"You never mentioned this before."
El Murid leaned against the memorial's base and gazed across the valley. He tried to imagine how it had looked in old times. There had been a shallow lake. The Most Holy Mrazkim Shrines had stood on a low, man-made island. The slopes surrounding the lake had boasted rich citrus groves.
Barbarian invaders had cut the trees for firewood.
"It used to be too far away to even dream. Now there's at least a chance. One of these days... Well, it all depends on your uncle. If he wins the war... Then we can start."
He looked at the barren valley. For an instant he saw the beauty that had been, and might again be.
"We could bring the water from the Kapenrung Mountains. There're still traces of the old canals... But enough of that." He turned, knelt, prayed for Meryem's soul. Yasmid and his son joined him, Sidi reluctantly. When he rose, he said, "Let's go jump into the witch's cauldron and see what silliness they're up to today."
Yasmid wore an awed look as she followed her father. She had seen a whole new facet of a man. Her father had depths she had never suspected.
A morning of unpromising beginnings was becoming a cheerful day for the Disciple. He had revealed his most secret dream and no one had laughed. Even unimaginative Sidi had grasped the grandeur of the vision. Maybe, just maybe, he could get through the day without Esmat.
He discovered that Mowaffak Hali had rushed home from the war zone.
"I'm seeing you first because I know your business must be serious, Mowaffak. What is it?"
"Two things, Lord. The least important is that we've lost track of the pretender, Haroun bin Yousif. He's gone underground since the attack in Tamerice. He's contacted only a few rebel leaders, and he no longer haunts the courts of the Lesser Kingdoms. Our agents can't find him."
"Time will deliver him to us. What else?"
"A grave development. I got this from my man in the Scourge of God's staff, who overheard one of your brother-in-law's spies reporting. The Itaskians and their allies have decided not to wait for us to come to them. They're sending an army south. They've chosen the Duke of Greyfells to command it. He's a cousin of the Itaskian king, and reportedly a good soldier."
"That's a pity, Mowaffak. I'd hoped we could finish in the south before we had to deal with Itaskia."
"It's the strongest of our foes, Lord. And the richest. And probably has the best leaders. And they'll have Iwa Skolovda, Dvar, and Prost Kamenets supporting them. The Scourge of God will face tough going north of the Scarlotti."
"Maybe. But I know Nassef. If I were a sinful man and laid wagers, I'd bet that he planned for this before he crossed the Sahel."
"I hope so, Lord. The sheer weight of our enemies intimidates me."
The remark echoed El Murid's fears. He wished he could share them with Hali, but dared not. His absolute assurance made the Invincibles what they were. Doubt would destroy them.
"Let's hope all our friends feel the pressure, Mowaffak. The movement is stumbling over its own success. Spread the news."
"As you command, Lord." Hali's tone betrayed doubts. "Can the Invincibles do something to stem this threat, Lord?"
"Study this Duke, Mowaffak. How competent is he? Would his army survive without him? Who would replace him? How competent is that man? You understand?"
"Completely, Lord. Politics being what they are, his replacement might be a bungler."
"Exactly. Oh. While you're here. I need your advice concerning el Nadim's eastern army."
"Lord?"
"He's gone over the Scourge of God's head. Appealed to me for permission to give up trying to force the Savernake Gap. Yet Nassef told me that maintaining the breakthrough threat is vital."
"What's el Nadim's problem?"
"He claims his enemies are decimating him with sorcery. That his Throyen levies are ready to revolt. They make up most of his army and think we're getting them killed just to be rid of them."
"That's not impossible, Lord. The Scourge of God is using native auxiliaries in the west. I've seen him allow them to take a merciless beating. But I agree when he says we need the eastern threat. It forces the enemy into a static strategy that leaves us the initiative. Once Kavelin and Altea fall, it won't matter. I can muster a few companies of Invincibles and send them east. They'd give el Nadim more backbone."
"And flexibility, I'd think. He hasn't been one of our more imaginative generals."
"Perhaps not. But he's reliable. He'll carry out his orders if they kill him. And he's our only sectarian leader who is a true believer. He came to it late, after he became one of Nassef's henchmen, and I think it's why he drew the remote assignment. The Scourge of God doesn't want him watching over his shoulder anymore."
"You're politicking, Mowaffak."
"Lord!" Hali grinned. "So I am, in my way. I guess it's part of being human."
"Probably. We don't always realize what we're doing. It's the blatant, premeditated backstabbing that aggravates me. Send those companies to el Nadim."
"As you command, Lord."
"Tell Yassir he can start sending in the whiners and complainers."
The following month was a good one. The occupied territories grew more pacified. The conquest of the Lesser Kingdoms proceeded inexorably, though Nassef had given Karim a minimum of warriors with whom to accomplish the task. The Scarlotti fords and ferries, as far east as Altea's western frontier, had been closed. Nassef crossed the river above Dunno Scuttari and completed that city's encirclement. He was achieving objectives ahead of schedule. Even el Nadim's troubles were no cause for despair. His success or failure remained peripheral to Nassef's strategy. Only his presence was essential.
Then El Murid received the letter from his brother-in-law.
"Yasmid. Sidi. Come hear what your uncle has to say." He scanned the letter twice more. "He wants us to come accept the surrender of Dunno Scuttari. He says it won't be long."
"Papa, let's go!" Yasmid enthused. "Please? Say we can! I want to see the west. And think what it would mean to the warriors to see you there with them."
He laughed. "It would be dangerous, Yasmid."
"We could pretend we were somebody else. Somebody who isn't important."
"Salt merchants," Sidi proposed.
"Salt merchants are important," El Murid protested, going along for the fun. His father had been a salt merchant.
"Sure, Papa. Salt merchants," Yasmid said. "You know all about that. We could make your bodyguards dress like merchants and ride camels."
"They'd still look like thugs."
"But... "
"That's enough. Your uncle hasn't taken the city, and I don't think he can. He hasn't been any trouble for Hellin Daimiel, and that should be an easier nut. We'll wait and see."
"Papa, he's just saving Hellin Daimiel for later."
"We'll wait and see. Remember, there's an Itaskian army to worry about now. We don't know what they'll do."
Yasmid smiled. She had the battle halfway won.
El Murid assumed a wry smile. He knew what she was thinking. He decided he was a weak-spined fool. He had so much trouble denying his children anything.
A grave Esmat approached him eleven days later.
"What is it, Esmat? You look grey."
The physician gulped. "Lord, the courier from Ipopotam hasn't arrived. He's four days overdue."