Swords From the West (24 page)

"How do men call thee?" he asked awkwardly.

"Alai."

The girl rose to her knees, brushing back her hair and winding the white coif around it deftly, but without veiling her face. Nial knew that the Tatar girls often went about freely without the heavy veil of the stricter Moslems.

"I have a little food," he ventured. "No water."

From a bag he produced barley cakes and dried curds, arranging them in two equal piles. Alai took up her share and knelt with her back to him, reaching behind her to break the cakes upon the heel of her boot.

"Was Neshavan thy father?" he asked.

"Nay," she murmured, "he nourished me and protected me. He was like a father."

Alai had been left at the Hawk House by her own father, a Tatar noyon of the great Horde, who had been fleeing through the hills, closely pursued. He had been slain, and no one had claimed the girl, who had been raised by the kindly Neshavan.

"Why did the Black Hats seek him out last night? They meant to kill him."

"The dogs!" She lifted her head and spat. "May Allah turn from them. May their days be bitter and fiends trouble their dreams. They are Gutchluk's men."

"Who is he?"

Alai swept her hand toward the hills.

"All this is his. Our falcons brought down some of his messenger pigeons, and Neshavan read the messages, unknowing. We meant no harm."

She pondered a moment and felt in the broad pocket of her khalat, offering Nial a handful of sugared ginger. She glanced at him shyly when he took some, then turned her back to nibble at hers. When Neshavan was slain she had stormed and wept, but now it was all over except the hopedfor vengeance; the women of mid-Asia were accustomed to the turns of fate. Alai must have been thirsty, but she did not complain as she curled up by the horses, watching Nial's movements curiously.

Going to the edge of the grove, he looked out over the valley of the Zarafshan and the distant roofs of Talas. Several horsemen were passing below him, but no Tatars were visible.

"Soon it will be dark," he said, "and then where will you go-in the town?"

"With you, Lord Nial."

Laughing, he shook his head.

"Nay, Alai, that cannot be. I ride far-alone."

"I have kept the saddle for months with Neshavan. I can point out the way to you."

"You must go to your friends."

"I have not one-" She shook her head vigorously. "Did you not lift the veil from me? By Allah, have we not shared bread?"

Nial did not try to argue; instead he asked if she knew a house outside the wall where they would be safe for a night. He could leave her where she would be protected.

"We can find Abu Harb," she said after thinking it over. "He hunts antelope and at times steals horses. He owed Neshavan a debt, and so he will give me a saddle. Why do you flee, Lord Nial?"

The Scot had fewer words than this girl, and he could not keep pace with her thoughts.

"How did you know?" he asked

"Wallahi-have you not watched the back track? And where are your goods and servants? You are not a merchant, not a Tatar."

"Nay-" he smiled, the harsh lines softening 'round his lips-"I am a devil from over the dark water, the sea."

"Then where will you turn your reins?"

"To Cathay."

This silenced Alai only for a moment.

"Bilmaida-good! If Allah wills, I may find my own people."

When he saddled the piebald, she had the headstall on the pony and was watching him with amusement as he finished. The sunset glow was fading down the valley when they rode from the grove, Alai leading him along a path beyond sight of the bridge. In the gloom by the river's edge she found a ford, passing through fishermen's huts, up the side of the hill. Casting about in the darkness, she drew near what seemed to be a cleft in a solid cliff.

"Ai, Abu Harb," she called softly. "The eagle waits at the hunter's door."

A voice rumbled in the bowels of the hill and presently a torch flared within the cleft. Without waiting for an invitation, the girl dismounted and led in her pony, while Nial followed more slowly, the piebald objecting savagely to crowding through the rock passages.

Rounding a turn, he found himself in a small cavern with smokeblackened roof. A one-eyed Arab stared at him suspiciously beneath the tomb.

"He is the very one!"

Nial turned as if scenting unseen danger.

"Nay, Abu Harb! He is the Lord Nial who struck a blow for Neshavan, and he hath shared our salt."

At once the Arab lifted his head. His long hair, gray at the temples, was braided close to his skull under the flapping headgear, and his gaunt frame looked like a skeleton draped in rough brown cloth. But he moved swiftly; and Nial, who had been raised among such men, knew that there was strength in the lean arms.

