Splinter Of The Mind's Eye

Chapter Eight

The Castle Tenacious and Resolute

T here is great rejoicing in Sebil el Selib," Fuad snarled as he stalked toward Yousif, Radetic and the Wahlig's captains. A heavy layer of trail dust covered him. "Nassef and the Disciple have returned. They survived."

The cords in Yousif's neck stood out. His face darkened. He rose slowly, then suddenly hurled his platter across the room. "Damn it!" he roared. "And damn that fool Aboud! When they finally take Al Rhemish and strangle him, I hope I'm there to laugh in his halfwit's face."

Wadi el Kuf had been the limit of Royal aid. Nothing Yousif had done or said had been sufficient to excite Prince Farid into exceeding his orders and following through. The opportunity had been there, to pursue and slay, to recover Sebil el Selib. But Farid had had his instructions, and had been satisfied himself that El Murid and Nassef were dead.

Farid's father was old and fat and none too bright. He loved his comforts and could see nothing beyond tomorrow. He did not want his son wasting money or lives.

There had been a time when Aboud had been a renowned warrior and captain. He had driven the Throyens from the disputed territories along the northern end of the eastern shore. But that had been long ago. Time, that old traitor, slows and weakens all men, and makes them less inclined to seek hazard.

"Thank God for Farid," Yousif sighed, his rage spent. "No one else could have gotten us the help we needed at Wadi el Kuf. Megelin? What now?"

"We step back a few years and go on."

"The same thing?"

"The same. And don't count on them making any more mistakes. They've had their one and gotten away with it. El Murid will take the lesson to heart. He'll listen to Nassef now,"

Nearly eight thousand of Nassef's men had escaped Wadi el Kuf. They were back in the desert now, stunned, but a foundation for a new guerrilla infrastructure.

"We should have attacked Sebil el Selib while they were still demoralized," Yousif growled. "We should've hit them and kept on hitting till they gave up. None of the leaders were there."

"Hit them with what?" Fuad asked caustically. "We were lucky they didn't come after us."

Yousif's forces had been battered and exhausted after the battle. Getting themselves home had been the most difficult task they could handle.

Fuad added, "They would have if anybody had been there to tell them what to do."

Yousif's anger evaporated. He could not sustain it in the face of the truth.

The years had taken their toll. El Aswad was approaching its limit. Yousif had done all he could, but his best had not been enough. From Wadi el Kuf onward he foresaw nothing but a downhill slide. His last hope had been that El Murid and his generals had perished. But Fuad's news accounted for the last of the missing leaders. They were all alive. The fury of Wadi el Kuf had consumed none but the expendable.

"Megelin," Yousif said, "think for the enemy. What will he do now?"

"I don't know, Wahlig. They say Nassef is vindictive. We'll probably get a lot of attention. Beyond that guess, you might as well read sheep's entrails."

Yousif said nothing for several minutes. Then, "I'm going to concede the initiative again. We'll keep up the patrols and ambushes, but avoid contact most of the time. We'll stall. Concentrate on surviving. Try to lure them into a debilitating siege of the Eastern Fortress. Aboud is old. He's got the gout. He can't live forever. I talked to Farid. He's on our side. He'll be less sedentary. He can see the shape of things. He'd give us what we need if he wore the Crown."

But neither fate nor Nassef would play the game according to Yousif's wishes. In the year after Wadi el Kuf Yousif's men seldom saw their enemies. They could not be found even when hunted. Nassef seemed to have forgotten that el Aswad existed. With the exception of the patrolled zone immediately before the mouth of Sebil el Selib, security and peace reigned in the Wahligate.

The quiet drove Yousif and Fuad to distraction. They worried constantly. What did the silence mean?

Haroun and Radetic went on their first fieldtrip in almost two years. Megelin wanted to look for rare wildflowers. His search took them into a canyon which meandered deep into Jebal al Alf Dhulquarneni.

Haroun worried about offending the Hidden Ones. He tried to mask his nervousness behind uncharacteristic chatter. That generally took the form of trying to get Radetic to illuminate the enemy's behavior.

