Yousef the bandit thought he had seen just about everything, but the trick with the sheep, goats, and fire wagon was certainly new. He still wanted Casca and now he was getting away. Not aware of it he kicked his horse in the flanks and took off after Bu Ali and his party, following through the narrow cobbled streets and hunkering low to avoid arrows from the startled guards at the gates of the city.
During the escape the captain of the Emir's guard had been at the side of his master on the prayer rugs in the mosque. Hearing the clamor coming from outside he took his leave of his master and rushed to the door of the mosque in time to see the tail end of Yousef's raggedy band leaving the scene of the rescue. Naturally, he thought the bandits were Casca's rescuers and ordered immediate pursuit. The captain's men raced to find their mounts slapping the local inhabitants out of their way with the flats of their swords. Once clear of the city gates all three parties headed straight for the desert.
From the door of the mosque the Emir shook his head at all the disturbance, turning to his nephew, a smooth-cheeked boy of sixteen, to whom he had given the post of standard-bearer. The boy would be at his uncle's side during official ceremonies and hold the Seljuk standard of horsetails tied to a silver blade. The Emir had given the boy the prestigious post in order to honor his sister.
"Ah, Sulman, son of my sister, do you not see how the life of one who rules is one of endless problems. I wonder what will happen next?"
Sulman smiled sweetly with understanding at his uncle and replied easily, "That is easy to foretell, my uncle. What will happen next is your death." Sulman drove the silver point of the standard deep into the Emir's soft belly and twisted the blade severing his intestines and stomach. Before the remaining attendants and guards could respond, Sulman stepped over the fallen body of his uncle and removed the Golden Dagger from his sequined jacket. Crying out to the heavens, "Allahu Akhbar" he slit his own throat with the dagger of the Assassins. Hassan al Sabah was never one to risk failure, and he always kept his word. The Emir of Apnea had died by the lance.
Neither Bu Ali nor the Emir's captain had any idea of what had transpired at the mosque. The captain's attention was on overtaking the fleeing men in front of him. His horses, being of better quality than those of the bandits, were quickly gaining on Yousef's group. Yousef was faced with a dilemma. He couldn't catch the Mamelukes in a straight chase and looking behind him at the Emir's guards coming up fast, he knew he had to break off his chase and head for the rougher ground where, knowing the terrain intimately, he'd have a chance of losing his pursuers. Leading the way into a twisting labyrinth of wadis and dry streambeds, it took an hour to shake loose the captain and his men.
Resting his panting horse just under the top of a rocky rise, he was joined by the toughest of his men. A bearded ruffian with enormously muscled arms and hunched shoulders, the legacy of a childhood spent at a blacksmith's forge, he was Yousef's de facto second in command.
This man, Shojan, spat — away from the wind — and asked his dusty leader, "Now what?"
"They are probably resting their horses at some water hole in the wadis to the west. But they will leave a dust trail when they start out again. We will stay to the high ground and watch for signs of movement then try to cut them off. While they're resting we move. I want all the men to get off their horses and lead them. This way we will have a chance of catching up if we rest our animals on the move."
Shojan spat another mouthful of wet dust into the wind, "All right, we've gone this far and I am beginning to think you're right about the ferengi being bad luck for us. I just don't know if catching up to him would be good or just more bad."
Yousef hissed, "What else do we have to do? If we can take the Mamelukes we'll have their weapons and animals, which are worth something and any prisoners can be sold. That is still better than skulking like beaten dogs through the streets of Apnea trying to steal coppers from beggars."
Dismounting they began to follow in the direction the Mamelukes had taken. Ahead of them there was a high ridge with great open plains on either side. From there they'd be able to see in any direction for as far as the horizon. If the Mamelukes moved while it was still light they'd be seen. If they waited till dark then there would be no chance to catch up with them. Yousef and his weary band labored on, the tails of their turbans wrapped around their noses and mouths to keep out the dust whipping at their faces.
Casca had a mouthful of dust and a terrible throbbing pain at the back of his head. Before he managed to get his eyes open he had the strangest feeling of rising and falling, jolts and thumps. And he was paralyzed. Only his mouth had mobility, opening and shutting to the strange thumps and bumps. And every time it did, he got more dust in it. He wished he could fall back into the darkness and end the pain in his chest as well as that damnable throbbing at the back of his skull.
But wishing didn't make the pain go away, so he finally opened his eyes and instantly wished he hadn't.
