ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第41章

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　　Ghalib　grunted；　pulled　down　his　veil；　and　spat。
　　〃Why？〃　he　said。
　　Yazir　was　surprised。　His　brother　was　not　inclined　to　demand　reasons　for　war。　The　prince　from　over　the　water　seemed　more　confident　suddenly；　he　sat　up　straighter　on　the　blanket。　It　was　as　if　he　had　needed　only　their　questions。　All　those　who　had　e　to　them　from　Al…Rassan　over　the　years；　the　wadjis　and　emissaries；　were　great　talkers。　They　wore　no　veils；　perhaps　that　was　part　of　it。　Poets；　singers；　heralds…words　ran　like　water　in　that　land。　It　was　silence　that　made　them　uneasy。　It　was　quite　clear　by　now　that　their　visitor　did　not　know　his　father　was　dead。
　　〃Who　else　is　there？〃　Hazem　of　Cartada　asked；　and　gestured　excessively　with　his　hands；　almost　touching　Yazir's　knee。　〃If　you　e　not；　the　Horsemen　of　Jad　will　rule。　In　our　lifetime。　And　Al…Rassan　will　be　lost　to　Ashar　and　the　stars。〃
　　〃It　is　lost　already；〃　Ghalib　muttered；　surprising　Yazir　again。
　　〃Then　regain　it！〃　said　Hazem　ibn　Almalik　quickly。　〃It　is　there　for　you。　For　us。〃
　　〃Us？〃　Yazir　said　softly。
　　The　prince　visibly　checked　himself。　He　looked　briefly　afraid。　He　said；　〃For　all　of　us　who　grieve　for　what　is　happening。　Who　bear　the　heavy　burden　of　what　Jaddites　and　Kindath　and　false；　fallen　kings　are　doing　to　a　land　once　strong　in　the　will　of　Ashar。〃　He　hesitated。　〃There　is　water　there；　orchards　and　green　grass。　Tall　grain　grows　in　the　fields；　rain　falls　in　the　spring　and　ripe；　sweet　fruits　can　be　plucked　wild　from　the　trees。　Surely　your　soldiers　have　told　you　this。〃
　　〃They　have　told　us　many　things；〃　Yazir　said　repressively；　stirred　in　spite　of　himself。　He　believed　little　of　it；　in　fact。　Rivers　running　through　palaces？　Did　they　think　he　was　a　fool？　He　could　not　even　conceive　of　what　kind　of　a　fruit　might　grow　freely；　untended；　to　be　taken　at　will　by　any　man　with　a　thirst。　Such　things　were　promised　in　Paradise；　not　to　men　on　the　sands　of　earth。
　　〃You　sent　soldiers　to　serve　my　father；〃　Hazem　ibn　Almalik　said　shrilly。　〃Why　will　you　not　lead　them　to　serve　Ashar？〃
　　This　was　offensive。　Men　had　been　flayed　for　less。　They　had　been　staked　alive　in　the　sun　with　their　skin　peeled　away。
　　〃Your　father　has　been　killed；〃　Yazir　said　quickly；　before　Ghalib　could　do　anything　irreversible。　〃Your　brother　rules　in　Cartada。〃
　　〃What？〃　The　young　man　scrambled　to　his　feet；　fear　and　amazement　imprinted　on　his　pallid；　exposed　features。
　　Ghalib　reached　for　the　spear　planted　beside　him。　He　swung　it　with　one　hand；　almost　casually；　so　that　the　shaft　smote　the　prince　behind　the　knees。　There　was　a　cracking　sound；　swallowed　by　the　empty　spaces　around　them。　Hazem　ibn　Almalik　crumpled　to　the　ground；　whimpering。
　　〃You　do　not　rise　before　my　brother　does；〃　Ghalib　said　softly。　〃It　is　an　insult。〃　He　spoke　slowly；　as　if　to　someone　deficient　in　his　faculties。
　　He　planted　his　spear　again。　The　handful　of　warriors　who　had　acpanied　them　here　from　the　encampment　had　glanced　over　at　the　flurry　of　movement。　Now　they　looked　away　again。　This　talk　was　boring　for　them；　most　things　had　been　boring　of　late。　Autumn　and　winter　were　a　difficult　time　for　discipline。
　　Yazir　again　considered　giving　the　Cartadan　to　his　brother　and　the　soldiers。　The　prince's　death　would　offer　a　diversion　and　the　men　needed　that。　He　decided　against　it。　There　was　more　at　stake　here　than　an　execution　to　quiet　restless　warriors。　He　had　the　feeling　even　Ghalib　knew　that。　The　shaft　of　a　spear　along　the　back　of　the　knees　was　an　extremely　mild　response　for　his　brother。
　　〃Sit　up；〃　Yazir　said　coldly。　The　prince's　moaning　was　beginning　to　grate　on　him。