"Hadd!" cried the master of the cave. "Be welcome." His eyes opened wide when Nial made answer in sonorous Arabic. "What man art thou, to know the speech of the Nejd! Behold," he added to the girl, "this is the one they seek along the river."

"True, he hath many enemies."

Alai nodded complacently and in the same instant was rocking on her knees, her hair drawn over her face, without a sound. The calamity of last night had struck her afresh.

Abu Harb, who seemed to know how to deal with the grief of women, led her to the rear of the cavern to a rug spread upon a quilt and talked to her, low voiced. Nial noticed that several passages led out of the place and he wandered over to the nearest one, finding it a storage space heaped with hay, antelope horns, odds and ends of saddlery and irons. Before he could look at it more closely, the torch brightened and Abu Harb's lean head was at his shoulder.

"Come, thou," the Arab whispered. "But first, cover thyself with this."

While Nial was putting on the long, light kaffiyeh, winding it across his arms and drawing the edge of it over his head, Abu Harb tied the two horses to rings in the far wall and kindled a fire upon the hearth beside the girl.

"We cannot talk near her," he explained when they were in the darkness outside. "She understands my speech, and the Iranis-everything. Ai-a, she was a piece of Neshavan's liver, and I would lay my one eye at her feet. But now by Allah, Mir Farash is looking for her. How can she hide from him? He will pay gold for her; and the lice of Talas would sell their mothers, if they knew them, for silver. Nay. She must go hence with thee before the next day."

"Nay," the Scot objected. "I go alone."

"How canst thou? She said she belonged to thee. They will search my house."

"She is not mine."

Stopping in his tracks, the Arab shook his head slowly.

"Khawand Nial, I do not understand. Of what use are words? She is a breath from Peristan, and all men look after her. If she wishes to go with thee, she will go. By Allah, I will go also. Come, we will need many things."

With long strides the hunter was off toward the distant lights of the town. But when Nial caught up with him he stopped to whisper fiercely.

"What good comes from sitting in one place? These dogs in stinking sheepskins offend my nostrils. Wallahi, they slew Neshavan, my companion of the road. Am I to sit in peace with them? I will show thee a new road to Samarkand where the horse herds and the antelope run. But we will need barley, dried meat, garlic, a soft blanket for Alai, a packhorse."

Muttering to himself, Abu Harb checked off necessities on his long fingers as he steered Nial toward an open gate in the wall. He had no hesitation and seemed to expect Nial to take care of himself. Dogs rushed out to snarl at them, and drew off before the sweep of the Arab's long stick. Then both men halted to stare ahead of them.

There were lights in the open square at the head of the alley, and a group of the Kara Kalpaks stood their ground like jackals facing wolves. Three horsemen rode toward them, three Tatars with an officer in the lead. Nial recognized the darogha of the post station who had questioned him.

As the Tatars came on, the tribesmen fingered their weapons and one spat noisily. The darogha glanced at him and loosened the coil of rope that hung at his saddlehorn. The Black Hat knew the meaning of this, because he drew back reluctantly when the horse's muzzle was almost touching him. The tribesmen went off, as if at a signal, and at a word from the officer the two Tatar warriors followed them.

Abu Harb chuckled silently, but Nial watched the officer who remained at the alley mouth, rubbing his arms as if they were stiffened by long riding. Presently, hearing the drip of water from a dark court off the alley, the darogha let his horse wander toward it, and Nial heard him dismount.

"A knife-swiftly," he whispered to the Arab.

Abu Harb asked no questions. He thrust the bone hilt of a curved knife into the Scot's hand and nodded eagerly when Nial bade him follow but not interfere in anything that happened. Only when Nial turned toward the court did the Arab pluck his sleeve.

"Nay," Abu Harb breathed. "That is one of the khan's men. A panther is easier to stalk."

"Hold thy tongue."

Thrusting back the Arab, Nial went on, making no effort to walk quietly. He stepped into the yard, paused to stare in the faint starlight at the horse, and moved to the well. The Mongol, who had finished drinking, looked toward him casually and jerked the horse's head back from the water. As he did so, Nial's left hand closed upon his right wrist, and when he turned angrily he felt the tip of a sharp steel blade press through the coat beneath his ribs.

