The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  "Most traffic goes south, as you know. The journey to Razimir is a little shorter through Belugor too, but I advise you to stay as far away from the capital as you can. As foreigners you will face hostility in Dendria; in Karkor it will be much worse, you could even be arrested. You particularly, Ashemi, if you are recognized: you may be welcomed with honour, but do not expect it. Fear and suspicion sweep away courtesy and trust. As the Tinker warned, it is you who will be in more danger in Karkor than your companions. Even Tarkus is not as safe for you as it was: there are spies and informers everywhere.”

  Idressin sighed. “I have so many people warning me to be careful, my friend, when I’m never anything else. I’ve travelled in and out of the Empire unnoticed for a good part of my life, as you well know. Perhaps with your help I’ll take a few extra precautions while we’re here. Now what of the Sarai?”

  “The raids are unpredictable as always. North or south the risk is the same either way, but you would almost certainly be safer travelling north to Dendria with the Grand Caravan than in a small party going south."

  Idressin nodded, but said nothing. After a moment, the old man went on. "There is another matter the Tinker mentioned. He said that there were people who might be watching for you in Tarkus. If I discovered anything, I was to tell you."

  He paused, and took a long slow look at Berin and Caldar. Berin said nothing. Caldar stared back at the old man, trying not to show the uncomfortable vulnerability he had felt since the incident on the highway.

  F'Tetchi nodded and went on, "You are right to be cautious, my friends. It seems that a watch has been kept on the campgrounds for some weeks for a party from Esparan, two youths travelling with a man, maybe two men. Two days ago a new search was started covering the whole city with offer of a reward.”

  "Where did you hear that?" Idressin asked sharply. "Han Bardi does not know of it, or he would have told me."

  "Ah," the old man replied with a sly grin. "If you want silk sheets, you stay in the merchants' quarter. If you want information, you must come here. In truth word was spread through the bazaars yesterday; Han Bardi will have heard it by now, as will every villain in Tarkus. It was wise that you all now wear the dress of the city. The description of these two,” he nodded at the youths, “spoke of white birawi and shimsak, and few will look beyond that. I warn you though of one thing which will draw attention to them. Neither grey nor dark blue eyes are common in the Empire."

  "Yes, I intended to pass these two off as Trintzars from frontier tribes. Though from what you’re telling me now it would be better not to appear foreign at all if we have to leave the caravan. Fenkurs perhaps?”

  F'Tetchi nodded his agreement. "Indeed, indeed, Ashemi. Who am I to advise you? I know if anyone can keep them safe you will."

  "Come on, F'Tetchi, this sudden modesty makes me uneasy. What surprise has the best-informed rogue in Tarkus been saving up for us?”

  F'Tetchi beamed at the description of himself, and immediately offered them all tea made with bitter-sweet amalra leaves, much loved by the poorer travellers in the Caravan. Hospitality demanded that neither host nor guests should talk any more 'business', until the drink had been finished in the proper leisurely fashion. F’Tetchi raised his cup to his forehead in a gesture which the youths had seen frequently among the mule-train drivers on the highway, then sipped slowly discussing the unseasonably cool weather. When the last drop had been drained, the old man looked at Idressin with a twinkle in his eye.

  "You are right, of course, Ashemi. I have further information. I have set a watch on Han Bardi's house and it is clear that there are no other watchers. It is still possible however that someone in this crowded city has noted the arrival of your party. So I put out word in the bazaars that any who wanted the reward would need to pass the information in a certain way. In other words, although they are not aware of it, they would be communicating it to me."

  "And have you had any results?"

  "Oh yes. Several of the type who would say anything for money. You are the most remarkable people. You have been seen in every quarter of Tarkus, opposite sides of the city at the same time. And you all change the colour of your skin and your height several times a day. We tell such informants in an official sounding way that their reports will be investigated and to meet us again in a week. Of course in a week you will be long gone.

  There is however one report which describes you three quite accurately and confirms your presence here in Tarkus. I have arranged to meet this man tomorrow morning in the Grand Bazaar to find out how much he knows. Then I will have to decide what to do with him."

