But Kadar had been very quiet tonight, she realized suddenly. She had played him first, and when Tarik had taken his place, he seated himself on the hearth and watched them with none of his usual banter. “Are you well?” she asked. “You’ve scarcely spoken.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Ah, a dangerous practice in a man like you,” Tarik said as he poured wine from the pitcher into his goblet. “I believe you need another goblet of wine too.”
“No.” Kadar met Tarik’s gaze. “I believe I need to see the object that made Nasim send me here.”
Tarik stopped pouring in midmotion. “I was wondering when you’d retrieve that particular promise.” He set the pitcher down. “But I was enjoying your company so much that I’d almost forgotten I’d given it.”
“I don’t think you did. But you made it easy for us to forget.”
“You believe I’ve been lulling you into a false sense of security? You’re wrong; you are secure here. Every day that passes convinces me that endangering you is the last thing in the world I’d want.”
“The object,” Kadar prompted.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Tonight.”
“You’re very stubborn.” Tarik sighed. “Very well, tonight.” He set his goblet down and picked up a candelabra. “Follow me, it’s in the chamber at the end of the corridor.”
The room to which Tarik took them was small and sparsely furnished. A long oak table and two chairs occupied the center of the room. On the table was a wooden pedestal on which a brown leather-bound manuscript rested.
Tarik gestured. “There it is.”
“That’s no treasure,” Selene said.
“But it’s what led Nasim to seek the treasure,” Tarik said. “And a manuscript’s value is in the eyes of the beholder.”
Selene felt a surge of excitement. “An entire chamber for one manuscript?”
“Don’t read importance into that. If I could obtain more volumes, I would do so. I have a passion for words. What a rare delight they are in this rough world.”
Kadar was already seating himself at the table and carefully opening the volume. “I’ll need light. Leave the candles, Tarik.”
“The light would be much better if you’d wait for morning.”
“Leave the candles.”
Tarik set the candelabra on the table. “You’ll go blind. The script is none too good. It was done by a scribe, not a monk from the abbey.” He turned to Selene. “Will you, at least, be sensible and go to your bed?”
“Presently.” She sat down in the chair across the table from Kadar. “I’ll stay awhile.”
Tarik’s gaze went from one to the other, and a faint smile curved his lips. “I should have known to argue would be of no avail. A sip is never enough when you have a great thirst, and you both have a voracious thirst for life.”
“And so do you,” Selene said.
“I once did. But I’ve drunk deep enough to quench my thirst.” He moved toward the door. “Well, I’m going to my bed. Don’t wake me. I won’t answer any questions until morning.”
As the door closed behind him, Kadar’s gaze eagerly fastened on the parchment.
Selene settled back in her chair, watching his face, waiting.
She was being carried up the stairs.
Selene opened drowsy eyes to see Kadar’s face above her. His expression held excitement and tension.
Were they going to the tower chamber?
No, this was different. No scent of hashish . . .
“Kadar, where—”
“Shh, you fell asleep at the table.” He was taking her to her chamber, laying her on the bed.
She had fallen asleep at a table? What a strange—the manuscript!
“What did it say?” She sat bolt upright in bed, wide awake. “What was in it?”
He sat down on the bed beside her. “Nothing to become excited about. I think the manuscript must be a jest of Tarik’s.”
“A jest?”
“It’s a troubadour’s tale. Le Conte du Graal by Chrétien de Troyes. It’s the story of a king and a wandering knight named Perceval.”
“And it does not mention the box?” she asked, disappointed.
“No.”
She could barely see him in the moonlit dimness, but there was something in his tone. He was not telling her everything. “Or what’s in it?”
“I don’t think so.” He paused. “Unless it’s the grail.”
“Grail?”
“A goblet used by Christ at the Last Supper. A cup with special powers sought by the knights of King Arthur’s court.”
“Dear God,” she whispered.
“A troubadour’s tale. Though sometimes it does not read like a tale, and Chrétien de Troyes tells of another document from which he took his story.”
“But it could be this grail that’s in the box in Tarik’s chamber?”
“Or what Nasim thinks is the true grail. He worships power. He would do anything to obtain a magical grail that would give the possessor Godlike powers.”
“He’s an evil, evil man. I cannot believe God would give him any more power than he has already.”
“But it’s not what you believe but what Nasim believes. To him, God is Allah, and Allah has always smiled on him.”
“It could not be. It has to be a troubadour’s tale, as you say.”
“Well, we cannot wake Tarik and ask him. He made it clear we’ll have to wait until morning.” He rose to his feet. “Go to sleep.”
Go to sleep when her mind was filled with coffers of gold and magical grails? “Will you?”
“Perhaps.” He leaned down, brushed a kiss on her forehead, and whispered, “I know a remedy that would make us both sleep deeply.”
She did not answer.
“No?” He sighed and then moved toward the door. “Then I fear our minds will get no more rest than our bodies this night.”
