THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) (14 page)

“Leeches!” cried Mariana. “He’s stepped into a nest of them!”

“Quick,” shouted the thief, bolting to the stricken lad’s side, “bring over the torch!”

The urchin gritted his teeth and moaned as the hot flame singed both a leech and his flesh. The stranger grasped the wriggling worm and tore it off, hurling it back toward the river tunnel. Then Ramagar put the flame close again and the boy writhed with pain. A second bloodsucker was pulled off, then a third, and a forth, all thrown back into the dark.

“Now the other boot,” said Ramagar, tensely wiping sweat from his brow. Mariana took his dagger and cut the seam with a single stroke. The soggy, worn boot dangled, then fell. Mariana looked and reeled back in revulsion. The foot was covered with them, creeping, crawling, sinking their teeth into soft flesh all the way up to his calf.

“Filthy parasites,” rasped Ramagar.

The urchin whimpered with the next sting of heat, and then in panic at the sight of the leeches running farther up his body, tried to get up and run. The stranger restrained him, but only briefly. In his wild desperation the boy shook him loose and pushed him to the ground. Screaming, he flayed his arms and tried to run back to the tunnel. Ramagar quickly dropped the torch, drew back a powerful fist, and let it crack against the urchin’s jaw. The boy reeled and slammed back against the stone wall, banging his head, then slowly sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“We’ve got to get them off fast,” cried the stranger, picking himself up. “Otherwise they’ll work their poison throughout his body.”

Mariana cradled the urchin’s head while the others went to work. She put her hand to his forehead and gasped. He was burning up, wracked with fever, his eyes half-opened and rolling deliriously.

“Can we still save him?” she asked, frightened.

The stranger moved his head from side to side, biting his lip. “We might—if we’re in time. I know something of the healing arts, just enough to save him, I think. But then he’ll need herbs, medicinal brews to nourish him …”

“We’ll worry about that later,” said Ramagar, holding up a squirming leech between his thumb and forefinger and examining it before tossing it away.

One by one they pulled the leeches from his leg. They tore open his shirt, found another already beginning to feed on his soft belly; found yet another inching its way from his back toward his neck. The boy’s tormented body was riddled with wounds, some of them oozing pus as well as blood.

Ramagar unsnapped his cloak and wrapped it around the boy like a blanket. “We need to clean those wounds,” he said, lifting the urchin up and carrying him with both arms. “How far to that fresh water you spoke about?”

“Only a few minutes, if we run.”

The thief of Kalimar shifted his burden and nodded. Mariana held up the torch. “Then we run,” he said. “And pray we can save his life.”

Swiftly they passed through a high, weed-infested channel. But the ground was dry and level and before they knew it they had come to the cavern, Ramagar spread his cloak beside the clean water and rested the urchin upon it. With nothing but rags, the three travelers cleaned the wounds thoroughly and tended to his needs before taking a well-deserved rest for themselves.

Mariana and Ramagar quenched their thirst greedily, savoring the clear, cold water, then falling exhausted when they had done. The stranger, though, had yet to drink a sip. He placed himself next to the boy and sat motionless, his head hung low against his breast and his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

Ramagar closed his eyes and fell into a light peaceful sleep. Mariana sat up, leaning against a wall, and watched the stranger as he held the boy’s hand and soothed his brow. She was deeply touched by his devotion.

“The boy means a great deal to you, doesn’t he?” she said quietly.

The stranger raised his head and looked at her with saddened, tired eyes. Eyes that told her they had seen much in the world, and now were truly wearied.

“Yes, the lad does mean a great deal to me,” he said. “In all my long and lonely days in Kalimar only this boy, this hapless urchin, cared enough for a stranger to help him in his plight. He showed me where to hide, shared his blanket when we slept. Once, he even gave to me a crust of bread.”

“A crust of bread isn’t very much …”

“No, perhaps not. But it was everything he owned.”

Mariana turned away her gaze and felt a lump rise in her throat.

“It’s odd, though,” he continued. “We shared so much together these last days. I don’t even know his name.”

“He has no name,” said the girl. “No street urchin does. They have no mothers, they have no fathers. No homes, no friends—”

“But surely even a penniless boy has a name?”

