The Treasure

Kadar’s eyes were open. “Run…”

“No.” Tears were running down her face. “Be silent. You’re hurt…”

“Run.” His eyes closed and he slumped sideways.

Dead?

Agony tore through her. She cradled him in her arms, rocking back and forth.

“Get away from him,” Balkir said.

She scarcely heard him.

He took a threatening step forward. “I said, move away from that-”

“By Allah, what have you done, Balkir?” Nasim was striding toward them from the direction of the tents.

Balkir cringed. “They were trying to escape. You said we would kill the woman if he betrayed us.”

“You clumsy fool, I didn’t say to kill Kadar.”

“He stepped in front of my sword.”

Nasim knelt beside Kadar.

Selene drew Kadar closer. “Don’t you touch him,” she said fiercely.

He ignored her as he examined the wound caused by the sword thrust. “He’s not dead yet, but it’s a death wound.” He glared menacingly at Balkir. “He won’t last the night.”

“He stepped in front of my sword,” Balkir repeated.

“Leave us alone,” Selene said. “He won’t die. I won’t let him.”

“No one can save him. It’s a death wound,” Nasim said. “Tarik and I will both be cheated of him.” He suddenly went still. “Or perhaps not.” He turned to Balkir. “Prepare a stretcher and put him on it. Be gentle. I’ll not have your clumsiness kill him too quickly. We’ll send him back to Tarik.”

Balkir scurried away.

Nasim turned back to Selene. “Go with him. Tarik can heal him if he chooses. Persuade him to use his powers.” He turned and stalked after Balkir with not another glance at Kadar.

Tarik could heal him. She grasped desperately at the straw Nasim had extended. Kadar didn’t have to die. Tarik could help him.

Dear God, Kadar was so still. It seemed impossible he wasn’t dead already.

Selene’s grasp tightened around him as she rocked back and forth.

Live, Kadar.

Live until I can get you to Tarik.

10

TARIK MET THEM as they entered the gates.

“Great gods.” Tarik’s face twisted with pain as he looked down at Kadar lying on the stretcher in the courtyard. “What happened?”

“He saved me,” Selene said. “He’s not going to die because he saved me. Do you hear me? He’s not going to die at all.”

Tarik bent down to examine the wound. “Bring that torch closer,” he said to the soldier a few steps behind him.

The light of the torch flickered over Kadar’s pale face. Tarik gently pushed aside the linens covering the wound. He closed his eyes for an instant as he saw the gaping hole. “A death wound.”

The same words Nasim had uttered. “It’s not a death wound,”

Selene glared up at him. “Stop saying that.”

Tarik gently touched her hair. “Child, he’s dying.”

She shook off his touch. “Then do something. Or tell me what to do. Nasim said you could heal him. Do it.”

He stiffened. “Nasim said that?”

“He said you had the power to heal.”

“Damn him.”

“If you have any power, you have to heal Kadar.”

“I’m no sorcerer.” He scowled. “Nasim doesn’t care about Kadar. It’s a test, and I won’t let him maneuver me into this position.”

“Don’t tell me that.” Her eyes blazed in her white face. “Kadar isn’t a battleground for you and Nasim to test your strengths. He’s a man, a far better man than either one of you. I don’t care if you use sorcery or prayer. It doesn’t matter as long as you heal him.”

His expression became shuttered. “It does matter. More than you know.”

He wasn’t going to help, Selene realized in panic. He was going to let Kadar die. She closed her eyes as waves of pain flowed over her. “Please,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything you say for the rest of my life. Do you want a slave? I’ll be a slave. Just save him.”

“Selene…”

When she opened her eyes, she could barely see him through the veil of tears. “Answer me. Can you save him?”

He was silent a moment before he said, “Possibly. I have some medicinal skills.”

“Then use them.”

“He’s too ill to consent to my helping him.”

“What difference does that make? I’ll consent. I’ll be responsible.”

“Responsibility can be a terrible burden. One must think carefully about-”

“Stop talking.” She tried to steady her voice. “He’s lying here dying. He may slip away at any moment.”

He stood there looking at her. Then he turned on his heel. “Take him to his chamber and get him to bed. I’ll join you very soon.”

Hope flared within her. She scrambled to her feet but kept tight hold of Kadar’s hand as the soldiers lifted the stretcher.

“Hold on. It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. “Do you hear me, Kadar? We’ve got a chance now.”

She was kneeling by Kadar’s bed when Tarik came into the room, carrying a black leather pouch. “Where have you been? It’s been almost an hour.”

“You’re fortunate I’m here at all. I’m not convinced I’m doing the right thing in interfering.” He opened the pouch and set two small bottles on the bedside table. “Perhaps God meant Kadar to die this night.”

“No.”

“He may still die. It may be too late to save him.” He pointed at the tiny blue bottle. “Make him swallow every drop of the contents of this vial. Then wait an hour and give him the contents of the white vial. It will settle his stomach.” He drew the strings of the pouch. “As I said, he may still die. The medicine is very strong and he’s barely holding on.”

“When will I know?”

“If he’s still alive at dawn, he has a good chance.” He turned and left the chamber.

Dawn. Daybreak must be at least four hours away. Tarik didn’t expect Kadar to live for that dawning.

He would live.

She pulled the stopper on the tiny blue bottle. So small a vial to hold all her hopes. Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to Kadar’s lips.

She parted his lips and poured a tiny portion into his mouth, then stroked his throat until he swallowed. She followed the procedure three times until the bottle was empty.

She set the empty vial on the table. One more hour and she would give him the potion to soothe his stomach.

If he lived that long.