“What?”
Samir winked and touched the side of his nose.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you yet, Ghassan, but I will reveal all later.”
“How am I supposed to help if you won’t tell me what you’re doing?”
“You’re not supposed to help,” Samir countered. “Sorry, Ghassan, but I’m doing this alone. Go to the warehouses in the Street of Running Dogs as soon as the sun sets. There are three buildings in a row. The central one was a grain warehouse and has the best access to the wall. There’s only a jump of about four feet. We can do that in our sleep, and there should be a lot of rope in there for us to use.”
Ghassan held up his hands to object, but Samir pushed them out of the way.
“This is not a negotiation, Ghassan. I will meet you at the warehouse before the moon sets and we will run for Calphoris. But… and this is important… if anything happens and I cannot get there, you cannot afford to wait. If the moon sinks and I am not there, you must go. If I can, I will find you in Calphoris later.”
The taller boy was still shaking his head and objecting vehemently.
“Ghassan,” Samir said quietly, “you must do this, as must I. Do not panic. I will in all likelihood be there.”
Ghassan continued his refusal.
“How in the name of the seven faces of Ha’Rish would you find me in Calphoris? There are more people there than anywhere else on this continent!”
“You know me, brother. I could find a single rock in all of the deep desert if I set my mind to it. Now promise me: wait for me, but only as long as you can. When there is full darkness, whether I am there or not, you will run for Calphoris.”
Ghassan remained silent, his eyes locked on his brother.
“Ghassan!”
“Alright. But you had better be there, or I shall curse your name to the Gods.”
Samir grinned.
“Tonight we end the curse, Ghassan. From tonight, we will be blessed. Changes. Things will be better, remember?”
Ghassan took a deep breath and nodded.
“Then I will run to my errand and I will see you by moonlight in the grain warehouse on ‘Running Dogs’ yes?”
Ghassan nodded once again and the pair clasped hands.
With a smile, Samir hoisted his pack over his shoulder, cast one last look at his brother, and then walked slowly to the front door and left the house.
In which we look to the future
Samir strode down the empty, dark street a hundred yards from the house without looking back. At the corner, where the Street of Dancing Fools ran back up the hill toward the gate that faced Akkad and Pelasia, he crouched and withdrew a bag, a cloak, and a sheathed sword from behind a stack of boxes.
He took one last, sad look back up the street.
It was sad, for certain, but Ghassan would never understand or approve. Life in M’Dahz would change sooner or later and Samir knew with certainty that he was one of very few souls who could survive this and prosper. He would find a way to live in the town and eventually to turn things around.
But the way ahead of him was, for the foreseeable future, a life of running and hiding, of consorting with thieves and murderers and living on the very edge of the law until the laws were once more worth abiding by.
Ghassan was too noble in thought for that. He was too straight and would never even think of what Samir was proposing to do. His brother would be safer in Calphoris with his precious militia, wearing a uniform and living to a code of duty.
One day, when everything was put right and the wounds that had been torn in their home had been healed, he would find Ghassan and they would return to the house of their mother. After all, they were family.
With a sigh, he hefted the sword and tore his eyes from the house where his brother waited before making his way down the street toward the port.
The last rays of the sun had left the streets of M’Dahz almost an hour ago.
Ghassan crouched in the rafters of the grain warehouse, peering out through the hole in the roof at the city’s defences and leaning on his pack for support. The Pelasian soldiers patrolling the wall passed every ten minutes or so and there would be plenty of time for him to sling over a rope and drop to safety. If he placed it right, the rope would remain unnoticed at least until sunrise.
It saddened him a little that the walls of his hometown were patrolled like a prison, the watchful guards directing their gaze inward more often than out, preventing their captive populace from fleeing the clutches of the twisted satrap Ma’ahd.
He sighed and fought back the panic once more.
He knew with cold certainty that Samir would not come. Whatever his brother was planning it was clear to Ghassan that he had no intention of meeting at the warehouse. The dividing of the purses; the enforced promises; most of all, the look on the smaller boy’s face as they had clasped hands that last time. Samir would not come.
But Ghassan knew with equal sureness that he had to go. He had to do this, even if he never saw Samir again. Someone had to find a way to bring the hand of Imperial justice at Calphoris against this Pelasian butcher who had destroyed everything and murdered everyone that they had loved.
Ma’ahd would pay for his crimes.
The desert nomads have a saying.
“When something is broken it should never be discarded. So long as the pieces remain, the whole can be remade.“
The moon set slowly over M’Dahz and a new day dawned.
Part Two: Making Ends Meet
In which Samir’s plans are changed
Samir shook his head to free it of the fuzziness and regular pounding. Stupid really. He should be more careful. He’d end up in trouble one of these days.
Six months had passed since he and Ghassan had gone their separate ways and Samir would have to admit to himself eventually that he had squandered and wasted most of the time. The first few nights he had frequented some of the less reputable areas of the port district, hoping to make contacts or even friends among the criminal classes.
At the age of twelve, Samir was still small for his age, though the events of the preceding years had given him a slightly drawn and haunted look that advanced his years somewhat. In addition, dark facial hair had begun to manifest recently, surprising Samir somewhat. It had taken some work, regardless of these developments, to gain and maintain access to the drinking and gambling pits of the port. Even with the Pelasian control and a seriously diminished population, these establishments managed to survive. In fact, given the level of misery in M’Dahz, their patronage had actually increased rather than falling off.
At first, Samir had been content to sit and take in the general atmosphere, trying to work out the