Exasperated, Radetic finally growled, "I don't know, Haroun. The Sword rules the Word these days. And Nassef is a big unknown. I can't begin to guess his motives, let alone predict his moves. One minute he looks like El Murid's most devoted follower, the next like a bandit looting the desert, and a second after that he seems to be a man quietly finagling himself an empire. All I can say is wait. He'll make everything painfully clear someday."

One painful piece of news had sullied a restful winter. El Murid had appointed Nassef commander of the Invincibles for a period of five years. Spies said that the Scourge of God had launched an immediate purge, that Nassef was redesigning the bodyguard to his own specifications.

The Sword apparently mastered the Word completely now.

Nassef's campaign plans became less murky once Haroun and Radetic returned to el Aswad. They were given no chance to recuperate from the hardships of the trail. Guards hustled them directly to the Wahlig.

"Well, he's finally made a move, Megelin," Yousif declared as they approached. "He's shown his hand. And it was the last thing anybody expected."

Radetic dropped gingerly to a cushion. "What did he do?"

"All that strength he's been gathering? That's been piling up so fast our spies figured he was going to take a stab at us this summer? He used it to attack to the east."

"The east? But—"

"Souk el Arba has fallen already. He's besieging Es Souanna. His riders have reached Ras al Jan. Souk el Arba didn't resist. They sent a committee to welcome him. Our agents say our cousins on the coast are tripping over each other they're so eager to join him. He's promising everybody the loot of Al Rhemish and the Inner Provinces."

"In other words, the east has decided its future lies with El Murid."

"They've had a lot of time to preach there. And to make deals. Aboud hasn't done much to hold their loyalties. In fact, I expect Throyes to cut us off completely now."

The only way Al Rhemish could reach its eastern supporters was by using the same narrow, northern pass which gave desert merchants access to Throyes. The Throyens were racially and linguistically akin to the Children of Hammad al Nakir, but had not recognized an external suzerainty since the Fall. The city had been founded as a naval and mercantile port by Ilkazar.

There had been no fighting for years, but the city still claimed territories on the northern shores of the east coast. Since Sebil el Selib Throyes had been nibbling away at the lands Aboud had reconquered in his youth. The Royal lines of communication now had to pass through areas patrolled by unfriendly troops.

"I imagine they'll occupy in earnest as soon as they hear what's happened," Radetic agreed. "How strong a garrison did Nassef leave? Did El Murid go with him?"

"Fuad's checking it now."

Fuad was doing more than checking. He was conducting el Aswad's first assault on the pass in years. His initial progress report arrived early next day.

Haroun came to drag Radetic out of his quarters. "Come on, Megelin! Uncle Fuad took them by surprise. Get up! Father needs you."

Radetic rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Fuad did what?" He began to dress, donning desert-style clothing. The last of his own western garb had gone to rags years earlier. "Never going to get used to this women's wear," he muttered. "Maybe I should have something sent out. Bah. That would make it too easy for assassins to find their target."

"Come on!" Haroun bubbled. "He surprised them. He got through their picket lines and cut them off so nobody knew he was coming. He caught them working in their fields and killed a whole lot. Come on. Father needs to know what you think we should do."

Haroun could not stop jabbering. He revealed most of Yousif's surprise before he and Radetic located the Wahlig in the parapet of the tower on the north wall. Yousif was staring northward, toward Sebil el Selib.

With a mixture of luck, planning and cunning, Fuad had outmaneuvered El Murid's patrols and had broken into Sebil el Selib. He had killed or captured hundreds before the survivors could seal up the two fortresses, and had killed and captured hundreds more afterward, because in their panic the gatekeepers had locked them out. Fuad and the survivors were trading stares over the walls of the castles. Fuad did not have the strength to storm either. While he awaited advice from home he was destroying everything he could. He expected Nassef to send help soon. He wanted to leave the enemy nothing when he withdrew.

"What do you think we should do, Megelin?" Yousif asked.

