The Treasure

by The Treasure (v5. 0) (lit)

  Layla smiled, reminiscing. “There was something. A headache from too much wine.”

  “True.” Tarik returned her smile. “And the conviction that all of our work was for naught.”

  “Your conviction. I still believed.”

  Tarik nodded. “I wanted only to forget and go on with our lives. We made plans to run away from the city. I managed to smuggle Layla out of the city to my brother, Chion, in the country. I was going to follow the next week.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “The priests had found out Layla was visiting me the night before she left the city. They decided to try to persuade me to tell them where she’d gone.”

  “Persuade?”

  “They tortured him,” Layla whispered. “They broke all the bones in his foot, but he told them nothing.”

  “I was fortunate that was all they had time to do. The head librarian was my great friend and he had influence at court. He managed to talk Ptolemy into making the priests free me and then found a way for me to leave the city.”

  “He didn’t walk for a year.” Layla’s tone was stilted. “And when he did, it was the way he does now. He was a fool. He should have told them where I was.”

  “We’ve talked of this before,” Tarik said. “Stop blaming yourself. If I’d told them, they’d have killed me. I did it for myself.”

  She shook her head.

  “And the priests didn’t find you?”

  “No,” Tarik said. “When I was well, we left Egypt and went to Greece. My brother, Chion, went with us.”

  Kadar said, “The brother who went mad.”

  “It wasn’t Tarik’s fault,” Layla said defensively.

  “I didn’t say it was. I wouldn’t know. But I’m trying to find out. If you didn’t go mad after taking the potion, why would Chion?”

  “He didn’t go mad at once. It was later.”

  “How much later?”

  Tarik met his gaze. “Two hundred years.”

  Kadar went still. “Two hundred . . .”

  “As Layla said, he was a gentle, simple man. He had seen too many loved ones die.”

  “Two hundred years.” Kadar couldn’t get past that incredible statement. He shook his head. “It’s not possible. I thought perhaps eighty. Though that, too, stretches the imagination.”

  They both looked at him, waiting.

  He knew the question for which they were waiting. “How long ago did you take the potion?”

  “Ptolemy the Fourteenth was in power. He died the year we left for Greece and his sister Cleopatra was given the throne by Julius Caesar. That was more than forty years before the birth of Christ.”

  “Before the birth of Christ?” Kadar gazed at them in wonder. “Do you think me mad too?”

  “Incredulous, not mad.”

  “And how long do you claim to be able to live?”

  Tarik shrugged. “I make no claims. How could I? We know nothing about this. I could die tomorrow.”

  “Or live forever?”

  “Dear God, I hope not.”

  “And you haven’t aged?”

  Tarik shook his head. “Now you see why I feel guilty enough to let you use the grail. It’s a great burden I’ve put on you.”

  “It’s a great gift you’ve given him,” Layla corrected.

  “You can see that Layla and I have a different viewpoint regarding Eshe. After Chion died, I couldn’t give the potion to anyone else. I didn’t have the right.”

  “Who else has the right?” Layla demanded. “Were we to put it in a cave and let it be forgotten? As the years pass, surely there will come a time when it will be safe to bring it to light.”

  “And that time is not now?” Kadar asked.

  “Some of the herbs are rare. We could make only a small amount each year. Do you realize the uproar that would shake Christendom if everyone knew about it and we couldn’t offer it to all?”

  “Oh, yes.” Kadar’s lips twisted. “And you’d be fortunate not to be burned at the stake for sorcery—or blasphemy.”

  “I’ve been close to that point twice quite recently,” Layla said. “Bad judgment. This is a terrible dark time, and not everyone can accept gifts. It frightens them.”

  “I wonder why?” Kadar asked dryly.

  Tarik was looking at Layla. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Why should I think you’d care? You weren’t there. You were living happily at Sienbara with your Rosa.” Her lips tightened. “I’m surprised you weren’t tempted to give Eshe to her.”

