bosom.'
'By God's Holy Name!' Batula's anger matched that of his master. 'Your father died from that show of mercy. It was Zayn's effeminate hand that held the poisoned cup to his lips.'
'And Zayn's fat buttocks that sat on the Elephant Throne when my father was gone.' Dorian's handsome features were marred by an expression of ferocity. 'Now you ask me to accept into my camp the minion and minister of this monster?'
'Not so, Highness. I said that this man was once all those things to Zayn al-Din. But no longer. Like all who know him well, he became sickened to the heart by the monstrous cruelty of Zayn al-Din. He watched while Zayn tore the sinews and the heart of the nation to shreds. He watched helplessly while Zayn fed his pet sharks with the
flesh of good and noble men, until they were almost too bloated to swim. He tried to protest when Zayn sold his birthright to the Sublime Porte, to the Turkish tyrants in Constantinople. In the end he was one of the chief conspirators in the plot against Zayn that overturned his throne and drove him out through the gates of Muscat.'
'Zayn is overthrown?' Dorian stared at Batula in astonishment. 'He was Caliph for twenty years. I thought he would stay in power until he died of old age.'
'Some men of great evil possess not only the savagery of the wolf but also that beast's instincts of survival. This man, Kadem al-Juri, will tell you the rest of the story if you will allow it.'
Dorian glanced at Tom, who had been following every word with intense interest. 'What do you think, brother?'
'Let us hear the man's story,' Tom said.
Kadem al-Juri must have been awaiting their summons for he came within minutes from the crew's encampment at the edge of the forest. They all realized that they had seen him often during the stormy voyage up from Good Hope. Although they had not known his name, they had understood that he was Batula's newly hired writer and purser.
'Kadem al-Juri?' Dorian greeted him. 'You are a guest in my camp. You are under my protection.'
'Your beneficence lights my life like the sunrise, Prince al-Salil ibn al-Malik.' Kadem prostrated himself before Dorian. 'May the peace of God and the love of his last true Prophet follow you all the days of your long and illustrious life.'
'It is many years since any man has called me by that title.' Dorian nodded, gratified. 'Rise up, Kadem, and take a place in our council.' Kadem sat beside Batula, his sponsor. The servants brought him coffee in a silver cup and Batula passed him the ivory mouthpiece of his pipe. Both Dorian and Tom studied the new man carefully while he enjoyed these expressions of hospitality and favour.
Kadem al-Juri was young, no more than a few years older than Mansur. He had a noble face. His features reminded Dorian of his own adoptive father. Of course, it was not impossible that he was a royal bastard. The Caliph had been a man indeed, and prolific with his seed. He had ploughed and sowed wherever the ground pleased him.
Dorian smiled faintly, then put aside the thought, and once more regarded Kadem with his full attention. His skin was the colour of fine polished teak. His brow was deep and wide, his eyes clear, dark and penetrating. He returned Dorian's scrutiny calmly and, despite his protestations of loyalty and respect, Dorian thought he recognized in his gaze the disconcerting gleam of the zealot. This is a man who lives by
the Word of Allah alone, he thought. Here is one who places scant value in the law and opinions of men. He knew well how dangerous such men could be. While he composed his next question he looked at Kadem's hands. There were telltale calluses on his fingers and his right calm. He recognized these as the stigmata of the warrior, the gall of bowstring and sword hilt. He looked again at his shoulders and arms and saw the development of muscle and sinew that could only have been built up during long hours of practice with bow and blade. Dorian let none of these thoughts show in his own eyes as he asked gravely, 'You were in the service of Caliph Zayn al-Dini'
'Since childhood, Lord. I was an orphan and he took me under his protection.'
'You swore a blood oath of loyalty to him,' Dorian insisted. For the first time Kadem's steady gaze shifted slightly. He did not reply. 'Yet you have reneged on this oath,' Dorian persisted. 'Batula tells me you are no longer the Caliph's man. Is that true?'
'Your Highness, I swore that oath nearly twelve years ago, on the day of my circumcision. In those days I was a man in name only, but in reality I was a mere child and a stranger to the truth.'
