El Murid’s heart fluttered. The angel intimidated him as much now as when he had been a boy in the desert so long ago. “There was no need. Everything was going the way it should.”
“If a little slowly, eh?”
El Murid glanced up shyly. A shrewd look had narrowed the angel’s eyes. “Slowly, yes. I got in a hurry. Wadi el Kuf taught me the folly of trying to force something before its time.”
“What’s happened now?”
El Murid was puzzled because the angel had to ask. He told of Yousif’s strange flight after the recent siege, and of an impending crisis in his own household. He begged for guidance.
“Your next move is obvious. I’m surprised you summoned me. Nassef could have told you. Gather your might and strike. Take Al Rhemish. Who will stop you if the Wahlig is gone? Seize the Shrines and your family problem will resolve itself.”
“But —”
“I see. Once burned, twice cautious. Twice burned, petrified. There will be no Wadi el Kuf. No surprises from children deft with the Power. Tell Nassef that I will be watching personally. Then unleash him. He has the genius to pull it off.” He sketched a plan, displaying a knowledge of desert affairs and personalities which quieted the Disciple’s doubts. “Before we part, I’ll give you another token.”
The old man slipped off his seat and knelt. He whispered to the horn, then hoisted it and shook it. Something tumbled from its bell. “Have Nassef transmit this to his agent in the Royal Tent. The rest will follow if he strikes a week later.”
El Murid accepted a small teakwood box. He stared at it, baffled.
The old man dashed to his mount and took wing. El Murid shouted after him. He had only begun to discuss his problems.
The winged horse swooped round the horned peaks. Thunder rolled. Lightning clawed the sky. Gouts of fire hurtled back and forth between the horns. Two blasts smashed together and erupted upward, forming some giant sign El Murid could not make out because it was directly overhead.
The blinding light faded slowly. And when El Murid could see once more, no sign of the angel could be found. He returned to his fire and sat muttering to himself, staring at the teakwood box.
After debating several seconds, he opened it. “Finger cymbals?” he asked the night.
The box contained an exquisite set of zils, worthy of a woman who danced before kings.
“Zils?” he muttered. What on earth? But a messenger of the Lord could not be wrong. Could he?
He searched the sky again, but the angel was gone.
Decades would pass before he encountered the emissary again.
“Zils,” he muttered, and stared down the mountain at the campfires where Nassef and the Invincibles waited. His brother-in-law’s face filled his mind. Something would have to be done. After Al Rhemish had been taken?
“Nassef, attend me,” he called weakly when he finally stumbled into camp. It was late, but Nassef was awake, studying crude maps by fire and moonlight.
El Murid’s brother-in-law joined him. With the exception of the Disciple’s chief bodyguard, everyone else withdrew. “You look terrible,” Nassef said.
“It’s the curse. I hurt all over. The ankle. The arm. Every joint.”
“Better get something to eat.” Nassef glanced up the mountain, frowned. “And some sleep probably wouldn’t hurt.”
“Not now. I have things to tell you. I spoke with the angel.”
“And?” Nassef s eyes were narrow.
“He told me what I wanted to hear. That the Al Rhemish apricot is ripe for the plucking.”
“Lord —”
“More listening and less interrupting, please, Nassef. There’ll be no Wadi el Kuf this tune. I don’t mean to try sweeping them away with sheer numbers. We’ll use the tactics you developed. We’ll move by night, along the trails Karim followed when you sent him to slay Farid.”
If he expected a reaction from Nassef he was disappointed. Nassef merely nodded thoughtfully.
He still wondered about that incident. Aboud’s hysteria had been predictable, though his turning to mercenaries had come as a surprise. Hali had provided a detailed report on the attack. Karim’s force had sustained startlingly heavy casualties. The man should have brought more of his soldiers home. But, then, Karim was Nassef’s creature, and the Invincibles who had accompanied him were not.
“But first, these have to be delivered to your agent in the Royal Tent.”
Nassef opened the box, then peered up at the horned mountain. Just three people knew who that agent was. He and the agent were two of those. The third was not El Murid. The Disciple, he was sure, had been unaware that such an agent existed. “Zils?” he asked.
“The angel gave them to me. They must be special. Carry out his instructions. Nassef?”
“Uhm?”
“What’s the situation on the coast?”
“Under control.”
“Do we really dare try Al Rhemish with just the Invincibles?”
