Alamut Part 35

"Fahimah, Morgiana is here. Maimoun has forbidden me to see her- But how can I turn her away? She's hurt; she needs me. I can't cast her out."

Fahimah wasted no rime in trivialities. "Hurt? How?"

Sayyida bit her lip. "Someone tried to kill her. But-it's not that," she said hastily. "That's easy enough to mend. It's . . .

she loves him, and he wants her dead.""Did she try to kill someone he loves?"

Sayyida gaped like an idiot.

Fahimah shook her head- She looked no more clever than she ever did: a round, comfortable, faintly silly woman, whom one went to when one wanted ease or comfort or unquestion- ing acceptance. She said, "Allah gives every woman the man she deserves. Even the Slave ofAlamut."

"You know?"

"Little one," she said, "my wits aren't the quickest in the world, but sometimes they don't need to be. When I married your father, he gave me some of his secrets to keep. This was one of them."

"Then you can help?"

"Let me see," said Fahimah.

"Ah, the poor child," she said, bending over the sleeping a.s.sa.s.sin. Between them they had carried her to the room that was Fahimah's, washed her and clothed her in Laila's castoffs, and taken her bloodied garments to be burned. Asleep, with her astonis.h.i.+ng hair tamed in a braid, she seemed all harmless, too young and slender by far to bear such a burden of death.

"Not so poor," said Sayyida, "and not such a child." Hasan yearned out of her arms; she yielded abruptly, and let him curl in the hollow of Morgiana's body. He seemed to know what was expected of him: he was quiet, and although he could not.

265.

resist the wine-red braid, he contented himself with nibbling on the end of it. " 'Giana," he said distinctly. " 'Giana."

Sayyida clapped hands to her mouth. Fahimah was less re- strained. She swept him up. "His first word, Sayyida! His very first! Oh, the lime prince!"

The little prince showed clear signs of his displeasure. " 'Gi- ana!" he demanded peremptorily.

" 'Giana," Sayyida sighed, as Fahimah returned him to the place he wanted. "His first word, and I can't even tell his fa- ther."

"There will be others," Eahimah comforted her. "Come now, stay with him, and I'll see to everything."

"But-" Sayyida began.

A frown was so rare a sight on that gentle face, that it quelled Sayyida utterly. She bent her head; Fahimah nodded, satisfied, and went to do Sayyida's duties as well as her own.At least Sayyida could keep herself busy; she had brought the basket with her, and enough needlework in it to last out the month. She settled to it with the patience that every woman learned, if she was wise, long before she put on the veil.

Morgiana slept through the day and into the night. Sayyida worried, for she had not meant to give so large a dose, but it seemed a natural sleep. She breathed easily; her face was no paler than it ever was. Sometimes she stirred, to lie on her side or to s.h.i.+ft a cramped limb. When Fahimah came to change the guard, she was calm about it. "She'll wake when she's ready to wake. Go to your husband, child."

It seemed that Sayyida was always going or staying at some- one's bidding. She left Hasan, fed and drowsy, where he so obviously preferred to be, and arranged her expression for Maimoun.

He suspected nothing. He wanted to talk about an idea he had had, a new way to work a pattern in a dagger's hilt. It was interesting, she granted that; she did her best to listen and make the proper noises. She even saw a way round a problem; he was lavish in his praises. She was glad when the flood of talk began to ebb. He was eager for her tonight, but he was trying: he went a little slower, the way she liked it, and a little gentler than his young male urgency might have called for.

For a little while, she let him carry her out of her troubles.

But he was sated too soon, as he often was, and then he was asleep. And she was alone beside him, her body like a note half- 266 sounded, her mind cravenly glad that it was over. She found herself wondering what it would be like to share a bed with an ifrit. He would know everything she felt, everything she wanted. Would he fall asleep as soon as he was satisfied, and leave her to lie awake?

She shook her head, annoyed at herself. There was another side to that coin: no solitude when one wanted it, and no secrets. She could never have hidden Morgiana from a demon lover.

The second day was harder. Laila was home, and needed art to elude. Mother, recovered from her headache, wanted to be catered to. Hasan was fretful; Sayyida went in imminent dread that he would try his new word on someone injudicious.

Allah offered one small mercy, if mercy it was: when Morgi- ana regained her senses, Sayyida was there. She woke cursing the light and her pounding head; her voice was a croak. It must have been agony to swallow, let alone to speak. Somehow Sayyida got a cupful of coolness into her: plain water, this rime, and after she spat the first mouthful in Sayyida's face, she seemed to recognize it. She drank thirstily; when the cup was empty, she leaned back on Sayyida's arm, glaring. "Never," shewhispered. "Never dose me again without telling me. I'm not like a human woman. You could have poisoned me."

"But I didn't," Sayyida said.

"No thanks to your leechcraft. How long have I been asleep?"

"A day and a night," Sayyida admitted.

