“You don’t know that they will be resolved in our favor?”
“When there is the involvement of a powerful magician, I can’t be sure of anything. Reality changes in the vicinity of such men. But we have a fair chance.”
Meanwhile the party was getting close. “Get your powder ready,” I told Myrrh.
“Hail, stranger!” the leading figure called.
“Hail,” I agreed. “We must talk.” We rode toward them.
“It is a great event we anticipate,” the other said. “I am the vizier of Shams al-Din Muhammad from Egypt, come to swear fealty to the new magician-king on behalf of my lord.”
“Early subscribers will be richly rewarded,” I agreed, suppressing a surge of rage. The impostor was already accepting the fealty of my long-time allies?
Then Myrrh held up a little squeeze bag. “Hold your breath until it dissipates,” she murmured. Then she squeezed. A faint haze puffed out, wafting toward the other party. The girl had evidently made note of the breeze.
I unobtrusively held my breath, as did Jewel and Myrrh.
“They will indeed,” Shams said jovially. He took a breath. “I didn’t hear your name.” His hand rested not far from his scimitar.
Then his eyes became vague. So did those of his two companions.
I waited until the haze had passed on behind them. “Who are your companions?” I asked.
“My porter and body servant.” I saw that the porter’s horse was loaded with practical travel things like blankets and pots, and the servant’s steed carried items of tonsure and hygiene. They had probably traveled with a larger caravan most of the way, then peeled off for this private mission.
“Stay here,” I told him. That should keep this party here until the bhang wore off. Then to Jewel: “I will be the vizier from Egypt. You will be my porter, and Myrrh my body servant. Can you emulate a man?”
She brought out a handful of rouge and rubbed it across her chin so that she looked light-bearded. She tied back her hair so that it did not show. She assumed a sour look. That would do.
“Give me your vizier’s badge,” I told the man from Egypt. That would be our entry pass.
He handed it over without protest. Bhang was wonderful stuff.
We rode on toward the palace. The larger preceding party had just been processed in, and the guards were ready for us. Now I saw that they had a brace of trained dogs. That could be mischief.
One guard stepped forward to intercept us as we dismounted and turned our horses over to the waiting stablehands. “State your name, office, and identity of your companions.”
“I am the vizier of Shams al-Din Muhammad from Egypt, come to swear fealty to the new magician-king on behalf of my lord,” I said, repeating the line by rote. I could do that when I needed to; it came with having diplomatic experience. “These are my porter and body servant.” I held out my badge of authority.
The two dogs sniffed our robes. One made a little half whining sound.
Now the guard sniffed too. “Perfume!” he said. “There’s a woman nigh.”
And women were normally mere auxiliaries, not persons of power. Mischief indeed. “And what if there is?” I demanded.
“No woman enters by this gate,” the guard said. “Such lowly chattel enter only by the side door, for scullery, maid, or whore duties.”
That was the entry we had not been able to use, because any visitor approaching the servant’s door would attract unwelcome suspicion.
Jewel was swelling up, being no maid or whore. I had to defuse this in a hurry. “So my porters are women,” I said. “Also my cook and body servant. I trust no other with my personal business. They stay with me.”
But in my feigned indignation I had let my hood fall open. The guard stared at my face. “King Aladdin!”
Oh, camel crap! I would never be able to explain this away. They were of course alert for my arrival.
NO!
I recognized the mental voice. It was Myrrh.
The guard stood as if bemused. Then he blinked. His features clarified. “State your name, office, and identity of your companions.”
It was the opening challenge. I realized that Myrrh had discovered and invoked another magic ability: blotting out a thought. She had erased the guard’s recognition of me, and perhaps also the awareness of the gender of my two companions. We could do this over, correctly.
But we were running out of time, because now the party we had replaced was approaching. We had to get clear before they caught up and gave us the lie.
