The Kadi had given orders that the severed head was to be left untouched where the Sami’s men had planted it in the courtyard, a silent testimony to the misdeeds of his rival. Sinan took notice, but passed quickly on, as though the doings of the castle were well known to him. He was bound for the high tower, driven by some pressing need. There he would meet with the two stewards of the castle, and hear their complaints.
The Kadi came first to him, and departed soon after, his face ashen white, his eyes vacant and confused. He returned to his chambers without a word while the Sami climbed the long gray stair to the tower, head lowered with shame. Sinan sat upon the high chair and watched while the Sami prostrated himself in submission, begging forgiveness for his failure.
“And how have you failed me?” Sinan’s voice was icy cold, yet it seemed to reach for that which it already knew.
“The Wolf,” the Sami whispered. “I have failed in my charge against the Wolf.”
“Oh? What charge do you speak of?” Sinan waited while the Sami groveled in uncertainty.
“I received your ring, Lord, with an order to strike the Wolf at an hour and a day that would be appointed. All was made ready—the Fedayeen prepared. Then this stranger came upon us, and I was possessed with madness.”
Sinan leaned forward, “Rise and face me,” he said harshly, and the Sami drew himself up, still kneeling, as he looked upon his master’s face. “Hear me, Sami of Massiaf: I sent no ring, and laid no charge upon thee. Quite the contrary! It was my judgment that the Wolf, Arnat, must live. Did you not receive the signs late sent to you? The Wolf is an enemy, to be sure, yet he is reckless and overbold. He will stir the Christian camp to rash deeds, and such will play into the hands of Salah ad Din.”
Sinan raised a single hand the long fingers held wide, and reached for a thin shaft of light that skirted the edge of his dais. “See the ring where it sits now upon my hand?” He let the light play upon the ruby red gem there, the gleam of light on gold a condemnation of the Sami’s headstrong ways. “Had you done this thing,” he whispered, eyes alight with distant flame, “then all of Christendom would not now be marching. The great castles would still stand well guarded, unassailable, as they have for decades past. The time appointed for them would never have come, and the heads of all the Templars would remain fast upon their shoulders to bring untold misery to the faithful, for years to come.”
Sinan drew his hand into a fist now, his voice hardening as he continued. “Yet that error has been avoided—perhaps by mere circumstance. The Christian host is doomed!” His voice boomed in the tower; his fist tightening as he spoke. “They will fall like wheat before the scythe. The Wolf lives, and you may count the coming of this stranger a boon. Had you carried out this deed, striking down Arnat before his time, you would have surely done the work of our enemies. Undoubtedly the Order was at play in this matter, and you were deceived. It was they who sent you this command; not I. It may be that the stranger is one of the faithful, in clever guise, and so I have come hither to see with my own eyes the truth of this matter. I say unto you now that not by your hand, but by the hand of Salah ad Din himself, will the Wolf be slain—and all the Templars will kneel before the Sultan’s tent and be pressed to renounce their faith, embracing the truth of Islam. They will all refuse and, one by one, their heads will be severed by the Turks. So I have seen this, and so it will be. It was only mine to assure that no change would be worked upon the threads of time by our enemies.”
He let the Sami kneel before him, head lowered, as the realization of what he was saying wrapped itself about him like a coiled rope. “Yes,” Sinan tugged on the cords now, “even you, Sami of the Seventh Gate, have fallen into confusion and misdeed. This is why I placed the Kadi here as equal!” His voiced rebounded from the hard stone walls of the tower. “It was given to you both to reach agreement where the death of another was concerned. I have seen the severed head in the courtyard below, and I know what passed in the night, and why.”
The Sami quailed, transparent before the all seeing eye of Sinan. All his argument, all his reason, now seemed a small and foolish thing. He had been deceived, manipulated, made a pawn in the game of his enemies, and his blood ran cold with the shame of his failing. He lowered his head, unable to look upon his master.
“The stranger,” said Sinan. “The Kadi tells me that you wished to kill this man. Is that so?”
“Yes, Lord. I feared he was an enemy; sent here to bring harm.”
“Yet the only harm worked within these walls came at your bidding.” Sinan let the Sami endure the brand of his words, a long silence tightening the ropes of recrimination until the Sami was bound in submission. Then Sinan ordered the Sami to stand. “Arise,” he said. “I foresaw your misdeeds and so I hastened to come here and restore the harmony of these walls. Now you will do a thing that I command with my own voice. Hear me! Go to the faithful assembled below. Choose five men and hasten to the vault of the hidden archive—you know of whence I speak. There you will find the stranger. If you are swift and determined, you will serve me well. Even now you harbor a poisoned blade within your robes. Do not use it! Go instead and bring this man here that I might speak with him. Had I come here sooner I might have placed two eyes upon this stranger and seen the full truth of this matter. Now the hour is late. It is the seventh day! You must reach the archive, and return, before the setting of the moon.”
The Sami was shaking with emotion as he rose. His Lord had passed judgment, and dispensed his mercy in the same cup. The Sami drank deep, his fear quenched; his resolve restored. “It will be done,” he said quickly. “Before the hour of the setting moon.”
Maeve stood in the chamber of the Arch, her eyes mesmerized by the scintillating whirl of the lights, her ears ringing with the thrum of the generators, her body tingling with cold fire. She only had a few minutes to prepare herself, her heart racing as she shed her clothing, obedient to her own rules about contaminating the time line. Now she draped herself in the only thing she could find, a single white sheet from the rest quarters above. The tachyon infusion was riveting every atom of her being; taking an imprint that Kelly would use to keep a fast hold upon her in the brief mission ahead.
She was dreadfully afraid, yet she forced herself not to think of what she was doing. The hard yellow line was painted there on the floor before her. Three small steps and she would cross it, leaving this time and place behind, and relinquishing the tight hold she had on her life up until the Arch had come into being. Every instinct in her mind argued against what she was about to do, yet stubbornly, she took the first step, tightening the drapery of the sheet about her slender frame, and covering her head until she seemed a veiled spirit, alight with a thousand hues of eternity.
Voices clamored at her from within. What if something went wrong? What if Kelly made a mistake? What was she doing—leaving it all like this, letting go? This was the most difficult thing she had ever forced herself to face, but she took the second step, her eyes fixed on the status light on the near walclass="underline" red for the first step, Amber the second.