'And now I can see that you have become a man.' Dorian went on appraising him. Kadem was supposedly a writer, a man of papers and ink, but he did not have that look. There was a latent fierceness about him, like a falcon at roost. Dorian was intrigued. He went on, 'But, Kadem al-Juri, does this release you from a blood oath of fealty?'
'My lord, I believe that fealty is a dagger with two edges. He who accepts it has a responsibility towards he who offers it. If he neglects that duty and responsibility, then the debt is cancelled.'
'These are devious semantics, Kadem. I find them too convoluted to fathom. To me an oath is an oath.'
'My lord condemns me?' Kadem's voice was silky, but his eyes were cold as obsidian.
'Nay, Kadem al-Juri. I leave judgement and condemnation to God.'
'Bismallahl' Kadem intoned, and Batula and Kumrah stirred.
There is no God, but God,' said Batula.
'God's wisdom surpasses all understanding,' said Kumrah.
Kadem whispered, 'Yet I know that Zayn al- Din is your blood enemy. That is why I come to you, al-Salil.'
Yes, Zayn is my adopted brother and my enemy. Many years ago he swore to kill me. Many times since then I have felt his baleful influence touch my life,' Dorian agreed.
I nave heard him relate to his courtiers how he owes his crippled foot to you,' Kadem went on.
'He owes me much else besides.' Dorian smiled. 'I had the great pleasure of placing a rope around his neck and dragging him before our father to face the Caliph's wrath.'
'Posterity and Zayn al-Din remember this deed of yours well.' Kadem nodded. 'This is part of the reason that we chose to come to you.'
'Before it was 'I', but now it is 'we'?'
'There are others who have repudiated their oaths of fealty to Zayn al-Din. We turn to you, for you are the last of the line of Abd Muhammad al-Malik.'
'How is that possible?' Dorian demanded, and suddenly he was angry. 'My father had countless wives who bore him sons, and they in turn had sons and grandsons. My father's seed was fruitful.'
'Fruitful no longer. Zayn has harvested all his father's fruits. On the first day of Ramadan there was such a slaughter as to shame the Face of God and astound all Islam. Two hundred of your brothers and nephews were gathered up by Zayn al-Din's reapers. They died by poison, that coward's tool, and they died by steel and rope and water. Their blood soaked the desert sands and tinted the sea to rose. Every person who had a blood claim to the Elephant Throne in Muscat perished in that holy month. Murder was compounded ten thousand times by sacrilege.'
Dorian stared at him in horrified disbelief, and Yasmini choked back her sobs: her brothers and other kin must be among the dead. Dorian put aside his own shocked grief to comfort her. He stroked the silver blaze that shone like a diadem in her sable locks, and whispered softly to her before he turned back to Kadem. 'This is hard news and bitter,' he said. 'It takes great effort for the mind to encompass such evil.'
'My lord, neither were we able to treat with such monstrous evil. That is why we repudiated our vows and rose up against Zayn al-Din.'
'There has been a rising?' Although Batula had already warned him of this, Dorian wanted Kadem to confirm it: all this seemed too far beyond the frontiers of possibility.
'A battle raged within the walls of the city for many days. Zayn al Din and his adherents were driven into the keep of the fort. We believed that they would perish there but, alas, there was a secret tunnel under the walls that led down to the old harbour. Zayn escaped by this route, and his ships bore him away.'
'Whither did he flee?' Dorian demanded.
'He sailed back to his birthplace on Lamu island. With the help of the Portuguese and the collusion of the minions of the English East India Company at Zanzibar, he has seized the great fort and all the Omani settlements and possessions along the Fever Coast. Under the
threat of the English guns his forces in those possessions have remained loyal to him, and have resisted our efforts to cast down the tyrant.'
'In God's name, you and your junta in Muscat must be preparing your fleet to exploit these successes and to attack Zayn in Zanzibar and Lamu, is that not so?' Dorian demanded.
'My lord prince, our ranks are riven by dissent. There is no successor of royal blood to head our junta. Thus we lack loyal support from the Omani nation. In particular the desert tribes are hesitating to declare against Zayn and join our standard.'
Dorian's expression became wooden and remote as he realized where Kadem's protestations were heading.
'Without a leader our cause grows weaker and more divided each day, while each day Zayn regains his stature and strength. He commands the