Morgiana staggered up. She promptly fell down again, drag- ging Sayyida with her. The second time, she moved more slowly, and settled for sitting up, holding her head in her hands. With great care she let it go. It seemed to stay where she bade it; she drew a long breath. "Beard of the Prophet!

Girl, if I loved you even a little less, I would have your hide for this."

"Go ahead and take it. Maimoun can have the leavings."

Morgiana seized her. Even weakened with sleep and the drug, her hands were cruelly strong. "Has he made you suffer for me? Tell me!"

"He doesn't even know you're here. Nor will he, until we're most properly ready. Can you play an indigent cousin whose husband has set her aside? Ifouu have to wear a veil when he's likely to be near, and cover your hair." 267.

"What good will that do? The women will still know me."

"They'll get enough of the truth to keep them quiet.

Eahimah already knows everything."

Morgiana shook her head. "I have to go. My master is wait- ing. The hunt is up. It won't touch Masyaf, I've long since made sure of that, but the Frank may be stronger than I think.

I've dallied here more than long enough."

"Can't you do what you need to do from here? You told me about guard-magic. It's nothing that calls on you to be in your master's clutches." Morgiana's grip loosened; Sayyida took her hands. "Stay at least until your throat stops hurting."

"I can't."

"A day, then. Or two. Hasan said a word yesterday. It was your name. Don't you want to hear it for yourself?"

Morgiana knew blackmail when she heard it. She scowled, but she said, "A day. No more. To get over the poison you dosed me with."

That would do, for a beginning.

"For an ending," said Morgiana, s.n.a.t.c.hing the thought from her head. "Now. Where is this eloquent son of yours?"27 Aidan left Krak in the early morning, rested if not entirely hale, and fixed on his course- Gilles rode with him as far as the border of the Hospitallers' lands, as much for a surety should they meet with Hospitaller scouts, as for the company. The black robe and the white cross stood out oddly amid the mamluks' scarlet, but he rode easily, trying his Arabic on Aidan's h.e.l.lions and winning them over with skill that even the prince could admire.

At the border between the Hospitallers' lands and those of Masyaf, stood an ancient milestone, the name of a forgotten procurator carved on it, too dim and agewom now to road.

Gilles drew rein beside it. The others paused, spreading a little, watchful. "Lord prince," said the Hospitaller. "Won't you re- consider even yet? Yonder madman has done the Lady Marga- ret all the harm that he can do."

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"No, Brother," Aidan said. "That, he has not. Her daughter has a son in fosterage near Acre."

"But surely, an infant-"

"He didn't stop at a child or a woman. Why would he hesi- tate to kill a baby? Or worse. Take him; keep him. Raise him an a.s.sa.s.sin."

Gillcs smote his thigh with an armored fist. "Devil take you, man! The Sultan of Syria with all his armies couldn't even begin to break the power of Masyaf. And here are you, with a dozen half-grown boys and a string of skinny camels. He'll eat you alive."

"He might not," Aidan said. "He might let me in, to see how amusing I can be."

"And then?"

Aidan shrugged. "And then G.o.d will guide me. Or the devil, if you will. You forget what I am."

"I remember what he has of his own."

"She is flesh and blood, even as am I." He flexed his fingers before the Hospitaller's face. "These have left their brand on her already. Who's to say that I won't finish what I began?"

Gilles was silent for a long moment, eyes steady on Aidan's face. At last he raised his hand and signed the cross. "G.o.d go with you, my friend, and bring you home again."

Aidan bowed beneath the blessing. "G.o.d keep you," he said, "my friend."

He looked back once before the road bent, raising a spur ofrock between. Gilles sat his patient horse by the milestone. His helm was on; he was a shape without a face, a knight of stone and steel. Aidan lifted his hand. The mailed arm went up in answer. Aidan fumed away from it, toward the a.s.sa.s.sins' coun- try- It was not so very far from Krak to Masyaf. A horseman could ride it in a day, if the need were great enough. Aidan did not choose to. It was not wholly cowardice. He was less strong than he wanted to be, and more prudent than a good madman ought to be. The way grew steep as they advanced, a narrow mountain track, now pa.s.sing between high walls, now careen- ing on the edge of the cliff. He kept a careful pace, his power stretched as much as it would allow, to warn of ambush.

With the approach of evening, he called a halt. The track widened briefly, and leveled enough for a camp; there was little forage, but the camels could make do with what there was. 269.

They pitched a rough and fireless camp, with a guard posted on the summit above them: Dildirim, who had drawn the short straw. He took it in good part, and he had the spare blanket, for the wind was blowing cold. "But mind you don't get too comfortable," Arslan warned him. "If you sleep and we come to grief for it. 111 dine on as much of your liver as the a.s.sa.s.sin leaves behind."

Aidan, out of human earshot, swallowed a smile. It ended in a grimace. He should have tarried longer in Krak. He could admit it here, to no one but himself. A day, only, would have restored his strength.

