Beneath an Opal Moon (44 page)

Tamuk sighed. ‘You are making this more difficult for yourself.'

‘I have done nothing, First Darman, but come home for chaat.'

Tamuk remained silent for some time. The only sound came from the whip of the palm fronds beyond the windows and a slow drip of water from the scullery nearby. Tamuk took a breath, laced his fingers together and said, ‘First, it is my duty to tell you that your sister is dead.'

‘Sanda!'

Aufeya gave a tiny cry as Moichi staggered backward just as if Tamuk had driven a blade through his chest. She rose and held him as he stood, trembling.

‘What … How?'

‘She was murdered most brutally. It happened three nights ago as she lay sleeping in her bed.'

Moichi's head came up. ‘You said brutally.'

‘I beg you not to make me detail it,' Tamuk said, glancing at Aufeya.

‘Tell me!' Moichi almost screamed it.

‘All right.' Tamuk sighed. ‘The front of her torso was – well, for lack of a better word – shredded. All her ribs were shattered, as if pulled outward, and her intestines had been ripped from her abdomen.'

‘Oh, Lord!' Aufeya clutched Moichi's arm. A cold chill was creeping down his spine, but he stopped it, admonishing himself. It cannot be true, he thought. There must be some other explanation.

Tamuk gave him a withering look before continuing, ‘Her husband–'

‘Husband?'

Tamuk raised his black eyebrows. ‘Yes, your sister married last year. Did you not know?'

Moichi's mind seemed frozen. There was the past, when Sanda had been alive, and then there was the present, when she was not. A sharp and evil demarcation separated the two like a pane of glass. Moichi saw himself locked on the wrong side of that glass.

‘Who …?' His mouth was dry. All of a sudden he was overcome with guilt. If only he had not abandoned his family for the lure of the sea. If only he had been here …

Aufeya left his side long enough to pour out a dark, thick liquor from a glass decanter. She handed him a metal cup, half filled. Moichi looked at it blankly. The cup was inscribed with runes from the Tablets. It was the ritual cup his father had always used for the toast to usher in the chaat feast. He found that his knuckles were white and, in a convulsive gesture, he knocked back the date wine. His eyes watered slightly as he licked his lips. Then his eyes once again focused on the Fe'edjinn officer and he said, ‘Who did Sanda marry?'

‘A merchant from the near slopes of the Mountain Sin'hai. A man named Yesquz.'

‘What is known about him?'

‘Almost nothing at all. He deals in the spices, herbs and medicinal roots found only at the foot of the Mountain Sin'hai. He apparently makes quite a good living of it – he has cornered the market. Your sister did not want for money.'

‘He was not … murdered too?'

‘He is not at this time in Ala'arat. Nor was he on the night your sister was murdered. He travels often.'

‘Where is he?'

‘In the Mu'ad. Trading his goods.'

‘Bring him back,' Moichi said. ‘I want to question him.'

Tamuk looked at him curiously. ‘That was our thought, as well. Your brother, Hamaan, has departed with a detachment to do just that.'

‘Hamaan? My brother's name is Jesah.'

Tamuk waited a moment before adding, ‘No more. He is Qa'tach now, one of the five leaders of the Fe'edjinn, and as such he has taken a Qa'tach name.'

‘I had no idea,' Moichi said after a time.

Tamuk seemed disgusted.

‘Why are my other sisters not here?' Moichi asked.

‘They moved with their families to the Mu'ad settlements,' Tamuk said, ‘when their husbands joined the Fe'edjinn.'

‘God of my fathers,' Moichi whispered.

‘Much has changed here since you left,' Tamuk said, echoing the words of the naval officer who had boarded his ship. ‘This murder, terrible as it is, is far from the first. But your sister is different. She was an Annai-Nin, and her death has galvanized the people. Even the peace party has been silenced, and now all Iskamen are of one mind.'

‘One mind?' Moichi echoed.

‘It is war, man,' Tamuk said. ‘The holy war against Aden.'

‘But how can this be?' Moichi was stunned. ‘Thousands, perhaps millions will die. We are speaking now not merely of war but of genocide.'

‘You had better get used to it. This is the reality you have come home to. Now, if there are no more questions to answer …' Tamuk glanced briefly at Aufeya. ‘So ends my night.' He gave a perfunctory bow that seemed to exclude Moichi. ‘I regret your homecoming is under such tragic circumstances. I will post two men at the front gates.'

‘That won't be necessary, First Darman,' Moichi said.

Tamuk smiled thinly. ‘I am afraid it is. Security policy. The excruciating and inhuman nature of your sister's murder makes it all too likely that the Adenese were responsible. A blow to the Qa'tach, a personal sort of revenge. A typical Adenese message of terrorism.'

Moichi thought of his conversation with the young naval officer. ‘So at last there are Adenese in Ala'arat.'

Tamuk nodded. ‘Agents of their Al Rafaar, their infiltration and assassination organization. They have been quite active of late.' His grin was lupine and mirthless. ‘You see now the necessity of the Fe'edjinn's rise to power. Perhaps you will despise us a little less now. Iskael needs our mailed fist more than ever these days.' He turned to Aufeya. ‘Good evening, madam.' Then he left them without another word.

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About the Author

Eric Van Lustbader is the author of numerous bestselling novels including the Nicholas Linnear series,
First Daughter, Blood Trust
, and the international bestsellers featuring Jason Bourne:
The Bourne Legacy, The Bourne Betrayal, The Bourne Sanction, The Bourne Deception, The Bourne Objective, The Bourne Dominion
, and
The Bourne Retribution
. For more information, visit
www.EricVanLustbader.com
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All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1980 by Eric Van Lustbader

Cover design by Kat Lee and Neil Alexander Heacox

ISBN: 978-1-4976-5491-4

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