Oh, dont worry about that. Warkannan fished in his pocket and found a silver deenah to tip him. Thanks.
The gravelled path led through the fern trees to an open space around the house, a rambling structure, all one storey, woven of bundled rushes and vines in the usual style, but overlaid with a small fortunes worth of true-wood shingles. At the door, Nehzaym Wahud herself greeted Warkannan and ushered him inside the warehouse. Although she never told anyone her age, she must have been in her late forties. On her dark brown face she wore the purrahs, two black ribbons tied around her head. The one between her nose and upper lip marked her as a decent woman who observed the Third Prophets laws of modesty; the other, around her forehead, proclaimed her a widow.
How pleasant to see you, Captain, Nehzaym said. Im glad you could join us tonight.
My pleasure, Im sure. Im extremely interested in this venture of yours.
If the Lord allows, it could make us all quite rich, yes.
Warkannan followed her across the room. Against the walls, covered with a maroon felt made of dried moss, stood a few lonely bales and sacks of merchandise left over from the winter trading season, a big desk littered with documents, some battered cabinets, and a tall clock, ticking to the rhythm of its brass pendulum. Nearby a bamboid door led into Nehzayms apartment. She ushered him through, then followed. In the middle of the blue and green sitting room a marble fountain bubbled, pale orange ferns in bright pots stood along the walls, and polished brass screens hung at every window. Just in front of the fountain stood a low table, spread with maps of pale pink rushi, where other members of their circle sat waiting for him.
Sorry Im late, Warkannan said.
Sitting on a heap of purple cushions, Councillor Indan Alwazir looked up. The old man kept his long white robes gathered round him as if he were afraid hed be polluted by the incense-laden air. Warkannans nephew, Arkazo Benjamil, a young man with a beaky nose and a thin-lipped grin, was sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding a good-sized glass of arak between thumb and forefinger. When Warkannan frowned at him, Arkazo put the glass down on the floor and shoved it under the table in one smooth gesture.
Standing by the marble fountain was the most important man in their venture. Tall and slender, Yarl Soutan was wearing the white shirt and loose white trousers of a Kazrak citizen, but his blue eyes, long blond hair caught back in a jewelled headband, and his pale skin marked him for the infidel stranger he was, a renegade from the Cantons far to the east of the khanate. Although he looked Arkazos age, his eyes seemed as old and suspicious as Indans, squinting at the world from a great distance. As always, Warkannan wondered just how far they could trust a man who claimed to be a sorcerer.
We have been waiting, Indan said to Warkannan. For some while, actually.
I had to go up to the palace. Youre about to hear why.
Indan raised an eyebrow. With a demure smile for the men, Nehzaym barred the door behind her, then perched on a cushioned stool near the councillor.
All right, Warkannan said. Someones laid an information against us with the Great Khans Chosen Ones.
Arkazo swore. Indan went pale, his lips working. With a little laugh, Soutan turned from the fountain.
I told you I saw danger approaching. These things always send omens ahead of them.
You were right, Warkannan said. This once, anyway.
May God preserve! Indan was trembling so badly that he could hardly speak. Do they know our names?
Calm down, Councillor, Warkannan snapped. Of course they do, or we wouldnt have anything to worry about. Theyre wondering if were really going to prospect for blackstone.
Is this anything special? Arkazo broke in. As far as I can see, the Chosen are suspicious of everything and everyone all the time.
I dont know what they know, Warkannan said. All that Lubahva heard was that someone bragged about our investment group. He implied it might be more important than it looked. The Chosen dont ignore that kind of rumour.
Indeed, Indan said. Who was it?
Lubahva doesnt know yet. Warkannan paused to glance at each member of the group in turn. Im not doubting anyone here, mind, but our circles grown larger recently. I knew wed reach a danger point.
The suspicion in the room hung as heavy as the incense. Everyone looked at Yarl Soutan, who strolled over and sat down.
And would I run to the Chosen after throwing in my lot with you? The Great Khan wouldnt give me a pardon for spilling your secrets. Hed have me killed in some slow painful way for having come here in the first place. Soutan laid a hand on the maps. I wonder someone must suspect that I brought you something besides those old maps.
