The Tower of Fear

by Glen Cook

  Soon he was proven right. A man told them to call everybody out of the labyrinth and get ready to move out.

  “I’ll go get them,” Medjhah said. He had grown bored watching the animals and the traffic in Char Street. “Give her a good-bye kiss for me, too.” He laughed as he went into the alley.

  Yoseh began checking and tightening the animals’ tack. At least they did not have prisoners to worry them, like some of the other groups.

  They had become part of the scenery quickly and the curious crowds had thinned. But now people began coming out again, to see the Dartars packing up as hastily as they had arrived.

  Yoseh glanced down the street, The girl was watching and the crone was glaring. The three ships were out of sight.

  Medjhah was taking a long time. Should he go see? No. These veydeen would steal the animals, or scatter them at the least, just for meanness.

  He realized he was alone in a street with hundreds who hated him. He drew himself up and tried to look older and tougher and a lot more fearless than he felt.

  He was worried.

  Then he heard Nogah cursing Joab and Fa’tad, the veydeen and ferrenghi, Cado and the gods, and anyone else who occurred to him. Yoseh felt better immediately.

  A couple of disgusting, frightened veydeen stumbled out ahead of Yoseh’s brothers and cousins. Their hands were bound behind them. One tried to run. Somebody stuck a spear between his legs. He pitched forward. Nogah jumped on him and kicked him viciously three or four times. Yoseh was astonished and appalled.

  Then he noticed the cut and stain on Nogah’s left sleeve. Blood did not show well against the black, so the wound had not been obvious. Which was why they all wore black.

  Nogah growled, “Are the animals ready?”

  “Yes. Is that bad?”

  “No. But it hurts like hell.” He yelled at the others, telling them to get the prisoners coffled up and get themselves mounted.

  “It’s still bleeding some, Nogah.”

  “That’ll keep it clean.”

  “You want me to look at it?”

  “Here? In the damned street?”

  “Oh.” Of course. Not in front of the veydeen.

  “Thanks anyway, kid. The ache will remind me that even things that live under rocks can hurt you if you aren’t careful.”

  Yoseh glanced at the prisoners. They did have a texture that reminded him of grubs.

  It was not long before Joab came up the hill, the column re-forming behind him. As Yoseh turned his camel into line some impulse caused him to wave to the girl in the doorway. Though not blatantly. No.

  For a wonder the crone wasn’t looking.

  For a double wonder the girl returned his wave shyly. Then she fled into the darkness inside her home.

  He did not wake up till they reached the compound and everyone started telling him he had to get changed into his best apparel. A new civil governor was arriving from Herod and everyone had to turn out for the welcoming parade.

  He was still bemused when they formed up on the plazas of the acropolis, five thousand men in black, perfectly motionless on their mounts. Opposite them, across an aisle a hundred feet wide, were the Herodian infantry in their white and red, only their officers mounted, twelve thousand strong.

  With this driblet in the tide Herod held Qushmarrah. Yoseh thought it a vain and foolish thing to parade the weakness of the occupying forces.

  The new governor was a long time coming. When he did, Yoseh was not impressed, despite the Moretian guards before and behind, the chariots, the gaudy trappings and people. No one else was impressed, either. The governor was a morbidly fat man on a litter. He did not look like he would be able to get up without help. There were snickers and titters till Fa’tad turned his scowl upon the formation.

  The Herodians had the same problem.

  The Qushmarrahan youths who were perched on the monuments and rooftops behind the formations had no superiors to silence them. They were loud with their mockery and abuse.

  Yoseh was almost embarrassed for the fat man. Sullo? Sullo, yes.

  General Cado and his staff emerged from Government House, clad in spartan contrast to the new governor’s opulence. More show for the veydeen? Of course.

  Yoseh was in a good position to observe, thirty yards from Fa’tad and only in the second rank. Sullo’s Moretians spread out. The governor reached the foot of the Government House steps a moment before General Gado did so. Yes, it took the help of two men to set Sullo upright

  The veydeen hooligans howled.