And another rider was coming from the other direction. That was Sa’ood, bringing the cheese and chocolate. I saw that the guard knew his mission and wanted to get clear of us. If we could just oblige him in time.
PASS, VIZIER OF EGYPT. That was Myrrh again, projecting a thought.
“Pass, vizier of Egypt,” the guard said formally, not questioning what he took to be his own thought.
We stepped forward, passing through the dread portal of the Temple of the Moon as the guards addressed the other arrivals.
Now it was time for the hard part of our mission. Before they caught on to our presence, and the dung hit the wall.
Chapter Twenty-five
We joined a long receiving line that wound slowly through a stunning stone temple carved from the face of the cliff.
I had little time to admire the marvelous feat of human engineering. Instead, I was alert for an opportunity to slip away. Behind us, I heard a small commotion, and I knew the real vizier of Egypt had arrived. It would only be a matter of moments before they would come looking for us; in the very least, to straighten out the confusion.
That guard had readily recognized me. He wouldn’t be the only one. Many here would have known me back in the day, which was why I kept my head down, permitting the headcloth I was wearing to partially obscure my features. Mercifully, the temple was mostly dark, lit only with flickering torches along the walls. Sounds echoed from seemingly everywhere, the result of the acoustics of the massive room. Amazingly, there seemed to be rooms within rooms. Perhaps the temple had been originally carved from a natural cavern and tunnel network, which made more sense, and would take less time.
The line, I saw, plunged through a pointed archway and into a brightly lit chamber. Firelight danced within. Smoke drifted through the room, stinging the eyes. People were scattered about here and there, talking amiably. Perhaps these folk had already greeted whoever was waiting at the end of the line. And I was beginning to suspect I knew who was waiting at the end of the line: Jewel’s ex-husband.
You would be correct, sire, came the words in my mind.
Have you been listening the whole time? I asked.
Your thoughts and mine, in this situation and at this time, are unusually connected. Perhaps because we are going to need each other if we are to survive this.
Fine, I thought. Do you sense where the boy is?
He is beyond, deeper in the tunnel system. My liege, I sense great magic here. More than I have ever felt before. There is something powerful in this temple.
Zeyn was here, of course. Hidden perhaps. Or with the boy.
I turned to Jewel, who was looking increasingly agitated. I didn’t blame her. The voices were growing louder behind us, as the real vizier had clearly lost his composure. Probably not a good idea to lose one’s cool in a secret blood ceremony of heads of state. Someone was going to get their own head chopped off, and it wasn’t going to be mine.
“Let’s go,” I said, and took Jewel’s arm.
We casually stepped out of line and worked our way over to where other officials were chatting quietly under a flickering torch. Although this was a ceremony of the darkest magic, which included a human sacrifice, it was also deeply political. No head of state would be here in any official capacity. Indeed, a ceremony like this would only attract those who wished to undermine the current rulers, those who wished to align themselves with a dark power, hoping to gain such power themselves. Perhaps there w
ere some here who had no clue what was going on. Perhaps these would be sacrificed as well. I did not know, and could not, but I doubted that all was as it seemed.
You are closer than you think, my liege, came the words. Although I am young and do not fully understand the politics of man, I do know there are some here who are unaware of the full implications tonight will bring.
And what are those implications? I thought.
Tonight, a ruler will be named and a great magician revealed.
Unless we stop them, I thought.
But she said nothing, frowning. Perhaps even she was uncertain of her own prognostications. Finally her words appeared in my mind: We will see, my liege.
“Pretend we’re chatting casually,” I whispered, adopting a formal and relaxed demeanor.
“Of course, my liege,” said Jewel, trailing me slightly, as did Myrrh. To any and all concerned, we appeared as any other small group as we awaited the grand ceremony that would be starting soon. She added, “And what do you propose we do?”
“We need to find another way out of here.”
From behind us, the vizier raised his voice, demanding something or other. This was followed by a long, gurgling scream, and the vizier demanded no more.
