Here Hali's men were at a disadvantage against Guild bows. The encounter was bloody and did not last long. Only a few dozen Invincibles escaped.
Ragnarson prowled the field with the Royalists, trying to find Hali's body. Night fell without his being able to determine if the game had been worth the candle. Investigations next morning proved nothing either. "Ah, damn, Haaken. All this for nothing."
"Maybe. And maybe he died in the town." Bragi would know nothing for sure for months. By then he would be back in the Kapenrungs, engrossed in another matter and indifferent to Hali's fate.
Chapter Eighteen:
THE ASSASSINS
H aroun knelt beside the brook, drinking from cupped hands. He shivered in the chill mountain breeze. Beloul said, "Lord, I'm not comfortable with this."
"It is risky," Haroun admitted. "Beloul?"
"Lord?"
"Guard my back well."
"You think Shadek would... ?"
"I don't know."
"But... "
"In politics you never know. He kept me informed all the way, but I'm still not sure. The question is, did he do the same with Sidi?"
Beloul smiled thinly. "Shadek is my friend, Lord. But even I couldn't say. Who knows a man's secret ambition?"
"Exactly. And in this case that's what's going to count. He's set it up so he can jump any way he wants. Just the way I would have done. I admire him for that. I didn't think he had the imagination."
Beloul smiled again.
"Now I'm wondering if I'll ever trust him, assuming he does jump my way."
"We shouldn't waste time worrying, Lord. Just be alert. We'll all know when his moment of no return comes."
"Maybe. Do you think he'd be fool enough to trust Sidi's gratitude?"
"He would arrange some sort of self-protection, Lord."
"Uhm. I thought so."
Next day, even deeper into the mountains, Haroun told his companions, "I have to leave for a few days. Make camp here. Wait for me." His tone brooked no questions. Aside, to Beloul, he said, "Take care, my friend. Most of these men were chosen by Shadek."
"I know, Lord. I know."
The snows in the Kapenrungs were deep. Haroun found the going heavy. Most of it was uphill, which did not help.
He located the cabin more by the smell of smoke than by memory or sight. It was as white as the rest of the landscape and virtually invisible. A dog howled, protesting his presence. He approached cautiously.
It had been months since he had come here. Anything might have happened. He reached with his shaghûn-trained senses, feeling for a wrongness. There could be no better place for the Harish to lie in wait.
The door creaked inward. He stared at the rectangle of shadow, probing for a trap.
"Come in, damnit! You're letting all the warm air out." The unveiled face of an old, old woman drifted across the doorway. He pushed inside, slammed the door. One hand rested on his sword hilt.
Nothing. No danger.
He stamped the snow off his feet. A thin layer of white remained. It faded in the heat.
After the bitter cold the cabin was overpoweringly warm. He shed clothing fast, feeling slightly faint.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Well enough, considering she's trapped here a hundred miles from the Lord alone knows where." There was no deference in the woman's harsh old voice. "She's sleeping now."
Haroun glared at her.
She was his uncle Fuad's first wife's mother, the nearest living relative he could claim. She looked like a pessimistic artist's conception of Death. Wrinkled, bony, toothless, all clad in black. And mean as a snake. She resembled the harridans guarding the gates of Bragi's version of Hell, he reflected. He laughed softly. "You're a sweetheart, Fatim."
A ghost of a smile crossed her colorless lips. "You're here now, make yourself useful. Throw some wood on the fire. I'll have to cook extra tonight."
"That any way to talk to your king?"
"King? Of what?" She snorted derisively.
A voice squeaked in the loft.
"Nobody. Just your uncle, Haroun," the old woman replied.
A thin, dark, strange face peered down from the gloom. The firelight made it appear diabolic. "Hello, Seif," Haroun said. Seif was the son of Fatim's brother's son, and all she had left of her blood. He helped around the cabin.
A slow smile fought the half-dead muscles of Seif's face. In a moment he began working his way down the ladder. Haroun did not help. Seif insisted on doing for himself.
Reaching the floor, Seif turned, started toward Haroun. He dragged one leg. He held one clawed hand across his chest. It shuddered with effort. His head lolled to one side. A tail of spittle fell from the corner of his mouth.
Haroun concealed his aversion and threw his arms around the youth. "How have you been, Seif?"
"Well?" the old woman snarled. "Are you going to see her or not? Your timing is good, anyway."
Haroun released Seif. "I suppose I should. That's why I came."
"And about time, I'd say. What kind of man are you? It's been almost a year."
"I have my problems. Where is she? Hiding?"
"Asleep, I told you. Go see her, you fool."
The youth said something. Haroun could not make it out.
"And you keep your mouth shut, Seif. Let him find out for himself. It's his fault."
"Find out what?"
"She's not going to come to you. So go."
Haroun bowed to her superior wisdom and pushed through the hangings that divided the cabin.
She was lying on her back in the crude bed he and Seif had worked so hard to build. She was sleeping, smiling, her left arm flung above her head. She looked sweet and vulnerable. A month-old child lay cradled in the crook of her right arm, head near her breast. She seemed content.
"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered. He knelt and stared at the infant's face. "I'll be damned. Girl or boy, Fatim?"
"A son, Lord. An heir. She named him Megelin Micah."
"How beautiful. How thoughtful. How absolutely perfect." He reached out, touched the girl's cheek. "Darling?"
Her eyes opened. She smiled.
They were on the downside now, getting near the desert. There was just the occasional patch of snow, in the shadows of the trees. "Lord?" Beloul queried softly.
"Yes?"
"What's happened?"
"What? I don't follow you."
"You've changed. Somehow, while you were away, you became a different man. More whole, I think you'd say. Perhaps matured."
"I see."
Beloul awaited something more. Haroun said nothing, so he asked, "Might I know?"
"No. I'm sorry, old friend. Maybe somday."
"As you will, Lord."
He had changed, Haroun reflected. The birth of a son gave the world a different look. It made a man a bit more inclined toward caution. For three days he had been considering cancelling the expedition.
"Lord," el Senoussi called from up the column, "We're here."
Haroun scanned the mountainsides and canyon. He saw nothing unusual. "Now's the time, Beloul. He's got to jump one way or the other. Be ready."
Beloul pointed. "Down there, Lord. Smoke."
"I see it."
Shadek led the way down the steep trail. Haroun eyed his back, trying to postulate his thoughts from his posture.
No matter his intent, Shadek knew the significance of the moment. It would be too late to change his mind once he brought his king and Beloul into Sidi's camp as simple bladesmen.