THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) (8 page)

Silently she ventured, her hand held out before her, feeling her way in the dank, dismal gloom. The only sound was that of her own breath. And then, suddenly, she could see glimpses of sky ahead. She walked faster now, until at last she was out in the open and at the edge of the alley. A chilly wind was blowing down from the river; she could almost taste the salt in the air carried west from the inland sea.

Stepping over the stones, she inched her way close to the low fence where it wound in a semicircle toward the enclosed courtyard. A large gray cat hissed from its perch on an empty windowsill. Mariana tensed, caught sight of the cat, and smiled with relief. The cat straddled the sill, tail lifted, and followed her until she turned the corner.

Then, as the hiding place came into view, she turned around one more time, her sweeping glance taking in the fence and the black wall of the compound as well as the alley and the courtyard and the gaping black exit of the passageway. And she knew she was alone. Completely alone, with no chance she had been followed. For that much, at least, she was more than thankful.

Cupping her hand to her mouth, she tilted her head up toward the looming lofts that obliterated half her view of the sky. The signal was brief; a low cuya bird whistle, no more than a soft drone that blended perfectly with the sounds of night.

But, save for the wind that rustled between the aged wooden beams, there was nothing to hear at all.

She wet her lips and tried again, praying that he was close and that this long search would at last end for her. She strained her ears to listen for his answer, but still none came.

Mariana sank her head and tried to stop the tears from flowing. Once more she would have to begin anew. She would have to return to the Jandari and comb the maze of alleys yet again. Only this time it might truly be too late, what with the news Vlashi had given. Suddenly she turned to go, her hopes crushed. For some reason she had been so sure that she would find him here. So positive of it. It was hard to admit she had been wrong.

There was a soft shuffle from somewhere atop the corrugated roof. And then a voice, low, but strong. “Mariana! Mariana! Up here!”

She whirled, dress flaring, her heart thumping in her chest. Squinting, she peered up to the top, standing on her toes to see. And there he was, Ramagar, her lover, the thief of thieves, nestling perfectly among the lumbering shadows.

Her face lit up with happiness. Straightening her shoulders, throwing back her head so that her hair swirled behind, she sighed. “Ramagar, thank the heavens I’ve found you at last.”

He hushed her and bounded down to a lower roof, his weight making only the softest of noises. Then down a pipe he slid, landing on the ground with the agility of a cat, grinning at her like a misbehaved child and taking her in his arms.

“How did you ever find me?” he asked.

She smiled sheepishly. “It wasn’t easy. I’ve been searching all day.”

He frowned briefly, then the grin returned. Taking her by the hand, he led her inside the warehouse and down a small flight of wooden steps to the cellar. There, she looked on in wonder. A small oil lamp lit a tiny room, complete with straw for a bed, blankets, a shelf well stocked with jars of preserves, salted meats, and a bottle of sweet wine.

Ramagar laughed. “Let’s say this is my home away from home,” he teased. “At least it’s warm, and safe.”

She looked at him sharply. “Then you know?”

“A thief makes it his business to know everything. The moment I entered the street last night I realized that something was the matter. So I hid, and then, when I saw the soldiers come to your room, I put two and two together.”

“You
saw
them?” she gasped. “You were there, hiding?”

He nodded. “On your roof.”

Her temper began to rise. “Then why didn’t you let me know? I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to find you and warn you. And now you tell me you’ve known all along!” He bent to kiss her and she pulled away.

“Ah, Mariana, I couldn’t tell you. Not then. Don’t you see? The soldiers would have been watching everywhere, and had they seen me slip into your room …” He let his words trail off slowly. “No, all I could do was plan my escape from the Jandari as best I could, and keep you far from any harm. Besides,” here he smiled again with a twinkle in his eye, “I knew you’d find me sooner or later.”

Mariana realized that this was reasonable enough. Better a cautious lover than a dead one.

Ramagar sat back against the straw and put a bent piece of twig between his teeth. At his side rested a half-full cup of wine and he stared disconsolately into the still, dark brew. “Why are they after me, girl?” he asked. “What have I been accused of that Inquisitors would break down your door?”