"Send for help. Especially to Prince Farid. Explain the situation. Tell him that if he hurries we have a chance to cut them off on the coast. That might be as good as killing them."

"I've done that. I was thinking in more direct terms. What can we do up there? While we're waiting for Farid and Nassef?"

Radetic considered. "I'd have to see the fortresses myself. I might notice a weakness you've overlooked."

The western style of warfare was more given to castles and siegework than that of Hammad al Nakir. The men of the desert were inclined to run away when outnumbered rather than to retreat into a fortress. Most of the extant fortifications were Imperial hand-me-downs weak from long neglect.

"You can join me, then. I'm leaving in an hour. Taking every man who can hoist himself onto a horse."

"Father?"

Yousif eyed his son. He knew what the boy wanted, but made him ask anyway. "What, Haroun?"

"Can I go? If Megelin does?"

The Wahlig glanced at Radetic, who said, "It's all right with me if it's all right with you."

"Go get your things, son."

Haroun left with the excitement of a small whirlwind. Radetic observed, "It's time he got a glimpse of the realities."

"That's why I told him he could go. He accused me of letting Ali have all the fun this morning. I want him to see that Ali isn't enjoying himself."

"How much more muscle can you give Fuad?"

"Not much. Maybe three hundred men."

"Hardly enough."

"Then hope that my messengers get lucky."

Two days later Megelin saw Sebil el Selib for the first time. He was surprised. He had been hearing about it for eight years. He had built a mental picture that only vaguely resembled reality.

"How easy it is to destroy," he told Haroun. "You see what your uncle has done? In a few days he's undone the labor of years."

Fields had been ruined. Hillside terraces had been undermined and allowed to collapse. Fuad's men were still forcing their prisoners to destroy, daring the inmates of the two fortresses to try stopping them. Fuad was saving the vast barracks-city east of the new fortress to become a burning greeting for Nassef's return.

Radetic studied the situation for several hours. Then he located Fuad and asked, "Is El Murid here?"

"Went with Nassef. To preach to new converts. He left his family, though. They're in the New Castle."

Radetic glanced at the huge fortress. "We couldn't take that. The old stronghold we might. We can pound it a little, anyway. If we can come up with the lumber to build siege engines."

Fuad found the lumber in the barracks.

Radetic gathered the Wahlig's officers. "We probably won't have time for much before Nassef returns," he told them. "But we won't get anywhere if we don't try." Those men had been involved in the war so long that other ways of life now seemed alien. "What the Wahlig wants is a low-risk assault on these fortifications. We're likely to have little luck with the New Castle. It's up to modern standards and it's in good repair. The old castle isn't. It'll be our primary target.

"We'll build a variety of siege engines, beginning with trebuchets and mangonels. We'll start gathering suitable stones, lumber and so forth, right away.

"We'll work on the old castle wall a few yards to the left of the barbican. That's a recent addition, and they weakened the wall during construction.

"I'll want to keep several things going at once. Especially some obvious practice with scaling ladders, turtles, rams and siege towers. We'll build the turtles right away and bunch them in the meadow as close to the old castle as we can. We'll use them to conceal the head of a mine we'll run under the weak section of wall. We'll dispose of the earth at night."

Radetic's siege strategy was extensive. It would require every available body, including Fuad's prisoners. But as he revealed it, the faces of Yousif's officers darkened. He was asking warriors to do the work of slaves. It was beneath their dignity. He considered their hostile faces. "Haroun," he whispered, "fetch your father."

The Wahlig did his convincing for him.

Yousif came to Megelin three days later, while Radetic was inspecting his projects. "How long till you drop that wall, Megelin? We're running out of time. Nassef should be on his way by now." There was little force in the Wahlig's voice. He seemed dazed.

"I'm having trouble. The soft earth doesn't run all the way to the foundations. I'm running a mine to the New Castle, too, but I don't have much hope for it. Those walls were engineered by westerners. You can tell that from the camber of the base."

"What?"

