“Now, Fuad. They’ve beaten us. All we can do here is die. And there’d be no point to that. Come on.”
“Next time, bandit,” Fuad growled. “I’ve seen the weakness in your style.” He spit in Nassef s face.
The desert people could be demonstrative. Especially in matters of hatred and war.
“You won’t live long enough to take advantage, son of a jackal.” When Nassef reached a certain level of anger he achieved an icy self-control. He had done so now. Clearly, for the benefit of everyone present, he said, “Karim. Put an assassin into el Aswad. Let this heap of camel dung be the target. You. Hell serf Fuad. You think about that. Wonder when he — or she — will strike.” He smiled his thin, cruel smile. “Karim. They wish to depart. Let them run like the whipped dogs they are. Let us amuse ourselves with the sight of them running with their tails between their legs.”
Once the enemy had departed, El Murid sighed, limped back up and collapsed into the Malachite Throne. “That was close, Nassef.”
“Too close. Why didn’t you use the amulet? You could have destroyed one of our worst enemies.”
El Murid raised his arm. He stared at the glowing jewel. He had not called on its power since his demonstration at El Aquila. The people of the el Habib were still talking about the day that he had restored their dry oasis.
“It didn’t occur to me. It truly didn’t. I suppose the Lord touched me, telling me that you were coming. I never doubted our victory.”
“As you say, it worked out. And as long as you don’t use it, they won’t be reminded. They won’t be trying to find ways to counter it.”
“Why did you tell Karim to let them go?”
“We’ve lost too many men. There’s no sense spending more lives after we’ve won. They’ll be back, stronger than this time. We’ll need every man then.”
“What was that about an assassin?”
“A ploy. Let them become afraid to turn their backs on each other. Let them become frightened of shadows. Let fear sap their strength and will.”
“How clever you are. Nassef, my brother, don’t you ever speak without first calculating some long-term effect for your words?”
“With my friends. Isn’t it one of your teachings that words are the mightiest weapons of the Kingdom of Peace?”
“That’s true. Words of Truth. But, Nassef, sometimes I think you’re mocking me. Even when you save my life...”
Nassef stared at the floor. “Forgive me, my Lord Disciple, It’s my manner, my way of speaking. It’s a curse. When I was little I couldn’t tease the other children. I couldn’t tell jokes. They always took me seriously. And when I was serious, they thought I was sneering.”
“What are we to do now, Nassef? We have the Malachite Throne. We have Sebil el Selib. And that will bring all the enemies of the Lord upon us.”
“We can defend ourselves and trust in the Lord. I’ll send messengers to our supporters asking for warriors and arms. I’ll strengthen our defenses. We’ll erect another fortress here. The Throne has to be protected too.”
“You’re right. Nassef, I’m afraid we’ll be here a long time. Sebil el Selib is a trap in a way. It’s given us two astonishing victories, but to survive we’ll have to hang on to what we’ve taken. I’m afraid they’ll simply bottle us up here.”
“They’ll try. But they’ll never manage it completely. Their own system will work against them. As long as they can summon the tribal levies for only forty-five days a year, we’ll pretty much be free to come and go the rest of the time. Assuming I receive your blessing, I plan to have partisan bands hitting and running wherever we have willing converts. That’ll keep the full-time warriors busy elsewhere. It’ll give us a chance to build our foundation here.”
El Murid peered at him thoughtfully. After a time he observed, “You seem to have your plans thoroughly worked out.”
“I’ve lain awake during a lot of lonely nights these three years, Lord.”
“I suppose you have. When are you going to take a wife, Nassef?”
Nassef was taken aback. “I haven’t considered it. After we’ve established the Kingdom of Peace, maybe.”
El Murid peered at him again. “Nassef, I’m tired. Tonight and tomorrow we rest. The next day we resume our work. You, your wars. Me, my preparations for the Kingdom they will establish. I’ll want you to find me scribes and architects. I want to set down a code of laws, and I want a special palace built to house the Malachite Throne. Also, I want to erect a stele in the meadow. On it I’ll inscribe the names of the faithful who fall in the Lord’s cause, that their names be immortal both here and in Paradise.”
“As you say. I like the stele. Perhaps if you set aside the top for the Invincibles?”
“Yes. Have somebody remember the names of everyone who died here. They’ll be the first inscribed.”
Later, before he retired, El Murid led Meryem, and carried his daughter, to the highest rampart of the old fortress. “My loves,” he said, “one tiny splinter of the dream has come to life. The Kingdom of Peace exists, although its bounds lie no farther than I can see. Someday all the earth will acknowledge the Lord.”
Cradling the baby in his left arm, he slipped his right around Meryem’s waist. She leaned against him, shivering in the cool mountain breeze.
“Come,” she said after a time. “Let me remind you that you’re also a man.” She smiled up at him. The spoiled brat of the el Habib had grown into a woman who loved him as a man.
That night they conceived a boy-child.