　　It　was　amusing　how　quickly　the　sounds　stopped。　Hazem　ibn　Almalik　swung　himself　up　to　a　sitting　position。　He　wiped　at　his　nose。　His　right　hand　again。　Some　men　had　no　idea　of　manners。　But　if　they　denied　the　god　and　the　visions　of　Ashar；　why　should　they　be　expected　to　know　polite；　proper　behavior？　He　reminded　himself；　again；　that　this　man　was　among　the　devout。
　　〃It　is　time　for　prayers；〃　Yazir　said　to　the　Cartadan　prince。　〃We　will　go　back　to　the　camp。　After；　we　will　eat。　Then　you　will　tell　me　all　you　know　about　your　brother。〃
　　〃No；　no。　No！　I　must　go　back　home　now；　Excellence。　As　quickly　as　possible。〃　The　man　showed　a　surprising　amount　of　energy　for　the　first　time。　〃With　my　father　dead　there　is　an　opportunity。　For　me；　for　all　of　us　who　serve　Ashar　and　the　god。　I　must　write　to　the　wadjis　of　the　city！　I　must…〃
　　〃It　is　time　for　prayers；〃　Yazir　repeated；　and　rose。
　　Ghalib　did　the　same；　with　a　warrior's　grace。　The　prince　scrambled　upright。　They　began　walking　back。　Hazem　limped　along；　still　talking；　trying　to　keep　pace。
　　〃This　is　wonderful！〃　he　said。　〃My　accursed　father　is　dead。　My　brother　is　weak；　with　a　corrupt；　godless　advisor…the　evil　man　who　killed　the　last　khalif！　We　can　take　Cartada　easily；　Excellence。　The　people　will　be　with　us！　I　will　go　home　to　Al…Rassan；　and　tell　them　you　are　following。　Don't　you　see；　Ashar　has　given　us　a　gift　from　the　stars！〃
　　Yazir　stopped。　He　didn't　like　being　distracted　as　he　readied　himself　for　prayer；　and　this　man　was　clearly　going　to　be　a　vexing　distraction。　There　was　also　the　distinct　possibility　that　Ghalib　would　be　irked　enough　to　kill　him　out…of…hand。
　　Yazir　said；　〃We　go　to　pray。　Be　silent　now。　But　understand　me：　we　travel　nowhere　in　winter。　Neither　do　you。　You　will　remain　with　us。　You　are　our　guest　for　this　season。　In　spring　we　will　take　counsel　again。　For　the　rest　of　the　winter　I　do　not　want　to　hear　you　speak　unless　addressed　by　one　of　us。〃　He　paused；　tried　to　sound　gentle；　soothing。　〃I　say　this　for　your　safety；　do　you　understand？　You　are　not　in　a　place　where　things　are　as　you　know　them。〃
　　The　man's　jaw　had　dropped　open。　He　reached　forward　with　a　hand…his　right　hand；　alas…and　clutched　at　Yazir's　sleeve。
　　〃But　I　cannot　stay！〃　he　said。　〃Excellence；　I　must　go　back。　Before　the　winter　storms。　I　must　be…〃
　　He　said　no　more。　He　was　looking　downwards；　a　blank　incredulity　in　his　face。　It　was　very　nearly　amusing。　Ghalib　had　cut　off　the　offending　hand　at　the　wrist。　He　was　already　sheathing　his　sword。　Hazem　ibn　Almalik；　prince　of　Cartada；　looked　at　the　bleeding　stump　where　his　right　hand　had　been；　made　a　strangled　sound　in　his　throat；　and　fainted。
　　Ghalib　looked　down　at　him　expressionlessly。　〃Shall　I　cut　out　his　tongue？〃　he　asked。　〃We　will　never　endure　a　winter　of　his　words。　He　will　not　survive；　brother。　Someone　will　kill　him。〃
　　Yazir　considered　it。　Ghalib　was　almost　certainly　right。　He　sighed；　shook　his　head。　〃No；〃　he　said　reluctantly。　〃We　do　need　to　speak　with　him。　We　might　have　need　of　this　man。〃
　　〃Man？〃　Ghalib　said。　Lowering　his　veil；　he　spat。
　　Yazir　shrugged　and　turned　away。　〃e。　It　is　time　for　prayers。〃
　　He　turned　to　walk　on。　Ghalib　looked　as　if　he　would　protest。　In　his　mind's　eye　Yazir　could　almost　see　him　severing　the　man's　tongue。　The　prospect　of　silence　was　appealing。　He　imagined　Ghalib　kneeling；　knife　drawn；　the　Cartadan's　head　lifted　to　rest　on　his　left　knee；　the　tongue　pulled　out　as　far　as　it　could　go；　the　blade　。。。　Ghalib　had　done　this　many　times。　He　was　good　at　it。　Yazir　very　nearly　changed　his　mind。　Nearly；　but　not　quite。
　　He　didn't　look　back。　A　moment　later；　he　heard　his　brother　following。　Most　of　the　time　Ghalib　still　followed。　Yazir　gestured；　and　three　of　the　warriors　moved　to　bring　the　Cartadan。　He　might　die　of　his　wound；　but　it　was　unlikely。　They　knew　how　to　treat　such　injuries　in　the　desert。　Hazem　ibn　Almalik　would　live。　He　would　never　realize　that　his　life　and　speech　were　Yazir's　gift　to　him。　Some　people　you　just　couldn't　help；　no　matter　how　you　tried。
