In the Shadow of Swords (12 page)

He knew the history of Tivisis well. The people here were justified in their pride. Warm, welcoming and vibrant—the city was unrivaled in its commerce, save perhaps for Riyyal.

As the dhow navigated between two of the smaller islands,

Tivisis came into view. The city appeared to be fashioned of silver and gold, with rooftops of sparkling gems: indeed, Pavanan Munif thought to himself, a crown fit for an empire.

Soon the ship found the harbor and Munif could see the marketplace beyond the crowded quays. The busy streets with long, wide walkways were alive with color and movement. Vendors hawked their wares, displaying rich, brightly hued cloth, mounds of ripe fruit, and birds of fabulous plumage from faraway lands. Even from this distance, Munif could see the glint of copper and brass. Everywhere he looked he saw myriad hues; and the scent of countless perfumes permeated the air. Maidens with veiled faces glided among the throngs of traders, sailors, and soldiers.

Munif watched as laborers on the docks unloaded vessels of every conceivable size and design. He could see longships from Khorbard, cogs from Ruinart, and caravels of the Rajani. Many of the ships bore scars from sailing treacherous passages to reach the city.

The end of the voyage was most definitely in sight.

Munif helped two others coil the ropes from the lateen sails as crewmen scuttled across the deck and up into the rigging. The easiest of the tasks was behind him; what lay ahead would be difficult. Once the ship was unloaded, the crew would be off to enjoy the pleasures and delights of Tivisis.

Munif shared no such luck.

There weren’t any free moorings large enough to hold the vessel, and since their ship was third in line, Munif knew it would be nightfall before they set ashore.

The summoners, however, did not intend to wait.

As he watched, Hersí tossed three coins to the old mariner. He seemed to know exactly what the summoner had in mind, and when the captain was engaged elsewhere, he led the summoners to the back of the dhow where one of the tenders was already being lowered into the water. Hersí climbed down the rope ladder and claimed a seat at the prow. Munif watched all this, cursing under his breath. He would have to follow. Then he noticed Bashír standing by the rail, wearing a concerned expression.

Not good
, thought Munif. He had counted on the two separating once they’d reached shore. Munif decided to go with Hersí.

“Wait,” Munif called out to the mariner. “The boat can hold another.”

He jumped into the tender and threw two
dirans
at the old man, avoiding the summoner’s gaze. The mariner pocketed the coins before dipping the oars into the water.

Munif wiped his face with the back of his sleeve as he debated what to do next.

7

THE AIR was filled with a cacophony of voices.

Just beyond the dock, the port teemed with vendors; their booths, tents, and tables occupied every available space, creating a miniature city of their own. A confusion of scents and sounds overwhelmed Munif’s senses.

He paused a moment to put each foot down several times on the solid ground, as if to be certain it was truly there. He kept his distance from the summoner—but close enough that he could still follow. Hersí walked slowly for several minutes as if he were trying to get his bearings. Munif took advantage of Hersí’s momentary idleness and slipped into a nearby fruit stall.

Munif was finishing a slice of sweet melon, licking the juice off the fingers and wiping the corners of his mouth with the heel of his palm when suddenly Hersí took off running. Munif hesitated for a moment before tossing the melon rind away and racing after the summoner. He was well aware that Hersí, feigning languor, had been watching him all along. The chase took Munif down a narrow alley that avoided the central market, toward the more distant quarters of Tivisis.

As Munif followed, the foot traffic flowed easily; it required very little effort to keep the distinctive black robe in sight. Within minutes, the summoner came to a stop and knocked on the door of an undistinguished two-story building. Munif strained to see who had let Hersí in, but to no avail; he was unable to glimpse the entrance from where he was standing.

Sighing, Munif studied his surroundings in an attempt to identify where the chase had led him. He stretched, feeling the pulled muscles and pop of aging joints. An overwhelming urge to abandon his task hit him hard.

He could feel the sweat beading on his face, the dryness in his mouth despite the succulent melon; the slight tremor in his hands. And he knew his symptoms weren’t due to the oppressive heat, or to fear.