"Be silent!" Nial whispered. "It is for me to speak, for thee to listen."

"Kai," the man grunted softly, "thou art the slayer of the yam."

"True. But I am here to tell thee more that is true. The man I slew was the robber, the Kara Kalpak."

And in brief words Nial related how he had come upon the dead courier. The Mongol listened intently, showing no excitement except that he breathed swifter than usual. His quick eyes had sighted Abu Harb standing within hearing, and the iron grasp on his right wrist did not relax. Nial knew that the officer would have his sword slung upon his back with the hilt over his left shoulder where it could not be reached with the left hand.

"I hear," the darogha responded calmly. "Perhaps it is true. What would you have me do?"

"Go back to Samarkand. Report what I have said and question the one who lied again."

"He hath gone, like a stone dropped into deep water. Hast thou the message tube?"

Nial thought for a space, conscious of Abu Harb breathing heavily behind him.

"Aye so. If thou wilt cease pursuit I will bring it untouched to a station."

"Nay, an order was given to pursue thee, and caught thou wilt be. If I fail, others will come, unerring as the birds that see in the night."

This Nial knew to be true. If a general order had gone out to find him, the Tatar cavalry would be loosed from the nearest camps to bring him in.

"What was in the tube?" he asked.

"We have not been told. But it is from the hand of Barka Khan to the feet of the great Kublai Khan, Lord of the East."

Nial silently cursed the silver tube, for other hands than the Tatars would be stretched out for a missive of the great khan. Suddenly he dropped the officer's wrist and reached up, drawing the other's short saber from its sheath. This he tossed into the well, and backed up a step to feel for the horse's rein.

"Do not take the horse," whispered the officer quickly. "Kai, I am no speaker of vain words. I will not move from this place nor follow thee for the time milk takes to boil."

A hoarse cluck of warning sounded behind Nial, who pondered. He could not keep the beast. It would be recognized by these Tatars as far as they could see.

"What is thy name, thy rank?" he asked.

"Chagan, ung-khan of the Almalyk regiment."

"Then keep to thy word, Chagan!"

Turning and calling to Abu Harb, Nial ran from the courtyard and across the alley into the mouth of another lane. Before they could turn a corner, they heard the snap and hiss of arrows shot after them. The shafts crashed against unseen walls, and Nial laughed under his breath. Chagan had carried out his pledge after his own fashion. He made no attempt to follow them, and the Arab doubled back to the gate, racing ahead until Nial could make out the loom of the cliff.

"Surely Allah hath afflicted thee with madness," panted Abu Harb. "Even the birds and wolves flee before those Tarim riders. And thou hast stolen from their great khan. What is in the tube?" When he received no answer, he sucked in his breath admiringly. "Eh, eh, thou art a very father of strife. By Allah, I will surely go with thee."

He held out his hand eagerly.

"Hast thou gold? I must buy what is needed in the bazaar. Soon we may be in our shrouds, thou and I, but first we must eat."

He took the gold Nial held out to him as a matter of course and strode off with the air of a man of affairs who has much to do in little time. With difficulty-for the rock was honeycombed with fissures-Nial found the entrance to the cave, guiding himself by the smell of smoke and the drowsy stamping of the horses.

Alai greeted him with silent satisfaction, showing no trace of the grief of an hour before. Moving over to the edge of the carpet, she made place for him by the fire and curled herself up comfortably.

Half hidden in shadow, her eyes were dark as the night itself. Within them danced two pinpoints of light, reflected in the glowing embers of the fire. It was Nial who first looked away, into the fire, wondering if she had a power of witchery in her. A woman of Christendom would have plied him with questions or complained of hunger. But this Tatar girl was as untamed and as unknowable as a young animal. And he did not want to bid her farewell.

"Abu Harb says," he ventured, "that there is danger here for you. I also must ride hence without stopping for thorns or stones. So Abu Harb will take you to Samarkand, toward the setting sun, while I go on to the rising sun."

He thought she would exclaim or protest. Instead she seemed to ponder his words gravely.

"Once," she observed, "I went to Samarkand and the men there followed me about. Now that I am alone they would take me and sell me as a slave. I will not be a slave."