the desert of fortunes of the scale Perntigan describes represents a huge financial anomaly. There is a great deal of trepidation among the bankers, though they profit. They foresee some titanic economic disaster.”
Yousif simply looked puzzled. Half of what Radetic was saying had to be couched in the tongue of Hellin Daimiel. The desert language hadn’t much of a financial vocabulary. And, though Yousif spoke some Daimiellian, he did not comprehend merchants’ cant.
“Perntigan questioned his contacts in the banking establishment. He assembled a list of names associated with the suspect deposits. Along with another list of questions. You put everything he wrote together and it implies a rather disturbing process.”
“I see that somebody is sending a hell of a lot of wealth out of the kingdom.”
Radetic nodded. Finally. About five minutes behind, but finally. “Exactly. The whos and whys are what make the news interesting.”
Yousif puzzled for a few seconds, then started to speak. Haroun tugged at his clothing. “Father? May I?”
The Wahiig grinned. “Of course. Let’s see if this old fussbudget is worth his keep. Show us what he’s taught you.”
Radetic smiled too. The boy was showing signs of overcoming his innate reserve.
Haroun proclaimed, “There are only two people who could have that much money. The King and El Murid.”
“Your reasoning?” Radetic demanded.
“The King because he accepts money instead of service. Also, he collects some rents and trade taxes. And El Murid because he has been looting people for years.”
Yousif peered at Radetic. “Well? I take it from your look that he’s wrong. Explain.”
“Not really. He just hasn’t reasoned closely enough. Tortin indicates that the Quesani family did make a big deposit. It was used to purchase properties on the Auszura Littoral. That’s a stretch of seacoast north of Dunno Scuttari. It’s a sort of elephant’s graveyard of deposed princes. The purchase makes it look like somebody at Al Rhemish is covering the Quesani bets.”
“Not Aboud. He doesn’t have the foresight.”
“Farid, perhaps? No matter. That was only a small part of the flow, and not what was bothering Tortin. What did bother him came from two other sources. The loot Haroun mentioned without carrying his reasoning to the point where he mentioned that it hasn’t been El Murid doing the pillaging. The depositors have been Karim, el-Kader, el Nadim and that bunch.”
“Nassef s bandits-turned-generals. That’s good news, Megelin. We could make the Scourge of God damned uncomfortable by spreading that around. In fact, the Invincibles might end his tale if he’s been slipping something over on El Murid.”
Radetic was not cheered by the opportunity. “Our side is vulnerable too.”
“Aboud’s money? It’s his. He can do what he wants with it. Besides, he isn’t looting the realm.”
“Not Aboud. The priesthood. They’ve been sending out as much bullion as Nassef’s gang. Which means they’re stripping the holy places and melting the gold and silver down. What would the faithful do if they found out that they’re being robbed by their own priests? El Murid can explain Nassef, more or less. Soldiers pillage their enemies. We can’t shed ourselves of the priesthood.
“A lot of people already damn Nassef without damning El Murid. They consider him the Disciple’s compromise with fate. They figure he’ll disappear if El Murid’s Kingdom of Peace becomes a reality.”
“Looks like Nassef is worried about it too. He and his boys are putting a little away for their old age.”
“Don’t you think the priesthood’s behavior will win El Murid a lot of converts?”
“Absolutely. I’ll write Aboud.”
“Who is under the thumbs of the priests. Who will give you the same answer he’s been giving you since this mess started. If he bothers to answer at all.”
“You’re right. Of course. We’ll just have to intimidate a few priests. Cover it up.” Yousif closed his eyes wearily. “Megelin, what do you do when your allies are more trouble than your enemies?”
“I don’t know, Wahlig. I really don’t. Stupidity and incompetence create their own special rewards. All I foresee is deterioration and more deterioration, and most of it moral. Maybe Hammad al Nakir
Haroun gripped Radetic’s elbow. “Don’t give up yet, Megelin.”
The boy’s face had assumed an expression of stubborn determination. It made him seem far older than his years.
Radetic thought it a pity that a child had to grow up in the fires of this particularly chaotic furnace.
Chapter Six
Into Strange Kingdoms
Gaunt, shivering, Bragi and Haaken paused at the crest of the last high pass.
“Already spring down there,” Bragi observed. He extended an arm to support his brother. “That green must be a hardwood forest.”
“How long?” Haaken croaked.
“Three days? Five? Not long.”
“Hah!”