　　He　joined　their　wadji　and　the　tribesmen　in　the　pound。　They　had　waited　for　him。　The　bell　was　rung；　the　sound　small　and　fragile　in　the　wind。　They　lowered　their　veils　and　prayed　then　in　the　open　spaces　to　the　one　god　and　his　beloved　servant　Ashar；　their　exposed　faces　turned　to　where　Soriyya　was；　so　far　away。　They　prayed　for　strength　and　mercy；　for　purity　of　heart　and　mortal　body；　for　the　fulfillment　of　Ashar's　starlit　visions；　and　for　access；　at　the　end　of　their　own　days　among　the　sands　of　earth；　to　Paradise。
　　
　　He　had　been　forewarned；　but　not　sufficiently。　King　Ramiro　of　Valledo；　sitting　upon　his　throne　set　before　the　triple　arches　in　his　newly　pleted　audience　chamber；　was　sharply　aware　of　trouble　the　moment　the　visitors　entered　the　hall。
　　He　glanced　briefly　at　his　wife　and　noted　the　heightened　color　in　her　face；　which　only　confirmed　his　instinct。　Ines　had　taken　great　pains　with　her　appearance　this　morning。　Not　a　surprise；　these　were　guests　from　Ferrieres；　which　had　been　her　home。
　　On　his　other　side；　one　step　back　from　the　throne；　his　constable；　Count　Gonzalez　de　Rada；　displayed　only　his　customary　arrogance　to　their　guests。　That　was　fine；　but　Ramiro　was　almost　certain　that　de　Rada　was　oblivious　to　what　these　men　might　actually　mean　for　Valledo。
　　No　real　surprise　there；　either。　Gonzalez　had　a　good　mind　and　a　direct　way　of　achieving　things；　but　his　perceptions　extended　no　further　than　the　three　kingdoms　of　Esperana。　He　could　make　shrewd　observations　about　what　King　Ramiro's　brother　in　Ruenda　or　his　uncle　in　Jalona　might　intend；　and　propose　measures　to　balk　them；　but　clerics　from　countries　across　the　mountains　held　no　interest　for　him　and　therefore　shared　no　part　of　his　thought。
　　Which　was　why　the　warning　had　been　insufficient。　Five　men　of　the　god；　one　of　them　high…ranking；　were　stopping　here　at　the　queen's　invitation；　en　route　to　the　shrine　on　Vasca's　Isle。　What　could　that　possibly　signify？　Gonzalez　had　hardly　given　it　a　thought。　Neither；　to　his　own　swiftly　growing　regret；　had　the　king。
　　Betraying　no　hint　of　these　emerging　apprehensions；　Ramiro　of　Valledo　gazed　politely　at　the　man　proceeding　down　the　carpeted　approach　to　the　throne；　a　few　telling　steps　ahead　of　his　fellows。　Some　men　alerted　you　with　their　very　presence　that　something　of　substance　was　afoot。　This　was　one　such。
　　Geraud　de　Chervalles；　High　Cleric　of　Ferrieres；　was　tall　enough　to　look　down　on　every　man　in　that　room；　including　the　king。　His　face　was　shaved　smooth　as　a　baby's；　with　grey　hair　swept　straight　back　from　his　brow；　making　him　seem　even　taller。　His　eyes；　even　at　a　distance　from　the　throne；　were　a　penetrating　blue；　set　beneath　straight　eyebrows　and　above　a　long　nose　and　a　thin；　wide　mouth。　His　bearing　was　patrician；　courtly；　the　manner　of　an　ambassador　to　a　lesser　court；　not　that　of　a　servant　of　the　god　appearing　before　a　monarch。　Garbed　in　the　blue　robes　of　the　Ferrieres　clerics；　fringed　and　belted　with　yellow　for　the　sun；　Geraud　de　Chervalles　was　an　undeniably　imposing　man。
　　The　king　saw　no　deference　at　all　in　that　aristocratic　face。　Nor　did　he　find　it…sparing　a　quick　glance…in　the　expressions　of　the　four　lesser　clerics　who　had　now　e　to　a　halt　behind　de　Chervalles。　No　hostility　or　aggression；　nothing　as　ill…bred　as　that；　but　clerics　didn't　have　to　be　hostile　to　cause　a　world　of　trouble；　and　amiro　now；　belatedly；　had　a　sense　that　trouble　was　what　had　arrived　beneath　his　arches　to　stand　upon　the　newly　laid　carpets　and　mosaics　this　cold　and　drizzly　morning　in　autumn。
　　It　didn't　help　to　know　that　his　wife　had　requested　their　presence。
　　He　pulled　his　fur…collared　robe　more　closely　about　himself。　Out　of　the　corner　of　one　eye　he　saw　Gonzalez　ma