THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) (18 page)

The Prince met the thief’s steady gaze. “I do, my friend. All that and even more, I promise. Each and every man who will join my cause shall return home in the style and luxury of an Eastern king. He will want for nothing until his dying day.”

The haj whistled. “Soldiers of fortune are easy enough to find,” he observed. “Indeed, Kalimar’s cities are filled with them. For what you will pay I daresay you could raise an entire army overnight. And a loyal one to boot, though all the black power be arrayed against you. Greed is blind to danger.”

The thief of Kalimar stirred restlessly upon his cushion, and Mariana was well aware of the thoughts running wildly through his mind. “If you have all you claim,” she said bluntly to the Prince, “then why are you not followed by a legion? Why do you travel alone and in the guise of a beggar? A man of such riches should be leading a worldwide crusade, his cause renowned in every land.”

The yellow-haired pretender folded his arms and sighed. “I think, my friends, that you misunderstand me. I travel alone because 1 must—”

“Then you have no money?”

He shook his head. “Not a penny. But wait—the riches I spoke of are real enough. Remember that Speca in her glory was the envy of every nation. In the palace storerooms alone are so much gold, so much silver, so many priceless artifacts that a hundred scribes could spend their lives in making the tally. You have all seen the scimitar I carry. The fortune I offer could buy a thousand of them. Ten thousand. We need only win back this wealth from the Druids and set Speca free. My people would call it a fair bargain indeed. A slave dreams not of gold or jewels—only his freedom.”

The haj frowned. “Soldiers of fortune fight only for cash. The jingle of coins in their pockets.”

“So I have learned,” ruminated the Prince. “I have been laughed at, called a madman, a fool, been cursed with the foulest oaths men can utter.” His shoulders sank and a weary look came to his eyes. “Not a man in all my travels has considered my cause worthy enough to risk his life for. Nor even for the promise of a fortune. As you said, dear Mariana, I am a man alone …”

“No!” came the cry, and Homer bounded to his feet, tears flowing down his face. “You are not alone! No longer! I will accompany you, I shall be at your side always!”

The Prince looked up at his faithful young friend and smiled warmly. “Thank you, Homer. Your offer means more to me than I can tell, because you give it out of love. But alas, I cannot ask it. What the haj and Mariana have said are simple truths. My road is far too perilous to allow you to travel it at my side.”

“You won’t stop me,” cried the boy. “We made a bargain, you and I; that where you went, I would follow.”

“True enough,” replied the Prince in rags. “But only until our paths are forced to part. When we reach the sea—”

“I will be at your side,” the boy interrupted firmly. “I want to fight for your cause. I want to assist you in setting your land free.”

“He is but a child,” Mariana said sadly.

“I was man enough to risk my head to set Ramagar free!” Homer rejoined angrily. “I am a child of the Jandari. My will is my own, my life to decide for myself.”

“He is right, you know,” said Ramagar, looking first to Mariana and then to the Prince. “Take him. A boy such as he has no future in Kalimar or any of her nearby kingdoms. But with you he will learn and become a man to be proud of. Who knows, perhaps the two of you may even succeed in your quest…”

The Prince nodded with understanding. A street urchin in Kalimar was no more than so much rubbish. If nothing else, the quest to regain Speca would give the boy a sense of purpose, a pride in himself that he had never had before. Even a reason for living. And it was better to die fighting for a cause, if it came to that, than to rot in some hopeless dungeon.

“All right, then,” said the Prince. He looked at Homer and grinned. “I shall take you with me when we sail. And this much I vow: that when my kingdom is redeemed I will not forget your help. From urchin to prince shall be your destiny. Homer: foreign-born prince of Speca.”

The boy sat, silently weeping with happiness.

“I am glad at least that much is settled,” said the haj with relief. “And what of the two of you?” he asked Mariana and Ramagar. “Where do your own travels lead? Will you also journey to distant lands, or perhaps one day return to Kalimar?”

Ramagar hung his head. “I will be honest with you, haj,” he said. “I can never return to Kalimar. I am a wanted man, although falsely accused. Proving my innocence is impossible.” He glanced up at the girl and smiled. “Neither Mariana nor myself can ever go home again.”