  "Do not kill him." Idressin said in a matter-of-fact tone. When F'Tetchi raised an eyebrow in a mute question, he explained briefly, "Not on this venture and not for such a reason. You must find another way, if you have to silence him."

  "It will be as you wish," the old Tarak acknowledged. "Although if silence is required, killing is usually safer and cheaper than anything else."

  "If you need money . . .?"

  F'Tetchi held up his hand and stopped the tutor in mid-sentence. "Do not shame me, Ashemi. The Tinker saved me from the slave-pens in my youth and you cured my son's blindness. All that I and my family possess are at your disposal." He gazed intently at Idressin. "I do have one request if this little business tomorrow goes well."

  "Tell me."

  "I ask that if the need should arise, you or the Tinker will preside at my grandson's wedding feast."

  Idressin was clearly surprised. "He's too young, F'Tetchi. He can't be more than ten years old."

  F'Tetchi smiled. "No, he is not to be married now. There will come a time, not too long now, when I may not be present to give him my blessing: it would comfort me to know that he will have yours.” He glanced at the tutor. “You look as you did when I first met you on the Highway thirty years ago. You have kept your youth, but these old bones remind me every day of the passage of time.”

  "You may well outlive me." Idressin replied gently. "These are dangerous times. But rest assured, if we can, one of us at least will be there. Now tell us about your meeting tomorrow morning. Maybe it would be worthwhile for us to observe this man and see if we can recognise him."

  The old Tarak explained that he was meeting the informant an hour before noon at an eating house near the south gate of the Grand Bazaar. There was a carpet shop on the other side of the alleyway, and he would arrange that Caldar could watch from there, just in case it was the same man he had encountered on the highway.

  *

  'So here I am', thought Caldar, 'roasting inside this shimsak, watching for someone who may not even come, while Idressin and Berin roam about in the bazaar enjoying themselves. Berin'd be much better at this waiting game than me.' He had taken up his station early and it was hard to stay awake now, except when a black birawi gave him a little shiver of disquiet.

  He idly scanned the customers sitting at the tables opposite, some eating, most chatting over tiny amalra cups or tall glasses of sherbet. The man sitting in one of the front seats bordering the alley raised his cup to his forehead in a ritual gesture before drinking, and Caldar realised with sudden surprise that it was F'Tetchi. He wore the grey-brown robe Caldar had noticed on many of the passers-by and he was alone. After a few minutes another figure in similar dress detached itself from the swirling crowd and sat down opposite the old man. The formal offer of tea was made and accepted, and the pair settled down to talk. Caldar had never seen the new arrival before.

  He watched the conversation with fascination, trying to guess at what was being said. It was difficult, for despite his high perch which placed him above the passing crowds, F'Tetchi and the informant were often obscured by a solid wall of bodies which pressed right up to the front of the eating house. After a while Caldar noticed that the stranger, who had sat down in a confident and relaxed manner, was betraying signs of nervousness. He glanced up frequently at the passing crowd, as if expecting someone, and he was unable to sit still.
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  Caldar almost missed it. A tall mustachioed man dressed in the blue and white of a merchant, who had gone through to a table some yards behind F'Tetchi's back, looked straight at the informant and half-raised his hand in furtive greeting. The newcomer took his seat and was joined moments later by two burly figures in the common grey-brown birawis.

  The man with F'Tetchi visibly relaxed and as he did so, Caldar became increasingly uneasy. It looked as though the old Tarak was about to be caught in a trap. How could he help? It had been emphasised to him repeatedly that he must not be seen, let alone taken: if either happened, he would only increase the danger to his companions. Yet it was impossible for Caldar to sit and watch F'Tetchi being cornered, without doing anything.

  Moments later two men with red hats and long sticks, which Caldar already knew to be the uniform of the Count’s Guards, took up station in the alley to his left and almost at the same time three more appeared a few yards to the right of the eating house. F'Tetchi seemed oblivious to his danger, talking to the informant, sipping his tea, giving alms to a passing one-eyed beggar. As Caldar watched with mounting frustration at his own helplessness, the man in the blue-edged robe gave a quick signal and the Guards stiffened like hunting dogs about to attack.

