In his nervousness his donkey and props slipped his mind.
His nerves kept humming like the taut catgut of a carnival fiddle. Every step took time. Each passing minute increased the risk of discovery.
He was almost too scared to think. He proceeded by rote, persevering in an oft-rehearsed scenario.
He scratched on Yasmid's tent. "Lady?"
A head popped out. He squeaked in surprise. "Ready?" she asked.
He nodded. "Have horses set to go. Come. Quietly."
"You're shaking."
"Am terrified, must confess. Come. Before alarm goes up."
"Where's the guard?"
"Bashed same over noggin and dragged behind Sidi's tent. Come. Hurry." He could not give her time to think, to ask questions.
Yasmid came forth. Mocker gawked. She had donned male clothing. She made a passable boy.
A moan came from behind her brother's tent. And a demon with a savage hand seized Mocker's vitals. One of his victims had survived! "Hurry, Lady!" He dragged her toward the horses.
"Captain!" Sidi shrieked, his whining voice tormenting the night. "Captain!"
A sleepy Invincible materialized in Mocker's path. The fat man struck him down, seized his sword, and plunged on. He did not loosen his grip on the girl.
"Why did you do that " Yasmid gasped.
Mocker flung her toward the horses. "Get on!" he snarled. "Talk later." He whirled, crossed blades with the nearest of three pursuers. He dropped the man, and the next, in the wink of an eye. The third backed off, astounded. Mocker scrambled onto a horse. Howling like a damned soul, he tried to scatter the rest. The animals did not go far. They were well trained. He screamed and kicked his mount into motion as a wave of Invincibles appeared. He swatted Yasmid's animal as he passed.
For a long time Yasmid was too busy hanging on and keeping up to ask questions. But she did not forget them. When the pursuit faded and the chance arose, she demanded, "Why did you do that? You weren't supposed to hurt anybody."
He glanced back, expecting the momentary materialization of a horde of vengeful Invincibles. "Self, wonder if bodyguards would play by same rule? Lady, am ashamed. Am coward, admitted. Panicked. Howsomever, retrospectively, must admit same was necessitated. Would not have made escape otherwise. Not so? And Invincibles would have cut self down like cur dog. Not so?"
Yasmid argued, but only half-heartedly. She had to admit that he would have been maltreated had they been caught.
The journey became an epic. The supplies he had secured did not last. Yasmid had brought money, but buying by the wayside was dangerous. It left trailmarkers.
He drove himself and the girl hard. Death was close behind. The Invincibles would neither forgive nor give up.
Weary days came and went. Desert gave way to mountains. The mountains rose, then descended to the farmlands of Tamerice. Exhausted, Yasmid traveled in silence, devoting all her energy to keeping up. Though in friendlier lands, Mocker kept the pace hard, keeping her tired. She was having second thoughts. He did not want her finding the strength and will to slip away.
He stole native garb and made her wear it, that they might become less remarkable. He dressed her as a girl again, hoping fear of being taken for a local maiden would make her avoid her countrymen. Their taste for rape was legend.
He happened to glance back while scaling the first tall ridgeline inside Altea. A heavy dust cloud rose to the south. The riders creating it were too far back to be discerned, but he had no doubt whom they were.
He began asking the locals if they knew where bin Yousif was hiding. Most of them refused to talk. He almost panicked.
He had to find Haroun fast. His narrow lead would fade if he spent much time searching.
A garrulous peasant finally told him that bin Yousif was in the Bergwold, trying to rebuild the Royalist force Nassef had scattered before his death.
Neither in Tamerice nor Altea did they encounter an enemy patrol. He could not understand that. Someone should have been there to keep the defeated in line. He had expected to be ducking and dodging all the way.
He added that puzzle to his other worries.
"Almost there, Lady," he announced one morning, pointing. "See hill with ruin on top of same? Is famed Colberg, ancient castle of Altea. Forest called Bergwold lies beside."
"I don't know if I'm glad or not, Entertainer. But one thing is sure. I'm going to be happy to get off this nag."
"Assuredly. Self, am not rider. Am shank's mare man, accustomed to walking. Am going to spend next two weeks lying on ample pillow of stomach." He glanced back. "Hai!"
A low white wave was rolling across the flat green countryside. Their pursuers were just a half mile behind.
He swatted Yasmid's mount with the flat of his saber, whipped his own, and began the race.
The Invincibles, on fresher animals, closed fast, but the fat man managed to reach the wood several hundred yards ahead. He flung himself off his horse, dragged Yasmid from hers, grabbed her hand and dragged her into the dense underbrush.
Chapter Fourteen:
SUMMER'S END
M owaffak Hali overcame the army of Ipopotam quite cleverly. He seized the poppy fields before they could be destroyed. But now bands of partisans roamed the countryside.
"They're a stiff-necked people, Lord," he admitted. "They won't accept amnesty."
"I don't want excuses, Mowaffak. I want them brought to heel."
"They're using the tactics we did before coming to power, Lord."
"Not exactly. There's a difference, Mowaffak. Aboud's people didn't know who their friends were. We do. Till they stop resisting slay every man you encounter. Burn their villages. Destroy their fields. Drive them into the forests. Pull down their heathen temples. Eradicate their devil-worshipping priests. And feed and treat kindly those who yield their arms."
"They're not wild dogs, Lord."
"I'm getting old, Mowaffak. There isn't an ounce of mercy in me anymore."
"I have news from the north, Lord. The northern host moved against us there."
A chill crawled over El Murid. His expression betrayed him.
"The news isn't bad, Lord. El-Kader turned them. And the Scourge of God has destroyed the Altean army. It's only a matter of time till he occupies Kavelin and links up with el Nadim."
"El-Kader succeeded without Nassef? This year's campaign is a success?"
"So it would seem. The Scourge of God is preoccupied with bin Yousif and the Guildsmen who slew Karim. He means to have his revenge. And yours, Lord."
El Murid became pensive. Mowaffak was politicking again. "I have my grievances with bin Yousif. But he's only a minor nuisance. Nassef is letting himself be distracted by a side issue. His warriors are needed against the army of the north. This is no time to indulge personal desire."
"My thought exactly, Lord."
Hali's expression betrayed him. Ipopotam was the grossest of side issues, of indulgences. Pacification was tying up thousands of warriors needed elsewhere.
"Go away, Mowaffak. Flog these people. Bring them to heel."
"As you command, Lord."
El Murid glared at Hali's retreating back. Once again Mowaffak had left him to wrestle with his conscience.
Mowaffak was right. But he dared not enter the moral and spiritual lists, to do battle with his addiction, while this war demanded his attention. The war between the soul and the flesh, when it came, would consume him. It would be total and without quarter.