He looked back again. The camel rider glared helplessly from a hundred feetaway. Azel saluted him and entered the alleyway. As soon as he was sure no onewas watching he climbed to a rooftop.
He continued to move warily there. Qushmarrah's rooftops, in the dense OldCity, were another world, like the Shu maze, but one he did not know as well.
He could not be sure he did not have enemies up there.
The crowd had begun to disperse by the time Aaron got out to see the cause ofthe uproar. Qushmarrahans did not want to be around when Dartars gathered instrength.
Two Dartars were lying in the street. One of them looked like the kid he'dbeen talking to a while ago. A man on a camel stood guard over them.
Aaron did not think. He just ran out, arriving as the camel rider brought hismount to her knees. That was the one who had watched over the prisoners whilehe had spoken with the younger one. Yoseh?
Aaron dropped to one knee. Both men were breathing. "What happened?"
The rider said, "Yoseh saw the child-stealer from the maze. We went after him.
He said something to the crowd. They attacked us."
The boy opened his eyes. He tried to get up. Aaron offered a hand. The boyflinched away, then accepted. Aaron lifted him, slipped an arm around hiswaist, helped him stumble back to where he had started. He did not notice theDartars gathering like ravens. He did not notice the scowls of Laella and hermother, watching from the doorway.
He set the boy down, looked back to see if the other needed help. That one wassurrounded by Dartars. He looked at the boy again, intrigued by the scars andtattoos revealed when his face cloth was gone.
"Thank you," the boy said.
"Are you all right?"
"I'll have a lot of scrapes and bruises. Otherwise, yes."
Aaron assayed a weak sally. "You're going to have to quit chasing that man.
You keep ending up ..."
"We'll get him."
A one-sided row broke out at the house, Raheb so excited her voice squeaked.
Aaron was surprised to see Mish headed his way with a bowl, rags, and whatpassed for medical supplies in their household. She settled on her kneesbefore the boy, dipped a rag in the bowl, began cleaning the street dirt offhis face.
Aaron settled on his haunches. He wondered what Mish thought of the boy'sscars and tattoos. He smiled when she tried to scrub the latter away.
There was another feminine outburst, Laella this time, then Arif was therebeside him, left hand on his right shoulder. Arif did not say anything. Aaronslipped his arm around his son's waist. In the background Stafa raised hellbecause his own break for freedom had been intercepted.
Aaron watched Mish and wondered why the crowd had turned ugly so suddenly.
What had the child-taker said? They would have turned on him, probably, hadthey known what he was.
He realized that the shadow of a man on horseback had fallen upon them. Helooked up. Into the wet grey eyes of an old hawk.
Joab.
The thin shell cracked, somewhere there in the back. The poison of hatredboiled through.
Joab, whose horsemen had overridden a Qushmarrahan company on the Plain ofChordan, leaving Aaron's father and brothers among the dead.
Aaron's body refused to be controlled. He rose slowly, coiled to spring. Hislimbs began to shake. A sound like that made by a cat trying to cough up furballs came from his throat.
Those grey eyes filled with surprise and maybe a touch of fright.
Aaron caught a glimpse of bel-Sidek standing on the far side of the street, watching him in amazement.
The dark fog parted. He shuddered, tore his gaze away from Joab, said, "Mish, come on," and gripped Arifs shoulder hard, headed him toward home. Mish camewithout protest, having heard something in his tone that silenced her penchantfor contradiction.
Yoseh watched the girl walk away, saddened, puzzled. "What the hell justhappened?" Joab asked. "I thought he was going for my throat."
Medjhah said, "You offended him somehow. About six years ago."
Joab looked at the veydeen man, grunted. "What went on here? Are these men allright?"
"Just a little battered, sir," Yoseh said. He explained about spotting thechild-stealer. Nogah came out of the maze and hovered nervously while hetalked.
The General closed the door he had held open a crack throughout theexcitement. He cursed softly, over and over. Azel had gotten away, but it hadbeen a close thing and those bastards-Joab and Fa'tad, at least-were going toput in some time trying to find out why the man had been in the area.
Azel never made mistakes. Not to the old man's knowledge. Nor to his own, either, probably. But his stroke of tactical inspiration, invoking the name ofthe Living, just might turn into a strategic nightmare.
Not Azel's fault, really. His own, for overutilizing his best man. Had anyonenoticed his frequent visits? Those had to stop, inconvenient as that would be.
He dared not have a child-stealer connected with this house or the Living.
The Living would have to disavow him, condemn him, demand that he be punishedfor using the movement's name. Azel was deft. He would evade trouble. Whatevernotoriety came of this would die out soon.
He looked across the room to his writing table, miles away. He had to scribblea note to Azel, warning him off, advising him that he would have to endure thename of outlaw for a time.
He started working his way along the wall, wishing there was someone he could bring in on what he was doing. He was too feeble to carry the whole burden.
But did he dare inform his khadifas? Most would be appalled, even outraged, though not all for the same reasons. Zenobel or Carza? Maybe. If it was presented carefully enough and he revealed the full scope of his duplicitous stratagem, so they would not be repelled by its unsavory immediate aspect. The old man had spent too much strength getting to the door. He did not retain resources adequate to the return journey.
For once bel-Sidek was not sorry about the condition of his leg. Had he been healthy he would have arrived in the middle of things, while tempers burned their hottest and reason bent before a draft out of Chaos. There was residual anger enough to trouble him as he questioned his neighbors.
Inner, secret shame had left some defiant. They could not admit that they had been gulled by a thug. His reassurances were not well received. He dared not pursue it too closely. He limped home irritated. Ortbal Sagdet had proven insiders could use the movement to their benefit. But who would have thought the baser sort of villain might use its name as a tool? He burst in ready to treat the General to an angry monolog. "Sir! Oh, Aram have mercy!" He dropped a squash he had bought for supper, fell to his knees. "Sir?"
The old man croaked, "Bel-Sidek?"
"Yes sir. I'm here, sir."
The flesh betrays the spirit." The old man's words came one to the breath. "Get me to the writing table."
Bel-Sidek lifted him. He was so light! "What were you trying to do, sir?"