Alamut Part 48

Morgiana bowed as a woman of rank to a benefactor. "You arc most generous," she said.

344 Judith Tour "My daughter owes you a debt. Should I be n.i.g.g.ardly in repaying it?"

"Some might," said Morgiana.

Nothing about her singled out Maimoun, but he sriflened- He did not say anything. He did, finally, dart a glance at his wife. She could not read it, except that it was not altogether furious. Maybe, after all, he would forgive her.

Suddenly she was tired of all these crowding kin, their fuss and flutter that never quite settled, their desperate efforts to make it all seem ordinary. Harmless- As if Sayyida's month among the afarit had never happened.

But she knew why she had gone; and Maimoun remem- bered. She drew herself up. Thank you. Father," she said.

"Mother, Fahimah, Laila: my respects. Ishak, I'm glad to see you again. Maimoun-" She had to stop, take a breath, go on again. "Maimoun, husband, if I may still call you that-"

"You may."

He was having no easier a time of it than she. It helped her, a little, to know that. "Husband," she said- "I'm sorry I went away."

He swallowed visibly. He was blinking too much. "Yes," he said- "I'm sorry, too." He glared at his feet. "I'm . . . sorry ... I did what I did."

"I, too." She let it dangle for a bit. "Can you forgive me?""I ..." He blinked hard. "Yes. If you'll forgive me."

She nodded.

He had to look up to see it. He was trying not to break down and cry.

That almost broke her. But this was no place for it, for either of them. She lifted her chin. "If everyone will pardon me, it's been a long while since the dawn prayer, and I've been missing my own bed. May I have permission to go to it?"

They did not want her to; fahimah protested that she could not go to bed without eating first. But she was firm. She felt like a coward, leaving Morgiana to their tender mercies, but their fear of the ifritah would keep them honest. Sayyida needed to talk to Maimoun. And maybe not only talk.

But, once Fahimah and the servant had seen at exhausting length to Sayyida's comfort, Sayyida began to be afraid that she had been too subtle. That he would not come. Or that he refused to, because he could not forgive her so far.

She was ready to go back, at least to retrieve Hasan. She had even started to get up, when Maimoun opened the door. 345.

He did not look as he had the last rime he came to her. He was quieter this time; more subdued.

She sank down on the mat. He stood with his back to the door, and looked everywhere but at her.

"Maimoun," she said, suddenly shy.

"Sayyida," he said. He chewed his lip, fidgeting. "You're re- ally well?"

"Really."

"You were-really-where you said?"

"Really. We were somewhere in Persia, I think. In the desert.

There was a fig tree, but the birds ate all the fruit."

"You liked it there."

She could not deny it.

"I wasn't trying to shame you," he said. "I wanted to do you honor. Like a lady."

"I know," she said.

"It was Just-that-that creature-"

"She's not easy to like," said Sayyida. "At all. I think you have to start when you're a baby.""She took good care of you."

He was trying to talk himself round. Sayyida gave him what help she could. "She did. She's loyal to her friends. And she loves Hasan."

"I ... could see that. She almost looks human, when she looks at him."

"She's trying very hard. It's not been easy for her, being an a.s.sa.s.sin. She had a bitter rime to win her freedom."

He was not ready to talk about that. He pulled at his beard, shy again, wavering as if he wanted to bolt.

Sayyida gave up her thoughts of subtlety. She was on him before he could move, holding him right. "I missed you, Maimoun."

He mumbled something. At first he was rigid, but she held on. His arms crept stiffly around her. He patted her back.

She was crying. She had not even noticed. Once she did, she could not stop. She did try. Maimoun hated tears; they made him desperately uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," she tried to say. "I didn't mean to-"

"I missed you, too."

She tilted her head back. His beard was damp. She brushed at it. "Docs that mean you won't divorce me?"

"Should I?"

"I haven't done anything dishonorable."

346 "So. Why would I want to put you aside?"

She shrugged. "You might not trust me."

Tou know what came of that."

"I do want to be a good wife," she said. "I try to obey you."

"I should try to give you orders you can obey."

"You could," she said slowly, "order me to kiss you."

He blushed crimson. But he laughed, which startled her.

"Well, then, I will. Kiss me."

She was delighted to obey. He was delighted to command it again.

And he had not even drunk any wine. She drew back in the middle of it, to catch her breath. "Ill have to run away more often," she said, "just for the homecomings."Her hair was down, and his fingers were tangled in it. They tightened briefly, painfully. "What if I order you not to?"

"Ill try to be obedient."

"But you might not be able to." He was learning. It was hard; he did not like it. Still, he tried. She admired-no, more than that; she loved him for it.

She kissed him yet again, with fervor that left him reeling.

"You are my husband. Even when I was most angry, I never wanted to belong to anyone else. I'm glad my father gave me to you. I'm glad you gave me Hasan. I'm glad to be here, with you, being your wife."

