THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) (13 page)

“I never said it would be easy,” said the stranger. “And it only gets worse the deeper we go. The tunnels we must use won’t even be reached for hours—and one wrong turn might mean we’ll never find them at all…”

“There’s no turning back now,” said Mariana, fighting with all her strength to overcome her abject terror. “Lead on. The quicker we make this vile passage the sooner we’ll be out.”

“And you feel the same?” he asked of the thief. “You want to go on?”

Ramagar nodded grimly. He drew his dagger and clutched it firmly in his sweaty hand. “I didn’t come all this way just to turn back now.”

The stranger smiled. “Very well.” And he shut the metal door behind. The lock sprang back into position and they knew they could no longer get out even if they wanted to. The only other exit was somewhere out there in the black; all they could do was go forward and find it.

Holding the torch high, the urchin took the lead. Down, down, ever down they went, feeling the damp and the chill cut to their bones. There was little talk among them, and then only in quick whispers. The sounds of their marching feet echoed grimly in places they had passed: the slow, steady steps of the boy; the assured, confident, harsh steps of the stranger; Ramagar’s long, firm strides; Mariana’s moccasined light step hurrying to keep pace with the others.

The initial leg of the journey had not in truth taken very long, but to Mariana it seemed like hours. At a place where the tunnel broadened dramatically before separating into three small tunnels, the stranger stopped. From somewhere unseen but close they could all hear a steady
drip drip drip
of trickling water. Mariana looked back at the ascending shaft and shuddered. In the black she could see a pair of staring eyes. Rat’s eyes. Cunning, frightened, hungry. The rodents, unseen, had been following every step of the way. Watching, waiting. Perhaps biding their time.

“Which way now?” said Ramagar, blowing hot air into his cold hands.

“The tunnel on the left,” replied the yellow-haired stranger. “It’s the only one that leads beneath the river.”

“The river?” gasped the girl. “You mean we’ll be traveling below the water? These tunnels were built a thousand years ago. What if one gives way? Well all drown!”

“It’s the only way,” said the stranger impatiently. “We’ll move fast. We’ll be safe. I’ve never seen the water rise higher than a man’s waist.”

Ramagar looked at him with questioning eyes. “Then the tunnels do flood?” And he frowned when the stranger replied, “All the time.” Still, there was no choice but to move ahead.

The urchin remained in the lead, taking them into a narrow, uneven tunnel where the ceiling was so low that all but the boy had to lower their heads. And the longer they walked it, the narrower it became; so narrow that Mariana had only to stretch her arms halfway out to feel the rough, mica-encrusted wall at either side. Water was seeping everywhere, through cracks in the ceiling and in the walls; she could feel the ground soften and her moccasins squish through mud. What sickened her most, though, was the sight of the roaches, disgusting brown and yellow things that wormed and scurried between the crevices as the offensive torchlight disturbed their search for food. But there was plenty of that, Mariana saw. Worms and spiders, weed and moss, not to mention the maggot-ridden flesh of dead rodents.

“We’ll soon be out of here,” said the stranger to his companions. “This tunnel ends abruptly, if I recall, and we’ll come to a wide cavern where the sewers used to meet.”

“Brrr,” shivered Mariana. “I can hardly wait.”

As far as she could judge, by now the sun would have long risen. She thought wistfully of the blazing ball of fire in the sky, its warmth and comfort. And in a way she felt pity for these repulsive sewer-dwelling creatures who had never known daylight or warmth, and never would.

The tunnel turned suddenly, sharply, becoming wider. They were still on something of a descent, but now it was leveling off. Occasionally they passed smaller tunnels leading off at angles at the side; deep, silent arches as grim as tombs. Mariana could only wonder where they led, but she was definitely not curious enough to explore.

As the stranger had predicted, this tunnel came to an end without warning. The small band found themselves standing on the threshold of an enormous cavern, its ceiling up to fifty meters high in places. And the ceiling was studded with incredible formations: icicle-shaped stalactites sculptured from the limestone and dolomite that glittered in hues of gold and scarlet and flaming yellows above the pale light of the torch.

Mariana and Ramagar stared in awe at the breathtaking beauty of the forebidding grotto. Their yellow-haired companion glanced at them and grinned. “Impressive, isn’t it? All the more so, when you bear in mind that this is part of a sewer.”

