carrie would move on if she had a chance to move up.
That was good enough.
Carrie was mercenary but she gave good value. These days she laid into her work with nurturing enthusiasm and was a good resource for understanding what ordinary Vorgrebergers thought.
Carrie said, “You shouldn’t fuss about the wizard. Just acknowledge what you know.”
Wow. This was a far cry from constant whining for new shoes and clothes.
She was more confident now, maybe because he treated her like a real, thinking companion when not using her to satisfy the consuming need that had driven him to find her.
“Hmm?”
“You probably shouldn’t waste time taking a nap. That wizard has more resources than you do.”
“Time with you is never wasted.” He meant that so sincerely that it did not sound corny.
“You are a devil man.” She began to shed her clothing.
Babeltausque became uncomfortable when she did that in the light, which too plainly revealed how much she had ripened.
She would be ful y a woman soon.
He was useless with grown-up women.
Chapter Twenty-One:
Seasons were not extreme at Sebil el Selib. Winters were cooler but seldom real y cold. Most years it was damper but not remarkably so. Those who grew up there and did not travel could not conceive of the fury of a thunderstorm.
Some knew sandstorms but even those had to be experienced elsewhere.
On rare occasions the wind did shift enough to bring a taste of alkali off the salt pans.
Rains, even in this year’s notably wet seasons, seldom amounted to more than sustained heavy drizzles.
Haroun eased his head through a slit in the exterior wal of El Murid’s tent. Rain was stil fal ing in what locals considered torrents. It was cold. The wadi boiled with raging brown water. He muttered, “Twenty years of this and the ancient seas wil be back.”
Megelin Radetic, Haroun’s boyhood teacher, had insisted that salt pans were the bones of ancient seas. In the heyday of Ilkazar today’s pans had been vast lakes. The scars of old shorelines remained visible on the flanks of mountains.
The swift drying of those lakes had been part of the vengeance of the Empire Destroyer.
Al Hammad al Nakir had been more lush in those times. But this was now. This was remarkable. This could become dangerous.
Rushing waters tore away tons of hard soil. The wadi bank had crept five yards nearer the Disciple’s tent.
Suppose a truly violent downpour came along?
Bin Yousif pul ed back inside. He settled to think.
This weather could be used to cover his getaway. And go he must. Yasmid could not cover up much longer. Her henchmen were suspicious. They wanted to know why she kept disappearing inside her father’s tent.
So far they thought it had something to do with him, possibly involving the foreigner. They thought she might be trying to consolidate her position as the old man’s successor.
Luckily, Phogedatvitsu never went out where he could be isolated and interrogated. He would not hide the fact that Yasmid spent little time with her father. Instead, she vanished into the empty quarters for hours, then returned disheveled but in a better temper.
This was insanity.
This was what had kept him going during his captivity and long journey home. He was back with the woman who was the other half of his soul.
The circumstances were insane, not the relationship.
But he had to go. This had persisted far too long. Fate had been tempted in the extreme. Elwas al-Souki talked about searching the tent again.
Al-Souki smel ed something not the stench of vixens’ dens.
He should have moved on months ago. Al Rhemish cal ed.
Megelin had made a muddle of everything.
Haroun realized that he was not alone.
He had let himself drowse where he was not secure.
His gaze found that of El Murid. The Disciple looked vague but not caught up in a poppy dream. The man extended his left hand, pointed. “You are the one. Why do you haunt me?” He spoke slowly, voice dreamy.
Haroun rose slowly, so as not to spook the man. His keepers should be looking for him. They would rush toward any excitement.
Bin Yousif spoke softly, turning the question. “Why do you torment the world so, Tongue of Darkness?” The Disciple stared. His mouth moved but nothing came forth. He had only a passing acquaintance with reality stil . It took him some seconds to analyze what he had heard.
Haroun took a quick look round. He had left no sign of his presence. When the Disciple’s eyes shifted away Haroun stepped through a gap in canvas wal , disappearing.
Those looking for the Disciple could be heard, now, moving closer. It was for sure time to get gone.
Haroun was within earshot when they found their man, who announced, “I wrestled the Evil One again. And once again I banished him.”
“Outstanding, Lord. I apologize for everyone. Some dared doubt you. Come. We must have the doctor make sure the demon did you no harm. Then we wil celebrate your triumph.”
That fel ow was skil ed at playing to the Disciple’s manias.
No doubt he had a lifetime of practice and habitual y ignored El Murid’s delusions.
Would Elwas al-Souki be more inclined to investigate?
Yasmid visited him as he sorted through treasures he might want to take along. During his stay, kil ing time, he had winkled out dozens of smal items overlooked by earlier, hastier thieves.
Thoughts of her sapped his wil to do what had to be done.
...