Another night's sleep would do well enough. He rolled him- self in cloak and blanket. The warmth against his back was Timur, the warmth at his feet Ilkhan. In a little while, Arslan came to warm the rest of him.

They were amply wary, for innocents. Morgiana, a shadow in the shadow ofa stone, reckoned their disposition. He was in their center where a prudent commander should be, burning brighter in her eyes than the fire which they had been too wise to kindle, but dimmer than she remembered. So, then: the ban's crossing had had its price.

It had brought her from Damascus at last, out of too long an idleness. Sayyida and fahimah between them had hidden her from Sayyida's pompous fool of a.husband, whose only virtue was that Sayyida loved him. But for that, Morgiana would long since have taught him proper respect for his wife.

When this was done, she would begin his lessoning. Gently, if her temper held. There was, after all, Hasan. A boy should have a father, however sadly flawed.

A second shadow swelled her own. "All are ready," it breathed in her ear.

She stayed it with her hand- Lean wolf-bones flexed under her fingers, stiff with fear of her. She smiled mirthlessly intothe dark. Yes, let him be afraid. Only let him serve her, and do as she bade.

Her fingers tightened, sprang free. "Now," she said.

Aidan started awake. It was deep dark: the dark before dawn.

Even the wind was still, the stars burning cold in the vault of the sky. And yet, there was something . . .

Arslan stirred against him- He laid a hand over the boy's mouth; they lay still, eyes wide, ears straining.

270 It was too quiet.

The horses; the camets.

Gone.

Aidan eased his sword from its scabbard.

The night went mad.

They were not a.s.sa.s.sins. Aidan did not know why, but he needed to be sure of that. They were Bedouin, wolves of the desert, abandoning stealth to shrill their wild war-cry. It flung the mamluks out of sleep and onto their weapons; it roused the camp to battle. No time to gather for defense, no s.p.a.ce. Arslan struggled to set himself at Aidan's back; the tide, relentless, swept him away.

They walled Aidan in spears. He hewed at them; they only grew the thicker. They pressed him close. They p.r.i.c.ked him, hampering his sword-arm. He thrust the blade into its sheath and seized a spear, hurling its astonished wielder over his head.

Another kept his wits about him. Aidan froze. A spearpoint rested on the most tender of places. A white wolf-grin gleamed beyond it.

Aidan shattered that grin with the haft of the spear.

But the spearman had a dozen brothers, and each of them seemed to have a dozen more. None of whom would give Aidan a proper battle. Only p.r.i.c.k, and p.r.i.c.k, and p.r.i.c.k, and circle, and sunder him from his mamluks.

Whom he could not find. Not one. Not with eye, not with mind.

Mind- He forgot the spear in his hand and the spears that hemmed him in. He cast wide with voice and power. "b.i.t.c.h! Murderer!

Coward! Come out and face me!"

His tormentors fell back- He hardly saw. "a.s.sa.s.sin! I know your stink. Come out of your lair!"

Nothing. No sight, no sign of her. He howled until themountains rang. "Morgiana! Morgiana!"

The mountains came down, and the night with them.

The circle of Bedouin drew back, blinking in the grey dawn.

Some of them were down. At least one was dead.

Morgiana spurned the dead man with her foot, and knelt by the one who had killed him. Very much alive, that one, but stunned: the b.u.t.t of a spear had felled him even as he woke the echoes with her name. She spelled him deeper into darkness, 271.

only then daring to touch him, to lay her palm against his cheek. He was thinner than she remembered, the skin stretched tighter over the fine strong bones. "I shall teach you not to hate me," she said to him.

Her wolves watched with edged fascination. She wheeled upon them. "Take him up. Bind him as I tell you." And when they did not leap to obey: ^ow!"

They moved quickly enough, once they had begun. Even their kind could be wary of trespa.s.sing in the a.s.sa.s.sins' do- main; and they were deep in it. They bound the Frank with cords both soft and strong, and set him on the best of their camels. She rode behind him, steadying him. He was warm in her arms.

The Banu Nidal gathered the wounded and the dead, and swept the field clean. The greater part of them gathered their beasts and their booty and departed where Morgiana bade them, making all the speed that they might. A small company remained under her eye, but those were the best of them, their sheikh himself and the pack of his sons. Their way was the swifter and the more secret. They took it at racing pace, under a glamour that made of them a shadow and a s.h.i.+mmer.

The tribe camped on an oasis which was their secret, a green haven in circling mountains. The roads of trade and war ran closer to it than travelers knew, but the entry was narrow and hidden and most well guarded.

They rode down it in the last tight of evening, stretching their weary mounts into a gallop, shrilling their victory. The guard of the pa.s.s let them through with a shout. In the field below, the tents emptied: women, children, a few sullen boys left behind to guard the camp. Old men, there were none.