Mariana smiled bitterly. “You
are
foreign to this city, aren’t you? There are thousands like him. They live, they hide among shadows, they beg and they steal. And they die. No one knows who they are. No one cares very much. They are faceless children, unwanted and unloved. Vagabonds, wastrels, urchins—all without names.” Mariana sniffed as she finished and the stranger noticed the welling tears in the corners of her eyes. He smiled warmly.

“Then we shall have to remedy this unjust situation by ourselves,” he said, offering a bit of cheer into their shared gloom. “We’ll give the lad a name of our own choosing. But it will have to be something the boy will like …”

Mariana dried her eyes and, looking at the boy, forced a tiny smile of her own. “You are kind, stranger. He will like that. And he will be proud.”

“And so shall his name be proud! But what shall we call him? Let me think …”

He slitted his ice-blue eyes and ran a hand along his stubbled chin, lost in deep thought. Then he looked at Mariana and grinned. “I have it!” he cried, snapping his fingers. “A good name. A fine name. Noble and exalted. One worthy of his character. We shall call him: Homer. In my own land it means ‘the Wanderer’…”

Mariana rolled the word over her tongue. Homer.
Homer.
Yes, it was a very fine name. Her eyes sparkled with approval. “I like it. It fits him well. You have chosen wisely.”

The stranger beamed, his features growing boyish. Just then, the boy began to stir and they both flew to his side. Mariana put her lips to his forehead and laughed. “The fever is breaking,” she said gleefully. “See for yourself!”

And the boy opened his eyes, staring up at the pensive faces. Recognition flickered in his eyes. “What happened?” he whispered. “I can’t remember a thing …” He put his hand to his bruised jaw and winced with the sting.

“You’ve been ill,” said the stranger, tightening Ramagar’s cloak around him. “But soon you’ll be well. How do you feel?”

“Thirsty …”

Mariana laughed and drew some water. The stranger sighed a deep sigh of relief. The poisons had not entered his bloodstream after all. The boy would live. Homer would live.

“Sleep for a while,” he said to the boy. “We’re all exhausted and need some rest. And don’t fret; the worst of our journey is done. Now we begin the ascent to the surface. In a half day’s time we’ll see the sun.”

Mariana glowed with the thought. The sun! Warm, gentle. Trees, grass, and birds. Flowing streams where she could bathe. A real bath. Perhaps she could find some soap, and she could scrub herself until her skin glowed and tingled. Wash her clothes spanking clean and forget the horrors of this dreaded sewer forever. It was a wonderful thought. She sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes. And when she fell asleep she dreamed only of the new life she and Ramagar would soon be able to lead.

The harsh wind howled and whipped its way down to the bottom of the shaft. The torch had long extinguished and the travelers were forced to climb the tunnel in darkness, stumbling step by step, stretching their hands to the walls for orientation. Soon, though, the fissures above began to show needle-thin beams of light. Not very much, but enough to guide the way and lift their spirits by assuring them their ordeal was near an end. The wind was cold; its fury fueled their desire to move faster even as it bit through their flimsy cloaks and nibbled away at their tender flesh.

Hungry and aching, they pressed on, following the increasingly narrow pipes, breath labored as the incline steepened and steepened again. Then they took a turn from the frigid tunnel, thankful to be well away from the wind, but only to find themselves in a new black passage every bit as dismal and despairing as any they had seen before.

“What happened to the light?” gulped Homer, shivering and gazing about into the void.

“Are we lost?” asked Mariana.

The stranger put his hand to the wall and felt the smooth, almost uncorroded iron. “Have no fear, my friends,” he said. “We are walking within a pipe; the last channel of our journey.” He rapped a knuckle loudly against the metal and it clanged dully. “Beyond this channel lies the doorway to freedom.”

“But how will we find the way?” wondered Ramagar, his booming voice dimly echoing all the way back to the bitter shaft.

“We’ll feel our way,” replied the stranger. “Just follow me. Each one will hold onto the cloak of his companion in front. This way we’ll be sure that we are together at all times.”

Everybody did as asked and took hold. The stranger led the way, Ramagar grasping his cloak tightly and feeling Mariana clutch even more tightly to him, and Homer bringing up the rear, one hand placed firmly on the dancing girl’s loose tunic.