______
She was coming toward him, moving gracefully, rhythmically, her bare feet seeming to scarcely skim the stone floor.
Tarik waited.
She was almost there.
His heart was beating hard, he was sweating with anticipation.
She stopped before him. He could see the shimmering beauty of her dark eyes illuminating the impassive jackal face.
He took an eager step forward, reaching out to her.
She shook her head.
Agony shot through him. He could feel the pain twisting, tearing.
Why?
He could not see her mouth move but knew the word it formed.
Fool.
She was walking forward, past him.
No!
He had to follow her.
He couldn’t move. He was chained.
He watched, helpless, as she disappeared over the horizon.
Emptiness. Loneliness.
Come back.
But she would never come back.
Tears were running down Tarik’s cheeks when he opened his eyes.
He hadn’t had the dream in a long time, but he had known it would return. It always came back when his soul was in conflict. At other times he could block it, but not when the longing for freedom became this overpowering.
And was that longing so terrible? He had made his decision. Why was he hesitating when he had worked and planned for so long? Did he not deserve to be set free?
She would say he did.
She had called him a fool.
He turned over on his side and looked up at the tapestry Rosa had made for him.
Rosa had never called him a fool. Rosa had been kind and gentle and without a thorn. She had wanted only what was best for him. There had been neither torment nor crisis of conscience when she was by his side. He should be dreaming of Rosa.
But he never dreamed of Rosa.
When he dreamed, it was always of his love, his passion, his nemesis. The woman who moved with the exquisite grace of a dancer and who stared at him with scorn from that j
ackal’s face.
Selene and Kadar were sitting, waiting, when Tarik strode into the great hall the next morning.
“It’s almost noon,” Kadar said.
Tarik raised his brows. “Is this a sin? Selene made much of the fact of my advancing years. I decided a crippled old man needed his rest.”
“Or perhaps decided to torment us for pushing you to show us the manuscript,” Selene suggested.
“Were you in torment?” He smiled slyly as he dropped down in a chair and stretched out his legs before him. “What a pity.”
“Why does Nasim think you have the grail?” Kadar asked.
“Questions before I’ve even broken my fast?”
“Why?” Kadar repeated.
“There have been rumors about my pretty golden box for some time. You’re aware that Nasim knows everything that goes on in all of Christendom. When we met many years ago, he was curious about the treasure. Later, when he obtained a copy of Le Conte du Graal, he became convinced my golden coffer contained the grail.”
“Why?”
Tarik shrugged. “Perhaps because he wants it so desperately. He’s studied the ways of power all his life and thought this was a true path.”
“God would not give that monster power,” Selene said flatly.
“If the grail is of God’s making.”
“What do you mean?”
“You read de Troyes’s claim that he took the tale from another document? The ancient Celts have many legends concerning the grail. There is always a king who guards the treasure, there is always a wandering knight, but the rest of the stories differ. Some of them say the treasure is not a vessel at all but a precious stone loosed from the crown of Lucifer during his struggle with God. Don’t you think that tale would appeal to Nasim?”
“Yes.” Kadar stared directly into Tarik’s eyes. “Is it a grail in your box?”
Tarik smiled. “What do you think?”
“You’re not going to tell us,” Selene said in frustration. “Why show us the manuscript, then?”
“I promised I’d show you what persuaded Nasim to involve you in his machinations. I promised nothing else. Wouldn’t I be a fool to give you a description of the treasure Kadar intends to steal? Perhaps it would make him even more eager to take it from me.”
“Nonsense. He doesn’t want it for himself. He promised Nasim, and he regards any promise as sacred.”
“And you do not?”
“Not if it’s made to a man who would break any promise himself if it suited him.”
“Ah, but women are so much more practical than we men when it comes to honor. We seem to be blinded by our own code.” He looked at Kadar. “But what if it was the grail and it would give Nasim greater power? Would you still give it to him?”
Kadar slowly nodded.
Tarik chuckled. “I thought as much. It’s an obstacle that I must overcome if I’m to win you. I’d far rather set Selene to the task, but, unfortunately, she isn’t ready yet.”
“What is this task?” Kadar asked.
Tarik shook his head. “Not yet. We’re coming closer each day, but I must be sure.”
“And I cannot linger here forever. More than a week has passed. This afternoon I’m going outside the fortress to speak to Balkir before he decides to storm the gates.”
“Very wise. He’s a very impetuous man. By all means, go and reassure him that you’re doing everything you can to wrest my treasure from me.” He paused. “I will, of course, keep Selene and Haroun safe until you return.”
Selene stiffened. “Prisoners?”
“What an ugly word. Guests. Kadar would not wish you with Balkir. I’m the better choice.”
“Yes,” Kadar said. “And who knows, Selene? He may decide you’re more ready than he thinks and give his great task to you instead.”
“I’ve chosen you. She does not have your experience and searching mind. That will come in time, but I’m too weary to wait.”
“And because I’m a woman.”