  “I might have been. I wasn’t given the opportunity. She died from a fall from a horse.”

  Kadar barely heard them. “And, if I’m to believe you, I could live as long as you?”

  “It’s possible.” Tarik glanced at Layla. “I yield to your greater experience.”

  “Almost certainly,” Layla said.

  Kadar felt as if he’d been bludgeoned. He’d been toying, playing with the idea on a minor scale. This was something entirely different.

  “It’s enough to daze anyone. That’s why we’ve always gone slowly when telling anyone.” Tarik’s gaze was on Kadar’s face. “I was lucky. There was no shock for me. The years came and went and let me accept it gradually.”

  Kadar tried to fight his way through the maze. “The manuscript . . .”

  “I wandered a great deal after Layla and I parted. I settled for a while in Britain.” He smiled. “It amused me when I heard of de Troyes’s work. It didn’t amuse me when Nasim fastened on it with such ferocity. We had encountered each other twice. Once when Nasim was a young man and the second time nine years ago. He had grown old, I had not.”

  “And he had heard rumors of your treasure.”

  “Yes.” Tarik tilted his head and gazed quizzically at him. “Any other questions?”

  “Just one. Selene. Did you give her the potion?”

  Any hint of amusement vanished from Tarik’s expression. “No, never. She’s quite wonderful, but she wasn’t like you. You’d been seasoned by a hundred fires. I felt it might possibly be safe to give it to you. Selene has a very tempestuous nature, and I couldn’t foresee any of her responses. If you wish her to have it, you’ll have to give it to her yourself. I won’t take the responsibility.”

  “When are you going to take responsibility, Tarik?” Layla asked. “You cannot narrow your choices to one man. What if we die? What if he dies? Who will protect the grail? Who will make the decision when it’s time to let the world know about Eshe?”

  “You’d give Eshe to everyone on earth if you could. What of the sacrifice to them?” He turned to Kadar. “You’ll be tempted to give Selene the potion. You love her and you’ll want to keep her with you. But once it’s given, there’s no going back. Would you risk her going mad? Or all the bitterness and hurt she would know? What of the boredom and the weariness? What of the constant moving and uprooting to avoid people noticing she’s still young and comely while they grow old? Not to mention the danger of torture and death from those who either fear her or want the secret for themselves.”

  “You paint an ugly picture,” Kadar said.

  “It can be ugly.”

  “So is life,” Layla said. “It can also be joyful. Are we all to die in the womb because we fear to face the harshness?”

  It was clearly an old and bitter battle between them, and Kadar had enough with which to deal without having to think of their conflicts. “The decision wouldn’t be mine. I’m not like you, Tarik. I’d give her a choice.”

  Tarik flinched. “That was unfair. You weren’t able to—”

  “But you were planning to do it anyway. You manipulated Nasim to bring me to your doorstep and then—” He shook his head as he realized the subject he was arguing. “God in heaven, I’m talking as if I believe all this. It’s the wildest tale I’ve ever heard, and there’s no way of proving it true or false.”

  “You’ll get your proof in a hundred years or so,” Layla said. “Providing you don’t do something foolish
and get slaughtered in battle.”

  “A hundred years.” He could take no more of this. He turned to leave. “I have to go tell Selene you’ve agreed to let us use the grail.”

  “But nothing else?”

  “Why should I tell her something I don’t believe myself?”

  Tarik’s smile was sad. “But you are beginning to believe it, aren’t you?”

  God help him, he was. He didn’t believe in sorcery, and if Tarik and Layla had told him the grail was magical, he could have shrugged off the rest of the story. But the discovery of the potion through intense curiosity and hard work was a concept with which he could identify. From his own experience, he knew the miracles that could be wrought with those two weapons. “It doesn’t matter whether I am or not. Since it can’t be proved, I just have to live my life as if it’s only a mad tale.” He grimaced. “Which is probably the truth.”

  “But now you’ll be more careful of the grail,” Tarik said. “Because, in your heart, you know its value.”

