Snare (41 page)

‘What are –’ Zayn said.

‘Wondering where the spirit rider is,’ Dallador said. ‘Huh! She’s probably looking for the sorrel gelding.’

‘She’s going to want my hide for taking him.’

‘She said something along those lines.’ Dallador turned to him and managed a smile. ‘But you’ll live through it.’

‘I’ll even enjoy it. It’ll mean I’m not dead. You know, I never thanked you.’

‘No need. We’ve got to get out of here fast. That sinyur keeps paid soldiers at home, and they might be coming back for him.’

Outside, the rest of the comnee men had spread out across the lawn, some to hold the horses, others ready for possible trouble. Kassidor and Orador stood together, talking urgently.

‘There’s Ammi.’ Dallador pointed across the compound. ‘She’s found the sorrel.’

Zayn saw Ammadin leading the gelding, which she’d saddled and bridled. She was heading right for them. Her mouth was set in a tight line of fury, her face was smudged with dirt, but to Zayn she looked more beautiful than ever. All his old desire for her was still alive – the realization shocked him, that he could stand next to Dallador and yet realize how much a woman meant to him. For a moment he had such trouble forming a coherent thought that he felt as if he’d drunk himself into a near-stupor. Dallador muttered something cowardly and trotted off, leaving Zayn face-to-face and alone with Ammadin. When she threw the horse’s reins at him, he caught them in one hand. The sorrel tossed its head and snorted as if it were glad to see him.

‘Spirit Rider,’ Zayn began, ‘I’m sorry –’

‘You should be,’ Ammadin said. ‘You’re going to tell me the truth when we get back, Zayn. And I mean every last word of it.’

‘Anything you want. You know something? I never thought you’d come after me.’

‘You idiot! What do you think being a comnee man means?’

‘I didn’t understand before. I do now.’

‘Good. Try to remember it from now on.’ She suddenly frowned. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘I never thought I’d see you again, and you’re beautiful.’

‘Oh, stop it!’ Ammadin took a deep breath, as if she were stocking up plenty of air to list his sins.

Kassidor, however, saved him. Just as Ammadin was launching into a tirade, Kassidor called her name and, with a couple of men in tow, came running up.

‘There you are, Ammi,’ he said. ‘Charlador’s inside. He was the man in charge here.’

‘Oh was he?’ Ammadin’s voice went flat and cold.

‘Yes, he made a point of telling me when he was trying to make me let him go. Is there anything you want to say to him before we ride?’

‘Say?’ Ammadin blinked rapidly. ‘Not precisely.’ Ammadin turned on her heel and headed for the temple. Zayn flung the sorrel’s reins to one of the comnee men and hurried after her, as did Kassidor. They caught up with her as she was striding down the aisle, heading for the dais, where the three so-called priests sat flopped like fish on the riverbank. Sharl started to speak, then let the words fade. Ammadin stopped in front of him and looked him over for a long hard minute. He scowled, let that fade, started to speak again, stopped, then slowly went pale. The growths stood out, lurid against his sweaty white skin.

‘Zayn?’ Ammadin said. ‘Come here.’

When Zayn joined her, she turned and pulled the long knife from the sheath on his belt before he was truly aware of what she’d done. Sharl screamed, twisting this way and that, and flung himself off the steps in his desperation. Ammadin knelt beside him. In one smooth motion she shoved her left hand flat against his forehead and pinned his head to the floor. With the other hand she cut his throat. Blood sprayed, soaking his smock, dappling her face, but she neither flinched nor spoke. My God, she’s strong! Zayn thought. She cleaned the knife on his trouser leg, handed it back to Zayn, then wiped her face on her shirt sleeve.

‘Let’s go,’ she said to Kassidor. ‘The other two, they’re no concern of ours.’

As they all hurried out, Zayn glanced back. One of the young priests was sobbing; the other, white-faced, sat as still as the idol behind him.

‘Ammadin?’ Zayn said. ‘Why –’

‘He was a renegade, but he was still a comnee man. We’re all
responsible if one of our own does something criminal. Now save your breath. We’ve got to get out of here.’

Zayn reminded himself to wash the knife first chance he got and followed her outside.

When, earlier in the day, Warkannan had led his caravan out of the temple compound, Soutan had found them a winding dirt path that led more or less east. A scant mile along, they came to a fork, and there Alayn’s men left them. As they trotted off, one turned in the saddle and shouted something back.

‘He says the other path will take us to the Burgunee road,’ Soutan said.

‘Can we trust them?’ Warkannan said.

