Aquirre, Ann Stone Ma

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substantive counsel, yet they made a habit of balking at his
every move, simply because of his decision to add Abrim to
their number. But, in fact, the merchant had proved to be his
chief ally, to his great surprise; and on several occasions,
Abrim's advice had salvaged a potentially disastrous situation.
How is it that you were spared? Suliman seemed to
study the interpreter closely, but it was impossible for Naji to
grow more frightened. He was already shaking like a palsied
old man.
Sorcery, a councilor muttered, and the rest nodded.
They are sheep, content to be led. Looking at them, Japhet
felt physically ill. He made himself sit a little straighter,
maintaining the stone face Abrim had taught him. In a few
months Japhet had learned more of imposing his will from the
merchant than Nadiv had taught him in his whole life. Abrim
nodded infinitesimally with approval, Japhet hoped. Though
he had initially loathed the way Abrim had blackmailed his
way onto the council, Japhet had come to admire the
neatness and the audacity of the scheme. He hoped to be
able to manipulate others as deftly, one day.
Not sorcery, said Abrim lazily, rising to pace around the
table with a look that Japhet recognized. He almost felt sorry
for the interpreter. You did not stay to watch them die, did
you? Naji's mouth worked and he glanced about as if seeking
refuge from the First Councilor. And why would you? Abrim
gave a gentle smile. If whatever foe lurking in the hills was
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too powerful for the Elite Guard, what hope had you against
them? Naji nodded hesitantly and seemed to relax. No, the
better question would be: Why did they choose to let you
go?
To bring us word, Japhet realized aloud.
Abrim flashed a wider smile, full of sharp teeth and wolfish
approbation. An excellent assessment, sayyid. If my people
were correct when they informed us that your brother had
taken refuge in those hills, then I must conclude this is his
warning to you: I am coming.'
Japhet's hands tightened on his knees. He hated Abrim's
dramatic flare; there was no reason those words should
sound so ominous. A surprise attack on one squadron, he
said dismissively. He has no hope against the entire Elite
legion, against the Sun City itself.
No? Abrim strode to the window, and all eyes followed
him. Sometimes, Japhet thought, it was almost as if Abrim
ran the council meetings. Have you forgotten your history so
soon, honored sayyid? How did House Fouad come to reign
over Inay, some three hundred cycles past?
A rebellion, he muttered.
And a peasant army, Yasir put in.
Japhet had never thought he would miss his somnolent
council, those graybeards dreaming silently in their chairs. He
missed their bleary eyes and confusion. His life had been so
much simpler when Nadiv was alive, though it scorched him
to admit as much.
Abrim was nodding. One must always hope for the best
and prepare for the worst.
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A creed that has profited you greatly over the years, said
Mossan of House Dasim.
The merchant smiled. All things profit me. I have learned
to invest wisely.
At the cost of others.
Japhet snapped his gaze back to the councilors. Suliman
stood with the terrified Naji, but Japhet would not intervene.
The others already took Abrim for his pet monkey he would
not give them further fuel for the fire. Abrim spun from the
window, his eyes black as pitch as he stared down the length
of the table, and finally his hard gaze settled on Yasir of
House Ohed.
If you have a quarrel with me, Abrim said very quietly,
then you may seek me in private. I ask that you not waste
the council's valuable time with a personal matter. Japhet
felt a cold claw scratching at his neck. Looking at Abrim was
like staring into the heart of murder. Yasir pulled back in his
chair and looked as if he might soil himself, then he shook his
head. He slumped when Abrim finally turned from him to
regard Naji once more. And so, that leaves the matter of
what to do with this one. As I see it, sayyid" he folded his
hands neatly and smiled "we have a problem regarding his
... disposal. On one hand, he brought us valuable tidings,
which should be rewarded. But on the other, he abandoned
his comrades, an act of vile cowardice.
Truly a conundrum, Japhet said, tapping one fingertip
lightly on the arm of his chair. What say you, councilors? It
was amusing to watch them shift uneasily in their chairs.
None was accustomed to deciding the fate of others, for all
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their protestations. Over the years of strong Fouad rule, the
other houses had grown soft, more accustomed to spending
their days choosing silk for their robes than governing the
Sun City. Japhet smiled. Then I present this solution. As a
reward, I offer one night with any of my father's concubines.
A few councilors perked up, mostly the beardless boys.
One Japhet thought it was Sardi of House Gerah said, A
lavish prize, sayyid, one any man might envy.
And Naji was smiling, although he soon would not be. I
leave punishment in the able hands of my commander.
Suliman grinned. Japhet knew Suliman ran toward cruelty,
but he pretended to be unaware. If Naji survived whatever
Suliman had in store, he would not be the same afterward.
Naji went, wailing and dragging his feet, in the arms of two
burly guards. Japhet caught a glimmer of a smile on Mossan's
lips. Perhaps that one, a man with a long beard and curly
black hair, might have some steel in him.
He made a mental note to get to know the councilor better
and then said, Please call Dhul Bakr. I would hear his report
next.
The old spider came, shuffling his feet beneath a gray robe
that hid most of time's depredations. Bakr's face could not be
so easily concealed, a topographical study in cunning and
cruelty with its pale, thin lips and blue-veined lids, eyes like
embers sunk deep into the yellow paper of his face. Looking
at him, Japhet felt vaguely startled that the man did not burst
into flame he was a dead thing of sere leaves and dry sticks,
like a needlebug waiting with awful patience for its next
victim.
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You summoned me, sayyid?
Japhet shuddered. Even the Serask's voice sounded of the
grave. I would hear of your search.
Dhul Bakr clasped his hands within the loose sleeves of his
robe, where his long yellow nails clicked against each other
like the chitin of insect shells. I am sorry, sayyid, the Serask
murmured. We had them.... We were so close I could taste
it. His pink tongue slithered out to wet his pale lips. But we
lost them in Feroz.
He glanced at Abrim, who still stood near the window. The
merchant merely smiled, giving Japhet no hint as to how he
ought to handle the situation. An execution was clearly
beyond his reach here. The Serask was almost untouchable
by the sha'al-izzat. Dhul Bakr was the closest thing Inay had
to a high priest; he saw omens and called down ill luck in
addition to molding the boys into steel-sinewed mutes who
evoked terror in all who looked on them. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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