  “I’ll be careful because I gave you my promise and for no other reason. I cannot consider any of this idiocy right now. There are plans to be made.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already made them.” A hint of sarcasm deepened Tarik’s tone. “You seemed very sure of me.”

  “I have a few thoughts on the subject.” Kadar smiled. “But Selene also has an idea. She wishes me to involve an old acquaintance, who is probably going to cost you a great deal of gold. What do you know of Vaden’s whereabouts?”

  “This is a foul place.” Selene stepped gingerly over one of the many scraps of garbage littering the alley. “And it smells of dung and—”

  “Stop complaining. You wished to come.” Kadar grasped her elbow. “The inn is just ahead. Stay close to me. From what Tarik said, it’s a low place frequented only by soldiers and whores.” He pushed open the door. “Don’t be surprised if you see things you don’t want to see. In a place like this, no one bothers to seek privacy when they wish to rut.”

  “Then it’s no different than the House of Nicholas.”

  But it was different. The place was as different from the pristine cleanliness of Nicholas’s house as silk was from leather.

  Dimness.

  Noise.

  Smoke.

  The sour smell of sweat, wine, and ale assaulted Selene’s nostrils as she followed Kadar into the room. Only a few candles lit the darkness. The room was crowded, the tables full, but she couldn’t make out the faces of any of the men or women.

  “I don’t see him. Are you sure he should be here?”

  “No. Tarik said he spent time here when he wasn’t selling his lance to local lords. He might not be in Rome at all. Why are you so determined to have him?”

  She wasn’t sure herself. Perhaps it was the coincidence of having Vaden suddenly emerge from the veil of years. It seemed almost like a sign. “He helped us before. If he’s selling his lance now, Tarik might as well buy him for us.” She frowned. “It’s too dark in here. We’ll have to go farther into the room.”

  “I never actually saw Vaden. Would you recognize him?”

  “He has fair hair.” She had seen him only once, and then his face had been blackened by smoke. “Like a lion. I’d recognize his hair.”

  No one seemed to pay them any attention as they moved about the room. They were too occupied in their own pleasures.

  “Well, there’s no fair hair in this room that I can see. The Romans are usually dark.”

  Selene dragged her gaze from the sight of a naked woman straddling the hips of a young soldier, making guttural sounds deep in her throat. She had thought she would not be shocked, but the sight brought back too many memories of the women she had known as a child. “Have you ever had a woman in a place like this?”

  “When the hunger struck me and there was no other alternative.”

  “Did you pay them well?”

  “Yes, as I told you, I spent time in a house of pleasure. I wouldn’t cheat them.”

  “These women do not look—Do you suppose they’re paid a fair sum?”

  “No.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “It’s the way it is. It’s a hard life. They have something to sell that’s worth a meal, a place to sleep for the night. Nothing more. The women at the House of Nicholas were fortunate in comparison.”

  “They weren’t more fortunate. They were slaves. At least these women have choice.”

  “Yes.” An indefinable expression flickered over Kadar’s face. “Choice is important.”

  She had the odd sense that he was no longer talking about the women of Nicholas’s house.

  But then the expression was gone and he was glancing away. “If you don’t see him, we might as well leave. This place is upsetting—”

  “There. What is that?” She had caught a glimpse of something in the dark corner across the room—shimmering, moving. She eagerly moved closer. “It might be . . .”

  Lion-colored hair flowing over naked shoulders . . .

  His shoulders were not the only portion of his body that was naked. His tunic lay on the rushes beside him, and he was crouched between the thighs of a woman as naked as he. He was moving quickly, stroking deeply, murmuring encouragement to the whore beneath him. She needed no encouragement. It was clear that she was entirely willing and in the throes of pleasure.

  “Is it him?” Kadar asked.

  “I can’t see his face.” The man’s head was bent over the woman, long strands of tawny hair veiling his features. “I’ll have to get closer.”

