The Tower of Fear

by Glen Cook

  Naszif glanced around.

  “Yes. They’re out there. Come. They’re death. I’m life.”

  Resignation swept over Naszif. Almost, he felt relieved. There were no pressures now. No need to pretend. Everything was in other hands.

  “You’ll be watched. If you leave home, you’ll be followed. If you move toward Government House you’ll be killed. Good night.” Bel-Sidek closed the door, leaned against it. A long night, not over yet, and he was supposed to return to Meryel’s when it was done. “You heard, sir?”

  “Every word. A vice-colonel in the Herodian army. The human animal never ceases to amaze me. We know traitors seldom act out of fear and less often out of greed. We seldom fathom what does motivate them.”

  Bel-Sidek muttered, “He never took anything but the salaries due him as a Herodian officer.”

  “A traitor for love. The triumph or defeat of Qushmarrah meant nothing to him when the struggle meant he had to be separated from his wife while she gave birth. He sold Qushmarrah for that. And that bastard Bruda really tried to get him here in time.” The old man chuckled. “Those slimy bastards always keep their word. Damn them.”

  “He’s really a vice-colonel? That commission isn’t just a piece of paper they gave him?”

  “It was real. Oh, if they pulled him out of here they wouldn’t turn him loose with a field command. He isn’t qualified. But something administrative, yes. A job like Bruda’s, in Tuhn or Agadar.”

  “My hold on him is inadequate, then. I should have killed him.”

  “He’ll remain controllable as long as he doesn’t get near Cado. And for as long as it takes him to find the nerve to tell his wife that he’s become a ranking Herodian officer. If his love is as strong as it seems, I suspect the depths of hers will reflect it and she’ll be

  up to accepting what he is.” Then I do have no choice.” “He’s still vulnerable. Through his weakness. Love. You will tell him that we have his son and will hold him as a surety for his performance.”

  Startled, bel-Sidek asked, “Do we have him?”

  “No. But I’ll put that best man of mine on it and we will have him when the time comes. I’ll have you take a message to Muma’s in the morning. You can inform the man anytime afterward.”

  “Yes sir. How are you, sir? Do you need me?” “Told the woman you’d be back to discuss shipping schedules, did you? Go ahead. I’m tougher than you like to think, Khadifa.

  I’ll survive.”

  8

  Aaron watched Laella carefully throughout breakfast. He could see no sign that sleep had worked any miracles and given her the answer that had eluded him for six years. Mish watched them both in that way she did when she knew what had happened between them in the dark, looking for he knew not what, but causing knots in his guts. Arif ate somberly and delicately while Stafa flew around the house chattering nonsense as he pursued some imaginary adventure, deaf to parental admonition. Raheb was closed in upon herself, maybe feeling her age.

  Laella said, “I’ve got to do some marketing today.” Thinking out loud.

  Her mother said, “I’ll go with you. I need to get some things.”

  Mish went into her pout immediately, for which Aaron was almost grateful.

  Arif asked, “Can I go with you, Mom?”

  “We’ll see how you behave this morning.”

  Mish brightened some. She rose and started making Aaron a lunch.

  Aaron said, “I won’t need that today, Mish. We’re only working half a day.”

  She looked like she could not make up her mind if she should be delighted or distraught.

  Aaron yawned, caught Stafa on the fly, hugged him as he squealed and wriggled, trying to get loose. He extended a hand, inviting Arif. Arif looked unhappy for a moment, quietly jealous of his brother’s facile way of getting attention. Then he plunged forward. Aaron let Stafa make good his escape-which amounted only to a furious dash in a circle which ended with a plunge onto his father’s back-and took Arif into his arms.

  That started the whole ritual of, “Do you have to go to work today, Dad?” and “Stay home, Dad,” which finally ended with him bolting out the door.

  He moved into the street feeling warm and content with his life and lot Every man should be so loved and lucky.

  Bemusedly, he reflected that he had not had a nightmare for two nights now.

  “Aaron.”

  He looked up. “Bel-Sidek. Good morning. How is your father doing?”