Now guards pushed past us, running toward the entrance. It would be only a matter of minutes before they came looking for us. Even routine questioning would be catastrophic for our quest. No doubt I would be recognized instantly, and I was certain Myrrh’s mind-trick wouldn’t work on very many people at once.
You are correct, sire.
Someday, you are going to have to get out of my mind.
Someday, sire.
The guards, I saw, had abandoned their post in front of a narrow doorway. To where it led, I had no clue, but it was the only alternative we had to the reception line entering the main chamber, where, I assumed, the sacrifice would take place.
Quickly, I steered Jewel and Myrrh through the doorway and, with a discreet look around to verify we had gone unnoticed, into a very dark passageway. And since the girl had not protested, I assumed I had chosen the correct path. Either way, I trusted my instincts in such matters. Perhaps well-honed instincts were just as good as a powerful sixth sense.
Or perhaps, came her innocent words, they are one and the same.
At the far end of the dark tunnel there was a bright light. Behind us, through the tunnel opening, I heard muffled voices. Had we been seen entering through the doorway after all? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out.
We hurried down the tunnel, moving blindly in the dark. Mercifully the passageway was smooth underfoot, with no irregularities or random overhangs to knock us unconscious. I also noted the absence of cobwebs. The tunnel had been used recently. For what purpose, I did not know.
And what was waiting for us at the far end, I did not know either. But we were about to find out.
Chapter Twenty-six
I paused, my natural caution coming into play. “Myrrh, can you fathom what’s ahead?”
The girl concentrated. “Just a matron, in charge of domestic arrangements for the boy. Food, bedding, waste disposal, and she alerts the authorities if anything unusual occurs. She’s really frustrated.”
“So my son is close,” Jewel said eagerly.
“Yes. But there are other guards at his chamber. We can’t just take out the matron and go to him.”
I zeroed in on something potentially useful. “Why is she frustrated? No virile man in her life?”
Myrrh exchanged a glance with Jewel. I needed no mind reading to understand it: why did men always think of sex? They never thought to ask the obvious corollary: why didn’t women? Then Myrrh answered. “No, sire. She’s frustrated that the fine hot meal she prepared is getting cold, because the cheese and chocolate are late arriving. She can’t even reheat it until she knows the cheese is there. She’s steaming; she could just about heat the food without fire.”
Jewel glanced at me. “She has reason. So what’s the plan, genius?”
It burst upon me. “You and I need to hide until we can reach your son unobserved. We need simple menial tasks to mask our real identities, since they are searching for us. That search is what’s messing up the delivery of the meal. So I will be the garbage disposal lout, you will be the food deliverer, and Myrrh the messenger girl.” I looked at Myrrh. “You can make the matron accept that as reasonable?”
“Yes. But I’d better be the deliverer. If Jewel tries to take the food in, those guards—well, they’re men. To them, serving wenches are for them to play with while they wait on the boy eating his meal.”
“I can handle men,” Jewel said grimly.
“But you won’t have any good place to dispose of the bodies, and when they don’t make their regular reports, the authorities will know and converge.”
Jewel nodded. “Point made. I’ll help heat the food. You deliver, and tell my son that his rescue is nigh.”
“I will try.”
“You can whisper so the guards don’t hear.”
“It’s not that. It’s that I have touched his mind. He has been—his mind has been clouded so he doesn’t know he’s a prisoner. If I try to tell him, he may alert the guards. Then I’ll become their diversion.”
That made Jewel pause. “Yes, of course they would lie to him. But can you communicate mentally, to tell him what really happened?”
“I can try, if I can make him pay attention to me.”
“Oh come on, Myrrh! You’re a woman.”
Now Myrrh nodded. “Or I will be soon. And he will soon be a man. Maybe I can put the thought of our future love in his mind, so he focuses properly on me.”
“Do it. If there’s one thing that can cut through a man’s clouds, it’s the suggestion of the favor of a woman. Put the hook in; lead him by the nose.” Her mouth quirked. “Or whatever.”