He was on a horse, his legs tied to the animal's sides by a rope under the animal's belly, his hands lashed together and the rope looped around the horse's thick neck. Ahead of him rode Bu Ali and one of the Mamelukes. Beside him rode a warrior he'd known slightly during his time with Mamud the slaver. He was known as Karzan. Casca's head hurt too much for him to look back, but he could hear the sounds of other horses' hooves behind him, so he was in the middle of a small column heading, where?
"So you are back with us, Kasim?" The voice was that of Karzan, a slow, easy-paced voice almost too soft for the size of the man. The Mameluke was larger than most of the brothers and stood half a head over Casca. His face and coloring along with slightly green eyes showed a mixture of many bloods in his veins. "Yes, you have been out for a long time."
"Where are we?"
"Who knows? Bu Ali is heading for the mountains. I heard the mob saying something about an Assassin being captured. You're not one of them are you?"
Casca shook his head to clear the remaining cobwebs. "That's a dumb question to ask anyone." He left the question unanswered since anything he said might have been the wrong thing. He didn't know if Karzan was a follower of Hassan al Sabah or not.
"Why am I tied down on this horse and why the hell did Bu Ali hit me?"
Karzan shrugged his sloped shoulders. "You're tied to the horse because that is what Bu Ali said to do. I don't know why he hit you, that is his business and he is in command." That was it. Karzan was content to follow his orders without question. Things he didn't understand, he wasn't meant to.
Casca was given water to drink from a leather skin and then studiously ignored. But Ali looked back at him once from the head of the column to give him a wide grin.
Bu Ali halted his men and rode to a small rise and looked back toward Apnea. He saw no sign of pursuit. Whoever it was that had been after them was no longer in view nor had they been since three hours past. Now he was facing one of the patches of wasteland where not even the creosote could survive. It was dry with fine dust that went ankle deep and stretched for twenty leagues.
Casca looked ahead. There shimmering in the distance and rising above the clear desert air was a range of mountains that would be a five-day ride away. The Elburz. Bu Ali was taking them to Castle Alamut.
The small unit of Mamelukes moved into the endless dust of the ancient seabed.
"Dust," Shojan pointed.
"I see it," Yousef said. He looked from the thin plume of dust to the mountains on the horizon, then back again.
"They have a good head start."
"True, but there is but one place they can head and that's toward the mountains. From where we are we can intercept them by going straight, then cutting across. Also we will have a better supply of water from some springs that I know of. The Mamelukes will have to ration theirs. We'll catch them."
"What if they travel all night?"
"It will make no difference for that is what we will be doing. It will only prolong the chase a few more hours, no more. Be patient, Shojan. Be patient. We will have them, this I swear."
Bu Ali made no camp. They traveled all that night stopping only to water their animals, then to cover more miles before the heat of day turned the seabed into an inferno. With first light they sought what thin shelter they could, using their cloaks to make tents to shield them and their animals from the hammering rays of the demon sun. Three more days and nights passed in this manner till they reached the base of the Elburz Mountains still in darkness. Dawn found them climbing a steep trail on foot, the horses left behind with a single Mameluke to guard them. Casca had one rope noosed around his thick neck, a second tied securely to his waist. The ends of both were in the hands of Karzan, who was quiet for the first two thousand feet. But when the sun warmed their backs in full light, he looked up at the steep climb ahead and muttered to no one, "I hope Bu Ali calls a rest when we get to that level site ahead." Never once had he or the other Mamelukes questioned why Bu Ali was taking them to Elburz instead of back to Baghdad and their Master Mamud. They, like Karzan, left the problem of thinking to others. Their job was only to obey and Bu Ali was in command therefore he must know what he was doing.
Casca also hoped for a rest. His legs were cramped from being tied under the belly of his horse and burned with each labored step up the foot trail. He had never been on this path before and wondered how long it would take them till they reached the summit of Alamut, where he would face Hassan and find out why this was being done to him.
Not once in the days of their trek had Bu Ali spoken to him, and after seeing Karzan do so had ordered all the Mamelukes to avoid any conversation with their prisoner at the risk of losing their tongues. Another hundred yards of climbing and Casca could barely make out the parapets of Castle Alamut still two thousand feet above them. He knew of this place. One of the Novices at Alamut had pointed it out to him from the Castle walls and had told him that this was where many who had transgressed were sent to their maker.
He looked down. There were jagged rocks below, and to his left, the black cleft that was the opening to the Bottomless Pit, which was, as the Novice had said, the entrance to death for many. Casca grunted knowing that every pit had a bottom. It was only a matter of reaching it.
A jerk on his lead rope and Casca stumbled over a rock to fall on his face. It distracted Karzan's attention and that of the other Mamelukes in front of him and behind him at the very instant that Yousef and his men attacked. They poured out of the rocks circling the level site by the Bottomless Pit.