Thats my worst fear, Warkannan said. If they do, theyll send a man east to the Cantons just to see what he can learn about you.
Oh good god! Soutan snarled. That could ruin everything.
Exactly, Indan said. Why do you think Im terrified?
Soutan nodded. For a long moment they all looked at each other, as if the information they so desperately needed could be read from the empty air.
The Crescent Throne of Kazrajistan ruled these days by the sword and terror. Gemet Great Khan had gained the throne by sending his Chosen Ones to kill everyone in his own extended family with a good claim to be a khan, a word that had come to mean a man fit to be the supreme leader by blood and so sanctified by the mullahs. Now Gemet lived in fear of revenge, and with good reason. His brothers and half-brothers had married into the best families in the khanate, and with their murders and the confiscation of their lands, those families had lost sons and property both. Since he knew that any more confiscations would make the armed aristocracy rebel, hed turned on the common people with taxes for teeth.
The last heir, young Jezro Khan, had been serving on the border, an officer in the regular cavalry. The assassins came for him, as they had for all the others, but no one ever found his body. With his assumed death, the khanate had settled into ten years of paranoid peace. Just recently, however, Soutan had ridden into Haz Kazrak and brought Councillor Indan a letter in Jezros handwriting. Jezro Khan was alive, living as a humble exile far to the east. After some weeks of weighing risks, Indan had contacted Warkannan, whod served with Jezro in the cavalry. Warkannan could still feel his shock, could taste his tears as he looked over the familiar writing of a friend hed given up for dead. Together he and Indan had gathered a few trustworthy men and made contacts among those families whod suffered at the current emperors hands. Soon they had pledges of soldiers and coin to support the khans cause if he returned. Things had been going very well indeed until now.
If were going to prevent disaster, we have to move fast, Indan said. We need to shelter Soutan above all else.
Just so, Warkannan said. And wed better do it tonight. Councillor, you have a country villa, dont you?
Oh yes, and my servants there are most trustworthy.
Good. You and Soutan get yourselves there. Ill stay in the city and keep in touch with Lubahva. If we all bolt at once, the Chosen are likely to draw some conclusions.
Indans face went ashy-grey.
Ill be sending you word as soon as I can, Warkannan said. Lubahvas group plays for every important man in the palace, and she hears plenty. All at once he smiled. Shes always complaining that they treat the musicians like furniture. Its a damn good thing, too. Well find this traitor yet.
So we may hope. Indan sighed, looking suddenly very old and very tired. But I see ruin ahead of us all.
Oh come now, dont give up so soon. Soutan turned to the councillor. You forget that you have powerful magic on your side.
Indeed? Indan said with some asperity. But if it cant read the minds of the Chosen, its not much good to us.
Perhaps it can. Soutan gave him a thin-lipped smile. Dont mock what you dont understand.
When Indan started to snarl an answer, Warkannan leaned forward and cut him off.
Patience, Councillor, Warkannan said. We dont know what the Chosen are going to do. They may look us over and decide we pass muster.
They might, Indan said. Or they may have sent one of their spies east already. Or a dozen of them, for that matter.
It should be an easy thing to find out. Nehzaym glanced around the circle. Most of our allies are on the border. If we warn them, theyll keep watch.
The Chosen are very good at what they do. Indans voice seemed on the edge of fading away. Doubtless, when they send off their man, no one will suspect a thing.
Dont be so sure. Warkannan got up with a nod for Arkazo. Lets go. Gentlemen, I suggest you leave with us. Well walk into the town square together and talk about our maps and our profits. Remember, we want to be noticed doing ordinary things.
Warkannan, with Arkazo in tow, headed for the door, but when he glanced back, he noticed that Soutan stood whispering with Nehzaym near the fountain. What was the charlatan up to now? Indan joined him, followed his glance, and raised an eyebrow.
Soutan? Indan called out. Wed best be on our way.
Of course. Soutan strolled over to join them at the door. Of course. Our lovely widow was merely asking my advice about a small matter.
Nehzaym glanced at Warkannan as if inviting comment. He merely shrugged, then turned and led the men out.