  “He’s as busy as ever dying. He’ll outlive us all. On your way to work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind if I walk with you?”

  “Of course not.”

  They walked in silence awhile, Aaron slackening his pace so his companion would not work so hard descending the hill. He could not help glancing over occasionally. He had been acquainted with bel-Sidek for years, and knew the man survived by scrounging odd jobs around the waterfront, but they’d never spent any time together.

  After a while, bel-Sidek sort of sighed and said, “I guess there isn’t any way to get at it but to go straight ahead.”

  “What?”

  “You seem to be a fairly trustworthy man, Aaron. So I’m going to take a chance on you. I belong to the Living.”

  Aaron looked at him and frowned. “Everybody thinks that, anyway. Why are you telling me?”

  “I am, in fact, a moderately important part of the command structure of the Living, Aaron. Mostly because I was a commander of a thousand at Dak-es-Souetta. Yesterday one of the men who fought for me there came to me for some advice. He doesn’t know I’m with the Living and he wouldn’t name names, but what he did say gave me enough to reason out the rest for myself.”

  Aaron stopped. He looked at his neighbor blankly. Inside he was in a complete state of confusion, panic fighting with wonder fighting with relief. He did not know what to say or what to do. He could not think. Aram!

  “What I want from you, Aaron, is for you to forget all about this. All about what happened at the Seven Towers. It’s been taken care of.”

  “Hell, man, he had a wife and kid.” No way to stop it once it stuck its head out of his mouth. His tongue was a treacherous serpent. “You have to think before you go cutting throats. They didn’t have anybody else in the world. What the hell are they going to do now? Your kind never think about that when...”

  People were pausing to look at him before they hurried away. Bel-Sidek looked like he was in shock. But recovering. “Be quiet, Aaron! What’s the matter with you?”

  Aaron did manage to lower his voice. He let it all spill out.

  Bel-Sidek interrupted. “I see I’m going to have to tell you more than I wanted. But trust you some, trust you all the way. Naszif isn’t dead. We didn’t kill him. Come. Walk. We’re drawing too much attention.”

  And, Aaron noticed, Dartars were pouring into Char Street from the acropolis. He walked.

  Bel-Sidek said, “You were right about Naszif. He betrayed your tower out in the hills. And he was still an agent of the Herodians. In fact, they had adopted him into their society and he had become a vice-colonel in their army.”

  “Naszif?”

  “Yes. But now he’s our man again. We’ve reclaimed him. He’ll be working for Qushmarrah. His wife and son have lost nothing. And only you, outside the movement, know about this.

  I want you to forget. Everything. Tell no one anything and go on living your life. Can you do that, Aaron?”

  “I can. But you probably won’t let me.”

  “What?”

  Amazed at himself. Talking back to an officer. Serpent tongue letting anger six years old spew out. “It’s people like you that can’t leave anything alone. You can’t as long as there are people like me whose lives you can spend.” A strange, almost drugged feeling, like he was outside watching somebody else speak the unspeakable. “You go play your games with Fa’tad and General Cado. Just leave me and my family out of it. Leave us alone.”

  Bel-Sidek gulped
air as he searched for something to say. “It’s your struggle, too, Aaron.”

  Aaron spat into the dust. Then he laughed hoarsely. “Your ass. My struggle? The only people who aren’t better off since the conquest are your class. And the monster who lived in the citadel. If I had any real sense I’d turn you in to the Herodians. But I’m an old dog and you people trained me too well when I was a pup. I can’t turn on you now. Go away. Leave me the hell alone.”

  Aaron lengthened his stride. Bel-Sidek could not keep up.

  As the anger evaporated, Aaron began to be afraid. Stupid. Stupid to let your mouth run away like that. Those were dangerous men. Crazy dangerous.

  Bel-Sidek stopped. He could not keep up. He fought down the anger that nipped at him like a fire trying to get started. He had faced these blowups before. He did not like them. In part that was because he could not quite grasp the frustration that fueled them, in part because he heard enough truth in them to have his conscience wakened. He did not want to feel guilty about being true to his beliefs.

