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Authors: Harold Lamb

Tags: #Crusades, #Historical Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Suspense, #Adventure Fiction, #Historical, #Short Stories

Swords From the West (27 page)

BOOK: Swords From the West
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Paldorak had become a rendezvous for the lawless. Gaunt Turkomans sat with their heads together, turning to curse in unison at sheepskinclad hillmen; a man with a shaven head and a robe of cloth of gold over his rags sold swallows from a skin of reeking arak to a mullah who carried a sheathed sword in his hand. Behind other men walked veiled women, staggering under bundles, heedless of the taunts of the bare-faced painted women who loitered by the gate of the bazaar.

They all stared with avid curiosity at the tall youth with the yellow mane of hair who rode unarmed, for the Kara Kalpaks had taken their weapons from the two captives.

Abu Harb listened in vain for any chant of prayer, and shook his head virtuously.

"'Tis without faith, this place," he announced. "By Allah, it is a veritable breeding place of evil."

Nial did not smile. The old Arab was no strict servant of Islam, but he made shift to mutter the five prayers between sunrise and full dark.

But when they stopped in the near darkness of the covered bazaar, and Abu Harb dismounted, placing his ragged prayer rug on the least filthy part of the alley, four of the Kara Kalpaks fell upon him without warning. While one held his feet and two others forced his arms behind his back, the fourth lashed tight his wrists and elbows.

Nial was down from the saddle without an instant's delay to go to his aid, but one of the tribesmen spurred forward and checked him with a drawn sword-his own blade which had been taken from him in the valley of the Zarafshan.

"Thy time is not yet," the swordsman assured him.

The four led Abu Harb away on foot, holding to the end of the rope that bound him. Over his shoulder the old Arab called back to his friend:

"Seek for Alai. By Mir Farash she will be. Think not that she betrayed us to these sons of jackals. May Allah watch over her!"

The throng in the bazaar only glanced casually at the struggle and resumed their haggling. A boy snatched up Abu Harb's carpet and darted off with it as the Kara Kalpak led Nial through an archway to a door that was opened grudgingly to their pounding.

"Here is thy house," said their leader, yawning, "where Mir Farash will look to thee."

Chapter IV

The Taste of Steel

The dwelling of Mir Farash, like most of those in Paldorak, had one fortified gate and several secret runways; it had cellars that opened upon the bazaar, and a square tower from which the height of red rock could be seen. It had curtained alcoves for opium smokers, and a space barred by iron grilles through which veiled women peered indolently.

But Alai had been placed in a silent and embrasureless cell, and left to her own devices. The hag who came to summon her after moonrise found her apparently asleep on the carpet, but in reality keenly awake to every sound in this house which had become her prison.

"One hath sent for you, kuchik khanim," the hag explained indifferently. "Rise and follow."

She led the Tatar girl down a vacant stair to the street, where Alai veiled herself with her white headcloth, noticing as she did so that two armed men fell in behind them. The few tribesmen who met them seemed to know the hag, for they kept their distance from the girl. The way led up steadily, until the last roofs fell behind them and a clear moon shone down upon a bare rock slope.

Following what looked like a goat path, the hag climbed steadily until they entered the shadow of a wall, above which the jagged line of ruined towers stood against the sky. Alai had satisfied herself that the two guards waited at the edge of the houses below, and thus flight down the slope would be useless. In any case she could not escape from Paldorak or the valley.

"Co in," said the hag without emotion.

"Why?" Alai objected. "To what?"

"To listen to the voice of Gutchluk Khan."

The hag sat down on rubble of a ruined gateway with the air of one who may have the night to wait. Alai hesitated only a minute before climbing into the ruins, outwardly confident enough in her slender khalat and small boots, but inwardly much afraid. Even Paldorak was less ominous than this deserted domain of a wizard.

Some distance ahead a lantern rested on the ground. When she was about to take it up, the shrunken figure of a man appeared beside her and picked up the light. He moved with a curious shuffling step, and in a moment she discovered that he was blind. He must have known every foot of the height, to lead the way as he did, down one lane between broken rock walls into another.