“It’s stunning,” stammered Mariana, her gaze held high. “It sweeps you away, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“A shame that no one else will ever see it,” added the thief. “It should be a shrine.”

The stranger lifted his head and stared for a long while at the dripping, motionless cones of sparkling rock. “I don’t think I will ever come to understand this land of Kalimar,” he said with a sigh. “There is so much beauty to be found here, so much potential for your people. Yet you knowingly have let it all fall to such waste. A terrible pity. A crime. Beneath the earth there is so much wealth to be mined, above it, so much land that could be reclaimed from your deserts. Yet you allow it to remain barren, empty. No,” he shook his head, “I shall never understand.”

Mariana and Ramagar exchanged quick, puzzled glances. This blond-haired beggar was certainly the oddest man they had ever known. Yesterday his mind and heart were filled with hatred and murder, today he spoke softly of beauty and nature.

“Who are you, stranger?” said the thief suddenly. “Who are you really?”

The stranger shook off his musings and smiled. “I am many men,” he answered mysteriously. “A wayfarer, a vagabond, yes, even a beggar.”

His hard features had somehow softened, Mariana saw. And she was certain that behind his stony, rugged facade he was in truth a kind and gentle man, even as Ramagar was.

“You have been many things, stranger,” she said. “How came you to Kalimar?”

In no hurry to reply, he walked to the center of the cavern and stared harrowingly into a deep pool of dark water. He stared at his reflection for a while, then said, “The road I have traveled has been a very long and difficult one, Mariana. I have seen many places, many cities. Kalimar was meant to be only the briefest of stops, I assure you.” He glanced to Ramagar and smiled. “Let’s just say that my journey has been unavoidably delayed. But once I have my blade I can begin anew.”

“From what land do you come?” asked the thief.

“And where will this journey end?” chimed in the girl.

A hint of mystery returned to the stranger’s eyes and he shook his head sadly. “I have been asked that question countless times. I will give you an answer, but one that you may not readily understand.” He paused here, seeing the urchin listen as curiously as the others. Then he said, “I seek whence I have come, and I have come whence I seek.”

“You pose us a riddle, stranger,” said Ramagar. “Can’t you be plain?”

Mariana, though, seemed less puzzled than the others. Pushing hair away from her eyes, she said, “I think perhaps I can solve this riddle.”

“You understand it?” said the thief.

She nodded and locked her gaze with the stranger’s.

“Many have guessed it,” he told her, “but few have understood—”

“The answer is simple. You seek whence you have come, you have come whence you seek. Home. You are going home.”

Clearly taken aback, the handsome beggar raised himself to his full height, eyes grown wide with surprise, and looked to Ramagar, who seemed just as astounded as he was.

“She is a very wise young woman, master thief,” he said admiringly, “and you are a most fortunate man. Be sure to take good care of her. She is far too great a prize ever to lose.”

“I know it well,” replied the thief, watching Mariana blush as he put his arm around her shoulder and cradled her close to him. “I almost did lose her once—but never again. She means more to me than anything, including your bejeweled dagger.”

The stranger nodded sagely. “Then, my friends, you are both very wise …”

“Best we be on our way,” interrupted the urchin, breaking the spirit of the moment. The stranger sighed and nodded.

There were so many things that Mariana and Ramagar wanted to ask their new companion; so many puzzles that demanded solutions. But now, they knew, was not the time. Too many more urgent matters pressed. With resignation, they prepared to move on.

The stranger took the torch from the boy and pointed it in the direction of a grim shaft set at the farthest corner of the magnificent cavern.

“From here on I will lead the way,” he told them. “Stay as close behind me as you can—and cry out swiftly if you sense any danger.”

Mariana gulped; she wasn’t sure just what he was referring to, but didn’t feel brave enough to ask. Ramagar again took hold of his dagger and gripped the girl’s arm with his free hand. The street urchin brought up the rear, and the little band moved on deeper into the threatening channel.

One by one they crossed the cave until the gaping hole loomed menacingly before them. “This tunnel will take us under the river,” said the stranger as he poked the torch inside. Eerie shadows cascaded over green corroded iron pipes. The fiery light awoke a slumbering nest of tiny bats who screeched at the flame and darted on frenzied wings deeper into the gloom.