  “Not too close. He may resent any interference at this point.”

  “I think he’ll be too occupied to notice.”

  “It’s the woman who is occupied. He’s a warrior and trained to notice an attack.”

  “I’m not attacking.” She edged closer. “I just wish to see his—”

  He lifted his head and tossed back his hair.

  Vaden.

  Even covered with smoke and soot there had been no doubt about the regularity of his features, but she had never realized how comely he was. Those deep-set sapphire-blue eyes were impossible not to recognize. It was his face that was a surprise; it should have belonged to an Adonis or, considering the tawny hair, perhaps an Apollo.

  “Well?” Kadar asked.

  “It’s Vaden.”

  He must have heard his name. He froze, his gaze left the face of the woman.

  Selene instinctively braced herself as she met Vaden’s gaze. In the space of a heartbeat she felt weighed, judged, and dismissed.

  Vaden returned to his coupling.

  She was disconcerted. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, we don’t interrupt. He should be finished soon.”

  She hoped that was true. She felt very awkward standing here watching him couple.

  And not only awkward.

  “No one would notice,” Kadar murmured in her ear. “We could find our own corner.”

  She shook her head.

  But watching a man as beautiful as Vaden perform was causing the heat to flow through her. She had never understood the tapestry in the tower room, the excitement of watching others couple.

  She did now.

  Thank God, they were finishing. A moment later he was rising, pulling the whore to her feet.

  He was laughing as he pulled on his tunic and searched in his money pouch. He patted the woman on her backside and pressed a coin into her hand. He turned to Selene and smiled. “I’m a little weary now, but give me time. It’s a long night.”

  Kadar chuckled at the shocked expression on Selene’s face. “What did you expect? I told you, only whores come here. She doesn’t wish you to rut with her, Vaden. That’s not why we’re here.” He took another step closer. “Do you remember me?”

  The amusement left Vaden’s face. “Kadar.”

  “I thought you’d recognize me. We never actually met, but I was with Ware during the many years you watched and stalked him.” He pulled Selene forward. “You m
ay not recall Selene. She was much younger when you encountered each other.”

  “I think he should remember,” Selene said dryly. “Considering he pulled me from my horse and threatened to kill me.”

  Vaden smiled. “I do remember you. You’re the sister of Ware’s woman.”

  “His wife,” she corrected. “They are wed.”

  Vaden shrugged. “I cannot remember everything.” He dropped into a chair and reached for his wine goblet. “She shouldn’t be here, Kadar.”

  “I know. She insisted on coming. Could I persuade you to leave this place with us?”

  “No.” He lifted his wine to his lips. “I like it here.”

  “It stinks,” Selene said succinctly.

  “True. You should leave before your delicate nose is further offended. But I’m a little drunk, and I make it a habit to never go out into dark alleys unless I have all my wits about me.”

  Selene dropped down in the chair across from him. “We want you to help us.”

  “I helped you once before.” He smiled. “Don’t expect more from me. I’m not a generous man.”

  “We’re not asking for generosity,” Selene said. “We want your sword. You’ll be well paid.”

  “Ware?”

  She shook her head. “Ware knows nothing about this. Tarik. You remember him?”

  He sipped his wine. “How could I forget? I sold him my birthright. Is he enjoying it?”

  “It’s a beautiful villa.”

  “Yes.” His gaze went to Kadar. “You’re hovering over her the way you did Ware. Don’t you weary of protecting those around you?”

  “It’s become custom.”

  “I always found it strange. Particularly after I found out of your association with the assassins.”

  “Ware told me you spent some time with Sinan. Did you ever meet Nasim?”

  “He came twice to the fortress while I was there. Sinan seemed to lean on him.” He smiled. “It was amusing watching them together. I never could decide who had the darker spirit.”

  “Nasim,” Selene said.

  “Possibly.” He leaned back in his chair. “I gather it’s Nasim you wish me to vanquish?”

  “Yes.”