The Tatar girl had a keen sense of direction and she was aware that the blind lantern bearer doubled on his path, making circles through the labyrinth, until he came to a square pool coated with green scum. Tamarisk and creepers grew out of the crevices above the stagnant water, and, as the guide made his way slowly along the edge, a sluggish snake slid from beneath his feet into the water.

To comfort herself, Alai sang under her breath a song of the sheepherders, to ward off evil spirits:

Turning his wrinkled head, the man snarled at her voicelessly and beckoned her under an archway. Descending some steps that had been cleared of debris, he came out into what looked like an open court. Grass grew in the cracks of the flagging, and some effort had been made to repair the walls, which were too high to climb.

Taking his lantern, the blind guide retraced his steps, and Alai heard a wooden door rasp shut. For a moment she thought she was alone in the court; then in the far end, flooded by moonlight, she saw a man standing with outstretched arms. Except for his head, which turned restlessly, he made no movement. Alai made out that he was bound on a stake, his arms fastened to the crosspiece.

And he was Abu Harb, except for his head which resembled a black panther's. Slowly the girl advanced into the moonlight, and the head turned toward her without a sound. Black hair hung about it, and white fangs gleamed in the mouth aperture.

And out of the mouth came an unknown voice.

"Thou art the daughter of Neshavan."

It was an expressionless voice, dull and inhuman. Alai shivered suddenly and clenched her hands at her sides. The garments and figure were undoubtedly Abu Harb's, the muzzle was a black panther's and the hair might have been anything. But the voice! Then slowly the head turned to one side and, following its glance, she saw a white vulture perched on the edge of the wall.

"I slew Neshavan," the voice went on tonelessly. "Because he betrayed to the Tatars the messages carried by my pigeons. Now it hath been said to me that thou hast taken the message sent by one khan to the other. I had possessed myself of that missive, and now I seek it. Where is it hidden?"

Alai was not too startled to think clearly. This must be the voice of Gutchluk Khan, yet it asked a very human question. Wisely she waited for more, while she steadied her thoughts.

"Already the Arab Abu Harb bath been questioned, telling only lies in answer. This that you see is his body. It is well not to lie within these walls. Where is the silver tube sealed with the seal of Barka Khan?"

Now that her head was clear the Tatar girl fell to her knees, pretending fright she did not feel.

"Truly thou sayest-" the quiver in her voice was not all assumed-"O voice from the dead. My hand took the silver tube from the pack of the farangi, who is a fool besides being accursed."

"And within it there was a writing. Where hast thou hidden it?"

"Ai, hast thou the eyes of a grave bird, to see through darkness and distance? I meant no harm. I heard talk of emeralds sealed within the tube. So I opened it secretly, breaking the seal of the khan. As thou sayest, it held a long roll of writing, stamped with a seal."

"And the place of this writing?"

Alai, who had been watching the panther's head intently, was nearly certain now that the voice came from the wall behind it.

"I cast it into the swift waters of the Zarafshan, and now it is gone like a stray leaf in the wind."

"Why?"

"Be not angry, 0 voice of the night. I was grieved that the tube held no precious things. I thought harm would come of breaking the khan's seal, so I cast it beyond sight."

Silence fell upon the courtyard and, as if emboldened by it, Alai rose and edged toward the outstretched figure. Suddenly she reached out and touched the panther's head, feeling the hard surface of a lacquer mask. Gripping this in both hands she lifted it, disclosing the very much alive head of Abu Harb. A gag had been thrust into his mouth, and his jaw bound tight.

Glancing behind him swiftly, she made out a large crevice in the stone wall, a yard away, and thought that the voice must have come from there. She tugged loose the cloth, and Abu Harb spat out the gag.

"Where is Lord Nial?" she whispered, so that he barely heard.

"In the house of Mir Farash. Nay, do not touch me. This is a place of many devils."