"The way it slopes out at the bottom. Instead of coming straight down. It increases the thickness and coherence of the wall, making mining difficult."

"Nevertheless, Megelin."

"Yes, Wahiig. We'll persist. Any news from Al Rhemish?"

Yousif became more sour. His lined, rugged, aquiline face darkened. "The messenger returned an hour ago."

Radetic watched as his hastily constructed trebuchets hurled a barrage against the old castle. One of the engines groaned and fell apart. The rocks rumbled against the castle. The wall shuddered. A merlon stone slid off the battlements and plunged downward. Cracks had begun to show in the wall. "The engines might be enough. If I can keep them working. What's the bad news?"

"Aboud says we have to chase Nassef off the coast. He was pretty definite about it."

"Did he have any suggestions? How much help is he going to send?"

"None. And no ideas either. Just a flat-out order to do the job."

Radetic peered at Yousif. The Wahlig's face had gone gray with despair.

"This is the beginning of the end, Megelin. Unless you can produce a miracle here. They've abandoned us."

Radetic thought he understood. "You could pretend the letter never arrived. You can't commit suicide."

"Megelin, I can't. I'm a man of honor. I don't think I could explain that to a westerner. Even a westerner who has been around as long as you. You see my men there? They know I'm fighting a losing battle. But they stick with me year after year. They don't see that they have any choice. Neither have I. Pledges of honor have been made. Aboud's orders leave me no room for maneuver. I have to try to beat Nassef even when I know that I can't."

"Haroun? Are you listening?"

"Yes, Megelin." The youth was as close as Radetic's shadow. As always. He followed his teacher everywhere, watching with those wide, curious eyes, logging every detail of the siegework in an infallible memory.

"Pay attention to this. Listen to your father. He's talking about paying the price of an absolute and inflexible concept of duty. Don't ever push a man into the corner he's in. And don't ever let yourself get shoved into one like it. Yousif, there has to be a way around destroying yourself because of Aboud's stupidity."

"It's our way, Megelin. It's mine. I have to do something."

"Isn't this something?" Radetic swept an arm round to include everything happening in Sebil el Selib. "Isn't this enough? We've been bled white. We just don't have our strength anymore. Yousif!"

The Wahlig stepped back from his sudden intensity. "What?"

"I get the feeling you're thinking about going on through the pass. To meet Nassef and martyr yourself in some big last battle. Don't do it. Don't waste yourself."

"Megelin—"

"At least set your schedule so you can do it after you've finished here. Would that violate the spirit of Aboud's orders? Only a fool leaves behind an enemy who can close a trap on him later."

Yousif mused. "You're right, of course. You always are. I'm not thinking this morning. I'm so tired of fighting and Aboud's indifference that part of me just wants to hurry the end."

"Have you explored the pass? Is there a narrow passage where you could ambush Nassef? Where you could roll boulders down on him? This is our last great cry of defiance, Yousif. Why don't we make it memorable without getting ourselves martyred?"

"All right."

The Wahlig departed. He seemed less depressed.

Radetic watched as the trebuchet crews cranked the arms of the engines back to throwing position. They were clumsy and slow. "Damn!" he muttered. "What I wouldn't give for a company of Guildsmen."

Fuad materialized. "I don't know what you said to Yousif, but thanks. He was ready to throw himself on his sword."

"Not much, really."

"He told you the news?"

"That Aboud isn't going to help? Yes. Damn the fool anyway. I thought sure Farid would talk him into sending us something."

"The Crown Prince won't be talking anybody into anything anymore. Didn't he tell you? Farid is dead."

Very carefully, like an old cat searching for just the right place to curl up, Radetic looked round and chose himself a stone on which to sit. "He's dead? Farid?"

Fuad nodded.

"He had help making his exit? The Harish finally got him?"

The cult was trying to exterminate the Quesani family. They failed more often than they succeeded, but scared hell out of the family by trying. Farid had become a favorite target. He had escaped their attentions three times.

