The Baran didn't ask Blade for advice, and Blade was glad. He wouldn't have been quite sure what to say. His instincts told him to advise rounding up every Thief in Dahaura and torturing them until they'd revealed everything, then executing them all in pubic. His better judgment told him this was impossible. Even trying it would simply grab only a part of the Thieves and drive the rest into hiding, angrier and more dangerous than ever.
The key was the leaders of the Thieves Guild, the Council of Twelve. If they could be swept up all at once, the Thieves would be leaderless and at least temporarily paralyzed. Then they could either be rounded up at leisure, or possibly even ignored while the Baran's fighting men went after the Hashomi. Standing orders were to avoid any sort of trouble with the Fighters of Junah-unless, of course, they started it.
Esseta was apparently putting her sister courtesans on to the job of tracing the movements of the Council of Twelve. She had to be discreet about this, of course, and very careful in her choice of women to help her. Some of the women of Dahaura's brothels hated the Thieves so much that they'd never be able to keep their mouths shut. Other women were the friends of Thieves, or secret dealers in stolen goods. They might turn double agent.
More and more, Dahaura reminded Blade of West Berlin. He remembered how glad he used to be when a mission to Dimension X ended up involving him in the same sort of espionage work he knew and did so well.
Now he'd be far happier in a Dimension where nobody had ever heard of spies!
Chapter 20
The night was clear, and the moon so full and bright that the narrow road ahead gleamed like silver. A light breeze carried the scent of roses and flowering trees. On this kind of night Blade would have preferred to be riding for his own pleasure, rather than on the Baran's business.
However, the Baran's business had to be carried out. So Blade searched the tops of the villa walls on either side of the road, looking for a crouching figure waving a red scarf. That would be one of Kubin Ben Sarif's men, waiting to meet Blade and lead him to a rendezvous with the leader of the Brothel Keepers. By order of the Baran, Blade was to place himself under Kubin's orders for the next month.
What this might mean, Blade could only guess. Giraz, the chief of the Eyes of the Baran, had hinted that he was to spy on Kubin.
«Not that we believe the man to be disloyal, you understand,» said the eunuch. «We do believe from what he has done in the past that Kubin might be-ah, impulsive-in his use of what he has learned.»
That put Blade in an awkward position. When Kubin became aware that he was being spied on, he would take offense. He would not protest directly, or abandon the Baran's service. He was too loyal and hard-headed for that. But Blade's past services to Kubin might not protect him from an «accident.»
Blade didn't like getting involved in this kind of sideshow. The atmosphere of everyone spying on everyone else was becoming thicker and thicker, and that he liked even less. From his experience he knew that such a situation was bound to fall apart violently and unpredictably, and sooner rather than later.
Blade stiffened in the saddle. One hand went to the hilt of his sword, the other tightened on the reins. His knees locked, ready to drive his spurs into the horse and make a dash for safety.
There was a dark shape perched on a wall, waving the promised red scarf. Two faces also peered through the iron spikes on the wall, one on each side of the man. That wasn't according to plan.
Ambush!
The word shouted itself in Blade's mind. He was just about to spur his horse to a gallop, when a familiar voice called softly, «Blade! Ride down to the second gate on the left. We'll meet you there. Show no sign you're expecting anyone.»
It was Kubin Ben Sarif. Something was wrong. It could be anything, so the only sensible thing to do for now was to obey Kubin's instructions.
The second gate on the left was open, and two men in dark clothes and hoods were waiting just inside it. Blade turned his horse in through the gate and Kubin appeared out of the darkness, two more men with him. The first two closed the gate and Blade dismounted.
«What are you doing here?» he whispered, sharply to Kubin. «You could be compromising everything!» Several of the villas around here belonged to people whose loyalty was doubtful, and there were always servants who might be bribed or persuaded to talk. In addition, Kubin Ben Sarif was hard to mistake for anybody else. If he was seen here, in a rendezvous with Blade, it could blow Blade's cover so thoroughly that he'd be no further use to the Baran, even if he didn't end up dead in some back alley in Dahaura.
Kubin made an impatient gesture with one hand. Blade saw that the hand was encased in a heavy glove of fine chain mail reinforced on the back with strips of lead. Wearing those gloves, Kubin could grip swords or crack skulls with a backhanded slap. He was obviously expecting trouble tonight, or perhaps planning to make it for someone else.
«That's a story there's no time to tell. The Thieves are out tonight, and Esseta is in danger.»
Blade knew at once there was no point in arguing with Kubin. He'd taken command, and the only thing to do was follow him and hope for the best. That best might be very good indeed, though. Kubin could have given lessons in strategy and tactics to half the Baran's generals.
«How many?» said Blade.
«We counted fifty crossing the Bridge of the Three Brothers, but it's too soon to know if that's all.»
Blade nodded. The Bridge of the Three Brothers was less than a mile from the isolated villa where Esseta had set up her house. If the Thieves Guild had sent out fifty men, some of them probably Hashomi, there was going to be blood and death before morning.
Kubin seemed to be reading Blade's mind. «They've thrown a challenge in our face, and perhaps they hope we won't rise to it without the Baran's express consent. They will be wrong. I've put half my men across the roads they will need to use to retreat from either my villa or Esseta's. More are riding straight for the palace. I do not think the Baran will want the City Riders brought into this. They could learn too much.»
That meant Kubin's men would be on their own for at least a couple of hours. «Is it worth the risk?» Blade asked.
«To me, there is no risk,» said Kubin, with a grim smile. «No fifty men can get into my villa in a single night, even if those in it do no more than close and lock the doors and windows. Even Hashomi cannot pull apart stone walls or bend iron bars with their bare hands. Esseta is a different matter. You and I and the men with me are riding to her house. We leave now, and pray to Junah that we are in time.»
«Only these four?» said Blade.
«We may meet others. But we still ride now. No number of men will do Esseta any good if they arrive after the Thieves have cut her throat or carried her off to be tortured and questioned.»
While Kubin was speaking, his men had led five more horses out from under the trees by the path. They all mounted, and with Blade bringing up the rear trotted out the gate. Once on the open road, they spurred their horses to a canter. The dust rose under the horses' hooves, seeming to glow in the moonlight.