Zouki managed to cry himself into a shallow, fitful, whimpering sleep, interrupted often by the outbreak of nightmare from one of the other children in the cage.
Azel strode into Muma's Place with no thoughts beyond getting a decent meal and a hot bath, not necessarily in that order. The bath was overdue. Then a long sleep. Tomorrow was soon enough to decide what he'd do with the week or so he would let the Witch stew. Ride up to the Elephant Rocks country and do some hunting? Too much like work.
Maybe to al-Quarda territory to fish in the sinkholes there. Whatever, wherever, someplace alone. He needed to get away from people and all the chains of duty, honor, loyalty, with which they tried to bind him, trying to jerk him this way and that. He needed to go somewhere where every step was not a step on a tightrope. He picked a table out of the way. It was late enough for the place to be quiet and offer him a choice of seating.
Maybe he ought to let her roast for two weeks. Or even a month. She needed dead time to make her think, time to understand that she was not letting reason be her guide. Azel grew wary the instant he spotted Muma. Muma no longer waited tables. Muma no longer stayed awake till this unholy hour. He glanced around carefully, looking for that odd late patron who took special notice of Muma's remarkable behavior. Anyone paying special attention did so with superbly feigned indifference.
Muma came to Azel's table.
"Muma."
"Azel." The proprietor invited himself to sit.
"You're up late."
"Got dragged out of a warm bed."
"I never have liked dropping in here late and finding you up. It's like coming home and finding vultures perched on the roof trees. You know the news ain't going to be good."
"Uhm." "What is it this time?"
"What would it be? A message." Palm flat on the table, Muma pushed something across. "You know the sign." That was not a question.
"Yeah. How old is it?"
"Half an hour, tops. Not stinking yet at all."
"Hmph! Time to get some food down, then."
"You know the sign."
"I got to take time to read the damned thing, don't I?" "I suppose. What doyou want?"
"Something portable. This is bound to tell me to go somewhere and do somethingtwo hours before it was written."
"Be right back with something." Muma hoisted himself up and waddled away.
Azel read the message. Come to me as soon as you receive this. There was nosignature.
Elegantly simple. Nothing there to tell Herodian or Dartar a thing. Even thesign on the outside, a crudely drawn palm sparrow, had no obvious or suspectmeaning or symbolism. If it fell into enemy hands it was unlikely to exciteany interest, unless by circumstance.
Muma came back with a loaf and a lump of a vigorous goafs-milk cheese. Azel muttered, "It must be my day for gourmet dining." "You're going out?"
"Of course. What else? Are your sons awake? I don't see any trouble around, but it's the kind you don't see that catches you up."
"They're awake. I told them. They'll cover you." Meaning anyone who tried tofollow him would be in for some major distress.
Azel stood, handed a coin across, collected his provender. "Later, Muma."
"Good luck."
"With him I may need it."
The night had grown cool and clammy. Dew had started to form. Down nearer theharbor it would be getting foggy. The air was still as death. His heels sentechoes frolicking through the night. He did not sense anyone following him. Hesaw no sign of Muma's sons. But they were good. They would not be seen, unlessby a watcher a moment before the risks of his trade caught up.
Nevertheless, Azel took his usual detour through the Shu maze, where the onlyway a follower could stay on him would be by sorcery. He knew the maze wellenough to walk it eyes closed at midnight.
In places it was just as dark at noon.
He left the maze for Char Street through the same alleyway he had used thatafternoon. Fog had gotten that far up the hill already. He turned right.
And three steps later nearly collided with a man and woman coming downhill. Hemuttered an apology as, startled, they dodged around him. His own damnedfault, walking on cat feet, listening for footsteps behind him and paying noattention at all to the path ahead. He followed their hasty footsteps andurgent, whispered reassurances without turning his head. He let his heels falllike those of an honest man so they would know he hadn't doubled back on them.
He walked a hundred yards past his destination, then crossed Char Street andreturned downhill on quiet feet. A hundred yards below his destination he crossed again and walked uphill. There was no sign of the couple he hadstartled. Nor were there any of the watchers against whom his maneuver wasdirected. He had not expected any, but when you had an al-Akla and a Cadofinagling on the occupier's side you took precautions.
He glided to the door and inside with serpentine grace.
Salom Edgit had not gone home after leaving the General, though hislieutenants were there awaiting his report. Instead, he had gone a half mileout of his way, to an upthrust of rock called the Parrot's Beak by most butremembered as the Kraken's Beak by a few of the old folks. It was supposed tobe haunted by the shades of eight brothers who had been murdered there in theyear of the city's founding.
Salom had been fleeing to the Parrot's Beak for time out to think for as longas he could remember. If ghosts there were, they accepted him. He'd never beendiscommoded by a supernatural intervention.
He perched on the tip of the Beak and without focusing on anything, stared outat what could be seen of Qushmarrah by starlight. A tide of mist was risingfrom the harbor.
He spent an hour there,then went off down into the Hahr.
Salom hammered till Ortbal's man opened up. "Yes, Khad-ifa?"
"I need to see Ortbal."
"His Lordship is sleeping, sir."
"His Lordship? You go tell Ortbal to get his fat royal butt up before ...
Never mind. I'll tell him myself. His Lordship. Aram have mercy on fools." Hepushed past the protesting batman, stamped through the house. It had severalstoreys but Ortbal, being lazy, seldom left the ground floor. He noted thatthe house, like Ortbal himself, had begun to take on airs. He kicked openSagdet's bedroom door.
There was light aplenty inside. Ortbal was at his pleasures.
"You! Out!" Salom snapped at the woman.
She fled like a whipped dog.
Ortbal reddened, but he restrained his anger. Salom Edgit was not the kind ofman who busted in on people. And he was mad as hell. You were careful withSalom when his temper was up. He was unpredictable. Dangerous. Ortbal Sagdetwas not the sort to put himself at risk. "You're upset, Salom."
"Damned right, I'm upset. Look at you! ... Yes. I'm upset. I'm overreacting.
I know it and I can't stop."
"Rough meeting?" The slightest concern edged Sagdet's voice.
"You should have been there."
"I was making a statement by staying away."
"Your statement was heard, understood, and dismissed as trivial. That wasn't ablind, senile, dying old man, Ortbal. That was the General and he was incharge every second. He did the talking. Not a word got spoken that he didn'task for. He didn't ask, he didn't argue, he just told. And he knew abouteverything that's been going on."
"King."
"No. More than King."
"You'd better give me the details." Sagdet's concern was plain now.
Salom told it. Sagdet interjected questions as he progressed.
"No reprisals at all?"
"Those were his orders."
"My people are going to be real irritated about that."
"I don't think he cares, Ortbal. You know that? I don't think he's concerned about your ..." "Stuff the moralizing and get on with it." And a minute later, "Did he say how I'm supposed to raise operating funds?"
"If the old man was here he'd just look at this bordello and tell you he lives where he lives."
"He would. The old bastard expects us all to live like vermin."