Naszif began to show signs of interest. Laella sped Aaron a look of gratitude.
He continued, "The kids were all right. Healthy. Well fed. Decently clothed.
They just didn't remember anything."
"Where did you hear that, Aaron? When?" Suddenly, Naszif was all attention.
"If there was news like that I think I would have heard."
"I heard it yesterday at work. From this old man they call Billygoat. He's acaulker. He lives across from where they found the kids."
Naszifs intensity disturbed Aaron. He had tossed the incident out as a crumbof hope, not because he felt it meant anything. Concerned though he was aboutArif, he had given the story no weight. In a city the size of Qushmarrahchildren would be stolen and a few would turn up again.
"How could something as important as that happen and the news not be all overthe city, Aaron?"
"Be reasonable. Because it isn't news. You and me, we got a reason to care.
Most people don't. Only reason Billygoat told me was I was fussing about Arifand he wanted to cheer me up."
"But if there were two, maybe there were more. Maybe a lot. And nobody eversaid anything."
"That's possible. Good news don't travel like bad news does." Aaron noted thatReyha had stopped sobbing and was listening, face alight with irrational hope.
Naszif said, "I'm going to look into it. I'm going to ask around. Maybethere's something going on."
Aaron wondered what he had started. All he'd wanted was to lend a little support.
Laella said, "Those Dartars that tried to get Zouki back. They seemed to thinkthe Living did it."
Aaron sighed. He had known that would come. Sooner or later. When Laella gotan idea in her head she could hang on as long as her mother.
That's absurd," Naszif said.
"How do you know?"
Aaron had not repeated bel-Sidek's assurances for Laella, though she, likeeveryone in the neighborhood, suspected that the cripple was connected withthe Living and might even be important. She did not need more ammunition to becast into the volleys of gossip flying around the neighborhood.
"I just know," Naszif said, and there was a smugness to his declaration thatset Aaron's teeth on edge, that hurled a moral dilemma into his face like abucket of lava.
Naszif among the Living? Naszif, who might have been a tool of Herod oncebefore ...
Suddenly, like lightning's strike, there were a thousand questions to bedebated between himself and the ceiling beams. It was going to be a long andsleepless night.
His abrupt withdrawal excited no interest. Naszif was preoccupied.
Laella did look at him oddly, though. She would have questions. Whether toanswer would be the first decision. If so, then he would have to decide howmuch he dared reveal ...
Zouki managed to cry himself into a shallow, fitful, whimpering sleep, interrupted often by the outbreak of nightmare from one of the other children in the cage.
Azel strode into Muma's Place with no thoughts beyond getting a decent meal and a hot bath, not necessarily in that order. The bath was overdue. Then a long sleep. Tomorrow was soon enough to decide what he'd do with the week or so he would let the Witch stew. Ride up to the Elephant Rocks country and do some hunting? Too much like work.
Maybe to al-Quarda territory to fish in the sinkholes there. Whatever, wherever, someplace alone. He needed to get away from people and all the chains of duty, honor, loyalty, with which they tried to bind him, trying to jerk him this way and that. He needed to go somewhere where every step was not a step on a tightrope. He picked a table out of the way. It was late enough for the place to be quiet and offer him a choice of seating.
Maybe he ought to let her roast for two weeks. Or even a month. She needed dead time to make her think, time to understand that she was not letting reason be her guide. Azel grew wary the instant he spotted Muma. Muma no longer waited tables. Muma no longer stayed awake till this unholy hour. He glanced around carefully, looking for that odd late patron who took special notice of Muma's remarkable behavior. Anyone paying special attention did so with superbly feigned indifference.
Muma came to Azel's table.
"Muma."
"Azel." The proprietor invited himself to sit.
"You're up late."
"Got dragged out of a warm bed."
"I never have liked dropping in here late and finding you up. It's like coming home and finding vultures perched on the roof trees. You know the news ain't going to be good."
"Uhm." "What is it this time?"
"What would it be? A message." Palm flat on the table, Muma pushed something across. "You know the sign." That was not a question.
"Yeah. How old is it?"
"Half an hour, tops. Not stinking yet at all."
"Hmph! Time to get some food down, then."
"You know the sign."
"I got to take time to read the damned thing, don't I?" "I suppose. What doyou want?"
"Something portable. This is bound to tell me to go somewhere and do somethingtwo hours before it was written."
"Be right back with something." Muma hoisted himself up and waddled away.
Azel read the message. Come to me as soon as you receive this. There was nosignature.
Elegantly simple. Nothing there to tell Herodian or Dartar a thing. Even thesign on the outside, a crudely drawn palm sparrow, had no obvious or suspectmeaning or symbolism. If it fell into enemy hands it was unlikely to exciteany interest, unless by circumstance.
Muma came back with a loaf and a lump of a vigorous goafs-milk cheese. Azel muttered, "It must be my day for gourmet dining." "You're going out?"
"Of course. What else? Are your sons awake? I don't see any trouble around, but it's the kind you don't see that catches you up."
"They're awake. I told them. They'll cover you." Meaning anyone who tried tofollow him would be in for some major distress.
Azel stood, handed a coin across, collected his provender. "Later, Muma."