“Then you really don’t know?”

The smile turned wan. “I didn’t stick around to ask.”

Mariana flew to his side, kneeling beside him and holding his hand between both of her own. There were tears falling down her soft, unblemished cheeks. “They say a noble was murdered in the Jandari yesterday,” she said slowly, her voice little more than a whisper. She closed her eyes and felt her lashes press against the wetness. “And the soldiers say that you … you …”

Ramagar stared at her in dawning understanding. “They accuse me of the crime?”

She nodded slowly, painfully, putting her head to his chest, burying her face so that he couldn’t see her while she cried. The thief ran his hand through her long black hair and whispered her name softly. “Do you … believe them?” he asked.

She lifted her head and gazed at him sharply. “Of course I don’t! It’s all a lie—a cruel and terrible lie. And I told them as much!”

“Ah, Mariana,” he sighed, “if only the soldiers of Kalimar had your trust, your love …”

She sniffed and blew her nose into the worn handkerchief he gave her. At that moment she seemed little more than a frightened child, lost and forlorn, caught in a web of events she did not understand and could not alter.

“What are we to do?” she asked haltingly. “The Inquisitors are combing every inch of the Jandari. They’ll never give up. Never.”

He spit the piece of wood from his mouth and scowled. “I never killed any man,” he said, “although I can think of some I should have.” There was venom in his voice, deep-seated anger and hatred she had never known him to express before. And it frightened her even more.

“What are you saying?” she asked breathlessly.

His eyes darkened. “Someone was paid to tell this lie,” he growled. “And he was paid by someone who might benefit with me dead.”

She gasped. “Oro!”

“Yes, Oro. That little weasel would stop at nothing if he felt he had something to gain.”

In her despair she covered her face with her hand, sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook. “It’s my fault,” she cried, “because of me it’s come to this. Because of the dagger-—”

He grabbed her wrist tightly. “The soldiers didn’t find it, did they?”

She shook her head and he drew a long breath of relief. Possession of the glittering blade had become a more dangerous risk than he had ever dreamed. But as long as he still had it he controlled his fate. Too many men would be willing to make any bargain to claim it as their own.

“It’s clear that the soldiers will never believe I’m innocent,” he said at last. “And if they finally do manage to catch me—”

“You’ll never see the light of day again,” Mariana finished the thought with a voice that cracked. “Oh, Ramagar! What can we do?”

He downed his wine with a single swallow and tossed the cup across the floor. A small water mouse scurried out of harm’s way, then dashed back into the hole in the wall.

“You’ve got to flee the city,” pleaded Mariana. “Right away, as fast as you can.”

The thief nodded sullenly. The Jandari was not a place many men could love; indeed most dreamed of one day being able to make their way far from it. Yet to Ramagar the Jandari was home, the only one he had ever known.

He stood and walked to the tiny slit in the wall that served as a window and stared out across the dark shadowy wharves. Dim lights were flickering from across the estuary, beyond them dimmer lights. Jandari lights. He thought of its streets, its maze of alleys, its rooftops and gutted sewers. All suddenly seemed like a distant memory, lost but faintly recaptured in the furthest recesses of his mind. Had not the dancing girl been at his side he knew he would have cried.

“You know,” he said, turning to her and looking sadly into her wide, pensive eyes, “once I leave, I can’t come back. Not now, not ever.”

The girl suppressed a tiny squeal of pain. “Forget your life here, forget everything about this wretched city. Forget Kalimar and never think of it again.”

Resting his back against the wall, he said, “And will I be able to forget you as well?”

Her mouth opened, speechless. She pursed her trembling lips and gazed at him with distraught eyes.

Then casting her own feelings aside, shying away from his gaze, she said, “Where will you go?”

The thief shrugged, a bitter smile upon his lips. “What matter? I’ll be a man without a home, a land. Perhaps in the south—”

“Across the desert?”

“If I must. There are trade routes to be followed, caravans that cross beyond the borders. I’ve heard tales of the southern lands. They are said to be places where a soldier of fortune can be in great demand.”

“Ramagar, no! To fight among some unknown army, to die in battle against some barbarian host, is that what you want?”

