"Can't we somehow get to the point of all this? What're you getting at? The fact that this money is coming out of the desert?"
"Exactly. Which is the root of the mystery. There is a trader's axiom that says specie is as scarce as frog fur in the desert. In this land debts are almost always paid in service or kind. Are they not? What silver and gold there is has a tendency to remain motionless." Radetic indicated the rings and bracelets Yousif wore. They formed a considerable portion of the Wahlig's personal fortune. The men of Hammad al Nakir customarily wore or hid whatever valuable metals they possessed. They yielded them up only in the direst extremity. "The movement out of the desert of fortunes of the scale Perntigan describes represents a huge financial anomaly. There is a great deal of trepidation among the bankers, though they profit. They foresee some titanic economic disaster."
Yousif simply looked puzzled. Half of what Radetic was saying had to be couched in the tongue of Hellin Daimiel. The desert language hadn't much of a financial vocabulary. And, though Yousif spoke some Daimiellian, he did not comprehend merchants' cant.
"Perntigan questioned his contacts in the banking establishment. He assembled a list of names associated with the suspect deposits. Along with another list of questions. You put everything he wrote together and it implies a rather disturbing process."
"I see that somebody is sending a hell of a lot of wealth out of the kingdom."
Radetic nodded. Finally. About five minutes behind, but finally. "Exactly. The whos and whys are what make the news interesting."
Yousif puzzled for a few seconds, then started to speak. Haroun tugged at his clothing. "Father? May I?"
The Wahiig grinned. "Of course. Let's see if this old fussbudget is worth his keep. Show us what he's taught you."
Radetic smiled too. The boy was showing signs of overcoming his innate reserve.
Haroun proclaimed, "There are only two people who could have that much money. The King and El Murid."
"Your reasoning?" Radetic demanded.
"The King because he accepts money instead of service. Also, he collects some rents and trade taxes. And El Murid because he has been looting people for years."
Yousif peered at Radetic. "Well? I take it from your look that he's wrong. Explain."
"Not really. He just hasn't reasoned closely enough. Tortin indicates that the Quesani family did make a big deposit. It was used to purchase properties on the Auszura Littoral. That's a stretch of seacoast north of Dunno Scuttari. It's a sort of elephant's graveyard of deposed princes. The purchase makes it look like somebody at Al Rhemish is covering the Quesani bets."
"Not Aboud. He doesn't have the foresight."
"Farid, perhaps? No matter. That was only a small part of the flow, and not what was bothering Tortin. What did bother him came from two other sources. The loot Haroun mentioned without carrying his reasoning to the point where he mentioned that it hasn't been El Murid doing the pillaging. The depositors have been Karim, el-Kader, el Nadim and that bunch."
"Nassef s bandits-turned-generals. That's good news, Megelin. We could make the Scourge of God damned uncomfortable by spreading that around. In fact, the Invincibles might end his tale if he's been slipping something over on El Murid."
Radetic was not cheered by the opportunity. "Our side is vulnerable too."
"Aboud's money? It's his. He can do what he wants with it. Besides, he isn't looting the realm."
"Not Aboud. The priesthood. They've been sending out as much bullion as Nassef's gang. Which means they're stripping the holy places and melting the gold and silver down. What would the faithful do if they found out that they're being robbed by their own priests? El Murid can explain Nassef, more or less. Soldiers pillage their enemies. We can't shed ourselves of the priesthood.
"A lot of people already damn Nassef without damning El Murid. They consider him the Disciple's compromise with fate. They figure he'll disappear if El Murid's Kingdom of Peace becomes a reality."
"Looks like Nassef is worried about it too. He and his boys are putting a little away for their old age."
"Don't you think the priesthood's behavior will win El Murid a lot of converts?"
"Absolutely. I'll write Aboud."
"Who is under the thumbs of the priests. Who will give you the same answer he's been giving you since this mess started. If he bothers to answer at all."
"You're right. Of course. We'll just have to intimidate a few priests. Cover it up." Yousif closed his eyes wearily. "Megelin, what do you do when your allies are more trouble than your enemies?"
"I don't know, Wahlig. I really don't. Stupidity and incompetence create their own special rewards. All I foresee is deterioration and more deterioration, and most of it moral. Maybe Hammad al Nakir needs the purifying flame of an El Murid."
Haroun gripped Radetic's elbow. "Don't give up yet, Megelin."
The boy's face had assumed an expression of stubborn determination. It made him seem far older than his years.
Radetic thought it a pity that a child had to grow up in the fires of this particularly chaotic furnace.
Chapter Six
Into Strange Kingdoms
G aunt, shivering, Bragi and Haaken paused at the crest of the last high pass.
"Already spring down there," Bragi observed. He extended an arm to support his brother. "That green must be a hardwood forest."
"How long?" Haaken croaked.
"Three days? Five? Not long."
"Hah!"
There had been days when they had not made a mile. Like yesterday. After burying Soren in the hard earth, they had fought the snowy mountain till exhaustion had forced a halt.
Sigurd had passed almost a month ago. The crossing had taken two months.
"Can't make it," Haaken gasped. "Go on without me."
He had suggested it before. "We've got it whipped now, Haaken. All downhill from here."
"Tired, Bragi. Got to rest. Make it while you can. I'll catch up."
"Come on. Step. Step. Step."
The foothills were hot compared to the high range. The boys camped there a week, regaining their strength. Game was scarce.
They had begun to encounter signs of the foothill tribes. Once they passed the ruin of a small log fortress. It had been burned within the month.
"We should be near Itaskia's Duchy Greyfells," Bragi said around a rabbit's leg. "This trail should run into the highway Father called the North Road. That's a straight run to Itaskia the City."
Itaskia the kingdom and its capital bore the same name. This was the case with several states. Each had grown round a strong city-survivor of the Fall.
"Wish you'd stop being so damned optimistic," Haaken grumbled. He attacked the rabbit like a starved bear. "We can't even speak the language. And we're Trolledyngjans. If bandits don't get us, the Itaskians will."
"You should ease up on the pessimism. Damned if I don't think all you'd see is a hernia if we found a pot of gold."
"Can't go through life expecting everything to work out. You expect the worst, you're ready for anything."
"What do you want to do?"
"I stopped making plans when Father died."
Bragi had no plan either, beyond following his father's sketchy suggestions. What happened after they found this Yalmar?
"Haaken, all I know is what Father said."
"Then we just have to keep on till something happens."
It happened next morning.
Haaken paused to urinate. Bragi ambled on ahead and was alone when the hillmen leapt out of the brush.