"They didn't talk that way when they were starving. Then it was send the boys whether they want to go or not."
Yahada opened the door. "Come in."
Yoseh preceded his brother, his knees starting to shake. His first glimpse of Fa'tad did nothing to reassure him. Those eyes ... Grey as iron and cold asthe bottom of a well. There was no anger in them, but still he felt like aclumsy child.
Fa'tad nodded infinitesimally, "Nogah." The old man sat cross-legged on asmall cushion. He had filled the room with the appurtenances of a caveshelter. They did not hide the truth. "This is your brother Yoseh?"
"Yes sir."
"I overheard what you said a moment ago. Is it true, Yoseh, that they intend to meddle with me down there?"
Yoseh did not know how to answer. The question sounded like one with a snarebuilt into it. He chose his words carefully. "They want to encourage the youngmen to return home more quickly."
A specter of a smile twitched Fa'tad's lips. "Oh, yes. As they so quickly didwhen they were young auxiliaries scouting for Qushmarrah's armies. You wereright, Nogah. Their bellies are full, and sour with memories of what they lostwith their youth. Yahada, find Barok. Tell him he needn't worry about how he'sgoing to get all that livestock safely to the mountain." Fa'tad smiled agenuine smile. He looked at Yoseh as if he were speaking to him alone. "Theyneed to be reminded that the drought is still with us." His face clouded, thenlost all expression.
Eight years of drought. There was nothing to match it in Dartar history.
"Your brother told me what happened this afternoon, Yoseh. Now I want to hear your part of it from you."
Yoseh fumbled the story out.
"Would you recognize the man again?"
"Yes sir."
"Describe him."
"He was short, even for the veydeen. And very wide. Very muscular. Not a young man. Middle thirties to early forties. Dark for veydeen. Very quick, and Ithink very strong. His nose was flattened, like somebody smashed it in. Widemouth and heavy lips."
"Beard?"
"No sir."
"Obvious scars?"
"Well ... I can't be sure. His lip curled up, like this, a little. There was a man back home with a lip like that from a knife wound."
"Uhm."
Nogah asked, "You know the man, sir?"
"No. But I'd like to meet him, Yoseh, how did he make the fire?"
"He just reached down and got something out of his belt
"An envelope? A packet? A sachet?"
Yoseh glanced at Nogah, back. "Yes sir. One of those."
"Hunh! Do what he did, as closely as you can ape it. Slowly."
Yoseh did so, puzzled by Fa'tad's interest and cowed by the intensity of his scrutiny.
"He reached across his body with his left hand and emptied the packet at you backhanded?"
"Yes sir."
"And the stuff he threw. Did you get a good look at it before it caught fire?"
"It was dust, sir. Yellow, I think. Yes. Almost saffron." Nogah asked, "Sir, is this important?"
"The gestures probably not. He had one hand busy holding a child. But I'm very interested in the powder. What sort of powder is inert in an envelope open to the air but bursts into flames when it's thrown?" "Sorcery?" Nogah suggested softly.
"Certainly a possibility. I'm very interested in such a dust."
"Yes sir."
"I'm also interested in that maze of passages in the Shu. We have more trouble with the Shu than any other quarter. Because the villains can use that maze to come and go as they please."
Yoseh had a feeling Fa'tad was leading up to something. His suspicion was confirmed immediately. "I want you to go up there tomorrow, Nogah. Start exploring. Start mapping.
There is no map of that area. Even people who live there don't know what's going on out their back doors. Starting tomorrow everyone not on duty for the ferrenghi will be up there exploring. We'll go in there and stay. We'll take the maze away from Qushmarrah's bad men." Nogah said, "Yes sir." Yoseh echoed him hastily. "That will be all for now. Yoseh, if you recall anything significant, I want to know right away."
"Yes sir." Yoseh got out as fast as youthful dignity would allow. His legs almost betrayed him returning across the compound. Zouki sat inside the door of the cage, leaning against the cold iron bars, motionless, for a long time. He was so scared he had wet himself.
There were thirty other kids in the cage. They were scared, too. They seemed to have spaced themselves out. Only two, who looked like twins, were close to each other. The kids all seemed to be about his age. They all stared at him.
They did not seem starved or abused. They were clean and clothed. But they were scared and Zouki thought they must cry a lot. He wanted to cry. He wanted his mother.
He looked at all those kids looking back at him and didn't know what else to do. So he did cry.
Azel had just finished a meal for which the cook ought to be convicted. Hecould not guess what he had eaten.
Torgo walked in. "She's ready for you now." He sounded like a man talking to acockroach.
"Yeah? Good. Who cooks this slop? They ought to be staked out on an anthill.
The brats get fed better."
"The children are valuable. Come."
Following Torgo, staring at the eunuch's huge, broad back, Azel said,
"Torgo,'I like your attitude so much I think I'm going to kill you. You ball- less wonder. Maybe pretty soon now." He looked at the eunuch's bare feet andknew just how he would start.
Torgo glanced back, for a moment the expression on his big round flabby facemore puzzled than anything. Then a slow smile spread. "You're welcome to try.
But you'll be disappointed."
"You bad, Torgo? You think you're bad? You ain't never been out of this dump.
You ain't never seen the real world. Out there is where the bad boys play. Youdon't know bad from dog turds. You ain't bad. You ain't even hard. You're justpig-stupid and mean."
And pretty good at keeping his temper, Azel reflected.
Few who lived in the citadel went in or out. The Herodians knew who they were.
If any got recognized those bastards would realize there was a way through thebarrier, after all. Only Azel and a few other trusted agents came and wentthrough what the barrier's creator had nicknamed the Postern of Fate.
Two of those agents were women who busted their butts doing the groceryshopping and whatnot.
Azel wondered if he really would get aggravated enough with Torgo to take himout. Maybe. If the eunuch kept on with his airs.
Well, whatever. He shut the eunuch out of mind and scanned his surroundings.
An ordinary hallway. Except that it was decked out in enough treasure toransom a platoon of princes. The whole damned citadel was like that. But oldNakar, he was the boss wazoo around Qushmarrah for a long time. And when theyknocked down the temples and busted up the idols he was the kind of guy whomade them pay for the privilege of replacing Gorloch with their candy-ass Aramthe Flame. When they had done that he started taking any damned thing hepleased.
Azel could not figure out why the old boy had let them get away with dumpingGorloch. He knew Nakar had claimed there was no point imposing on jerks whorefused to believe. But he never quite figured out why that mattered.
He had been around, up and down the coast, and even across the sea, out wherethe gods were really bizarre, and he thought he knew one thing about religion: the fact of actual belief did not matter. You had to know how to go throughthe motions and you had to be able to say, "How much?" whenever a priest stuckout his hand and said, "Gimme." That was all.
Azel did not know if he was a believer or not. He had been doing all the rightthings for so long it was all habit. He did know he found the ferociousGorloch a more satisfying deity than Aram with his softhearted, softheaded, otherworldly love and forgive-thy-neighbor crap.
He irked Torgo by chuckling. If he wanted a stand-up, he-man god he ought togo with the Herodian's anonymous deity, who had no other name but God. Thatone was all thunder and lightning and kicking ass. But a goddamned psycho, too. His doctrine was all do what I tell you or die, sucker, and the hell withit's something stupid, or it conflicts with something you've already been toldto do.