"Not this time. This time Nassef sent his own expert. He slipped Karim and a couple of hundred Invincibles into the wastes north of Al Rhemish. Last week they ambushed Farid while he was lion hunting. It was a big hunt."

"That's sad. It really is. Sometimes I think there really is a God who's on El Murid's side."

"You don't know how sad it is. They didn't just kill Farid. I said it was a big hunt. They got most of his brothers, his retainers, a bunch of Aboud's officers and ministers and the Wahlig of Es Sofala and a lot of his people."

"Good heavens. A disaster."

"A hell of a coup if you're Nassef. He's carved the heart out of the Quesani. You know who's left? Who our beloved Crown Prince is now? Ahmed."

"Ahmed? I don't know the name."

"With reason. He's a nothing. I wish I didn't know him. He's a damned woman, if you ask me. I wouldn't be surprised if he prefers boys."

"No wonder Yousif was so grim."

"Megelin?" Haroun piped. "Does that mean it's over? Uncle Fuad? Did we lose the war when we weren't looking?"

Fuad laughed sourly. "A good turn of phrase, Haroun. A fine way to say it. Yes."

"No," Radetic countered. "It's never over till you surrender. In your own heart."

Fuad laughed again. "Bravely spoken, teacher. Fine talk. But it doesn't change the facts."

Radetic shrugged. "Haroun, let's see if they're ready with that spoon trebuchet."

The crew was cranking the machine for a test shot when they arrived. Radetic watched while they ignited a bundle of brush, tipped it into the spoon, then flipped the blazing missile over the New Castle wall.

"Will it start a fire, Megelin?"

"Probably not. But it'll keep them nervous."

"Why do it, then?"

"Battles can be won in men's minds, Haroun. That's what I meant when I told your uncle it's not over till you surrender in your heart. The sword isn't the only weapon that will wear an enemy down."

"Oh." Haroun's face took on that look he got when he wanted to remember something forever.

Two days passed. And still Nassef did not come. Megelin could feel the contempt radiating from the coast. Nassef did not consider them dangerous.

He would learn.

Megelin sent for Yousif, who wore a bright expression when he appeared. The Wahlig seemed to have made peace with himself.

"I'm going to bring her down now," Radetic told him. He gave a signal. "Fuad, get the men ready. The way we rehearsed it."

Fuad muttered something uncomplimentary and stalked off. A gust of activity swept the valley. It became a gale. Yousif's warriors gathered for the assault.

The trebuchets ceased pounding the old castle. The wall had held, but barely.

The engine crews dragged their machines around to face the New Castle.

An hour passed. Yousif became impatient. "When's something going to happen?" he demanded.

Radetic indicated smoke trailing out of cracks at the base of the wall. "When you mine a wall you have to shore it up with timbers. When you're ready to bring it down you fill the chamber underneath with brush and set it afire. It takes time for the timbers to burn through. Ah. Here we go."

A deep-throated grinding assailed the air. The cracks grew. Pieces of masonry popped out of the wall. Then, with a startling suddenness, a twenty-foot-wide section dropped straight down, virtually disappearing into the earth.

"Perfect!" Radetic enthused. "Absolutely perfect. Fuad!" he shouted. "Go ahead! Attack now!" He turned to Yousif. "Don't forget to watch the New Castle for a sally."

The gutting of the old fortress took under four hours. It was almost a disappointment. There weren't enough defenders to slow the assault.

Radetic turned his attention to El Murid's New Castle immediately. The capture of the old was barely complete when word came that an enemy column was in the pass. Yousif roared off to spring the ambush Radetic had suggested.

The tardiness and weakness of the relief column underscored Nassef's contempt for el Aswad. He did not come himself. He sent el Nadim and two thousand green recruits from the coast. Yousif carved them up.

Nassef himself came four days later. He brought twenty thousand men and did not spare their lives. It took him just eight days to reverse roles and surround el Aswad.

