For the true believer the formula was as potent as a magical cantrip.
There was something wrong with his surroundings. He stopped instantly, comingout of himself to look around suspiciously. Yes! Dartars and Herodianseverywhere. How had they ... ?
Wait. Maybe not. Whatever had happened, it was over long since. And the enemydid not have that grim look he got when his own had been hurt. Someone wouldhave gotten hurt had they found the General.
Still ...
Still, it had been something that interested them a great deal. A great deal.
That was Fa'tad al-Akla himself. The Eagle would not be out here for trivia.
Was he at risk here? Had they been found out? Was it a search?
No. Hardly. How would the old man know them in their present circumstances, after ten years, when he and the General had been but faces in the backgroundwhen last they had crossed paths?
There was Raheb Sayhed and her daughter. Raheb spent her life planted on hermat there. Nothing escaped her. He limped over to the two women.
A smiling face peeped around Raheb's skirt. Bel-Sidek grinned. "Ola, Stafa."
He liked the child. "Ola, Raheb. Laella."
The older woman replied, "Ola, Khadifa." She inclined her head almostimperceptibly, to show that she still honored him. She continued to stare atFa'tad.
Bel-Sidek frowned his question at the daughter.
Laella said, "The foundations of her world took a shaking this afternoon."
"What happened?"
"A child-stealing. Reyha's son, Zouki. A Dartar patrol was right in front ofthe house when it happened. They tried to rescue Zouki. Three of them gothurt."
"That explains Fa'tad."
"Maybe. But I don't think so. They weren't hurt bad. I hear he's here because they think the Living had something to do with it."
"That's absurd."
"Is it?" "Why would they take a six-year-old kid?"
"Why would they beat up shopkeepers and steal from artisans and leave their own people floating in the bay while never, ever, laying a finger on the people they're supposed to be fighting?" "You're exaggerating."
"Am I? Let me tell you something, Khadifa. There are ordinary, everyday, loyal people in Qushmarrah-people who hate Herod and Dartars as much as you do- who're so fed up with the Living they've talked about maybe letting Fa'tad find out some names."
"Laella."
Bel-Sidek turned. "Aaron. How are you?"
"Upset. I have small children. It disturbs me that the Dartars seem more interested in their safety than do those of my own people who might say they have some claim on my sympathy. People who, by their nature, ought to have some insight into the problem if there's a racket behind the child-stealing." Bel-Sidek understood. He did not like it. "I hear what you're saying, Aaron. Here. Come. Walk with me to my house." He began dragging the leg uphill.
The man turned his son over to his wife and followed. It did not take him long to catch up. Bel-Sidek asked, "Is it true, what she said?" "You know how women are when they're scared or mad. Say any damned thing that pops into their head."
"Yes." He glanced back at Raheb, still frozen in place. There was an omen as sinister as her daughter's threat. "I know some people who know some people.
I'll say something to someone." "Thank you. How is your father doing?"
"He sleeps a lot now. The pain doesn't bother him as much as it did."
"Good."
"I'll tell him you asked about him." The old man wakened when the door slammed. It had to be slammed or it would not close all the way. "Bel-Sidek?" He winced as the pain shot down his side. "Yes, General."
The old man composed himself before the khadifa entered the dimness of hisroom. Only a part of the dimness was due to a lack of lighting. His eyes weregrowing feeble. He could make out few details of bel-Sidek when he appeared.
"Was it a good day, Khadifa?"
"It began well. Three ships came with the morning tide. There was work. Weneedn't worry about where our meals will come from for a few days."
"But?"
"I encountered an unpleasant situation coming home. It was illuminating."
"Political?"
"Yes."
"Report."
He listened carefully, with a feeling for nuance. His hearing was excellent.
Time had been that kind. He heard not only objective substance but theimplication that the khadifa was troubled in heart.
"The woman-Raheb?-bothers you. Why?"
"She had one son. Taidiki. Her sunrise. Her full moon. He went to Dak-es- Souetta with my Thousand. A brave lad. He held his ground till the end. He wasone of the forty-eight of mine who came home. He came back in worse shape thanI did. A lot worse. But he was a proud kid. He thought he'd done something.
His mother cried for him, but she was proud of him, too. And of everyone whofought the odds at Dak-es-Souetta. Fanatically so."
"Is there a punch line to this story, Khadifa?"
"A year ago Taidiki went into the street and started telling anyone who wouldlisten the same things his sister said today, only he spoke morestraightforwardly. He said hard things about our class and the Living. He saidthe Dartar tribes were not the traitors of Dak-es-Souetta, that Qushmarrah hadbetrayed them first by ignoring them in their need. They had done only whatthey had to do so their children could eat. When one of the Living tried tohush him, he denounced the man. When the man resorted to threats, Taidiki'sneighbors-our neighbors- beat him senseless."
"I'm still waiting for the punch line.''
"Taidiki took his own life afterward, as a protest. He said Qushmarrah hadmurdered him already and he hadn't had sense enough to lie down."
"The point?"
"That was the moment I first realized there were people of Qushmarrah who wereless than enchanted with our efforts."
"And?"
"A more dramatic incident occurred in the Hahr day before yesterday. TheDartars rounded up eighteen ground-level members. They had been denouncedanonymously. The Dartars did not bother interrogating them. They just executed them there in the street. Some of the onlookers cheered."
"I see."
"Do you? Some of the brethren have been feathering ..."
"I said I see." The General reflected for several minutes. "Khadifa, your father has just had another of his spells and thinks he's dying again. Youround up your brother and cousins and have them here later tonight so they canbe given their legacies."
"Yes sir."
"Fa'tad is in the street out there?"
"Yes sir."
"Help me to the door. I want to see him."
"Is it worth the risk, sir?"
"Is he going to recognize a man who's been dead for six years?"
He did not get his fuzzy glimpse of the enemy. Fa'tad al-Akla and his tribesmen, and the Herodian infantrymen, had gone. Char Street had become itsnormal twilight self.
"What's this?" Aaron asked, looking at the concoction Laella had set beforehim. He shifted on his cushion. The aches of work and the terror of the afternoon were fading. His question was one of honest inquiry, not complaint.
"What does it look like?"
"Haifa yellow squash with stuff baked inside it."
"Can't put anything past you when you put your mind to it, can I?"
Arif said, "I don't like this stuff, Mom." Stafa echoed him immediately. The younger boy was just into that stage.
"You haven't tried it yet."
Aaron didn't think he would like it, either, but it turned out to be good. The boys did right by their portions, too.
Laella had filled the partially baked squash halves with a mix of chopped andsliced vegetables, and slivers of mutton, in a heavy, spicy brown sauce. There were mushrooms and nut meats in there, too. And dates promised for afterwardfor boys who ate their supper.
Old Raheb worked on her meal without speaking. Hers had been cooked longer so meat and vegetables would be easier prey for toothless gums. Tonight sheworked every mouthful twice as long as usual. Aaron pretended not to notice.
Nobody could get quite as fixated as Laella's mother. If one of her fixationswon an audience it could turn into years of high drama.