Arslan

I came downstairs one morning before sunrise and heard movements in the kitchen. The dog had barked earlier, but not as though something was wrong. Still, it wasn’t often Hunt was up before me, and these days anything was possible, so I came along as quietly as I could and just looked around the corner of the door.

“Good morning, sir.”

It was Sanjar. He stood beside the window, looking very straight and small. It was too dark to see his face, and he had grown, but I knew him by his voice and the way he held himself. “Where’s Arslan?”

“Not very far from here. He wants to know if you can hide us for about two weeks.”

I came in and reached for the candle we kept on the table. The cracks of the stove showed red; Sanjar must have built up the fire.

“No light yet,” he said, and as neat as you please he whisked the candle up before my fingers touched it, and stepped back out of reach behind the table. “Nobody must know except you and Hunt.” He hesitated. “Arslan wants me to tell you he’s asking you. He wants me to tell you he says, ‘Please.’” He held the candle clasped against his chest.

“What’s the trouble?”

“It’s not trouble. We’re on our way north, Arslan and me. We just need a place to rest awhile.” He set the candle down again, but he didn’t let go of it.

“Who’s he hiding from?”

Again he hesitated a little, before he said coldly, in his sweet, boy voice, “That’s the message. I’ve got to give him your answer.”

“Sanjar,” I said, “take it easy. You know I can’t give you an answer that means anything till you tell me a whole lot more. Now sit down and let me get you a drink of milk.”

“No, thanks.” But I heard him swallow.

“Well, sit down, anyway. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to give away any secrets. But I’ve got to know what happens if I say yes, and what happens if I say no.” He sat down. “Now I’m going to slice us some bread.” In the darkness I didn’t want to make any sudden moves he might interpret as hostile. He was only a child; but he was Arslan’s child, and he was keyed up.

“If you say no,” he said softly, “we’ll go someplace else, that’s all. If you say yes, I’ll go get Arslan and we’ll stay upstairs—or anywhere you want to put us. We can keep quiet. It’d be probably ten days.” He paused. “We think nobody knows where we are.”

It was two years since they’d been in Kraftsville—seven, if you didn’t count the month-long stopover on their way to South America, or wherever they really went. I wondered who the somebody was that had reduced Arslan to a fugitive in that time.

“And what if somebody finds out?”

He took a piece of bread from my hand. “Then you might get hurt. But it’s not likely.” He munched hungrily, but even so he was quiet about it.

“I’ll tell you, Sanjar. If anybody came looking for you, this is about the first place they’d look. That’s one thing. Another thing is, this is Hunt’s home, too, and I can’t speak for him. But the main thing is, I’m not even going to consider it unless I know what’s going on—why he wants to come here and what he’s planning to do. And maybe you can’t tell me that.”

He put the bread down on the table and stood up. “No, sir,” he said, but he didn’t move to leave.

I stood up, too, and came around the table to him in three steps. “Who’s after him, Sanjar? Where are his troops?” I took him by the left arm. “What’s going to happen in ten days?”

He was Arslan’s child, all right. Absolutely before I knew he was moving, I felt a hair-light touch on my wrist, and looking down in the dimness I saw the dull gleam of the knife in his right hand. “Nobody’s after him,” he said steadily. “His troops are north of here. In ten days he’ll be rested enough to go on.”

I didn’t let go of my hold. “What’s happened? Why all the sneaking and hiding and begging favors? That’s not like Arslan.”

I felt the knife-edge quiver against my wrist, but his voice was still steady. “He’s disbanded the armies.”

“What armies?”

“All of his armies. All of them.”

“You just said his troops are north of here.”

“Those are irregulars.”

I shook his arm just a little. “What’s happening up north of here, Sanjar?”

“There’s a battle to be fought,” he said evenly. “Maybe more than one. Now, that’s all I’m going to tell you. If you don’t let go of my arm in thirty seconds, I’ll cut you.”

“Will you listen to me a minute if I let go?”

“Yes.”

I dropped my hand. “You can tell Arslan this: I’m willing to hide you, Sanjar, for this ten days or so, but before I decide to hide him, I’d have to talk to him face to face.”

“I’ll tell him.” He started melting away towards the window, but halfway there he stopped, silently poised. I listened, and heard Hunt’s footsteps on the stairs.

It only took a few words; Hunt was always quick to understand a situation when he wanted to. “Where is he?” His voice was rough with eagerness.

“Not far from here,” Sanjar said quickly.

“Is he wounded?”

“No.”

“Are you on foot?”

“No. Got a horse down the road.”

“Wait a minute while I saddle up.”

“No, Hunt.” The difference in their ages didn’t matter, no more than it would have between brothers. They talked straight at each other, on the same level. “He told me to come back alone.”

Hunt hesitated. “You’ll bring him here, then.”

“I’ll tell him what both of you say.”

Hunt whipped around to me, looking for someplace to take out his frustration. “He’s disbanded the armies! I assume you know what that means. Can’t you perform one generous act in your life?”

“Sure I know. He said himself there’d be revolts.”

Sanjar stepped between us, lifting his face towards mine. “Listen, Mr. Bond, I’ll tell you something.” He spoke fast and low, every word stinging clear. “He disbanded the armies because he was through with them. He’s done exactly everything he planned to, one hundred percent. There’s some trouble, yes. I can’t tell you what, I’m under orders; but he’s going to stop it. We got word some of his old troops are gathering, up north of here. He wants to get there before it comes to a battle. Sir, he needs rest. Sir'—he seemed to grow an inch or two with sheer intensity—'do you think Arslan would be asking you just for—for fun?”

“I wouldn’t expect it, but I can imagine it. What I can’t understand is Arslan rushing north to stop a battle.”

“Stop it?” he cried, surprised. “No, sir—win it!”

I had to laugh. “All right, and after he wins his battle, Sanjar—then what?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he was considering what to say, or more likely it hadn’t really occurred to him, up to now, that time would go on beyond the next battle. I put my hands on his shoulders and felt the skin-and-bones of him through his shirt. “Is it Nizam?” He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders stiffened. So Nizam was making his bid to take over—Nizam with his wolfs face, Nizam who had carried Sanjar in his arms and sworn to avenge Arslan’s death by annihilating Kraft County. Another proverb turned out to be right—thieves’ honor. I let go of the boy and stepped back. “All right. Tell Arslan to come. I’ll hide him.”

He swayed toward me a little—from gratitude, maybe, or else faintness—and then he sprang to the open window and poured over the sill like a shadow. We both looked cautiously after him. I saw him once, already near