Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,107

that goal receding. His mission, now, was to open the way to Tel Moussa. “I wouldn’t fit. I wouldn’t be welcome. The emirs already know everything worth knowing.”

“You’re fishing for excuses to avoid any chance of being given more responsibility.”

That was so near the truth that Nassim had no answer. This boy was sharp. He would be a worthy successor to Indala.

Azir laughed outright. Nassim’s face had given him away. “Sometimes you’re obvious, General. I know your heart pulls you another direction. You have my word, if none other, that you’ll get all the support you need.”

Nassim scowled. The promises of princes … But this prince, if such he could be called, was chosen of Indala al-Sul Halaladin, whose word was as good as that of God. Whose word, being executed slowly now, promised the destruction of Rogert du Tancret.

Azir continued, “Sir Mountain, you are a mighty warrior and a great captain. Your dearest enemies confess it. But your personal skills are questionable. I suspect because one purpose of a Sha-lug upbringing is to freeze the Sha-lug warrior at the age of fifteen.”

“Ah. Now you’re repeating something you’ve heard, not something you worked out for yourself.”

Azir used both hands to gesture like he was a balance scale. Meaning, “Some of this, some of that.” Or, “Six of one and half a dozen of the other.”

Nassim scowled again. This pup was just too damned bright.

The scene was a mountain spring back on the edge of the Idiam. The fighters had fled into the haunted country several times while running from the enemy. Brotherhood warriors were tenacious. Tonight a strong breeze stirred the campfire and tossed sparks up like short-lived stars. It was unseasonably cold. The moon was halfway up the sky and nearly full. Nassim thought it looked like a big wheel of ice with some chips knocked off one edge.

The pup said, “My uncle will send more troops. Militias from the hundred towns and cities he’s enlisted in his hope of liberating the Holy Lands.”

Towns and cities that Indala had conquered, by the spear or the tongue, in the Mountain’s eye. They had enlisted in Indala’s vision as an alternative to fire and sword.

Indala al-Sul Halaladin, as he aged, became ever less tolerant of the narrow tribalism of the Believers.

Nassim did not remind the boy that the westerners believed they were liberating the Holy Lands, too. And that the Devedians had been there before Pramans or Chaldareans. And the Devedians were children of the Dainshaukin, who had come into the Holy Lands two thousand years ago, having been guaranteed possession by a violent, psychopathic deity who occasionally insisted that his followers murder their own children for his glorification.

“General?”

“What?”

“We lost you there. For a moment.”

“The curse of growing past one’s Sha-lug training.”

“Meaning?”

“I was reflecting on the endless torment inflicted on the Holy Lands. And wondering if maybe the wells aren’t closing down deliberately so the land can shake off its human lice.”

“An interesting notion. One so heretical that if you expressed it anywhere but out here, it would get you flogged or stoned.”

Nassim shrugged. That was not going to happen. He was too valuable. For the moment. And he had his own accommodation with God. God did not seem to mind Alizarin’s occasional unorthodox speculation. “Why the manpower largesse?”

“He wants to expand the pool of veterans. And to identify the best warriors. He wants an army of the best when he does move to cleanse the Holy Lands of the western Unbeliever.”

There was more. A lot more, Nassim was sure. He was one small stone in the structure of Indala’s strategy.

The Mountain would remain pliable. He would trust Indala. He would do his part. He would abide, preparing himself for the moment when it all came together and he could bask in the warmth brought on by the restoration of the balance undone by Hagid’s murder.

Young Az said, “Whatever else happens, our mission will be to inconvenience Black Rogert. Every day. We have to become more aggressive. My granduncle won’t want du Tancret in any position to influence the other Arnhanders. None of them are as fierce.”

Nassim nodded, though at this stage of life he found himself short on lethal ambition. Again, outgrowing that Sha-lug arrested development.

The boy continued, “First order of business, the siege lines round Tel Moussa.”

* * *

With more men and no special need to husband them, the Mountain harassed Rogert du Tancret constantly. He sent blooded warriors back to Indala. And corpses to Black Rogert. Who got