“What choice do I have?” he countered. “Few cities will welcome a thief—especially one whose head has a price on it.” He looked back to his window, rested his arm on the sill, and frowned. He could almost make out the range of flat-topped craggy mountains hazy and distant along the horizon. “Perhaps I could go north,” he said. “Maybe reach the sea. I suppose I might find some captain in need of a pair of strong hands, and who won’t ask any names …”

Mariana could no longer hide her feelings. She hung her head and took a few steps toward him. “I don’t care which way you decide,” she whispered through salted tears. “All I ask is that you take me with you, wherever it may be.”

Ramagar stared, wide-eyed, “You want to come with me?”

“Anywhere. Any place on earth. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you, beside you.”

“But how can I take you? You know the risks as well as I. The roads from the city will be watched constantly, they’ll be expecting me to make a break for it. It’s going to take all my skill, all my luck, just to get past the city walls. If they catch me, it’ll mean my head. And if you’re with me, it will be your own as well.”

“I don’t care!” cried the dancing girl. “I’ll not stay in Kalimar without you—not for a single day. I’ll follow you on my own if I have to, every step of the way!”

Ramagar took her hand and brought her to him. Tilting her chin with his fingers, he kissed her gently. “I love you, Mariana. I want you to know and believe that. I always will. But no, I can’t take you with me. The dangers are just too great. I’ll not endanger your life because of me.”

She pulled away from his grasp and bristled, eyes wetly flashing. “You men!” she seethed. “What do you know of dangers? A woman in the Jandari faces them every day of her life, time and time again.” The thief looked on in sheer amazement as Mariana’s face grew hard and her eyes so cold that he could feel the chill.

“And what do you suppose will happen to me once you’re gone?” she snapped. “Be taken and forced into a brothel? Or shall I walk the streets at night like the other whores, selling myself for a few coppers to fat, pompous fools with purses that bulge like their bellies?”

“Mariana! What are you saying?”

She sneered at him. “Or shall I become the mistress of some soldier, only to be tossed aside like a rag when he’s done and given to any man in the barracks? Perhaps I can become someone’s wife—someone who wants me, like Oro—”

Ramagar slammed a clenched fist against the wall. “Enough! I don’t want you to talk like that ever again!”

Mariana smiled thinly, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips. “Well? Then what do you think will happen to me once you’re gone?”

Her point was well made, he knew. Time and again he had pitied the fate of other attractive women unfortunate enough to have been born in a place as cruel and heartless as the Jandari. The very thought that Mariana—
his
Mariana—might someday have to share their fate left him anguished and sickened.

“All right,” he said after a few moments’ thought. “Maybe I can figure out some way for us to escape together.” He looked at her seriously. “As long as you know the risks—and the penalty if we’re caught.”

She bit her lip. “You mean that? Then I can come?”

The thief of thieves nodded glumly, then was surprised as the girl threw her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, and smothered him with wet, joyful kisses. “You won’t regret this,” she vowed. “You’ll see. We’ll find a place for ourselves, a place together where no man, no soldiers, can ever frighten us again.”

He laughed and slapped her on the behind. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, though, we’ve got to find some way to get beyond the walls.” He turned from her and paced the floor, all the while nervously biting his lip and rubbing his hands together. Then he said, “Maybe if we can get word to Vlashi he can give us some help …”

At the mention of the pickpocket’s name Mariana’s heart skipped a beat. “Vlashi!” she gasped, recalling the earlier event she had almost forgotten.

Ramagar stopped in his tracks and glanced at her troubled face. His own features grew impassive as he said, “What is it, girl? What’s happened to Vlashi?”

“He—he begged me to warn you—”

“Warn me? About what? The soldiers?”

She shook her head ruefully, cursing at herself for not telling him sooner about this new peril the thief faced. With the color draining from her cheeks, she said, “The beggar who owned the scimitar found Vlashi and hurt him. He threatened to kill him if Vlashi didn’t give it back.”

Ramagar sighed, rubbed gently at the side of his face with an open palm. He shuddered to hear what was coming next, although he knew it to be as predictable as the sun after a summer thunderstorm.