The Spider hung at the zenith on her thread of stars by the time that Soutan returned to the compound. Nehzaym was reading in the sitting room when she heard the lizards outside hiss and the chains clank. She took a lamp, hurried into the warehouse, and crossed to the door just as the sorcerer opened it. With a little bow he stepped inside, then turned to shut the door behind him.
Well, that was a waste of time, Soutan said. Warkannans idea of acting normally is to sit around in a café and argue about anything and everything.
Dont underestimate him, Nehzaym said. Hes quite intelligent whether he acts it or not.
Really?
Really. Shall we go in?
By all means. Im anxious to see this treasure of yours.
I just hope you can tell me what it is.
She led the way back into the apartment. They walked down a short hallway to her tiny widows room, which sported a window on one wall, a narrow bed at one end, a small threadbare rug on the floor, and little else. Out of habit she still kept her clothes, her jewellery, the chests of bed linens, and the like in the large room shed shared with her husband. One of the treasures hed given her, however, she kept here, where a thief would never bother to look for anything valuable. She set the lamp down on a wooden stand. Soutan sat on the floor, cross-legged, while she knelt by the rug and rolled it back to expose the sliding panel under it.
Inside the hide-hole lay a book, bound in purple cloth, and what appeared to be a thin oblong of grey slate, about twelve inches by nine, lying on a black scarf. As she was taking the slate and scarf out, Soutan craned his neck to look inside the hole; she slid the panel shut fast. He laughed.
By all means, Soutan said, youd best keep that book hidden. The Sibylline Prophecies, isnt it?
Nehzaym shrugged, then laid the slate down between them on the scarf. It hummed three musical notes and began to glow.
God is great, Nehzaym sang out. The Lord our God is one, and Mohammed, Agvar, and Kaleel are His prophets. In their names may all evil things be far away!
Amen. Soutan leaned forward, staring.
In the centre of the panel the glow brightened to a pale blue square, which slowly coagulated into the image of a round room with a high ceiling. Floors, walls, the dais in the middle, the steps leading up to that dais they all glittered silver in a mysterious light falling from above.
Whenever I take it out, I see that picture, Nehzaym said.
Does it show you others? Soutan said.
Only this one. And look! Nehzaym pointed to a narrow red bar of light, pulsing at one side of the slate. When this light flashes, a minute or two later the image fades.
Already, in fact, the room was dissolving back into the pale blue glow. The red light died, leaving the slate only a slate. Soutan made a hissing sound and shook his head. Where did your husband get this?
In Bariza. He bought it in the marketplace from a man who dealt in curios.
Curios? Well, I suppose the ignorant would see it that way. Do you know anything about it?
Only that you have to feed it sunlight every day. I take it to the garden. In the rainy season it doesnt work very well.
No, it wouldnt. Our ancestors knew how to bind spirits into their magicks. They feed on sunlight. When theyre hungry, they refuse to do their job.
I cant say I blame them. Are the spirits immortal?
What a strange question! Soutan smiled, drawing back thin lips from large teeth. Everything alive must die, sooner or later.
And when all the spirits die?
There wont be any more magic, just like your Third Prophet said. No doubt you Kazraks will celebrate.
Weve chosen to live as the First Prophet wanted us to live, yes. She paused, choosing her words carefully. And how will your people feel about losing their magic?
Soutan shrugged, his smile gone. Lets hope it doesnt happen for a good long while, a thousand years, say. He pointed at the panel. What do you think that room is?
I was hoping you could tell me.
I cant, not for certain, but Ill make a guess. You have a copy of the Sibyls book. Have you read the part about the empty shrine?
Nehzaym felt her clasped hands tighten.
I see you have, Soutan said. One of these days you might see the Fourth Prophet standing on that dais.
If God would only allow, Id happily die.
Youd be happier if you stayed around to see what happened next. Now. Let me see if I can show you something interesting. May I pick it up?
Certainly.
Soutan took the slate and peered at it in the dancing lamplight. He ran one long finger down the side, paused, fingered the back of it, then suddenly smiled. He took a full breath, and when he spoke, the sound seemed to come from deep inside his body and buzz like an insect. The words made no sense to her at all. The spirit in the slate, however, must have understood them, because the panel chimed a long note in answer.