He was passing the park when the man in white stepped into his path. He yanked his sword from its scabbard, looked round for the other two. The Harish always worked in threes.
The man held a lantern to his own features. „Peace, Sire." He had a gentle, priestlike voice. „No dagger has been consecrated with your name." The Harish were assassin devotees of the fanatic religion El Murid had brought forth from the barren womb of the deserts of Hammad al Nakir. In its youth the sect had spread across east and west with the wild violence of a summer storm. It had declined as the charisma of its Disciple faded. Today it had few adherents outside Hammad al Nakir, and even there its followers were dwindling.
„Habibullah? Is that you?"
„It is, Sire. I was sent by the Lady Yasmid."
Ragnarson had not seen the man since before the wars. In Fiana's time he had been Hammad al Nakir's ambassador to Kavelin. In those days El Murid had ruled the desert kingdom. Haroun had been alive. His son Megelin had not yet donned the crown and led Royalist armies victorious into Al Rhemish. Haroun's wife, El Murid's daughter Yasmid, had come slipping into Vorgreberg, hoping he would help her end the bitter strife between her men. He had sent her to her father with this same Habibullah, then had heard nothing more.
Ragnarson scanned the gloaming again. El Murid's fanat ics had tried to kill him before. He saw no sign of treachery. He swung down. His pains seemed to have deserted him. „Into the park, then." He did not sheath his blade.
Habibullah settled cross-legged in the shadow of a bush, his hands palms up on his knees. He waited patiently while Bragi rambled around prodding bushes. He seemed to accept this as perfectly rational behavior.
Satisfied of his safety, Bragi sat down facing the man in white. „You might have to help me up if I get stiff."
Habibullah smiled. „It was a vigorous contest?"
„That's putting it mildly. What's on your mind?" He knew Habibullah wouldn't mind a blunt approach. Too damned many ambassadors danced around things and euphemized. One couldn't be sure what the hell they wanted. Habibullah was more direct.
He reckoned the man had something worth saying. A man didn't sneak through so much unfriendly territory, and make a contact carefully calculated to go unnoticed, just to be sociable.
„The Lady Yasmid sends greetings."
Bragi nodded. He had known El Murid's daughter, though not well, since her childhood.
„Then, she's bid me explain the present situation in Hammad al Nakir. She wants you to understand how and why things have changed since Megelin's victory." Habibullah went way back, to the day when Yasmid had come to Bragi begging for help. He picked the tale up there. It was a long one. He bore down on the fact that the followers of the Disciple, defeated, now holding on only in the holy places of Sebil el Selib and along Hammad al Nakir's rich eastern seacoast, had begun to despair. He said, „The Disciple himself has given up. He just sits and dreams opium dreams about days gone by. He doesn't know where or when he is anymore. He talks to people who have been dead for twenty years. Especially to the Scourge of God."
„Which leads up to you telling me what?"
„To my stating the obvious. The Movement is no longer a danger to Kavelin or any other western kingdom." In a confidential voice, „It's barely a danger to the heretic on the Peacock Throne, and that only because the Harish still consider him their prime target."
„Maybe. But I don't think the Disciple has changed his ideas. He'd be a danger if he could."
„The point is, he can't. He won't be able, ever again. On the other hand, the heretic might well be."
Bragi had a notion where the man was going, based on Michael's report. Intuition told him he'd best give Habibullah a full hearing. „Go on. I'm interested."
„The threat to the world today—your world and mine —centers in the east. In Throyes, specifically. In Lord
Hsung. He's a determined and treacherous man. He sent ambassadors to Sebil el Selib. They offered to help us recapture Al Rhemish. The Lady Yasmid exerted her influ ence and had them driven out. There were those who didn't agree with her, but her doctrinal arguments were irrefuta ble. The lamb does not lie with the lion. The Chosen cannot walk hand in hand with the minions of the Evil One."
„Yeah. I didn't know she had that much pull."
„She has a lot more. ... If she cares to use it. She's still the Disciple's designated heir."
„I meant push, I think. Drive. Off-your-ass."
„I see. Yes. She has been lacking in initiative."
Ragnarson pricked up his ears. Something in Habibullah's tone suggested that times had changed.
Habibullah became confidential again. „Our agents in Al Rhemish say Hsung sent ambassadors to Megelin at the same time he sent them to us. The Tervola doesn't care who he enlists. And indications are, he got a more sympathetic hearing there. Megelin now has a wizard stashed in the Most Holy Mrazkim Shrines. A master of the Power, not some feeble native shaghun."
„Uhm." Bragi saw one of Habibullah's unstated argu ments. If Shinsan had people in Megelin's court, then Ravelin and El Murid had a sudden congruence of interest. Imagine that. After all those years of enmity. „You're suggesting we ought to get together on something?"
„Exactly. If Megelin has an arrangement with Hsung, then, obviously, he's no longer your friend. He's sold you to the Dread Empire."
„How do I make a deal with an old enemy? Can you see me trying to sell it to my people? On the evidence available? The older ones are still as scared of El Murid as they are of Shinsan."
„As I said, the Disciple isn't much interested these days. He is, in mathematical terms, not part of the equation."
„Ah? Meaning?" Ragnarson had a feeling they were getting to the heart of it.
„The Lady Yasmid... . Shall we say she's considering finding some initiative?"
Ragnarson's laugh was hard, barking, and bitter. „She's going to overthrow him?"
„Not overthrow. Not exactly. More like take charge in his name. If there's any point." „Any point?"
„What point in trying if you're caught between royalists and Shinsan and haven't a friend to help? A grain of wheat between millstones would have a better chance. It would be better for the Faithful, in the long run, if they weren't led into certain destruction."
A very muted appeal, Bragi thought. She would let the collapse continue unless he offered some hope. And if the collapse did happen, Hsung and his Western Army would have access to the southern passes through the mountains. Hsung could march west through the desert and hit the western kingdoms from the south instead of east. He barkened to his intuition again. „Tell her to go ahead. I can't promise an actual alliance, understand."
„I understand. No iron commitments. Just a hope. And only the three of us to know we're in contact, please. I'll inform the Lady and return as soon as I can."
Ragnarson nodded. „Habibullah, you're better than you were when you were ambassador. Much more efficient."
Much had been said here, and a lot in words never spoken.
„The Lady Yasmid has led me into a more mature path."
„Good for her." Bragi groaned as he struggled to his feet.
His muscles had set like mortar. „I won't be able to move tomorrow." He backed away, not turning till he was outside throwing range. A sensible man took no chances. The
Harish were masters of the knife.
He continued his interrupted journey, puzzling the way things were turning around. So much was becoming in verted to the traditional.
This making a deal with Yasmid... . Something told him it was right. He had a feeling the day would come when he would need friends as desperately as she did now. And the people of Hammad al Nakir, of whatever religious or political persuasion, could be as hardy in friendship as they were steadfast in enmity. Hadn't Megelin's father, Haroun, twice surrendered his chance at the Peacock Throne so that he could help friends? Wasn't that very friendship the reason a boy now sat on the Peacock Throne, going off in his own strange direction?