The Diviner

horse, is he not, Reihan?”

The young man was indeed exceedingly beautiful, even slack-lipped and bleary-eyed with Fadhil’s drugs. He retained enough wits to know this was a trap. He hauled clumsily on the reins—but Alessid leaped lightly from his saddle and gave a soft, melodic whistle between his teeth. Nihazza responded instantly by planting his hooves in the dust and refusing to budge another step. Alessid came forward quite casually and laid a hand on the stallion’s bridle; Nihazza snuffled, recognizing him, and nuzzled a pocket for the expected treat.

Reihan’s brothers and cousins, belatedly realizing there was danger but not quite believing that danger to their royal persons could come in the form of three men and three boys, attempted to maneuver their horses. But before the al-Ammarizzad and their attendants could do more than fumble at their saddles, bridles were seized and swords were taken and piled on the ground.

“Robbers,” one of the sheyqirs announced, as if weeks of heavy thought had led him to this brilliant conclusion.

“Whassa trouble?” another demanded. “Outta way, fallahin—”

“Al-Ma’aliq,” Alessid corrected him, almost pleasantly.

“They’re all dead,” came the reply, with a befuddled snort.

Another, looking to be the youngest, nodded, his head loose on his neck. “Long time ago—orders of the Sheyqa my gran’ma—”

“You,” Reihan said, swallowing dry and hard as he peered at Azzad. “You sent him—Nihazza—”

“—knowing you would want more like him,” Azzad finished. “I know you, al-Ammarizzad. I know all of your greedy kind. Acquisitive, selfish, arrogant—I knew Nihazza would be the only invitation you’d require. Acuyib meant this to happen.”

“It was nothing t’do with me.” Reihan shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “I—I was no more than a child—”

“So were my sisters,” Azzad said. “And all the children your mother ordered burned alive. Innocent children, whose only crime was that they were al-Ma’aliq. Your crime is that you are al-Ammarizzad.”

“Brigands,” proclaimed the Intellect among them. “Gonna rob an’ kill us—”

“Kill us?” a proud sheyqir whined, and a third blustered, “Wuddun’ dare—”

“I have no intention of killing you,” Azzad said—reluctantly, for this had been a point of contention between him and Fadhil. But this way was better; it would cause Nizzira more anguish. “You will live and return to Rimmal Madar.”

Nine of them had gone limp in their saddles—half with relief, half with the powerful sedative. Only Reihan still fought, his fine features tense, his magnificent dark eyes forced wide open by sheer effort of will.

Azzad contemplated him for a moment, then said, “All of you, get off my horses.”

“Your—?” The Intellect drew himself up with what he probably imagined was dignity.

“Which one are you?” Azzad asked.

“I—Sheyqir—” He listed to the right before lurching back and steadying himself. “Azhim, third son of Sheyqa Nizzira an’ fourth huzbin’—I mean, fourth son, seccun’ huzbin’—” He frowned his puzzlement that he couldn’t quite place himself within the royal hierarchy. At last he simply shrugged, an action that nearly toppled him from his horse, and said, “’M Sheyqir Azhim.”

“Sheyqir Azhim,” Azzad said pleasantly, “if you open your mouth one more time, I’ll cut out your tongue. Now, get off my horses.”

After some encouragement at the points of their own swords, they did so, sliding bonelessly to the ground. Bazir, Alessid, and Mazzud swiftly tied up the servants, then hobbled the horses. Kallad and Fadhil placed on each al-Ammarizzad’s left thumb a silver ring. Azzad had watched Fadhil craft the rings, set with etched carnelians and inscribed with rows of tiny ants. Azzad had insisted on the insects, enjoying the pun: Ants were a symbol of harvesting, which was the meaning of izzad.

One of the brothers squinted at his new jewelry and muttered, “Ugly thing. Wuddun’ givvit to a whore.”

Another, dimly perceiving that Azzad held all the power here, said, “Issa nice present. C’n we go now, al- Ma’aliq?”

He ignored them. Still astride Khamsin, he nodded to Mazzud, who kindled a fire in the stone circle constructed that afternoon, then said to the al-Ammarizzad, “Remove your sashes.”

They grumbled but obeyed, swaying on their feet, fingers awkwardly unwinding the red silk, golden fringes tangling. Bazir and Kallad collected the sashes, then ripped each lengthwise down the middle. Blurts of outrage became gasps as the sheyqirs were knocked off their feet into the dirt. They struggled feebly, but the fear in their brains could not overcome the drug in their bodies. Their hands were bound behind them with their own torn sashes. Azzad watched terror brighten their blurry eyes as the fire lit the clearing in yellow and angry crimson—and showed them the instrument slowly glowing to white heat in the flames.

Anyone who knew anything about horses would recognize such an instrument.

“Bring Nihazza,” Azzad commanded.

Mazzud and Alessid held the gray stallion triple-roped. Bazir held Nihazza’s head, stony-faced, regretting the horse he had hoped would be his, but knowing the sacrifice to be necessary. Quickly and carefully, Fadhil smoothed a thick, sickly-sweet smelling unguent on and around the testicles. Azzad dismounted and personally gelded the stallion with cauterizing white-hot iron.

Nihazza jerked once, but the salve had deadened pain. Bazir turned his head away. Azzad thought of how he would feel had it been Khamsin.

Turning to the ten offspring of Sheyqa Nizzira, he said, “This also I will do to each of you. But I will allow you to live, which is more than the Sheyqa allowed the al-Ma’aliq.”

There were outcries, some of disbelief and some of fear and some of blustering rage. The only one who made no sound, the only one who seemed to understand, even through the drug befuddling his mind, was Reihan. He did not doubt Azzad’s word about what was about to occur; he was neither afraid nor angry. He hated. And in the dark loathing that shone from his eyes by firelight, despite the sensitivity of his poetry and the elegance of his beauty, Azzad saw in him a true son of Sheqya Nizzira.

Azzad thrust the gelding shears into the fire, and again, and again, ten times in all. And so he harvested the al-Ammarizzad.

In due course Azzad received a letter from his most trusted agent in Dayira Azreyq. It had been well worth waiting for.

They have returned. They were led into the palace by night, and in secret. No one saw them but the servants who opened the doors. My sources tell me that many tabbibi came in haste that same night and departed just before dawn in fear for their lives. What this must mean, I think you know.

Of course he knew. Nizzira wished no one to discover that ten of her progeny were no longer men.

All Dayira Azreyq holds its breath. The Sheqya has not been seen in days, and there are dire tidings of her rage. More tabbibi have come and gone, and my friends among them says that the violence of her grief may well be the death of the Sheyqa.

Ayia, Azzad hoped so. Let her feel more anguish than a human heart could hold. Let her suffer every time she thought of her ten gelded darlings. Let her scream the name of al-Ma’aliq without ceasing.

I regret to write that three days ago, the order for Sihabbah timber was canceled. My friends in the Zoqalo Zhaddim say that orders for certain other items have also been canceled. What this must mean is confirmed by the departure of the officials of the provinces held by the al-Akhdir from court, with no marriage contract regarding Sheyqir Azhim in their hands.

Azzad wondered if the al-Akhdiri ambassadors had any idea of why Azhim would not be getting married to any woman.

There has been talk about sending an army to Hazganni by sea. It is not agreed upon, but should this occur, I will give ample warning.

Very efficient of him, Azzad thought, but unnecessary. The Shagara hazziri, old as they were by now, that had protected this land from invading northern barbarians would function just as well against the soldiers of Rimmal Madar. Besides, with the northern tribes formerly allied to the al-Ma’aliq restless still, Nizzira could not afford to send half her army out of the country.