No—there was only one reason for them, and only one solution.

Affyram
would soothe his nerves—take the edge off a bit. He could partake and escape for a while. It would be easy to find a provider—surely there was one within sight of the building. The summoner wasn’t going anywhere.

He had time—

It would be so pleasant—but Munif shook his head.

No
.

The demon would have to wait.

8

“YOU ARE certain they remain unaware.”

It was not a question.

Munif sat with three men at a table tucked away in the recesses of a cavernous coffeehouse. He had positioned himself against the wall, close to a small window with a clear view of the Laenidor Sacellum. The place was crowded, but no one had seen Pavanan Munif enter, save the three who offered him a chair. Helooked at the men, each with dusky clothes and a hardened face—they could have been brothers.

They exchanged introductions, all false names to be sure. Munif waited until the server left the
cava
before speaking. His tone belied his noncommittal expression. He repeated his inquiry. “You’re absolutely sure no one knows?”

Munif peered into the eyes of the man on his right. They were intelligent, cautious, ready. The agent’s hair, like the others’, was cropped short, his face dark brown from the sun and stubbled with a beard that had not seen a razor in days. He was dressed in drab clothing worn for too long without a wash.

“The Carac was not difficult to track, once we had the information from Burj al-Ansour,” the agent said. “He’s been under constant watch.”

Directly across from Munif, the second agent looked up from his Tivisisí coffee. “Tonnás said the summoners would arrive within a fortnight. He was not wrong.”

As patrons moved past them, the conversation took a more cautious turn. Munif lowered his voice. “What about the alchemist?”

“I allowed her to complete her work as instructed,” said the third agent. “I assumed we needed the orbs to be taken at the same time as the summoners.”

Munif thought for a moment before replying. “Yes, to make the case clearer for the Majalis. The ban remains in place, despite the passage of time.”

The second agent scoffed. “Yet the wicked do not cease their wickedness, regardless of the consequences.”

The first agent pondered a moment before looking up. “It will not be easy—taking them. This I know.”

Munif shrugged and gave him a bitter smile. He felt on edge. “But we will. There are no options here. I’ve said enough—all here are capable, that is why you were chosen. It’s time for you to leave.”

The other three agents heeded his words, quietly departingin unison and leaving Munif alone with his thoughts. He stood, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. His head swam and his stomach lurched.

“Damn, you look the a drunkard or fool,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, he realized his next task would have to wait a while longer.

Munif would need every bit of his remaining energy simply to reach his room and fall into a much needed sleep.

9

THE SKY above Tivisis was black.

Across the city, thousands of oil lamps adorned the streets and bridges like strands of luminous pearls, each orb shimmering white-gold in the night. Over the rooftops and domes rose dim silhouettes of soaring spires, high turrets and slender minarets all but lost in shadow. Cool air lay thick and heavy in abandoned squares and parks. There was a pervasive hush—a whispering stillness.

Two shadowy figures moved silently through twilight corridors until they came to an alcove near the Chantry of Domòs, which concealed a narrow stairway to the catacombs.

Slowly they made their way down carved stone steps worn smooth with decades of use. The passage was filled with the sound of water trickling down the rough-hewn walls and dripping from countless cracks in the ceiling. The descent was slick and treacherous as the two made their way down to a small antechamber and then deeper into the tombs. With no fear or mistake, the summoners traced an unseen footpath through the labyrinth of caves and tunnels to a sunken cistern.

There they found it.

Cut into the eastern wall was a niche. As the hooded figures neared, the echo of their footsteps broke the silence of the cistern. Pale light pierced the darkness.

A door opened. They entered without a word.

Outstretched hands welcomed them.

10

THE NET was cast.

Munif caught a glimpse of the morning sun from the balcony. The whitewashed flat where he had slept was unadorned and simple, yet it was welcoming in its warmth, dryness, and stability under the feet.

Very soon now
.

Word had already come to him that the ebony-skinned foreigners had remained stationary and isolated for the past day, recovering from the voyage. He was more confident now than at any previous time in the mission that he held the advantage.

