men ever owed one another more.
Haroun ambled off, seemingly distracted. The whole encounter was puzzling. Bragi decided Haroun needed a keeper.
Haroun was back within the hour. He carried a rope and small black bag. “What are you up to?” Bragi demanded when Haroun tied the rope to a merlon.
“Going to give the Disciple some of his own back.”
“Who told you to? I didn’t get any orders about you going out.”
“I told me.” Haroun pitched the rope into the darkness. “I’ll be back before anybody misses me.”
“The hell. I can’t let you...”
Haroun was gone.
Bragi leaned forward. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Look at you. You don’t even know how to rappel.”
Haaken woke up. “What’re you making all that racket for?” he grumbled. “They coming?”
“No. It’s that Haroun. He just went over the wall.”
“Call the sergeant of the guard. Don’t stand there squawking like an old hen.”
“Then he’d get in trouble.”
“So? What’s it to you?”
“I like him.”
“He’s deserting, ain’t he?”
“No. He’s going after El Murid.”
Haaken levered himself upright, stared down into the darkness. Haroun had disappeared. “Damned fool if you ask me.”
“I’m going after him.”
“What? You’re crazy. They could hang you for leaving your post. He’s dumb enough to go down there, leave him go. No skin off our noses.”
Bragi debated. He liked what he had seen of Haroun. But the youth had a romantic streak that would get him killed. “He’s alone out there, Haaken. I’m going.” He arranged his weapons so he could descend without them getting in his way.
Haaken sighed, began arranging his own weapons.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to let you go by yourself? My own brother?”
Bragi argued. Haaken snarled back. The debate became so heated their squadmates came to investigate. And in moments the whole squad was talking about accompanying Bragi.
That gave him pause. It was one thing to risk his own neck, quite another to lead the squad into an action his superiors would not approve.
What motivated the men, anyway? He wasn’t sure. But, then, he didn’t know why he was going himself. “It’s your necks if we get found out,” he said. “Stay or go. It’s up to you.” He grabbed Haroun’s rope, swung over the edge, began descending. Halfway down the rope jerked. He spied a manshape against the stars. “Damned Haaken,” he muttered. And smiled, feeling warm within.
He crouched among the boulders at the foot of the wall, trying to recall an easy approach to the Disciple’s encampment, wondering if anyone up top would spot him and think he was the enemy. Haaken joined him. A third man dropped to one knee on his right. Then a fourth and fifth arrived, and more, till the whole squad gathered. “You idiots,” he whispered. “All right. Keep it quiet, unless you want somebody up there to plink you.” He stole forward, trying to approximate the route he suspected Haroun had taken.
The fates were kind. The watch on the wall did not spot them. That no longer a worry, Bragi became concerned about enemy pickets.
He stole within bowshot of the enemy encampment without finding Haroun. “He hornswoggled you,” Haaken said. “He cut and ran.”
“Not him. He’s around somewhere, going to pull some stunt.” He looked back, eyeing the fortress from the foe’s perspective. It was a huge, forbidding outline, looming against the stars like the edge of a giant’s ragged saw. Not a light shown anywhere. The construction crews had finished their work. “Spread out. We’ll wait here till something happens.”
The enemy camp was quiet, though fires glowed behind the stockade. An occasional sentry appeared, silhouetted by the glow.
“Bragi!” somebody hissed. “Over there.”
“I see it.”
Just a whisper of pale lilac light limned a boulder momentarily. A lilac bead dribbled toward the camp stockade. Defying gravity, it floated upward.
A sentry tilted forward, dropped off the wall. He struck earth with a soft crump.
“What’re we into here?” Haaken demanded. “That’s sorcery, Bragi. Killing sorcery. Maybe we ought to go back.”
Bragi rested a steadying hand on Haaken’s forearm. Another lilac glimmer appeared. Another bead danced
