Torgo looked like a condemned man given an unexpected reprieve.
The pounding on the wall continued. A head poked through, ducked back.
Azel limped to the wardrobe, dropped the stuff he carried, opened the panel, tossed the junk through, helped Torgo ease the Witch into the hidden room.
"Let's get the rest." He rubbed his leg. It ached badly. His hand came awayspotted with blood.
They rounded Gorloch's flank as a slim Dartar slithered through the wall. Azelchuckled. "I'd say their timing is about perfect." Torgo gave him a puzzledlook. Azel chuckled again. He was going to find out real soon now. "You'restronger. You lug Nakar. I'll get the kid." He slashed the straps binding theboy to the altar.
The skinny Dartar stayed where he was, helped make the hole in the walllarger.
The boy opened his eyes. His face had changed, darkening somehow. Nakar wasthere. He had heard the Witch's call but hadn't come into this world quiteyet.
Thunder boomed.
Azel grinned as he hoisted the brat. Some lord of Hell was favoring him today.
He stepped to the other kid, lashed out, meaning to break the brat's neck. Heglanced at the Dartars. Four were through the hole now, getting brave, gettingset to charge. He gave them a grin, a wave, said, "Good-bye, assholes," andtook off.
Torgo was lifting Nakar as Azel passed him. Azel clipped him behind one knee.
He collapsed. Azel chuckled again as he rounded Gorloch's image, listening tothe Dartars roar toward the eunuch. One of them howled, "Arif!"
Fa'tad peeped through a crack in the shutters of a second-storey window of acommandeered house. The Living's soldiers had entered the citadel. Finally.
They had dithered forever. "Excellent. Give the signal."
One blast from a horn, taken up at a distance. Black figures, like soddencrows, raced toward the citadel. A wagon appeared. It carried bricks.
At least four of the Living's top men had been sucked in. And Fa'tad knewwhere to grab their commander. Once the' citadel was sealed up the Livingwould be nothing but a nuisance anymore.
"Collect Colonel bel-Sidek," he ordered. He remained rooted, staring out, troubled. Mo'atabar should have reached the top of that tower by now. Butthere had been no signal.
Where was he?
Would Nakar have to be paid, after all?
Dartars scrambled through the hole like rats in flight. Aaron scrambled withthem, clambering atop men, feeling elbows and fists and knees dig into hisflesh as others climbed on him. He tumbled to the floor, glimpsed Arifbouncing on the shoulder of a fleeing man. He yelled, "Arif!"
The Dartars charged a man who was floundering around trying to disengagehimself from a stiff corpse. Aaron froze. That was Nakar! Terror held himrooted.
The man shook loose and rose. He was huge. He hurled Nakar at the Dartars.
Several went down. The rest hit him. He grabbed a javelin from one and a swordfrom another and struck out like a lioness beset by hounds. For a moment itseemed he might overcome them all.
Bellowing, Mo'atabar got his men to back off. The big man began to retreat.
Arrows and javelins hit him. He made no sound. He just looked puzzled, like hecould not believe it.
Reyha brushed past Aaron, keening. "Zouki!" The boy's head hung at an oddangle. She dropped to her knees by the chair where Zouki was tied.
Yoseh grabbed Aaron's arm. "Come on!" He hardly glanced at the idol as he flewpast, into the darkness beyond.
Aaron stumbled after him, averting his eyes from Reyha's pain, from thescarlet ruin of the big man and those he had slain, from the ugliness of themonster god who still had the power to torment Qushmarrah. He went numbly, without hope, unable to restrain a moan when Reyha started wailing.
The Herodian witch yammered at Mo'atabar. Mo'atabar yelled at his men. Somepaid attention. Nogah's bunch wolfed after Yoseh and Aaron. One had enoughsense to bring a lamp.
Ten minutes whirled away, time flown on the wings of vultures. They found nosign of Arif. Hopeless, Aaron trudged back when Yoseh and Nogah went toconsult Mo'atabar.
The sergeant and sorceress were shouting at one another. Mo'atabar stoppedlong enough to order the hole through the wall plugged.
"What's going on?" Aaron asked.
Nogah said, "It seems that if everything has gone Fa'tad's way we have severalhundred of the Living in here with us now. Nice of Mo'atabar to tell us theplan. We were supposed to go up instead of down. They say a fortress'sdefenders always retreat upward. We were supposed to go to the top of the hightower, then climb down outside. That's why all the ropes and stuff." Nogahcursed in dialect. "That's the Eagle. We'd have the Living's captains and bestmen trapped like we have the Herodi-ans caught in the maze." "Why?" Aaronasked.
"Fa'tad knows." Nogah shrugged. "Ask him when you see him. In Hell. It didn'twork. We came down. We prevented Nakar's restoration but got caught in our owntrap."
"I don't want to make you cry, boy," Mo'atabar said. "But we haven't preventedanything." He kicked Nakar's corpse. "The sorceress says they can managewithout this. If they can waken Nakar inside the boy."
Aaron groaned, began to weep, his calm proving more fragile than he hadthought. He went to stand beside Reyha, as though somehow two miseries mightcancel one another, a little.
The Herodian sorceress edged him aside, knelt before Zouki, studied him for along time. Finally, she grunted. "What?" Aaron and Reyha asked together.
The Dartar racket had faded. Azel levered himself up from where he'd beensitting. He cursed softly. Damn, his leg hurt. It was stiffening up, too. Andstill seeping a little. He drew his knife.
He kicked the Witch a good one. She did not respond. "I hope you didn't killus, you crazy bitch." Damn her. He couldn't stay mad at her. Easier to staymad at himself for having been weak enough to get sucked in.
The kid wasn't unconscious but neither was he alert. He seemed caught on a cusp between today and yesterday, Nakar there but shy. Maybe unwilling to comeforward while there was a chance that might mean final victory for Ala-eh-dinBeyh. Fine. Let him float. He needed time to work out how to use Nakar withouthim getting loose completely.
He slipped out of hiding, knife poised. There weren't many of those Dartarbastards. He knew the secret ways. He could pick them off, make them wishthey'd never heard of Qushmarrah. Get shut of them and he could concentrate onthe Witch and the brat and doing what had to be done.
Pity Torgo couldn't be here to do the dirty deed and pay the final price. Nowworking it so he came out looking good was going to be tricky.
He slid into the shadows of Gorloch's image, eavesdropped on the Dartars. Somewere muttering because their sorceress said Nakar could be restored outsidehis body. She was doing something with the other brat. Some were plugging thehole they'd busted through the wall. A few were breaking up stuff for thewood. What the hell?
Ah! Now wasn't that amusing? The Living had come in behind them. And that pileof wood was so they could roast Nakar and Ala-eh-din Beyh.
Azel grinned wickedly. Hell and damnation! Yes! If the Witch's only choice wasto bring Nakar back in the kid, instead of shoving him back into his own body... All kinds of possibilities there. No way Nakar could manage a child's bodylike it was a grown one. And it should be a whole lot easier for the woman toget over a kid.
Hell with hunting Dartars. Wasn't any point with the Living in the citadel.
Let those bastards wear each other down. He'd work on the survivors.
He retreated to the hidden room.
The Dartars would look for the brat again. That sorceress. Didn't look likeshit but she was the same stripe as Ala-eh-din Beyh. She knew. She'd whip theminto looking. If she put her mind to it she'd find the room despite Nakar'sspells of concealment. She'd been good enough to get through the Postern ofFate.
He checked his leg. Not good. Still oozing. Had he left a trail? He checked.