  General Cado stepped down and threw his arms around Sullo. Sullo reciprocated. They embraced like brothers who had been separated for years.

  If Yoseh understood the way Herodians operated, that meant a hatred between them deeper than the pits of Khorglot. There were ghost knives in their back-thumping hands.

  Yoseh’s eyes bugged. “Nogah.”

  Nogah ignored him.

  “Nogah!”

  “Quiet in ranks,” Nogah hissed. Medjhah scowled at him.

  “All right. But you’ll regret it.”

  Nogah looked over his shoulder, eyes baleful. Yoseh ignored him, kept his gaze fixed on the man he had picked out of General Cado’s bodyguard.

  Zouki was so bored he forgot to be scared. Till the big man came. Then all the kids got quiet and shaky. Some started to whimper. One of the girls skittered into the foliage to hide with the rock apes.

  The big man came in and scooped up a boy who went into hysterics immediately. The giant went out and locked the door to the cage. Zouki stared at the bone-white nuts of his fists while the boy’s screams faded and knew he’d never see that kid again.

  6

  Raheb said nothing as Aaron came to the house. She just nodded and began the slow, painful chore of getting herself upright. Aaron did not offer to help. Any effort to help would be spurned.

  The woman believed she was a curse and a burden upon her daughter’s house and she was not going to accept any help of any kind that was not absolutely forced upon her. Aaron accepted that.

  His feelings toward Raheb were mixed. Always there were eddies and crosscurrents and dangerous undertows when the mother of the wife lived in the household of the wife. Still, he could have done worse for a mother-in-law. He knew men who got more grief with their wives’ mothers living all the way across town.

  Arif spied him first. “Daddy’s home!” He charged, a flurry of clumsy limbs. Aaron caught him and lifted him up and squeezed him. Stafa roared in at knee level and wrapped both arms and legs around his shin and grinned up at him.

  Laella’s question was in her eyes. She was always troubled when he arrived home off schedule. “They dismissed us early. Because of the new governor coming in. Only have to work a half day tomorrow. They expect the whole Herodian colony to have to assemble for speeches by General Cado and the new governor. His name is Sullo, I think.”

  “Why do they waste the time?” Raheb wanted to know.

  “What?”

  “Somebody’s just going to kill him. They always do.”

  Startled, Aaron realized she was right. Eight civil governors in six years. They killed them off within a few months every time. Qushmarrah spent more time awaiting the arrival of new civil governors than she did being ruled by them.

  He shrugged. That was a trouble for the Herodians. He squeezed Arif. The boy squealed. Aaron took a few steps. Stafa clung to his leg and giggled and proclaimed, “We’ve got you now, long-legged demon!”

  “Decorum!” Aaron laughed. “What we need around this house is a little decorum and discipline.”

  Arif laughed and hugged his neck. Stafa repeated, “We got you now, long-legged demon.” But Aaron’s remark did not go over well elsewhere. Raheb grumbled sarcastic agreement. Mish’s eyes sparked with rebellion. She muttered to herself. Laella looked put upon.

  “Problem?”

  Mish surprised him by answering. “Mother thinks I was flirting with a Dartar soldier.” She spoke each word almost
as a separate sentence and loaded every one with the infinite, weary exasperation of the very young.

  “That’s enough of that, Mish,” Laella said. “Mother! We’ve been through it already.”

  “Dartar?” Aaron asked.

  “You should’ve seen, Dad,” Arif said. “There were hundreds of them. Thousands. With camels and everything.”

  Stafa said, “Forty-three,” which was his favorite number of the week and meant a lot instead of any specific number.

  “Dartars? What is this?”

  “They came this morning,” Laella said. “A hundred. Maybe a few more. They put men outside all the entrances to the maze and then they went in. They took prisoners.”

  Raheb said, “And about time that cesspit was cleaned, too. Maybe those Dartar maggots are good for something, after all.”

