"This is where al-Akla was set up." A file of soldiers with unhappy faces, carrying lanterns, moved into an alleyway steadily.
"They look like they know where they're going."
"The routes in are marked out with ropes and, I gather, the false branches have been blocked off. So it's just a matter of following ropes to the area where the Dartars are mining."
"Good of them to do the work for us."
"Yes sir."
"Is that the prisoner?" He indicated a Dartar standing against a wall, unguarded, apparently too scared to run.
"Yes sir."
"Let's look at him."
The savage shrank away as Sullo approached. The tribune was right. He was just a kid. "You," Sullo said. "You were with al-Akla?" The boy looked at him blankly. Of course. He did not speak Herodian. Another of Cado's failings. He should have made them learn.
"Can you talk to him?"
"Yes sir."
"Ask him where al-Akla is."
The tribune asked. The boy gulped, looked around for help that was not there, started chattering.
"He says al-Akla is in the labyrinth, directing the mining. Most of his captains are with him. Fa'tad expects trouble when he gets into the citadel.
Big trouble, apparently."
Sullo asked questions. The boy answered with apparent forthrightness, shaking. He did not know much that was useful except that Fa'tad was so sure he faced a fight he had taken a thousand men into the maze with him.
"The boy is a dolt. Al-Akla didn't take a mob in there to storm the citadel, he took them to hold it after he gets inside." The last soldiers had disappeared into the alley. Sullo walked over and lookedinside, the tribune and Moretians staying with him. He stared into thedarkness. His feet felt cooler than they ought. A quarter-inch-deep flow ofwater came from the alley.
He glanced to one side ... "What happened to the boy?"
The prisoner had vanished.
Sullo felt a sudden hollow develop in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong here ...
But that could not be.
He recalled Annalaya's cryptic remark about the faces of fortune.
The arrows began to fall with the rain, hissing like quarrelsome snakes. Moretians began to drop. Lanterns fell and broke. Tricklets of burning oil slithered across wet stone.
Sullo grabbed the only chance he had. He flung his fat bulk into the darkness before him. When the door slammed shut Aaron bent, fed the wick of a candle to a coal in the hearth, coaxed a flame to life. He held the candle high.
The Dartar boy stood with his back against the door. His face cloth was gone. He looked terrible, as though he had just peered down the throat of Hell.
Aaron got up and went toward him.
"Don't. Don't look out there."
"I was going to bar the door." He took hold of the boy's arm and urged him toward the hearth, sat him down. Laella and Mish were wide awake, watching. Aaron nodded to Mish. "Make some tea." He went back and barred the door.
Mish settled onto her knees before the hearth, fed in a few precious pieces of fuel. She did not look at the boy directly when she asked, "What's wrong, Yoseh? Did they scare you that bad? Did they hurt you?"
"No. Yes. They scared me. But it's not that. It's what's going to happen now.
Fa'tad is going to kill them." Faintly, through the heavy door, Aaron heard cries. From her position against the back wall Laella said, "Aaron, this wall is damp again. You've really got to do something."
Each time there was a heavy rain the wall passed water. He thought it came down from a bad spot in the roof. But nothing he tried did any good. He took a look mainly to keep peace in the household.
This time there were beads of water on the bottom foot of the wall, forming and dribbling down like drops of sweat. The ferrenghi witch glanced up when Fa'tad made his entrance. She did not seemsurprised. "So. Fortune did wear a false mask." Maybe nothing could surprise asorceress.
"What?"
"I cautioned him that his luck might not be as good as it appeared."
"He was a small man, fat with greed, easily led."
"Yes. Was? You killed him?"
Fa'tad smiled, a little sadly, a little wearily. He was an old man and age had taken its toll of everything but will. "No. He's underground but he isn't yetdead."
"I see. And you come to me because you want into the citadel."
"Yes." No point hiding it.
"There was no hidden way in then, through the maze?"
"No."
"What will you do about Nakar? Are you one of those who want to restore him?"
Suddenly, she seemed intense. . Fa'tad chuckled. "I'd be the first devoured if Nakar were resurrected. I value these old bones too much to permit that."
She studied him briefly, assessing his honesty. "I'll help you, then. Theancient doom must be discharged. Nakar must be destroyed, whoever helpscomplete the task."
Al-Akla frowned, surprised and puzzled. "I expected to work for that." He didnot question his good fortune. "How close are you to finding the path?" Hewould not argue with fortune but he would keep a sharp eye on it.
"An hour or an eternity. This is sorcery. No gate pattern can be definedcompletely from outside. Each is unique. Each must be opened by steps. I havebeen eliminating those possibilities made impossible by this pattern's needsand what we know of its specifics. I have reached my limit from this vantage, though. Now I have to have someone actually walk the pattern. Colonel Brudaoffered me prisoners to use. His promise is no longer of value."
Fa'tad responded to the hint by grunting. "I'll find you someone." He told hismen to take care of her wants and to guard her well. They understood. He movedto another part of the Residence. He meant to adopt it as his headquarters.
Reports from his captains looked promising. The ferrenghi, taken from theirblind side, had collapsed everywhere but at the Gate of Autumn and atGovernment House. About the Gate of Autumn he was indifferent. Time would take care there. But who would have thought those soft Government Housefunctionaries would turn stubborn and defy his worst?
He inquired about the progress of the masonry work and learned that theremaining entrances to the labryrinth had been sealed. Excellent.
Four thousand ferrenghi veterans out of the way with hardly a blow struck.
He remained unsettled, though. The Living had manifested their interest andexistence in no tangible way. Yet they were out there watching, waiting, invisible and unpredictable. The longer they did nothing the more dangerousthey would become.
Azel was not an introspective man, not one to look inward for the meaning ofwhat moved him. But time weighed heavily. His thoughts kept turning to themeaning of his own behavior.
And shied away. It almost seemed there were a few soft spots in there. Hebacked away lest he get so close he'd have to face them.
He wanted to admit no weaknesses. He was like a natural force. He acted ...
A clash of arms rose outside. He looked, could tell little in the darkness andrain. No evidence to show who was doing what to whom. But something strangewas afoot in Qushmarrah. None of those soldiers who had charged into the Shuhad shown again.
When there was light enough to make out details he discovered that thesoldiers besieging the citadel had been replaced by Dartars. A few corpses inHerodian white lay on the pavement like bundles of clothing cast off byrefugees too hurried to be burdened by possessions. Though the image thatcrept into his mind was dead kittens.
Dartars? What the hell?
The world had gone crazy.
One by one the lanterns consumed the last of their fuel. As each died theworld underground became a little darker, a little smaller, tighter, and alittle more fearful. The clash of metals and cries of wounded echoed up fromdeeper in the maze. Some of the soldiers were having trouble with those whohaunted the labyrinth. Those ghouls seemed desperate to reach the surface.
What drove them so?
Governor Sullo was incapacitated by terror, one fright short of voiding hisbowels. His Moretians kept him moving as they sought a way out. They also kepthim quiet, knowing the soldiers he had gotten into this fix would need littleprovocation to turn on their self-appointed commander.