  Caldar hesitated no longer. He jumped down off the carpet pile and was about to rush forward, when Berin's voice called out, soft and urgent, behind him, "Caldar, stop."

  He looked round bewildered and saw his friend's face peering out from the curtain at the back of the shop.

  "In here, quick." Berin beckoned impatiently, then continued as Caldar joined him. "Idressin says we must leave by the back way at once."

  "F'Tetchi's about to be trapped out there. There are men all round him waiting to pounce. I've got to warn him, Berin."

  But even as he turned to go out again, things began to happen at the tables opposite. The mustachioed merchant at F'Tetchi's back swore at the importunate beggar and kicked him out of the way as he stood up. The two men at his table rose with him, then there was a loud scream and the whole scene dissolved in confusion.

  A waiter, carrying a large pot of amalra tea to a nearby table, had tripped over the stumbling beggar and the scalding liquid cascaded over the merchant. The red-hatted Guards darted forward, but all the nearby customers and passers-by had pressed in to help or at least to see what was happening, and it was some time before the group of hunters were all gathered around their scalded chief, looking round intently in search of their quarry. The informant sat at his table, his head bowed in his hands. F'Tetchi had disappeared.

  Now Caldar raised no objections to Berin's urging, and they slipped out into the deserted walkway behind the shop. They ran along its twisting course, dodging the occasional person they encountered, for two or three minutes, until a last sharp turn popped them out right next to the south gate of the bazaar. They strolled through past the bored police guards, feeling nervous and elated at the same time. It was the nearest they had come to one of their childhood games for some time, but to be dodging real villains added a new dimension to the fun.

  They had been back at Han Bardi's house an hour, when a visitor called. Berin was describing the extraordinary wares he had seen on sale: crates full of huge black eggs, more than a handspan in diameter: silk dresses woven so light and fine that you could see right through them - Berin blushed slightly at this point, remembering the lushly endowed woman unashamedly showing off the costumes: whole books small enough to fit into the palm of the hand, the script so fine that it was all but invisible until magnified under one of the amazing lenses sold at the same stall: flashing displays of jewelry of every shape and colour, watched by stern-faced guards: talking yellow Mashimrak birds, which could be trained as pets to recognise people and greet them by name: shops selling medicines and aphrodisiacs jostling with the booths of moneychangers and fortune-tellers: spices, brassware, wines, camel-rugs, an infinite variety of merchandise filling mile after mile of alleyways.

  One of the household servants interrupted them and announced that they had an elderly visitor downstairs, a man who wished to see them, but refused to give his name. The boys exchanged quick glances. Rasscu come in from the campground with news? No, no one would describe Rasscu as elderly. S’Bissi? Or more likely, G'Shenni with a message? They went down to the courtyard a little warily, Caldar raising the shimsak over his face.

  At first neither of them recognised the small figure with only his dark eyes visible above a grey-brown shimsak. As soon as he spoke the traditional Tarak greeting, they realised with a start that it was F'Tetchi, and signalling to the hovering servant that all was well, they led him upstairs to their private room.

  "I would not lightly risk coming to this house, while you are here; but I wish to speak to A'Delzir before you leave tomorrow and I made sure I was not followed."

  Observing the blank look on the faces of both boys, F'Tetchi gave a dry laugh. "And by what name do you know him? Idressin?" They nodded. "Well, it is a good name, less revealing than the one he started with. However there is no time now to recount the story of your companion's past. Where is he? I must speak with him."

  "He hasn't come back yet." Berin replied. "In fact I haven't seen him since he sent me round to the back of the carpet shop and told me to get Caldar out of the bazaar."

  "D'you think he's alright?" Caldar asked, suddenly anxious. "There were a lot of Guards around the eating house. It looked as though they were all set to grab you. It was lucky that man got scalded by the tea."

  "So, you saw that little incident, did you? Lucky? Hah! It was perfect. No one could have described it as other than an accident, however closely they watched. A'Delzir is an artist when he sets his mind to it."