Tarik shook his head. “I’m not so foolish. I know the worth of women. The cleverest human being I’ve ever encountered was my first wife.”
“And she had this ‘searching mind’?” Selene asked.
“More than I,” he said sadly. “She shone like the sun.”
“Well, I’ve no desire to shine like the sun. I merely wish to be free to go my way and do as I please.”
“So did she. Soon.” Tarik turned away. “I’ll go and tell the guards at the gate that you’re to be permitted to leave, Kadar. Do try to return by dark. I look forward to our evenings together. Selene, will you join me in the courtyard to bid him farewell?”
“Perhaps.”
Tarik smiled over his shoulder at her. “Difficult. But the interesting women always are. I believe you’ll be there.”
“Why?”
“Because life is uncertain and your heart is greater than your stubbornness. You’ll not let Kadar go back to Balkir without a last good-bye.”
She met Tarik’s gaze and then looked away. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”
Tarik smiled as he saw Selene approaching. “You could not resist.”
She didn’t look at him but at Kadar going through the gates. “Only because I had nothing better to do. It’s not as if he goes into danger. Balkir knows better than to harm Kadar. Nasim would kill him.”
“And so would you.” Tarik’s gaze followed hers. “You love him. Why do you fight it so?”
“I will not love him. He lied to me. He was going to leave me. He cared nothing for his promise. And you know nothing about me. You cannot know how I feel.”
“I know that sometimes the excuses we seize not to do things are not what really move us.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“I believe it is. Your instinct is not to run but to fight. So why are you not fighting for Kadar? Fear?”
“Why should I be afraid?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You may fear to love him too much. You have an idea what he is and perhaps you sense what he may become. Your instincts are correct. He is in great danger.”
She felt a stirring of panic. “Don’t be foolish. Kadar is too clever. Nasim will not have him.”
“Not Nasim. Me.”
She gazed at him in surprise. “You? You will not hurt him. I’m not blind. You like Kadar.”
“We have a great bond. That will not prevent me from doing him the greatest damage any human can do to another.” His lips twisted. “The temptation is too great.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.
“Because muddled thinking causes waste and unhappiness. I speak as one who knows. I would not have lost Layla if I’d been able to see truth instead of my own pain. Even now I’m still not sure . . . I like you, Selene. I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”
“What difference does it make what I feel or do if you intend to destroy Kadar anyway?”
“Love always makes a difference. We have to grab it and hold on until the last moment.”
Last moment. A chill iced through her at the words. He was talking about Kadar’s last moment. “I’m going to tell him what you’ve said about hurting him.”
“I don’t doubt it, but he won’t be surprised. Kadar and I understand each other.” He paused. “And he also understands that sometimes destiny forces us all to do what we have to do just to survive.” He smiled sadly. “I often see myself in Kadar.”
“He’s not like you. He would not kill you for any reason.” She whirled on him. “We will leave here. I won’t let you do it.”
“He won’t go. He may send you, but he won’t go himself. He hears the call.”
Her chill increased as she remembered that night before Kadar had come to the castle. “What call?”
“Curiosity. Fate. Who knows what calls a man? But he hears it.”
“It’s not true.”
“Ah, I believe you know it is.” His gaze went to Kadar, who wa
s now nearing Balkir’s tent. “If you would permit yourself, you would hear it too.”
“I’ll never permit myself to indulge in such foolishness.”
“Never is a long time, Selene.”
“BY GOD, you’ve been there over a week already. How much longer will it take?” Balkir demanded.
“I have no idea,” Kadar said.
“Then I want the woman returned to me.”
“Tarik prefers her to remain at the castle. I doubt if he would release her.”
“Why not?” Balkir’s fists clenched in frustration. “What is this about?”
Kadar smiled. “It’s about getting Nasim’s treasure for him.
Why else are we here?”
“I’m sure Nasim would not like this. I sent a messenger to tell him what you were doing the moment you entered the gates.”
Kadar’s smile vanished. “And has he replied?”
“Not yet. But he will. He’ll tell me to storm this castle and take the treasure as you could not.”
“He’s wiser than that. He’ll tell you to wait and obey my instructions.” Kadar turned to go. “If I don’t return with the treasure in another week’s time, I’ll come out and inform you of my progress.”
“I’ll not wait forever.” Balkir’s voice lowered menacingly. “I won’t face Nasim’s anger because of your dawdling. I think you seek to betray him.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be in touch with you.” Kadar left the tent and strode toward his horse. As he mounted, he saw Balkir standing beneath the awning at the opening of the tent, balefully watching him. Ordinarily, Kadar would not have been overly concerned, but he could sense a change in Balkir’s attitude. He was growing more belligerent, and his fear of Nasim’s wrath was growing.
Frightened men were always dangerous.
“He’s sent a message to Nasim?” Tarik frowned as he moved his pawn. “That’s not good.”
“But to be expected.” Kadar studied the chessboard. “You couldn’t keep us here indefinitely with no action being taken.”
The Treasure Page 12