“We seek a new life, haj,” added the girl. “Just a simple life. One where we can live freely and spend our years together.”

Burlu was touched by her sincerity. The fact that her lover was an accused criminal did not disturb him in the least. As a hill man it was none of his concern; he would never speak of it. But more than that, he knew of the city and its evil doings; knew that even a good, pure man could find himself forced to crime. The haj would cast no blame.

“So where will you go, then?”

Mariana shrugged. “We have no firm course to follow. Thus far we have traveled with the Prince, and shall probably continue to do so at least until we reach the sea.”

The haj hid a small frown. “And then?”

“Wherever the Fates may will,” answered the thief. “I had thought about sailing for southern lands, but those places are not for bringing a wife. Maybe we shall go north. I have heard tell of sheep country beyond the Great Divide. A land of peace and serenity.”

Burlu listened patiently, all the while nervously tugging at his finger ring. “I wonder if I might be bold,” he said at length. “I know we are still mostly strangers to each other, but I feel I know you both like my own children. There is plenty of land in these hills. Land I own and that I have no need for. True, much is barren, but a hard-working man can make a go of it, if he tries. Maybe,” he smiled, “even become a haj. What say you? Would you accept such an offer?”

“A most gracious offer!” cried Mariana, flushing with emotion. “We are deeply, deeply honored. But …” She looked away so she couldn’t see his eyes. “But we cannot accept. These lands are still within the dominion of Kalimar. Soldiers will come looking for us sooner or later. And then it will be you they’ll come after. The penalty for harboring a fugitive from justice is death.”

“Bah,” scowled the haj. “Kalimar’s soldiers do not frighten me. The men of the hills consider themselves free and independent of all. We laugh at city men and their ways.”

“That may well be so,” said Ramagar, sorrowful to have to decline the kind offer put before him. “But will you also laugh when they draw their swords and threaten your lives? Or when they put your tents and your fields to the torch?” He shook his head from side to side. “No, good haj, it must not be. Mariana and I cannot bring our own misfortunes atop your own head. As much as we have come to know you and respect you, we must turn down your generosity. At daybreak we will leave with our companions and search for our own destiny.”

Burlu sighed deeply. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I understand. Yet it truly grieves me to think that we shall never share each other’s good company again.” He clasped his hands together as if in prayer and said quietly, looking from one guest to the other, “May the Fates bless all of you always. It would make an old man’s wish come true.”

Tears came to Mariana’s eyes as he spoke, and she thought of him now as the father both she and Ramagar had never had.

The Prince turned to the thief, saying, “You know that it will be hard on both of you no matter where you go. Like me, you will find yourselves strangers in a foreign land. Few men will prove as hospitable as our kind host has been. And what of these lands to the north you mentioned? It is true that they are peaceful; but tell me, is the life of a sheepherder the one either of you would choose? Living lonely and desolate in a place as far away from civilization as a man can hope to get?”

“At least we’ll be safe,” Ramagar replied with a touch of bitterness. “Besides, what alternatives are open to us?”

“Come instead with me.”

Mariana’s eyes opened fully wide and she stared at the Prince. “You’re asking Ramagar to join you on the quest?”

“I am asking you both,” he replied soberly. “Listen to me, please. Hear me out and consider what I say before you refuse.”

Ramagar put his arm around Mariana’s shoulder and nodded.

“There are so many things to be done,” said the Prince excitedly. “Far too many for just Homer and myself. I have great need of a man like you, master thief. Your talents and abilities are too valuable to be wasted on tending sheep. Think, just days ago we were all hunted by Kalimar’s dreaded Inquisitors. On his own, each was lost. Yet when we banded together we made stuttering clowns of Kalimar’s entire army. Stand with me, Ramagar. Be my right arm. In victory I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams. Name your price: land, title, gold. I will agree. You shall have it all.”

“Dead men have little need of title and gold,” remarked the dancing girl dryly. “You are asking him to throw away his life.”