‘Of course. They’ve sworn their loyalty to Alayn, and we’re his friends.’

‘They have more honour than me, then.’

‘Captain, are you still fretting over Benumar?’

‘Fretting? No, I’m not fretting. I’m sick to my guts over it. May God forgive me, but I wish I could go back and –’

‘You can’t!’ Soutan’s voice rose to a squeal.

‘I know that.’ Warkannan took a deep breath and steadied himself. ‘Let’s get out of this forest, shall we? I’ve come to hate it.’

‘On that we agree.’ Soutan managed a sickly smile. ‘Forward!’

By mid-afternoon the path had brought them free of the trees and back to the east-running road. Farmland stretched out on either side, peaceful and bright in the sunlight, fields of gold wheatian striped with red and orange fields of vegetables. Now and then they passed a windbreak of true-oaks, sheltering white-washed houses and red barns.

An hour before sunset, Warkannan called a halt. He and Arkazo needed to make their evening prayers, and Soutan announced that he wanted to scan. Warkannan asked Arkazo to hold his horse, then knelt in the dust of the road. Ordinary prayers wouldn’t do, he decided, not with Zahir’s soul hanging in the balance. Words came hard. He could only mutter, ‘Dear God, please!’ over and over. God would know what he meant, he decided, or so at least he could hope.

All at once, Soutan shrieked, howling in rage. Warkannan finished with a hasty word, then leapt to his feet. At the side of
the road the sorcerer was sitting on a strip of purple grass and staring into his crystal. Soutan’s lips moved, but he made no sound, and his head trembled, shaking in a silent no no no.

‘What is it?’ Warkannan snapped.

‘I don’t know,’ Arkazo said.

‘Soutan!’

The sorcerer looked up, his face dead pale. ‘I cannot believe this,’ he whispered. ‘The comnee. They’re in the compound. They’ve taken over the temple.’

Warkannan tensed in a surge of hope. Soutan stared at the crystal again and whimpered.

‘They’ve got him,’ Soutan went on. ‘I just saw them bringing Zayn outside.’ He looked up, pale, his mouth half-open as if he were too weary to close it.

Warkannan flung his arms into the air and stared up at the blue dome of the sky. He wanted to speak, could not, but he felt his heart overflow with gratitude towards God, who had His own ways of working mercy. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered; then his voice choked.

‘Warkannan, what are you doing?’ Soutan was shrieking again. ‘You’re glad, aren’t you? How can you! This murderous little bastard is going to try to kill the khan.’

‘He can try all he wants,’ Warkannan said. ‘I don’t intend to let him.’

Scowling, Soutan got up, clutching his crystal in both hands. Warkannan stared at him until Soutan looked away with a muttered curse.

‘Ah well,’ Soutan said. ‘I have to admit that I’m hoping they’ve killed Father Sharl. At least that would be something to the good.’

‘And you’ve got the crystals,’ Arkazo said.

‘Yes.’ Soutan’s smile was so joyful that it almost seemed innocent. ‘Four very good crystals indeed.’

They had all been in the saddle for half a night and most of a day, and the horses were dangerously weary, yet Ammadin and Kassidor agreed that they could never camp safely in that forest. When the warparty left the compound, they dismounted and led their stumbling-tired stock to spare the horses their weight. Once night fell, they might well have lost the trail if it weren’t for Water Woman’s gift of the lightwand. Ammadin used it only when they
came to a fork or some other ambiguity in the path, both to save the spirit’s energy and to avoid attracting attention, should Sinyur Alayn’s men be close enough to see it.

‘I don’t know what we’re going to do when we reach open country,’ Ammadin said to Kassidor.

‘I don’t either.’ Kassidor paused, thinking. ‘But we’ll never get back to Nannes if we don’t stop to sleep for a few hours.’

Yet when at last they reached the open meadows, they found that safety had come to them. The comnees had left Nannes and set up a camp about a mile east of the forest edge. When they saw the tents Kassidor nearly wept in relief, and the warparty cheered aloud, a peal of noise that woke the comnees. People streamed out to cheer at the sight of Zayn and greet the men who’d gone to the rescue. The women surged forward to take the weary horses and lead them away.

‘Listen, Zayn,’ Ammadin said. ‘You go straight back to the tent and wait for me there.’

‘Anything you say.’ Zayn was looking around him in a kind of exhausted wonder. ‘I never thought I’d see the comnee again, either.’