Upward, ever upward, the huge pipe took them. And then a fringe of pale light glimmered fleetingly far ahead. They hurried on to reach it, knowing it to be the door, the massive stone exit that would bring them to the surface at last.

Both the stranger and Ramagar set their shoulders against the awesome slab, and with a mighty heave they pushed it ajar. Bright morning sunlight blinded them all. Like children they groped their way through the narrow opening and fell in heaps upon a field of tall grass. They basked under the sky, shuddering at the memory of hours past, and shared in joyous mirth the sight of Kalimar’s high walls shimmering in the distance beneath fast-rolling clouds.

Mariana closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Ramagar stood up, hands on hips, his face encrusted with grime. His eyes stared harrowingly past the field and to the open, parched lands that stretched as far as the faded mountains rippling up and down the edge of the horizon. And he smiled.

“Your word was well kept, stranger,” he said, offering his hand.

The youthful beggar rose and took it. His gaze fixed on the thief, he grinned. “My part of the bargain is complete.”

“And so it is.” Ramagar looked to Mariana, and the girl took out the golden scimitar from beneath her tunic. The stranger’s eyes stared at the glistening blade, its jewel-studded scabbard. He took it greedily, thankfully, and pressed it firmly against his breast.

“At last,” he sighed, tears coming to his eyes. “I’ve regained you at last. Now we may begin anew.” He fondled his prize like a lover and placed it carefully beneath his soiled, bedraggled shirt. “You have both been good companions and friends,” he said at length to the thief and the dancing girl. “Now, though, I fear it is time for me to depart. I have wasted far too much time in Kalimar, I can waste no more.” He walked to Mariana, lifted the startled girl’s hand, and kissed it. “Walk in heaven’s light, my lady,” he said. “Your loveliness will be a fond memory to me forever.”

Mariana was left breathless. A lady. He had called her a lady. It was the first time in her life anyone had ever spoken to her in such a fashion and she did not know how to respond.

“Must you leave so soon?” said an equally perplexed Ramagar.

“Alas, yes, master thief. My road is longer than your own. Each day only adds to the burden.”

“You’ve never told us the purpose of your quest,” said Mariana, glad that the journey was done, but saddened that they would be parting so soon after completing it.

The stranger tilted his head and searched the skies. He caught sight of a great bird rising higher and higher against the sun, then abruptly turning and gliding beak first back toward the earth. “My quest will take me farther than the swiftest bird can ever hope to fly,” he told her wistfully, sounding as mysterious as ever. “A task awaits me that can no longer be shunned. A people cry out in their desperation for help where there is none. Only Darkness. Eternal Darkness. On my shoulders must this burden be carried. The weight is heavy, but I must bear it no matter what…”

Homer slipped beside his friend and looked at him with reverent eyes. “And I shall follow the stranger,” he said, pride unmistakable in his voice. “We agreed upon it since even before we joined forces to flee Kalimar. Whatever the road he must walk, whatever peril he must overcome, whatever pain he must endure, I shall willingly share it.”

The stranger’s eyes brightened and he clasped the boy around the shoulder. Mariana exchanged a quick glance with Ramagar. The thief frowned briefly and sighed. “Mariana and I have no set destination,” he said truthfully. “And like yourself, we seek to cross Kalimar’s borders as quickly as possible. You have answered our questions only with riddles, but I for one would be pleased if we could share company, at least until our paths are forced to part. What say you, stranger? Would you be pleased to let us share your journey for a time?”

“It is good to have companions you can trust,” reminded the girl. “We know nothing of the dangers you say you must face, but I do know that you saved Ramagar’s life, and brought happiness back into my own. Now, perhaps we can help you …”

The stranger’s face glowed. “It is good to have companions, as you said. But it is even better to have friends. Thank you both. I will be grateful to have you with me for a time. I have traveled alone for so long that sometimes I’ve forgotten the pleasure of another voice.”

Ramagar laughed loudly. “Not to mention another pair of strong hands. I’ll wager we’ll have need of both.”

This time when they shook hands it was firmer than before. “Agreed,” said the stranger. “We have struck another bargain. We’ll travel together and share all we have.”

“Good,” said the thief. “Now which way do we go?”