“You are wrong, Mariana,” insisted the Prince. “The Druids can be beaten. I
know
they can. We must only find the key that unlocks the door to their secrets. With both of you at my side and my allies to give us support, we can break the hideous chains that bind my land. And my people will rise up beside us, themselves dealing our enemies the final blows. I need you, Mariana, even as I need your lover. Your cunning and intelligence shall be a heavy counterweight to Druid black art. What do you say?”

She sat there with her breath swept away. Yes, there was adventure and fortune to be found if she went with him, an opportunity as exciting as it was fearful. To cross half a world, see things few women or men ever imagined existed. Yet, this had to be balanced against the very real and dangerous peril that awaited should they fail. Who could say what terrible death they would meet at Druid hands? The thought of some ingenious torture made her shudder.

The Prince sat tensely waiting, and even the haj, normally the epitome of repose, could feel his hands moisten and his breath quicken.

Unspeaking, Mariana and Ramagar looked deeply into each other’s eyes. They each knew and understood the risks, they each realized the slim chance of succeeding. But in one aspect the Prince had been right: as fugitives they would likely be hounded for the rest of their lives, at best forced to live in lonely isolation. Crossing the sea, no matter what the perils, would set them free from the fear of one day being found out for who they were. Even the rewards this prince offered for their help were small when compared to the freedom they sought.

Mariana’s eyes darted to the scimitar, glimmering gaily as it rested in their companion’s open hand. It was a strange, wondrous object, she knew. Men would fight for it, men would die for it. What tales it could tell if only it could speak. What mysteries it must know the answer to. It was the dagger itself that had brought them all together on this night to sit in the tents of the haj, the dagger that had caused all their lives to be turned upside down in less than a week.

Was it an instrument of good? Or of evil? Would it lead them to adventure and victory? Or only to doom? Mariana had no answers to these questions. But somehow she knew that her association with the blade had not yet ended. Forces beyond her and Ramagar’s understanding seemed to control their destinies.

Ramagar finished the last of his wine and cast a weary eye to the entrance of the tent. The wind had all but calmed, and to his surprise he saw that the first hints of red sun were, cracking spider-like across the far horizon. So intrigued had they been by the Prince and the tale he told that dawn had come swiftly upon them before they had a chance to sleep.

He drew Mariana closer, crushing her with his strong arm, and looked to the Prince. “I suppose I wouldn’t have been much of a farmer anyway,” he grumbled. “Besides, I hate sheep …”

The Prince straightened attentively. Eyes glued to the thief,
he
said, “Then you both accept my offer? You’ll come?”

Ramagar glanced down at the sleepy-eyed dancing girl. Mariana drew a breath, sighed, and nodded. “We accept,” she said softly. “For good or ill, our destinies will be irrevocably bound to your own.”

A broad, cheerful grin crossed the stranger’s face, and his eyes, wide awake and sparkling bluer than ever, danced merrily. “Then it’s settled,” he chortled, clapping his hands in delight. “And neither of you will ever regret your decision, I promise. Everything you ask shall be yours.” He reached for the wine vessel and filled each cup to the brim, making sure to include an extra chalice for the silent serving girl sitting wearily in the corner.

“A toast to our fortunes,” he said, raising his chalice high. “To our success, and the regained freedom of my kingdom.”

They all lifted their cups and drank. The Prince downed his wine greedily and beamed. “At least my army has begun,” he told them in a serious tone. “And never has there been a finer beginning.”

“A ragtag army at best,” observed Mariana. “We have neither weapons nor horses, nor even food to sustain us on our journey.”

The haj lifted his head and searched the faces of his guests. They were honest faces, he knew. Kind and gentle for all their trials. It hurt him to think of the fate that awaited them. In so many ways they were merely children. Children on a noble quest with no one to guide or fend for them.

The sun appeared fully now, washing the tent in brilliant yellows and browns while thin streams of gold poured through the thick curtains. The red clay earth of the scrub hills sparkled in the light and even the yellowed, parched grass took on a deep intensity. Burlu’s swine had begun to stir; so had his sheep and his cows. He could hear the soft patter of shuffled feet and low murmurings as his herders arose from their own tents and set out to start the day’s chores, a routine that both they and the haj had followed nearly every day of their lives.

“I suppose you will be leaving soon,” the haj said sullenly.