  It would not be a good day. Like it or not he was going to spend it reexamining everything that he was, agonizing over his own goals and those of the movement.

  When you looked at the situation the way an Aaron did there was no mystery why the movement had trouble attracting recruits. There went a man who had lost as much as any in the war, and he put at least as much of the blame for that on his own overlords as he did on the Herodians.

  That kind of thinking-with its damnable core of truth-was an enemy more dangerous than all the spies Cado might have on his payroll. That kind of thinking might lead men to denounce the movement simply because they preferred Herodian order to the chance of a chaos that might interfere with commerce.

  Bel-Sidek limped toward the waterfront, trying to shut out the pain in his leg and in his heart. Each hundred steps he glanced back to see how much the Dartars had gained upon him.

  The Dartar column entering the Gate of Autumn seemed endless. The civilians awaiting their turn to get into Qushmarrah were sullen and growing more so.

  Even to Yoseh it seemed that Fa’tad was sending in every man he had. And that just did not make any sense. What was so damned important about that Shu maze?

  “Nothing, I’ll bet,” Nogah said. “Just Fa’tad tying to get Cado to think he thinks it’s critical. Maybe so Cado will take it away and make a fool of himself looking for something that isn’t there.”

  “What difference does it make?” Medjhah asked. “We get paid the same whether we dig around or we don’t. Why worry about it?”

  Somebody else said, “Yeah, kid. What you getting fussed for?”

  Nogah: “He hopes we’re on the job a month. You didn’t see that veydeen slip he was making sheep’s eyes at yesterday.”

  Medjhah: “Oh, she was tender, my brothers! Young and sweet. Her eyes were like almonds toasted and glazed with honey. Her lips were a bed of rose petals.”

  Yoseh snapped, “Knock it off, you guys.”

  Medjhah: “Best of all, she wasn’t very bright. She was making calf eyes right back at him.”

  Nogah: “Sounds too good to be true. If she can cook I’m going to take her away from him.”

  Yoseh’s protests only made the ribbing worse.

  Veydeen in the streets paused to stare, startled by Dartar laughter. Yoseh said, “You’re ruining our image.”

  He became tense as they passed through the acropolis, in the shadow of the Citadel. In an operation this size, how much chance Nogah’s troop would end up where they had been posted yesterday?

  Nogah must have arranged something. He broke off the column at the same alley. As Yoseh helped unload he kept glancing at that doorway down the street. Every glance provoked a wisecrack.

  The house was closed up this morning. The crone was not in her usual place on the street. Had his daring yesterday raised her bile? Had she sealed up the fortress till the siege of the maze was over?

  Nogah flailed his injured arm to work out some of the stiffness. Already some of his cousins were pushing into the alleyway. Another six men, assigned by Joab, arrived and dismounted, turned their animals over to Yoseh. Yoseh asked, “You’re not going in there today, are you, Nogah?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you’re injured. Send me instead.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. You’d miss your little veydeen doe.” He laughed and marched into the shadows of the alley. Yoseh started after him.

  “Hold it, little brother!” Medjhah snapped. “Come over here.”

  Yoseh went, reluctantly.

  “You got a lot to learn about keeping yourself alive, kid. First rule of survival is don’t ever volunteer for anything. Where volunteers get sent men get killed.”

  “Why does he keep me out of the maze?”

  “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not a child, Medjhah.”

  “You’re no seasoned warrior, either. Qushmarrah isn’t the mountains. Right now you’re an apprentice. When Nogah is sure he can trust your judgment and ability to follow orders he’ll find something exciting for you to do.” Medjhah settled on a saddle he had pulled off one of the camels, leaned back against the wall.

  Veydeen surged around the knot of animals, casting sullen glances at the Dartars impeding traffic. Medjhah ignored them till a trio of young wives came past, stealing glances at the mysterious nomads. He singsonged, “Come close, come closer, said the fox to the little hens. I cannot see you from here.” It was a line from a popular Qushmarrahan fable.