The siege of the Eastern Fortress persisted for thirty months and four days. It was as cruel to the enemy as Yousif had hoped. El-Kader, in command of the besiegers, though nearly as competent as Nassef himself, simply could not overcome Yousif, his environment and the sickness that ravaged his camp.

El-Kader's own most potent weapon, starvation, remained untested because Nassef was unable to spare the besieging army sufficiently long.

Nassef himself remained on the coast. After the successes at Es Suoanna and Souk el Arba he found the going more difficult. The narrow, rich, densely populated littoral was nearly four hundred miles long. Those miles revealed a lot of towns and cities with no sympathy for El Murid's cause.

And there was Throyes.

El Murid was compelled to fight a foreign war before he had won over his own people.

When it came, the Throyen land grab was so brazen and extensive that El Murid found it politically unendurable. The nationalist sentiment it generated forced him to react.

Nassef's need for warriors on that front drew the besiegers away from el Aswad. He left just a thousand men in the province, commanded by Karim. They were to distract Yousif from Sebil el Selib.

Once his environs were open Yousif began corresponding with neighbors and Royalists whose thinking paralleled his own. The Kasr Helal Gold Seam was reborn. Trustworthy friends and acquaintances of Megelin Radetic made quiet arrangements in the west.

To an extent, the defenders of the Eastern Fortress had surrendered in their hearts.

Yousif stood in a windswept parapet watching the smoke of a brush fire burning twenty miles south of el Aswad. It was a huge blaze. Fuad was using it to herd one of Karim's battalions into a deathtrap. Haroun, practicing his shaghûnry at last, was with his uncle.

The boy had been a tremendous asset since the end of the siege. He always accompanied his uncle now. His shaghûnry instructors said he had enormous potential. They had taken him to their limits without pushing him to his own.

The Wahlig spied a rider coming from the northwest. Another whining message from Aboud? He did not bother going down to find out.

His royal cousin was becoming a royal aggravation. His bluster, wishful thinking and vain edicts would not alter the situation one iota.

Radetic joined him a few minutes later. He looked grim. He was becoming ever more dour and remote as el Aswad's position became ever less tenable.

"Another command to victory?" Yousif asked.

"More like a petition this time. But he has started to realize what's happening. After all this time. I mean, Nassef has got to be more than a bandit if he can fight a war with Throyes. Doesn't he?"

"Eh?" Yousif turned. "You mean he said something positive? That he's going to take us seriously? Now that it's too late?"

"A little. A little too little too late. He's hired Hawkwind again. He's sending him out here."

"Hawkwind? Why a mercenary?"

"He didn't explain. Maybe because no one else would come. The messenger says the negotiations have been on since Prince Farid's death. For three years! Hawkwind was reluctant—But Aboud finally made a sufficiently convincing presentation to the Guild generals, and paid over a handsome retainer. And he put huge bounties on El Murid, Nassef, Karim and that lot. Hawkwind is on his way already."

Yousif paced. "How many men?"

"I don't know. I was told a substantial force."

"Enough to change anything?"

"I doubt it. We both know there will be no more victories like Wadi el Kuf."

"But why won't he send Royal troops?"

"I think all is not well in the Royal camp. Some wahligs apparently refuse to send men into the witch's cauldron. They want to sit tight and let El Murid come to them. It seems if he wanted to send anyone, it had to be mercenaries. He did the best he could in the circumstances he faces."

"But not enough." Yousif smote the weathered, lichened stone of the parapet.

"No. Not enough." Radetic studied the smoke from the brush fire. "Is Haroun out there?"

"Yes. Fuad says he's doing well. Is there more news? You looked grim when you arrived."

Radetic kept his own counsel for a few minutes. Then, "Prince Hefni was killed."

"A pity. The Harish again?"

"Yes."

Hefni had been the last of Aboud's sons, excepting Crown Prince Ahmed. He had been much like his brother Farid. There were rumors that Aboud wished Hefni were Crown Prince instead of Ahmed, and that Ahmed was being pressured to abdicate in his favor.

"The Quesani are going to become extinct."