“They’ll not harm us,” assured the beggar, and he boldly strode inside. The others followed in his footsteps.

“Az’i!
” moaned Mariana, placing her foot down lightly in the dark, smelly tunnel. The rusting pipe and gravel floor was covered with a thick coating of wet, green-tinted slime that had settled into stagnant pools at their feet. The slime was barely ankle-deep at first, but the farther they crossed into the tunnel the deeper it became.

Cautiously the band walked through the muck, often slipping, sometimes sliding, cursing beneath their breaths, and straining their eyes for some clearer path where they might find relief from this misery. But the dark ooze only deepened, encumbering them until they were virtually wading through it.

“Has this quagmire no end?” groaned Ramagar.

“At this rate it will take us a day to get out of here,” grumbled the urchin.

“And where did all this stuff come from?” wondered the girl.

The stranger counseled their patience and then said no more.

As they sloshed their way in silence, torchlight pushed away some shadows, and Mariana recoiled in horror at the sight of a procession of rats sitting on the edges of the pipes above and along the ledges of the wall of rock. The rodents hardly stirred; their beady red eyes followed the intruders’ every movement.

It was then that the stranger trampled something underfoot, something that crunched beneath the weight of his boot. He stopped, handed the torch to Mariana, and lowered his hands deep into the slime. He lifted out a large, round object, encased in jelly-like muck.

“What is it?” panted the girl.

The stranger began to wipe away the jelly, bit by bit until there was no longer any doubt. It was a skull—a human skull.

Mariana gasped. The gaping black sockets where eyes had once lodged stared at her, and the death mask seemed to be grinning.

“I wonder who he might have been,” said Ramagar, huddling close to Mariana and inspecting the skull.

“Probably someone who got lost and couldn’t find his way out,” replied the stranger. “He must have starved to death—then the rats took over.”

“Poor fellow,” lamented the thief. “I wonder how many others might have shared his fate?” Then with a sigh he dropped the skull back into the slime. It plopped, splashing dully, and sank limply back to the bottom.

Mariana shivered. She gave the torch back, saying, “Let’s get away from here as quick as we can.”

And more grim than ever, the tiny band continued on.

Soon the awful slime became more shallow, and some of the nauseating stench disappeared. They were still wading, but now in water. Overhead pipes dripped a steady trickle of raw sewage; it poured down the walls where tiny wingless insects fed hungrily on the filth. The shaft widened, descended sharply. Mariana felt her ears begin to plug, then crackle.

“It’s only the pressure,” assured the stranger. “We’re directly under the river. Five minutes more and we’ll be on the other side.”

It was cold under the river; colder than Mariana could ever recall being. Her teeth were chattering, her lips turning blue. Sensation in her fingertips had dulled, and her legs had become numb so long ago she no longer even bothered to think about them.

Suddenly the water was draining; running off into downward catchbasins at the side of the wall. It gurgled and gushed in whirlpools, receding blissfully until the pebbly earth could be seen again, sparkling wet rocks shimmering in the light.

The stranger wiped his cold nose and mouth with his hand, turned back to his companions, and grinned. “We did it. We’re across.”

“Thank the heavens for that,” mumbled Ramagar, flexing his fingers and bringing them back to life. “Then the worst is over.”

“Not quite, master thief. True, we’re on the other side, but it’s still a long way to go until we see the sky again. But come, beyond the next tunnel there’s another cavern, a small one, but with a stream of fresh water.”

Mariana’s face brightened noticeably. “Water? Pure water? To drink and to wash in?” She glanced down at her tunic; it was smeared with a filmy residue of green slime. Her only consolation was that her companions’ clothes had not fared any better.

The urchin picked up one foot and groaned. “There’s something bothering me,” he said. “Something digging at me …”

The stranger’s eyes fired darkly. “Quick! Take off that boot!”

The boy seemed startled. “But why? What’s—”

“Just do as I say! Now!”

The urchin sat precariously against the rocks and winced as Ramagar and the stranger cut the leather and slid the boot off. Blood was trickling along the instep, up near the ankle. The entire foot was discolored and swollen—filled with oblong black blotches that were moving; slowly pulsating and digging into tender skin. The boy stared at them and screamed, “They’re alive!”