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riding around in the weather.
There were a few more clouds now. The veydeen did not seem excited so it
seemed unlikely they would turn to rain. He wished it would rain.
The city was a madhouse. Troops were on the move, headed south to assemble
outside the Gate of Summer, whence they would march before sunrise. Azel was
not pleased by the dislocations. They made it difficult to be as cautious as
he liked.
What about tomorrow, when the garrison was reduced? Would the Living's crazies
make themselves heard?
Something. From somewhere. He felt the first tingle of it. He did not like it
because he had no idea from what direction disaster might strike.
He took position in sight of the place where Ishabal bel-Shaduk lived in the
northern Shu. He watched for an hour. Several men visited. He recognized two
as thugs. Guys who would do anything for money.
He had a notion what bel-Shaduk was doing. He did not like it.
He'd thought bel-Shaduk possessed of better sense.
Gold and women had their ways of dribbling blindness into even a wise man's
eyes.
The day was getting on. If he wanted to get out the Gate of Autumn and back
with plenty of time he'd better waste no more here.
He overtook the cavalcade moving the old man two miles east of the Dartar
compound. The new gimp General told him to get up inside the covered wagon
where the stiff lay.
One look at that black print and he knew his suspicions were feet.
The damn woman had gone mad! She would set the city on fire.
And she didn't care. That was the hell of it.
He climbed out of the wagon, drifted back to walk beside the gimp on his
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donkey. A comedown for him. He'd probably ridden a purebred stallion out to
Dak-es-Souetta. "I got an idea where to start looking."
"Where? Who?"
"I'll let you know if it comes out sure. Meantime, I got a suggestion. Burn
the old boy. Don't bury him."
"Immolation is a rite of Gorloch, not of Aram."
"How many people going to be involved in this, eh? All of them mourning the
beloved General. What chance you figure there is all of them will keep their
mouths shut about who, what, and where? Cado gets the word, he's going to have
the old boy dug up and paraded around."
"I'll think about it."
Dumb shit. He was asking for it. "You put some time in on the new governor and
his witch, too. There's something more there than meets the eye. Talk to you
more when we get together. I got something else I got to do right now."
He turned and headed west.
There was a lot of traffic on the road. Too much. How much had to do with the
funeral? He checked faces. A few were familiar. He remembered them all. It was
a habit he had, one he followed unconsciously sometimes even when he was aware
of no need. Thus he noticed two particular faces among the inevitable beggars
and loafers inside the Gate of Autumn.
He had seen one for the first time not far from where Ishabal bel-Shaduk
lived. He'd last seen the other in the halls of Government House.
So.
He did not lead them an interesting chase. He went to Muma's, where he spent
the afternoon and early evening eating, thinking, and carefully, laboriously
composing a long letter to General Cado. He entrusted that to Muma's youngest,
a quickwitted urchin, and relaxed with some black-market beer before he went
out for the night's work.
Meryel guided bel-Sidek to a mound of cushions. "You look awful tonight. If
you'll pardon me saying so."
"I can pardon you anything if you can pardon me."
She looked at him curiously but did not pursue it while her servants came and
went with the courses of their meal. Then she asked. He told her about his
day.
"Murdered? You're sure?" She did not seem interested in his conduct while
questioning the traitor's wife.
"It seems more likely all the time. The trouble is, I can't see who would have
gained by getting him out of the way."
"One of the fanatics, getting impatient?"
"No. They honored him too much. Besides, getting him out of the way just puts
me in the way. Tonight I intend to name another moderate as my successor so
there's nothing to gain getting rid of me, either."
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"Could it be the governor's witch getting even for what happened to his
guards?"
"Not unless she's one hell of a diviner. I think he died before they did.
Herodians would have taken him alive, anyway. Sullo laying hands on the
mastermind of the Living so soon after getting here would have been a
political deathblow for Cado. There are people in Herod who want his head. He
survives because he's competent, he has several very powerful friends, and he
has the indulgence of the Living."
"Hubris?"
"Fact. We could cause trouble enough to get him taken out. If a Herodian must
rule here, we'd prefer General Cado. None of the likely replacements would be
so kind to Qushmarrah. I'd better go. We have a lot to argue out."
Meryel rose with him. She said, "I have a few contacts among those who operate
outside anybody's law. I'll ask them if they've heard anything that might have
something to do with the old man's death."
Bel-Sidek paused at the door. "All right. Also find out what they know about a
child-stealing ring. And about a man named Azel." He slipped out, not at all
eager to face what lay ahead. But
they did have to decide who should take over in the Shu and who should take
over most of his own duties on the waterfront.
Too, he hoped to discover if there had been some dark side to the old man
that, in his love, he had been unable to see.
The Witch moaned, twitched uncontrollably. Her flesh was beyond her command.
All her will was bent upon the child, that stubborn brat.
Three times she had tried to breach the barrier of trauma. Three times she had
been repelled. Never had she encountered such resistance. The previous life
must have ended terribly.
She gathered her remaining reserves, feeble after half a day in trance. One
last effort ... No matter. This could not be the one she sought. Azel could
have him and welcome.
Her thoughts were not that clear. They constituted more an instinctual flow
than actual reasoning.
Once more she advanced upon the child's defenses. And this time found a tiny
crack. She focused upon it, struck with all the remnants of her strength . . .
And screamed. And screamed.
Terror squeezed her heart.
The soul on the other side was that of Ala-eh-din Beyh. It was not lost. It
was not bewildered. It had been lying in ambush. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]