After he breakfasted on bread with olive oil, honey and butter, along with a minted green tea and raw sugar, Munif took advantage of the ample floor space to resume his training regimen. He was happily surprised to discover that he’d lost little of his flexibility or strength despite the neglect of the past few weeks.

It was amazing, he thought, how rapidly he could recover with food and sleep. No longer apprehensive and distracted, Munif’s spirits were renewed, his focus strong and determined. The call of
affyram
was fading.

He would not run after it.

Munif heard the sound of footsteps outside the door. He hurried over to it and stood by the hinges, on the balls of his feet, tense and ready. The handle turned and the door opened; Fajeer Dassai entered the room. Munif relaxed, but only slightly.

Dassai spun and raised an eyebrow at Munif’s aggressive stance. He closed the door behind him and said, “Peace be upon you, Pavanan Munif. It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed, Fajeer, it has,” Munif responded with a half-smile.

“You look rested. I see my aid has done you some good.”

“Your help has been considerable—and well appreciated. I could not have survived without it.” Munif padded barefoot to the small table where his pack stood open. He pulled out a linen shirt and put it on.

Dassai clasped his hands in front of him and ran his eyes slowly over the room while Munif finished dressing.

“I cannot claim the credit. I just act upon what is given me. I received word early on about the Carac and have been alert to their actions ever since. I am glad to see they’ve made it past the Slen Thek and White Palm. Had the assassins gotten to them, there is no telling how much it would have cost.”

“If they would have taken the bids at all.” Munif enjoyed the coolness of the tiles beneath his toes for a moment longer before shoving his feet into his worn shoes. He’d have to find another pair soon. “The Slen Thek, yes; the White Palm, highly doubtful,” he continued. “The summoners would have been gutted and left as a feast for crows.”

“There is little doubt that that is true,” Dassai said. “But alas, they did avoid capture. They will be easy prey now.”

Munif raised his eyebrows; even he was not that confident. “What do we know of their true plans?”

“Not much. I know little more than you—but I do think they’re plotting something here in Tivisis.” Dassai paused. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Just what that mission is, I’m not sure, though surely it does not bode well.” He frowned.

Munif could tell Dassai’s mind was elsewhere. “And what of these containers they have requested?”

“Hmm, a diversion, perhaps? Or a means of escape? It’s possible they’ve foreseen the actions of the Jassaj and have been told to secure it and use it against us.”

Munif finished dressing. “Their powers are formidable; there is no mistake about that,” Munif said softly. “And we must be prepared to defend against whatever they have planned.”

“True, and that is why we must wait. We must learn a bit more before moving on them. Have the scrying sigils been marked?”

“Yes, on two of the walls in the flat. Though I suspect that they would take no chances and search the place. I can’t imagine the sigils going undetected.”

“And that is where you must learn to trust in me. Our man has been instructed to place false marks over the real ones. Once those are removed, the others will remain secure. The plan is safe and will hold.”

Dassai is confident. Perhaps too confident?
Munif wondered. Only time would tell. “So, we must wait until then?” he asked pointedly.

“Yes. You and your agents will lay the ambush as we gather the information from the meeting. I will give you the location soon, my friend.”

“We’ll be ready,” answered Munif, glancing at the door.

Dassai acknowledged the unsubtle hint with a wry smile and turned to leave. “I expect nothing less from you, Pavanan.” Dassai opened the door and stepped out. Just as it closed, he said, “Stay alert, and ready to leave at any time.”

Munif remained silent.

11

IT WAS a bright, cloudless morning.

No longer confined, the summoners moved swiftly. They crossed Cannuan Square and followed a path that skirted the city wall and turned eventually into to a narrow, winding, upward-climbing street.

The old quarter of Tivisis clung to a hillside high above the sea. This was all that remained of the ancient city after the great earthquake centuries before. Crossing a wide bridge and leaving the thick stone walls of the new city behind, the summoners passed under the arch of the gateway and back four hundred years in time.