  "You mean the waiter was Idressin?" Berin asked incredulously.

  "No, no. He was that one-eyed piece of filth who wheedled a whole copper birrt out of me. I did not know until he took hold of my leg and asked for alms in six different languages. One of them was a dialect of Southern Belugor that we both know from our youth; he warned me that I was about to be caught in my own trap, and then he sprung it himself. However I am concerned that he has not returned. If you will allow me, I will await his arrival here.”

  The boys were astounded. The tutor had acted all this out right under their noses and they had never suspected the truth for a moment. His cringing demeanour and his movements just as much as his filthy eye patch, all spoke of a desperate old man who had spent too long at the bottom of the human garbage heap.

  There was nothing desperate about him when he arrived at the house an hour later. His face was alive with merriment when he told them of the helpful beggar who had led the hunting party all over the bazaar in pursuit of their elusive target, who was always rumoured to be just ahead of them fleeing from one hiding place to another.

  "I was highly commended for my efforts and I even got paid too." Idressin smiled as he held up a copper coin. "More to the point, they were so tired that they forgot to guard their tongues."

  His face grew more serious. "That reward must be backed by someone with real influence in Tarkus, maybe Special Forces. They had a lot of men on that job, not just the Count’s Guards. There’s a crowd of them still scouring the city for you, F’Tetchi. Whoever’s behind it, they’re clever. They double-guessed you and used your own reward story to bring you out in the open. Probably reckoned that pulling you in was the quickest way to find us.”

  No one replied in the sudden silence before Idressin brought his own speculations to an end by turning to F'Tetchi. "Why did you cut him?"

  The old man shrugged, and replied equably, "There was little time, Ashemi, for pondering. I cut his face so I will recognise him again. When I find him, I will question him and send word to you if the news is valuable. You told me not to kill him, and I agree, this is better."

  The boys had not seen the snake-swift slash of F'Tetchi's knife that left the informer doubled over the table. Knowing now what he had done, they were chilled by the
complete indifference in his tone. This more than anything else brought home to them that they had come to a different world, where men lived by much harsher values than the peaceful Espars of the Lake.

  Idressin nodded. "I think there’ll be little to learn. But I’ll say it again, F'Tetchi, no torture."

  "If you command it, Ashemi, we will forego our simple ways. Frightening this man should be sufficient."

  "Very well. If you discover anything of importance, send word to S’Bissi. He’ll stay with the Grand Caravan, even if we don’t, and he’ll be easy to find. How about you? Will you be safe? They got a good look at you.”

  “I think when you leave, you will take the danger with you. I mean you especially, Fordosk, Count of Attegor. That man I cut was asking about you, about Fordosk, not about your companions.”

  The youths stared at the tutor, who sat still as stone, while F’Tetchi continued.

  “It seems the new reward was for you. My guess is that you were recognised on the Highway or on your arrival here and by the time the authorities reacted you had disappeared into the city. You make light of it, but your presence on the Empire’s borders will be seen as a threat at this time. Tarkus is no longer safe for you and every step of your journey will increase the risk. As for me,” he shrugged, “by comparison I am of no interest to them. Anyway they will venture into my quarter of the city at their peril.”

  Idressin sat in silence when F’Tetchi finished. After a couple of minutes he nodded as if accepting what he had heard.

  “Very well. It was always possible this problem would arise, but I didn’t expect it so soon. I’m sorry, my friends,” he said to the two youths. “We now have more people than ever after us. Sounds as if I’m worth even more than you two,” he added with a smile.

  “How can we get away?” Berin asked.

  “We’ll stick with the Grand Caravan as long as we can. It leaves in the morning. They’ll have a watch on it, though it will be difficult on a busy day. So let’s make it even harder for them. I’ll set off with the entertainers at the tail end for the first day or so. The rest of you can go with S’bissi as before. F’Tetchi, can you get hold of a couple of brown Dendrian robes for us, the more worn the better, for a driver and an ostler? And two pairs of those clumsy leather shoes they wear? Rasscu and Sitch can at least leave Tarkus looking like a couple of Dendrians. Can you manage that before nightfall?"