Ammadin and Kassidor went looking for the two chiefs and found them in Apanador’s tent. Exhausted though they were, the two spirit riders managed to tell them about the rescue in a reasonably coherent way by taking turns at it. Sammador said nothing, deferring to the older chief, who asked questions now and again.

‘Since Zayn killed a chief’s son, we’d better ride back west,’ Ammadin finished up. ‘I don’t want the zhundars coming after Zayn to hang him.’

‘Yes, it’s bound to cause trouble,’ Apanador said. ‘If the zhundars don’t try to catch him, the sinyur’s men will.’

‘Then we’d better guard the camp tonight,’ Kassidor put in. ‘You’re right, and tomorrow we’ll get on the way early. If the sinyur’s men come, we’ll fight, of course, but the less blood spilled the better.’

‘Zayn told us that seven men took him on the road,’ Ammadin said, ‘but some of them were priests. Alayn may have had more men back in his fort, of course.’

‘Why did Zayn ride away like that?’ Apanador said. ‘Was he ensorcelled?’

‘I doubt it. I intend to make him tell me right now, and then
we can decide what to do next. Kasso, do me a favour, will you? Find Dallador and ask him to get another man and stand guard at my tent. If Zayn tries to run, they’ll be there to stop him.’

Ammadin went back to her tent to find the saurskin panels glowing with light. On the hearth stone under the smokehole two lamps burned. Beside them Zayn was sitting on the floor cloth and looking through his saddlebags, rescued along with the sorrel gelding from the temple stable. When she came in, he began to tie them shut. Ammadin sat down opposite him.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Zayn said. ‘I’ve brought nothing but trouble to the comnee. You should just let me ride off alone. If they kill me, well, so what? It’s better than having some of the other men die to defend me. I’ll just leave the camp and ride off somewhere. Then, if anyone catches up with the comnee, I won’t be there, and they’ll leave you alone.’

‘You know something? I’m as sick as I can be of you lying to me.’

Zayn threw his head up like a startled horse.

‘You’ve been lying to me for months,’ Ammadin went on. ‘Not exactly lying, maybe, but bending the truth. Yes, of course, it would be best for the comnee if you were gone, but that’s not why you’re offering. It wasn’t why you crept out of camp last night, either.’

Zayn winced and looked away.

‘Kassidor thinks the sorcerer lured you away,’ Ammadin said. ‘I don’t. Answer me. Did you feel him attacking your mind?’

‘No.’ Zayn kept staring at the tent wall.

‘Then why? Who are you, Zayn? I’ll bet you were never the cavalry officer you seemed to be. Why do you want to leave us? Don’t you think you owe me and the comnee the truth?’

Zayn went tense, and his eyes flicked towards the tent flap.

‘If you try to run,’ Ammadin said, ‘you won’t get far. Dallador’s out there on guard. Now answer me.’

Zayn took a deep breath, swallowing his anger, she assumed. He looked away, thought for a moment, then nodded, as if he had agreed with himself about something.

‘You do deserve to know,’ he said. ‘But I really was a cavalry officer. I mean, I still am. The flogging, turning me out – that was all false. I belong to –’ he hesitated briefly, ‘I belong to a brotherhood called the Chosen Ones. Have you ever heard of us?’

‘No.’ Ammadin could smell that he was telling the truth. ‘Should I have?’

‘Not really. It’s only the khanate that concerns us. We’re the Great Khan’s eyes and ears. We keep a lookout for traitors in the army, malcontents, men like that. And sometimes we investigate civilians, too, looking for anyone who’s plotting against the Great Khan.’

‘Ah. You’re spies and informers.’

‘If you want to put it that way.’

‘What other way is there? You live out a lie and sneak around, spying on people, even on your fellow soldiers. Right?’

Zayn went stiff in every muscle, as if he were controlling himself only by force of will. His face went bloodless, then flushed with blood under the dark pigment of his skin.

‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘You do these things but you’re ashamed of their rightful names.’

‘Goddamn it.’ He was more growling than talking. ‘It’s done in service to the Great Khan.’

‘If you say so. What are you doing for the Great Khan right now? Why did you lie and get us to take you in?’

Zayn let out his breath in a long sigh. His colour returned to normal. ‘It’s Soutan,’ he said at last. ‘Sorcerers from the Cantons don’t ride to Kazrajistan without some reason. He appeared some months ago, and he got himself hooked up with a bunch of respectable men. My friend – Warkannan – was one of them. They said they were forming an investment group around some maps that Soutan brought with him.’

‘Ah,’ Ammadin put in. ‘The blackstone.’