A hissing as of a dozen snakes rose from the empty pavement beneath them, and when Alai started back the scream of a panther rose from the wall. She waited, breathless, expecting to see a living beast spring over. But the lantern appeared behind her, and the blind custodian of the gate beckoned toward her angrily.

"Go," Abu Harb moaned. "Obey them. There is no hope for me."

There was menace in the silence of the court, and she was powerless to loose the Arab's bonds. Quietly she followed the blind man out.

When the old slave woman had escorted her back to the house beside the bazaar and the door had been barred behind them, Alai lifted her head with sudden decision.

"Take me to thy lord, Mir Farash."

Uneasily the hag peered up at her.

"Nay, at this hour he is taking opium, and women may not come into his presence."

"I come at the bidding of Gutchluk Khan."

As though against her intuition, the hag led the Tatar girl up the tower stair to a drawn curtain, and motioned toward it. Alai pointed down the stair impatiently.

"Shall such as thou linger to hear the words the voice sends to thy lord? Go and wait below."

When she was sure that the woman was really frightened and out of hearing, Alai lowered her veil, ran swift fingers through her dark tresses and repressed a shiver as she parted the curtains. The chamber within was close sealed, lighted only by a colored lamp upon the floor. She caught a glimpse of a shrine behind it, hearing a gilded statue of many-armed Siva in the pose of the dance of death. The hangings were embroidered with rose-colored figures of dancing yakshas, while the air reeked of scent.

Mir Farash sat back indolently upon the cushions of the divan, staring at her through half-closed eyes.

"What devil brought thee hither?" he wondered audibly.

In a single glance Alai decided how much he had drunk and how far he was master of his own mind. With a half smile, and unmistakable delight in her dark eyes, she knelt by the divan.

"Ai sarkar-i-'aziz-O cherished master, I come at Gutchluk's bidding, for I have been to the court by the pool. Verily also I would thank thee for taking me from the hand of that infidel."

"And verily by the gods-" Mir Farash forgot to play the devout Mos- lem-"thou halt changed thy heart, for in the valley when I found thee under the circling vulture thou didst fight like a she-leopard against being carried to the trail. But I had seen the horses of the two men and I was not to be led astray by thy tongue."

His words came slowly, although his memory played nimbly down the space of years. To his eyes, Alai appeared a youthful and lovely goddess, clad in strange garments, surrounded by an elusive crimson light. In that glow the trail to Paldorak took shape dimly. Alai weighed his words instantly, pondered what lay behind them, while she held his eyes locked in hers.

"Have I not come hither to serve your exalted presence?" She whispered long praise of him in Persian. "Look, 0 Earth Shaker, I make ready a new drink for the pleasure of your Nobility."

She let him run his fingers through the smooth tangle of her hair while she inspected the enamel jars of liquids and powders on the table beside her. Selecting raw arak, she mixed the spirits with bhang and offered him the cup with a melting smile. Warily he sniffed at it and drank a little. And Alai appeared to become lost in contemplation.

"In the court," she murmured idly, "Gutchluk Khan said that the accursed Tatars had lifted their standards to attack Paldorak. May they become lost and stray!"

"All is at the feet of the gods, little Alai. Siva the Destroyer strikes unseen. Nay, would the Tatars have come if they had not seen the missives written by Gutchluk to his men in Samarkand? Before then they feared him, as a wizard dwelling upon the heights. They knew how he took plunder from the caravan trails, but they would not go against him. Neshavan sent the missives taken by his hawks from our pigeons to the Tatar haz- ara khan at Samarkand."

This, although interesting, was not what Alai had hoped to hear. She seemed to pay little heed.

"Still, they did not move against the power of Gutchluk, who is not to be seen."

"Our spies told us of preparations made, and of a report to be sent to the great Kublai Khan, who dwells by the garden of Xandu where all magic is made." Mir Farash followed the drift of his thoughts, until Alai prompted him again, this time holding his eyes, her dark head swaying a little.

BOOK: Swords From the West
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