“As you have been leading Aladdin,” Myrrh agreed. “Now I see the way.”
I had to agree. I had picked up on Jewel’s sexual ambiance the moment I first saw her, and she had kept my close attention ever since. “Then we have our plan,” I said. “Except for one thing: how will we know when to strike, as we won’t be with Myrrh when she persuades your son?”
“I will connect your minds to mine,” Myrrh said. “I believe I can do that now, because I am coming to know you well. So you will both see and hear what I am perceiving, and will know when the time is right.”
Then she demonstrated by showing us ourselves through her eyes, standing there in the tunnel. I looked like a disreputable tramp and Jewel’s face was still smudged to make her look masculine. Myrrh could indeed do it.
Jewel and I both nodded. Our plan was complete.
Reminded of her appearance, Jewel found a cloth and wiped her face, becoming feminine again. “I’d rather be a woman anyway,” she murmured. “But you look perfect as a lout.”
“Thank you,” I said ironically.
We marched on into the light.
The matron looked up. “At last! The chocolate!”
“Not yet,” Jewel said. “Strangers crashed the gate, and the guards are searching for them, disrupting everything, and the schedule got messed up. But it’s on the way. We’re the service crew.”
“Well go back and get it!” the matron snapped.
“Go get it, girl,” Jewel told Myrrh.
“And you, wench, get the hearth fire blazing,” the matron said to Jewel. She turned to me. “And you haul off the refuse, lout.” The woman was evidently accustomed to handling desultory servants.
Myrrh obediently went back down the passage. I oriented on the refuse can, identifying it by the smell. Rotting food, urine, turds, and whatever else that was spoiling: a potent combination. No one would inspect me too closely, because of the stench. I picked it up and started carrying it toward the tunnel.
“Not that way, idiot!” the matron snapped. “Use the back passage to the service entrance.” She gestured to another tunnel.
&nb
sp; I reversed course and entered the new tunnel. It was gloomy, but burning torches were spaced along it so I could see. This was exactly what I wanted: to explore the back passages we might need for escape, in case anything went wrong. Or, rather, when everything went wrong.
The images from Myrrh’s eyes had faded when she focused on the matron, to make sure the woman saw nothing wrong with our presence. Now they resumed, and though I still had my own vision, as I trudged slowly along the passage with my stinking load, I also saw a view of another passage. Myrrh was coming to the light of the main hall.
People were still running around in a kind of organized chaos, but now a guard was bringing in the cheese and chocolate. I could tell because Myrrh peeked at the mind of the guard to verify it. “I’ll take that,” she said briskly as he came up.
“But I am to deliver it only to—”
“Me,” she said, taking it. The guard looked perplexed, and faintly dazed, and I knew she had sent him a thought. That was marvelous power she had!
Myrrh carried the package back through the tunnel to the matron. “Let’s see it,” the matron said, having evidently learned never to take anything for granted. She checked, and saw that it was good yak cheese, with a vial of brown syrup. She broke off a fragment of cheese and tasted it, verifying its quality, and shook a drop of sauce onto her palm, touching her tongue to it. She was thorough, the kind of servant a king could trust. “It will do.”
Jewel had the fire going, and the main part of the meal was hot. The matron, responsive to a command she did not know she was receiving, prepared a platter with the several items upon it, and gave it to Myrrh. “Take it in to the brat, and see that he eats it.” She winked. “There’s a bit of bhang in the soup; he won’t be any trouble for the night’s event.”
Jewel and Myrrh must have kept straight faces, because the matron evinced no alarm. She had no notion how she was flirting with death in this temple of death. Jewel would gladly have gutted her, had she been able to do so with impunity. But I knew the woman was acting under orders. Just as bhang made a difficult maiden amenable in bed, it made a victim amenable to sacrifice, to a degree, depending on the dose. It was a prudent measure.