"How did you know the governor was in Sebastea?" I said, my voice shaking with excitement.
"Peace, brother," he said, and made to rise.
"Answer me! How did you know?" I demanded, already guessing what he would say.
"Nikos told us," Brynach replied. "He said the governor always spent the summer there."
A thin, icy chill trickled along my ribs. Oh, Nikos was cunning as a viper and just as poisonous. He knew, even before setting foot in Trebizond that the governor would not be joining us there. He had sent the monks, not to Honorius's home in Trebizond, but to Sebastea where he knew the governor could be found; and, when the eparch had concluded the treaty, then Nikos diverted us to Sebastea, too.
Nikos was, it seemed, always sending people to Sebastea, but none of them ever arrived. Why?
My quick-kindled excitement died. I had thought myself close to solving the riddle. But the more I probed, the more the mystery deepened, and now I was no nearer a solution than before. I returned to my sleeping place, dispirited and disgusted, to wrestle with thoughts that would not yield.
A pale white dawn found me awake still, unrested and aching in head and heart. Slowly, the camp began to stir; I lay listening to the idle talk of the amir's warriors as they built up the fires once more. Thus, I was already alert when I heard Kazimain approach, her footfall soft in the dust.
"Aidan," she said tentatively. Her voice quivered.
"My love," I replied, rolling over to look at her. She appeared to have slept no better than I; her hair was unbound, and the corners of her eyes were red. "Kazimain?"
"It is Lord Sadiq." Her hand was shaking, so I grasped it; her fingers were cold. "I cannot wake him."
I was beside the amir in an instant. In swift steps I entered the tent, knelt over him and pressed my hand to the side of his neck, much as Farouk had done to me countless times. The amir's skin was warm to the touch, and I could feel the rapid flutter of a strong pulse beneath my fingertips; his breath was quick and shallow. He seemed to sleep, but it was a false repose. There was a faint mist of sweat on his brow.
Touching his shoulder, I jostled him gently, but firmly. "Lord Sadiq," I said, "wake you now." I repeated this three times, but the amir made no sound, neither did he move.
"You see how he is," Kazimain said, peering over my shoulder.
"Where is Faysal?"
"He did not eat anything last night," she replied. "He said he was not hungry…It is not like the amir to sleep so long…"
"Kazimain," I said sharply, drawing her back. "Where is Faysal?"
"Out there-" She gestured vaguely behind her. "I did not-" She looked at me, frightened now. "I woke you instead."
"Wake him now and tell him to bring some water."
She nodded and backed from the tent. Straightening the amir's head, I began to gently remove his turban. So far as I knew, he had not changed it since the incident at the gate. As the long strip of cloth unwound, I held my breath, fearing what I would find.
As the last length came away, I put the cloth aside and examined the amir's head. To my relief there was no injury that I could see; so I began to search, lightly lifting his matted dark hair to see the scalp beneath. By the time Kazimain returned, I had completed my examination, finding nothing unusual.
Kazimain knelt beside me, worried still, but better composed. Faysal appeared a moment later, with a jar of water. He poured from the jar into a small bowl, and brought it to the amir's lips. I placed my hand behind the amir's head and raised it to receive the water. As I lifted, the amir moaned, as if in pain, but he did not wake.
"Wait," I told Faysal. "There is something here." To Kazimain I said, "Let us turn him over."
Half-lifting, half-rolling, we placed the amir on his side, and I quickly found the place my fingers had touched.
The wound was little more than a deep-coloured bruise at the base of his skull. But when I probed with my fingers, rather than solid bone beneath the skin, I felt pulpy flesh. "Here," I said, guiding Kazimain's fingers to the place. "But gently, gently."
The amir moaned again as Kazimain touched the wound; she pulled back her hand as if she had burned her fingers. "The bone is crushed," she gasped, her voice dwindling to a whisper.
"Faysal," I commanded, "ride to Amida. Bring a physician at once."
He stared at me. "I do not think there is a physician in Amida."
"Go, man," I snapped. "Hurry!"
Faysal inclined his head in acknowledgement of the command-a gesture I had seen him make a thousand times, but always to Lord Sadiq, never to anyone else. He left the tent, and Kazimain and I attempted to get the amir to drink some water, but succeeded only in wetting his chin and the side of his face.
"Stay with him," I told Kazimain, "I will fetch Brynach. He is learned in many things; he may know what to do."
Upon emerging from the tent, one of the rafiq met me and announced that Kazimain's escort had arrived and was ready to take her away. I looked to where the warrior pointed and saw six men on horseback. "Tell them they must wait," I said, and hurried on.
Brynach, Dugal, and Ddewi had risen and lit a fire to take the chill from the morning air. Upon hearing of the amir's distress, Brynach nodded and said, "Have no fear for Lord Sadiq. We have among us one who is many-gifted in the healing arts." He put out his hand to Ddewi, who sat with hand extended before the crackling fire, his features placid.
"You cannot mean-" I protested.
Brynach nodded.
"But he is not himself. His mind-he does not even know where he is. Sure, he cannot do anything."
"Are you God now that you know what a man is capable of doing?" There was no rancour in Brynach's tone. He turned to regard Ddewi with satisfaction. "He is hiding within himself. We have but to coax him into the daylight once more."
"Your faith is laudable," I said, struggling to keep the contempt out of my voice. "But it is the amir-I fear for his life. And if any ill should befall him at Ddewi's hands…"
Brynach blithely waved aside my objection. "It is right to bear concern for one another, but your fears betray a lack of faith."
"It is not a matter of faith," I declared harshly, "but one of expedience. Ddewi does not even remember his own name. What if I were to entrust to him the care of the amir, and Lord Sadiq died?"
Brynach placed a hand on my shoulder in a fatherly way. "O, man of little faith, trust God, and see what he will do."
In my experience, all that came of trusting God was that matters went from bad to worse-and usually so rapidly as to steal the very breath away.
Despite Brynach's faith-blinded confidence, I would not have allowed Ddewi to so much as sit quietly in the amir's tent, if Faysal had not returned to camp with the unhappy word that there was no physician in Amida.
"No one?" I growled.
He shrugged. "A few old women sit with those who are ill."
Dugal, having seen Faysal's lathered horse, joined us, and as Bryn explained what was happening, I asked, "What happens when someone falls seriously ill?"
"They die."
"No doubt," put in Brynach, "this has come about that God's glory may be increased."
"No doubt," I muttered sourly.
"Be of good cheer, brother," Dugal exhorted. "It may be that this will be the saving of them both."
With that, everyone turned to me expectantly, awaiting my decision. "Where else," I asked Faysal, "can we find a physician?"
"Samarra or Baghdat," he answered.
But, strange to say, it was not Faysal's voice I heard; it was Amet's, calling me across the marketplace. Come to Sebastea…