By now half the crowd was yelling, and those that weren't would soon be. And for once Bu Ali was in luck. Just at that moment the Emir's trumpeters came out the door of the mosque and blasted out on their horn, presumably to announce the coming of the Emir.
To the sheep and goats, though, it was more like the end of the world.
As for the crowd at the olive tree, well…
They looked up to see a river of frantic goats and sheep bearing down on them, urged on by a moving pillar of fire that had no apparent source; yelling horsemen brandishing scimitars that flashed in the sun; and the mosque itself trumpeting.
Under such circumstances men have been known to decide that other territory is more desirable to be on. Those in this crowd not only came to such a conclusion instantly, they also acted on it.
They got the hell out of there.
Bu Ali and one Mameluke reached Casca first. Both used a single scimitar swing to free him, Bu Ali slicing through the two ropes that held his hands, the Mameluke through the two that held his feet. Casca was free. Of course, he fell on his ass, but considering his circumstances at the moment he was in no mood to complain.
Before he could pick himself up, the Mameluke leading the spare horse pulled up, dismounted, helped boot Casca up on the spare horse, got back on his own horse, and got them going in less time than it took the Emir, appearing now in the open door of the mosque, to think: What the hell…
With Casca safely en route, the Mamelukes pushing the burning hay cart dropped the shafts, and all the party swung into position behind Bu Ali and headed for open country.
They got away, heading down a narrow wadi outside the Emir's city and turning up a broader but deeper cleft in the rocky landscape some minutes beyond.
At the first oasis — a small clump of trees and a stagnant pool — Bu Ali signaled a halt and watched as one of the Mamelukes took clothing from a pack horse and handed it to Casca who dressed. The scene in the alley in Baghdad was being repeated, although this time closer to high noon. When Casca was dressed, Bu Ali dismounted and walked over to him.
"Ah, Kasim! It seems we have done this before." He was smiling.
Casca thought, Now, why did I dislike him?
Still smiling, Bu Ali suddenly brought one big hammy fist up and smashed Casca full in the face. At the same time, on cue, the Mameluke beside him struck him a tremendous blow on the back of the neck with the blunt edge of his scimitar.
Casca was out before he hit the ground.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Yousef the bandit thought he had seen just about everything, but the trick with the sheep, goats, and fire wagon was certainly new. He still wanted Casca and now he was getting away. Not aware of it he kicked his horse in the flanks and took off after Bu Ali and his party, following through the narrow cobbled streets and hunkering low to avoid arrows from the startled guards at the gates of the city.
During the escape the captain of the Emir's guard had been at the side of his master on the prayer rugs in the mosque. Hearing the clamor coming from outside he took his leave of his master and rushed to the door of the mosque in time to see the tail end of Yousef's raggedy band leaving the scene of the rescue. Naturally, he thought the bandits were Casca's rescuers and ordered immediate pursuit. The captain's men raced to find their mounts slapping the local inhabitants out of their way with the flats of their swords. Once clear of the city gates all three parties headed straight for the desert.
From the door of the mosque the Emir shook his head at all the disturbance, turning to his nephew, a smooth-cheeked boy of sixteen, to whom he had given the post of standard-bearer. The boy would be at his uncle's side during official ceremonies and hold the Seljuk standard of horsetails tied to a silver blade. The Emir had given the boy the prestigious post in order to honor his sister.
"Ah, Sulman, son of my sister, do you not see how the life of one who rules is one of endless problems. I wonder what will happen next?"
Sulman smiled sweetly with understanding at his uncle and replied easily, "That is easy to foretell, my uncle. What will happen next is your death." Sulman drove the silver point of the standard deep into the Emir's soft belly and twisted the blade severing his intestines and stomach. Before the remaining attendants and guards could respond, Sulman stepped over the fallen body of his uncle and removed the Golden Dagger from his sequined jacket. Crying out to the heavens, "Allahu Akhbar" he slit his own throat with the dagger of the Assassins. Hassan al Sabah was never one to risk failure, and he always kept his word. The Emir of Apnea had died by the lance.
Neither Bu Ali nor the Emir's captain had any idea of what had transpired at the mosque. The captain's attention was on overtaking the fleeing men in front of him. His horses, being of better quality than those of the bandits, were quickly gaining on Yousef's group. Yousef was faced with a dilemma. He couldn't catch the Mamelukes in a straight chase and looking behind him at the Emir's guards coming up fast, he knew he had to break off his chase and head for the rougher ground where, knowing the terrain intimately, he'd have a chance of losing his pursuers. Leading the way into a twisting labyrinth of wadis and dry streambeds, it took an hour to shake loose the captain and his men.
Resting his panting horse just under the top of a rocky rise, he was joined by the toughest of his men. A bearded ruffian with enormously muscled arms and hunched shoulders, the legacy of a childhood spent at a blacksmith's forge, he was Yousef's de facto second in command.
This man, Shojan, spat — away from the wind — and asked his dusty leader, "Now what?"
"They are probably resting their horses at some water hole in the wadis to the west. But they will leave a dust trail when they start out again. We will stay to the high ground and watch for signs of movement then try to cut them off. While they're resting we move. I want all the men to get off their horses and lead them. This way we will have a chance of catching up if we rest our animals on the move."
Shojan spat another mouthful of wet dust into the wind, "All right, we've gone this far and I am beginning to think you're right about the ferengi being bad luck for us. I just don't know if catching up to him would be good or just more bad."
Yousef hissed, "What else do we have to do? If we can take the Mamelukes we'll have their weapons and animals, which are worth something and any prisoners can be sold. That is still better than skulking like beaten dogs through the streets of Apnea trying to steal coppers from beggars."
Dismounting they began to follow in the direction the Mamelukes had taken. Ahead of them there was a high ridge with great open plains on either side. From there they'd be able to see in any direction for as far as the horizon. If the Mamelukes moved while it was still light they'd be seen. If they waited till dark then there would be no chance to catch up with them. Yousef and his weary band labored on, the tails of their turbans wrapped around their noses and mouths to keep out the dust whipping at their faces.
Casca had a mouthful of dust and a terrible throbbing pain at the back of his head. Before he managed to get his eyes open he had the strangest feeling of rising and falling, jolts and thumps. And he was paralyzed. Only his mouth had mobility, opening and shutting to the strange thumps and bumps. And every time it did, he got more dust in it. He wished he could fall back into the darkness and end the pain in his chest as well as that damnable throbbing at the back of his skull.
But wishing didn't make the pain go away, so he finally opened his eyes and instantly wished he hadn't.
He was on a horse, his legs tied to the animal's sides by a rope under the animal's belly, his hands lashed together and the rope looped around the horse's thick neck. Ahead of him rode Bu Ali and one of the Mamelukes. Beside him rode a warrior he'd known slightly during his time with Mamud the slaver. He was known as Karzan. Casca's head hurt too much for him to look back, but he could hear the sounds of other horses' hooves behind him, so he was in the middle of a small column heading, where?