  Which led Mish to a caustic remark. Her mother responded. Laella snapped, “That’s enough of that! You’re both old enough to know better.” She pinched her temples between thumb and forefinger. “I’m yelling at my mother and sister like they were kids squabbling.”

  “You need to get out. Let’s go for a walk. Up to the Parrot’s Beak.”

  “I haven’t done the marketing yet. It was too rowdy out there while the Dartars were here.”

  “Never mind. We’ll manage. What happened to the Dartars?”

  “After they were here a few hours messengers came and they all went away again.”

  “Probably because of the new governor. Come on. Let’s go walk.”

  She saw it was important to him, so she collected her shawl.

  “I want to go, Dad.”

  “Me, too.” Stafa still clung to his leg, grinning, stubborn as a barnacle. He deposited Arif on the floor.

  “You boys stay with Nana.”

  “Aw, that’s not fair. You don’t never let me...”

  “Yeah, you long-legged creep. I hate you.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes toward heaven. “Let’s sell them both to the Turoks.” The Turoks were nomads who ranged south of the Takes, reputedly so ferocious even the Dartars feared them. Turoks seldom visited Qushmarrah. The only Turoks Aaron had seen he’d been unable to distinguish from Dartars.

  Selling the children to the Turoks was a family joke. Laella completed the ritual. “The Turoks wouldn’t take them. They’re too mean. You boys behave for Nana. Mish, you can make mountain bread. There’re beans soaking in the crock. There’s cheese. There’re odds and ends. Put something together.”

  Mish put on her martyr’s disguise, filled the house with her agonized adolescent sighs.

  Raheb shook her head in disgust and took herself back outside to abort a squabble provoked by proximity.

  “Are you going?” Laella asked, Aaron suspected more sharply than she intended.

  “I still have this grinning goiter on my shin.”

  Stafa giggled.

  Laella peeled him off amidst a one-child chorus of hate-you-moms and deposited him amongst blocks Aaron had made from scraps from the shipyard. Arif observed sourly. Aaron hugged him. Laella twisted her shawl around her head and across her face and followed Aaron into the street. She said, “Give me time to relax. Mom and Mish have been at it all morning.”

  He grunted. He had no intention of saying anything till he had relaxed himself. In some way.

  They did not exchange a word all the way to the Parrot’s Beak.

  The acropolis was crowded. The parade for the new governor was still breaking up, with soldiers moving back to their barracks or garrisons or duty stations. They moved through the traffic and found a place in the shade of the Beak. They settled. They remained silent. The breeze tugged at their hair and clothing. Clouds banking beyond the Brothers suggested some rain moving in later.

  Laella waited.

  “I want to tell you about something. I don’t really want to talk about it. I don’t want to answer a lot of questions.” The trouble with talking with Laella was that she always asked a thousand questions that had nothing to do with anything, about half of them vaguely accusatory. Interposed would be two or three questions that were too much to the point.

  “It’s about what’s been bothering you?”

  “Yes.” That was one. “Just let me tell it.”

  She bit down angrily.

  “This has been eating at me for six years. Last night it came to a head. I have to make a move. But I don’t know what.” Before he finished that his hand was moving. He laid a finger across her lips as she started to open her mouth.

  “Six years ago one of the men in my company opened a secret postern gate and let the Herodians into the tower we were holding at the Seven Towers. He almost got me killed. He did get half the men in the outfit killed. He almost got me sold across the sea as a slave. They were going to do that with all the prisoners that had trades. Till they decided that would cause more hate in Qush-marrah than it was worth. He got a lot more people killed here in the city.”

  He lapsed into several minutes of silence. Laella bemused him by keeping her peace. It was not like her to recognize a time for quiet.

  “Do you know that if we’d held the pass for two more days the allies and the new levies would have had time to assemble on the Plain of Chordan?”

  Laella nodded. “Everyone says.”

  “We could’ve held out for another week. We knew it and they knew it. They were so desperate they started trying to run cavalry past us at night. Not the Dartars. Fa’tad is too smart to let his men get massacred the way we massacred them.”