He did not answer that, except to hold her a little more rightly, but she could feel the happiness grow. He was only stolid to look at, was Maimoun.

Tomorrow might not be so joyful. They both had much to forgive, and Morgiana was there to remind them. Maimoun, being human, and male, was not going to find it easy to change his ways. Sayyida, being Sayyida, was sure co do some- thing to aggravate him.

For once, she could not care. They had the night. Tomor- row would look after itself.

36.

Aidan fell out of nothingness, dizzy and reeling. Morgiana had made it seem so simple: as if one stepped through a veil of air.

But in that veil was limitless void, and pa.s.sing it was to chance one's utter dissolution. It sapped the will; it robbed the mind of its vision, the doubled awareness of the place one left and the place one sought, without which one could not master the dark.

For a long while he could not even remember where he had wanted to go. Fear swelled. Had the void taken him after alt?

Had he gone astray, lost himself with no hope of returning?

The light came back all at once. He crouched in the room that had been his in the House oflbrahim, and beside him the chest of his kinsfolk's ransom. Both of them seemed intact, except for the bruises where he had fallen.

He drew a sharp breath, levered himself to his feet. G.o.d be thanked that no one had seen him. He did not need to be told that he was a fool to have tried it, alone, without teaching.

Not again, by G.o.d and all the saints. Henceforward he would travel by plain human means, and slowness be d.a.m.ned.

He left the box where his power had dropped it, and went out into the last light of the sun. It startled him. He had gone so far since morning; surely by now it should be deep night.

The murmur of Muslim prayer ran with him, less in the earthan in the mind. They were like monks in their offices, all these easterners. Time and the desert had changed him; he felt strange, walking upright and unsancdfied in the hour of prayer, when everyone around him at least pretended to c.u.m toward heaven. Nor was he minded to cross himself, and so defy them all.

The harem's guards were not Muslims, and not at prayer.

They admitted Aidan without question. "As the lady wub,"

one of them said.

She received him almost directly. The woman with her was not Joanna; with them, as if to guard them, sat Karim. Aidan bowed to them. They greeted him without surprise; even with pleasure. Even Karim, although his pleasure was not so much 350 for Aidan's sake as for what Aidan must inevitably be told. The honor of the House was well on its way to being mended.

Joanna was gone.

Perhaps Aidan spoke words of greeting. Perhaps he said nothing at all, but stood motionless, speechless. How could she be gone? She was here, mending, waiting for him to come back.

He must have said it aloud. Khadijah said. "Is she your wife.

that she should wait for you?"

"You sent her away," he said.

"Allah bear witness," said Khadijah, "I did not. Nor would I have considered it. Indeed I sought to dissuade her, but she was set on it."

Riding to Acre. Going back to her husband. Cozening him into accepting her child-Aidan's child-as his own.

"She was set on it," Khadijah repeated. "She was wise, if not precisely prudent. I hope that you share somewhat of her wis- dom."

Aidan sank down. His knees throbbed; he sat on his heels.

So much fear, he had had: for her, for the child. So little thought for what they would do, past Masyaf. She had thought-he had given her time for that. Time alone. And she had taken it.

She had not left even a word of farewell. No message at all, except her absence.

"She was well looked after," said Khadijah, as if that could comfort him. "A troop of guards accompanied her. The physi- cian rode with her, to see that she did not harm herself more than she must. Although she scarcely seemed to need so much: she was most miraculously recovered."

Miraculously. Yes. He began to laugh. For her he had aban-doned Morgiana. For her child's sake she had abandoned him.

One woman was not of his faith. One was not of his kind. Now he was alone again. Alone, and victorious.

Despair was perfect, and being perfect, gave him power to do what sanity might never have permitted. Silver and gold rained down out of the air, filling the laps of the queen of merchants and her heir. Their wonder was bittersweet. "Sinan's gold," Aidan said. "a.s.sa.s.sin silver. Your share of his blood- payment to the House of Ibrahim."

They were astonished. He laughed again, light and joyless.

He laid the scroll of the agreement in Khadijah's hands. "As you sec," he said. "Signed, and sealed." 351.

She took her time in reading it- "It is well negotiated," she said, "and not too badly conceived."

He did not see the need to tell her how that could be. But some glimmer of compunction made him say, "I had an ally among the a.s.sa.s.sins. That one bargained in my name."

"Not at too great a cost to himself, one can hope."

"No," he said. "Not too great." He could not stop seeing Morgiana as he had left her, unconscious, with her friend for nurse and guard. He seemed to make a habit of leaving women so.

Maybe Morgiana would wake as Joanna had, and find herself alone, and choose anew: go back to Sinan, become his captain, rule among the a.s.sa.s.sins.

He raised his eyes to Khadifah. "Have you a horse which I may purchase, against my share in the House?"