"Wahlig... "

Yousif turned slowly. "Don't tell me any more bad news, Megelin. I don't think I could stand what I think you're going to say."

"I don't want to. But I have to. Now or later."

Yousif peered at the fire. In time, he murmured, "Out with it, then. I don't want to break down in front of everybody."

"Your sons, Rafih and Yousif. They were killed in the attack on Hefni. They acquitted themselves well."

The two had been in Al Rhemish for several years, serving in the royal court. It was a common practice for nobles to send junior sons to court.

"So. Now I have only Ali and Haroun." He stared. For a moment it seemed the cloud of smoke was a response to his baleful glare. "Look away from me, teacher."

Radetic turned his back. The man had a right to solitude while he shed his tears.

After a time, Yousif remarked, "Aboud won't be able to handle this. He'll do something stupid." He sounded like a man begging for help. He was not talking about Aboud.

Radetic shrugged. "The behavior of others has always been beyond my control. Unfortunately."

"I'd better go tell their mother. It's not a task I savor."

Megelin moved nervously, came to a decision. "Would you look at this first?" He offered Yousif a chart on which he had penned names, titles and connecting lines in a tiny, tight hand. It constituted a who's who of Hammad al Nakir.

"A chart of succession?" Over a period of ten years Yousif had sneakily picked up enough reading ability to puzzle his way through simple texts. He was good at names.

"Yes."

"So?" Every nobleman kept one. The chart was critical in determining precedence and protocol.

"Permit me." Radetic laid the chart out on a merlon. He produced a stick of drawing charcoal. "Let's scratch out the names of people who aren't with us anymore."

His hand moved like the swift-stabbing hand of Death.

Dolefully, Yousif remarked, "That many? I hadn't realized. It's bad, isn't it?"

"Anything apparent?"

"The better classes are being slaughtered."

"Yes. But that's not what I wanted you to see."

Yousif leaned closer to the chart, then backed away. His eyes were weakening.

"I see," he said. His voice was sadder than ever. "All of a sudden I'm third in the succession. If anything happens to Ahmed... "

"Some of our most devoted allies might expedite his meeting with the angels."

The Crown Prince had all of his father's faults, and none of the virtues that had made Aboud a respected king earlier in his reign. He was thoroughly disliked. Some of his enemies even accused him of being a secret adherent of El Murid.

His life would become worthless the moment Aboud's health started to fail. The behind-the-scenes manipulators at Al Rhemish would hold an "abdication by dagger."

"And," Radetic added, "going by the way you people figure these things, Ali is fourth in line, Haroun fifth, Fuad sixth, and his sons in line after him."

"Megelin, I know how you think. You've got a double-level puzzle here. You're getting at something more. Out with it. I'm not in the mood for intellectual gymnastics."

"All right. If by some ill fortune your family is destroyed—say during a successful siege—the succession would shift to the western cousins of the Quesani. Specifically, to a certain Mustaf el Habib, who must be pretty old by now."

"So?"

"This particular gentleman is the father of a rebel named Nassef."

Yousif seized the chart. He stared and stared. "By damn! You're right. How come nobody ever saw it before?"

"Because it's not exactly obvious. Mustaf el Habib is a damned obscure royal relative. And Nassef is as cunning as El Murid's Evil One. His moves remain strictly explicable within the context of his service to the Disciple. Why should anyone expect a threat from this direction? Would you like to bet that El Murid hasn't the vaguest notion that the Scourge of God could become King?"

"No. Hell no. Megelin, somebody has got to kill that man. He's more dangerous than El Murid."

"Possibly. He does think on his feet. El Murid was ready to set the Harish on him before Wadi el Kuf. Six months later he took over the Invincibles."

"Well, I've got a surprise for both of them. It'll so amaze them that they'll waste six months trying to figure it out. It might even panic Nassef into abandoning his eastern wars." Yousif laughed a little madly. "How soon will Hawkwind arrive?"

"I couldn't guess. They should be coming by now, but it's a long haul from High Crag."

"I hope it's soon. I do hope it's soon."