  Laella was frowning. “Is there a point to this?”

  “Maybe I’m straying. But I want you to know that the Herodians knew they couldn’t win if they didn’t get to the Plain of Chordan first. Even with Fa’tad to help. People who were on our side forget that part and just jabber about Dak-es-Souetta. Maybe because everybody who ever thought they were anybody in Qushmarrah was there and they don’t want their defeat to be less important than one man opening a postern gate. I mean, how could all those tens of thousands of men getting killed be less significant?”

  “You think you know who did it.”

  “I don’t think I know. I’m not guessing. I know.”

  “Naszif.”

  He was startled into open-mouthed silence.

  “It explains so much, doesn’t it? Why you’ve always been the way you are about him. How he’s managed to do so well without working very hard at it. You should hear how Reyha worries about his making so much. And you kept this bottled up all this time.”

  “There’s Reyha. And Zouki. And the war is over and lost.”

  “And no bitterness? No urge to get even?”

  “Hell, yes, there is! I got a father and two brothers under the ground on the Plain of Chordan. Pop was too old to go to Dak-es-Souetta. Tuddo and Rani were too young... Yeah. I’m bitter. Yeah. I hate. But what happens to Reyha and Zouki if you take Naszif away? The war didn’t leave them anyone else at all.”

  Almost shyly, like the first time they had been allowed to be together alone, she touched his hand. “You’re a good man, Aaron. Thank you for telling me.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  “There’s more?”

  “You didn’t pay a lot of attention to Naszif last night, did you?”

  “I ignore him as much as I can.” She smiled. “I don’t like him, either. Even Reyha doesn’t like him very much. But a woman has to live with what she has to live with. What about Naszif last night?”

  “He made me have to make my decision all over again. And it was hard enough the first time, and living with it.”

  “Why again?” Straight to the point today. None of the usual nonsense.

  “Because at the end last night Naszif was practically bragging that he’s a big man in the Living.”

  “But what does that... Oh.”

  “Yes. Maybe he’s still getting Qushmarrahans killed.”

  Bel-Sidek waited patiently while the old man considered what he had said. When the General
spoke, he observed, “I note that you haven’t named a single name.”

  “I wasn’t told any names.”

  “But you wouldn’t be telling me if you didn’t think you knew the man.”

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  “Your solutions tend to be abrupt and permanent. You see a threat, you extinguish it. But in this I see a great opportunity to stick it to Cado big. If the whole thing doesn’t turn out to be somebody’s pipe dream.”

  The General reflected. He said, “You’re right on all counts, Khadifa. It is an opportunity. And rightfully yours to exploit-if, as you say, it isn’t a pipe dream.”

  Thank you, sir.”

  “But you have to know you have game afoot, for certain. Then you have to decide if you let him know you know or not. If you just feed him select lies he’ll continue hurting us elsewhere. If you try to turn him you run the risk of losing him if he panics. Either way, it’s likely that Cado or Bruda will sense a change in the texture of the information he supplies. Unless you’re very careful.”

  “That much I know.”

  “What first?”

  “Find out for sure.”

  “I have a suggestion. I have a man to do the finding out. He’s the best the movement has. He’ll do the job right.”

  Bel-Sidek smiled.

  “True, you’d have to give me the name. But I’ve said he’s yours. I think this is important enough to give to someone who won’t screw it up. We have too many amateurs at the ground level. Or he might recognize someone.”

  “I’ll trade you a name for a name.”

  The old man thought about it. “No. I can’t. His rules. You find out when I go.”

  Bel-Sidek considered that and the General’s previous remarks. “All right. You watch your man Naszif.”

  The General remained still for a long time. His pallor deepened. “You’re sure?”

  “He’s the one.”

  “We praise the gods, who are merciful, and smile upon us.”

  “Sir?”

  “I was going to send Hadribel to take charge of the Hahr and add Naszif to the command staff of the Shu. Even if he did not recognize me himself chances are Cado would once he described the khadifa of the Shu.”