He felt settled before el Nadim arrived. The general was as nondescript a man as the desert produced. Like all Nassef's henchmen, his background was suspect. The Invincibles said he had begun as a cutpurse, and had descended into darker ways from that. He was a puzzle to the Disciple. He was not known for his genius in the field, unlike others of Nassef's intimates, and, if the grudging reports were to be believed, he was a true believer. Yet he remained a favorite of Nassef, entrusted with commands where imagination was less needed than a legate dedicated to executing his orders.
"You summoned me, Lord?"
"Sit." The Disciple contemplated his visitor. "I have a task for you."
"Lord?"
"You've heard the news? That the King has sent mercenaries to el Aswad?"
"There are rumors, Lord. They say Hawkwind is the commander."
"That's true." El Murid grimaced, stricken by sudden pain. "A thousand mercenaries, and Hawkwind. I'm sure you appreciate the threat."
El Nadim nodded. "It's an opportune moment for the Wahlig, Lord, what with the Scourge of God away battling the accursed Throyen."
"I want to beat Yousif at his own game. To go out and meet him."
"Lord? I'm afraid—"
"I know the arguments. I've been meditating on them since the news arrived. Tell me this. How large a force could we raise if we called in our patrols, stripped Sebil el Selib of its garrison, drafted untrained recruits, armed slaves willing to fight in exchange for their freedom, and what have you?"
"Three thousand. Maybe four. Mostly unmounted. On foot they'd have little chance against Guild infantry."
"Perhaps. How many mounted veterans?"
"No more than a third, Lord. And the garrisons here are made up of old men."
"Yes. The Scourge of God persists in taking Sebil el Selib's best defenders. Go. Call in the scouts and raiders. See how many men you can arm."
"You insist on doing this, Lord?"
"Not at all. I insist on examining the possibility. We need make no decision till we see what strength we can muster. Go now."
"As you command, Lord."
Meryem joined him as el Nadim departed. "Is this wise?" she asked. "The last time you overruled your commanders—"
"I don't intend to overrule anyone. Prick them into action, perhaps. Lay suggestions before them, yes. But, if, in their wisdom, they foresee disaster, I'll yield."
"You want to embarrass Yousif and Hawkwind the way they embarrassed you, don't you?"
He was startled. The woman was psychic. She had reached down inside him and touched a secret truth he had not wholly recognized himself. "You know me too well."
Meryem smiled, enfolded him in her arms, rested her cheek against his chest. "How could it be otherwise? We grew up together."
El Murid smiled. "I wish there were some rest from my labors."
"So long as the wicked do not rest, neither may we. Spoken by the Disciple on the occasion of his return from the Movement's greatest disaster. Don't yield now."
El Nadim approached the Malachite Throne. He bowed, glanced at the Invincibles attending the Disciple. His face remained blank. "I have assembled every possible man, Lord."
"How many?"
"Thirty-eight hundred. We could raise another two thousand if we waited for the arrival of the garrisons of the nearest coastal towns, which I have ordered here. But by the time they joined us it would be too late. The Wahlig won't await the completion of our preparations. He will use his new strength soon."
El Murid glanced at Mowaffak Hali. Hali nodded. He could find no fault with el Nadim's preparations. Mowaffak was a master at finding fault.
El Nadim endured the moment without wincing, without acknowledging his awareness that his every move was closely scrutinized.
"What of my suggestions?" El Murid asked.
"Entirely workable, Lord." El Nadim could not conceal a certain surprise at his master's having seen a military potential missed by his captains.
Hali said, "The question becomes how quickly the Wahlig will move, Lord."
"What about the men? We've dug deep and taken the dregs. Will they stand up to a fight?"
El Nadim shrugged. "That can be answered only in battle. I fear the answer, though."
"Mowaffak?"
"You're demanding a lot. They have faith but no confidence. Only a quick, clear success at the outset will hold them together."
El Murid left the throne, limped to the shrine where his angel's amulet lay. He grasped it in both hands, raised it above his head. The jewel's flare filled the hall. "This time, gentlemen, the fist of heaven will strike with us. There will be no Wadi el Kuf."
He saw doubt. He saw unhappiness. Neither el Nadim nor Hali wanted him along. They feared he would become more burden than help. Nor had they witnessed the drama at the el Habib oasis. For them the amulet was more symbol than reality, without proved efficacy.
"There will be no Wadi el Kuf," he declared. "And I won't be a burden. I'll neither overrule your commands nor interfere with your operations. I'll be just another soldier. Just a weapon."
"As you will, Lord," el Nadim replied, without enthusiasm.
"Shall we attempt it?" El Murid asked.
El Nadim responded, "It's face them here or face them there, Lord. There we'll have the advantage of having done the unexpected."
"Then let's stop talking and start doing."
The country was wild. Chaos had frolicked there, leaving the hills strewn with perilous tumbles of boulders. El Nadim halted at the eastern end of a white plain which was the only memory of an ancient salt lake. The road to Sebil el Selib crawled along its southern flank. The general ordered camp made.
He rode onward with the Disciple, Hali and the Disciple's bodyguards to examine the salt pan. After a time he remarked, "You were right, Lord. It's a good place to meet them."
El Murid dismounted. He squatted, wet a finger, touched it to the salt, then tasted. "As I thought. Not mined because it's bad salt. Poisons in it." Childhood memories came, haunted him momentarily. He shook them off. The salt merchant's son was another being, simply someone with whom he shared memories.
He surveyed his surroundings. The hills were not as tall as he had imagined them, and less rich with cover. And the pan looked all too favorable for western cavalry. He offered his doubts.
"Let's hope they see only what's visible, Lord," el Nadim replied. "They'll beat themselves." Hali, puzzled, refused to ask the questions puzzling him. El Nadim did not enlighten him. El Murid suspected he was being deliberately vague. When the dust settled the Invincible would be able to stake no claim on having engineered any victory.
The party continued westward. At the far end of the lakebed el Nadim told Mali, "Choose five hundred Invincibles and hide in those rocks. After dark. Travel the reverse slope so you leave no traces. Take water rations for five days. Don't break cover till the Guild infantry closes with my line."
"And if they don't?" Mali demanded.
"Then we'll have won anyway. They have to retreat or break through. They won't have the water to wait us out. Either way we embarrass them."
El Murid fretted. He would bear the odium if this failed. If it succeeded, el Nadim would harvest the credit. That didn't seem fair. He smiled wearily. He was getting as bad as his followers.
Hali remarked, "Our scouts say they're on the march, Lord. We won't wait long."