  The tallest woman lifted her nose and lengthened her step. The other two giggled and whispered behind their hands and hurried to catch up. As she was about to fade into the crowd the tall one paused to look back.

  Medjhah tossed her a wave. “We’ll see that haughty beauty again before the day is over.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s my irresistible charm. Veydeen women just can’t stay away.”

  “More like they were carrying market baskets and they’ll have to come back this way to get home.”

  “That, too. But I’ll bet you right now she comes along this side of the street and gives me a chance to tell her more about the fox and the hens.”

  “You think so?”

  “It’s a game. Teasing game. Flirting game. She and I both know nothing would come of it even if that was what we wanted. No Dartar is going to introduce her to any mysteries. Can you see sneaking into a woman’s home and bed dressed like this? Nobody would notice a Dartar who went calling while a woman’s man was away?”

  “Get veydeen clothing. Step back there in the alley and change. Once you’re in the crowd nobody would notice you.”

  Medjhah looked at him oddly. “I never thought of that.”

  Yoseh shrugged. It seemed obvious to him.

  Medjhah said, “We were talking about adventures before those hens came by flaunting themselves. Look at me, Yoseh. Perfectly content to sit here leaning against a wall, watching camels. You want to know why? Because Nogah has found me enough adventures already. Don’t go looking for trouble. You might find it.”

  Yoseh nodded. There was sense in that.

  They watched the women go to market for a while, Medjhah flirting whenever one would allow it.

  The door down the street opened and the crone came out, followed closely by a woman whose face made Yoseh’s heart jump. Then he saw that she was not the girl. Her mother, perhaps. At least her older sister. The look was there, but time had weathered it.

  The women carried baskets. The crone eyed him narrowly as they passed. After a glance the other paid him no heed.

  Medjhah did not exercise his charm upon her. When she was out of sight he laughed. “Heart going pitty-pat, little brother? Here’s your big chance. Just walk over there and start talking. But what if her father is there? What if she has brothers? What if she spits in your face and screams for help?” Medjhah laughed again.

  It was as if Medjhah could read his mind
.

  “Eh, don’t worry about it, Yoseh. Come sit in the shade and watch the crazy veydeen. The parade is endlessly fascinating.”

  But the doorway down the street was open an inch. He could see the white of an eye pressed to the crack. Somehow, that shook the roots of the daydream, as though reality threatened to intrude and force him to live out the fantasy.

  His spirit was restless. That communicated itself to his flesh. He began to pace.

  Azel was plagued by an unaccustomed flux of the spirit. He was restless, uncomfortable, almost haunted as he moved through the Dartar infestation. What the hell were they doing? Why the hell couldn’t they leave the labyrinth alone?

  He fretted as he drifted through the press of Char Street. He did not like the feelings plaguing him. It was almost if he were suffering a premonition of disaster.

  He slipped into the old man’s house as quickly as he could. Almost too quickly to pay attention to safety. And that bothered him, too. A man dared not put caution aside.

  The old man was in his bed. Azel said, “I’m here. Again. You seem determined to use me up.”

  He frowned. He did not like what he heard from his own lips. It was not like him to complain.

  “Things have begun moving quickly. It cannot be helped.”

  “What is it this time?”

  “The man you tracked to Government House. He turned out to be an officer of high standing among the Herodians. We want to turn him to our own advantage. We have him under control now but we don’t expect our leverage to hold up.”

  “This is where I come in.”

  “The boy you took the other day is his son. We have informed him that we have the child in our control. I want you to convince him of that fact.”

  “How?”

  “Take him there. Show him the boy. Then get the child into our hands as soon as possible. Have him be the next one examined.”

  “That’s asking for trouble. If I take the man inside he might recognize something. And the woman isn’t going to accept that without a squawk. Nor will she be pliant about who she takes for examination. It pleases her to imagine that she’s the driving force behind everything and that we’re parasitic hangers-on trying to profit from her researches. She tolerates us because she finds us useful occasionally.”