Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,70

of changing tribal alliances, a game that had begun millennia before the Praman Conquest.

Nassim asked, “Are the eastern tribes still being difficult?”

“Absolutely. You’d think they’re convinced that Tsistimed has gone for good.”

“If Indala can’t hold the kaifate together, then it can’t be done. His passing will bring on a long, dark age of chaos.”

The boy seemed slightly miffed.

Nassim amended his observation. “Somewhere among the young there could be one with the character and will of an Indala. But there isn’t among his contemporaries. His brother and uncle and cousins are talented but they aren’t Indala. They’re the kind of men who make an Indala great. They execute the Will but they aren’t the Will itself.”

The youth considered that. He responded with a nod. “I’m here to learn.”

The general had the boy working with old Az, Bone, and that band. He would be in the middle of everything. He would find out what it meant to be the hand on the spear.

The boy said, “There’s a big group coming out of Gherig.”

Right. Light cavalry first, with infantry behind. Then heavy horsemen. Crusader knights. Nassim wondered what they planned.

Young Az suggested, “Maybe you’ve stung Rogert so much he has to make a demonstration in order to feel better.”

That was in keeping with the man’s reputation. “A pity we can’t lead him on, into waterless wastes, the way Indala did.”

“Is even Rogert stupid enough to let that happen again?”

“He is. But those around him would rein him in.” Nassim chuckled. “For which God be thanked. I can’t imagine how awful he’d be on his own.”

Wagons and camels emerged from Gherig. The column turned eastward. Gisela Frakier rode ahead, scouting and screening.

Young Az guessed, “They’re going to besiege Tel Moussa.”

“I expect. Not even Rogert du Tancret would dare go farther than that. We should get back.” Nassim was sure that other, younger observers were ahead of him with the news. “A pity there’s no army to cut them off once they settle in.” Nassim chuckled again. Rogert du Tancret would try to starve Tel Moussa into yielding. Even fools would not storm the tower without the assistance of some severe Instrumentality of the Night. Every topographical advantage lay with the defenders. Only the lack of a natural source of water served the besieger.

“That smoke concerns me,” Alizarin said. “It must be meant to let somebody know that this has started.”

“Other Gisela Frakier. Tribal allies. No one else.…”

“They aren’t enough in awe of Indala to refrain from dealing with Rogert?”

“Some don’t think that big. The al-Yamehni, for example, might consider an alliance with a strong crusader more attractive than their present role protecting the flanks of their ancient enemies, the al-Cedrah and the al-Hasseinni.”

The crusaders had been manipulating tribal hatreds since their advent in the Holy Lands. Never numerous, they had to make politics a strength. Fractious tribes with timeless squabbles made manipulation easy.

Neither the old fox nor the young lion could make out which tribe had chosen to aid Black Rogert. But they were quick and efficient. They streaked toward Tel Moussa, quickly threw a loose screen around it. Nassim and the boy did not get back ahead of them.

Others would be in the same straits.

Black Rogert’s move was an obvious one. So were the likely results. There was a plan in place.

There was a spring in the hills north of the Shamramdi road. Those caught outside the tower would assemble there. Or nearby, if the enemy knew about the spring and chose to deny it.

Late afternoon saw Nassim and young Az watering their mounts. The Mountain took the reports of those already gathered, then others as they arrived. Alizarin said, “There must have been a hundred Gisela Frakier.” Exaggerating slightly, perhaps. “How did they assemble without us noticing?”

The youngster said, “Our encirclement was porous. One man and one horse, on a path unknown to us, by moonlight? Easily done. We do the same. In any case, we were denying food and supplies. More mouths only worsened their position.”

All true. The boy was paying attention. But Nassim Alizarin did not like to admit that a general of the Sha-lug had been outwitted by Rogert du Tancret.

“So. What will they do now?”

“Simple enough. Keep Tel Moussa locked up.… Uh.”

“Good. You’re thinking. Anyone else want to guess why they’d do this now? Why not last month? Or next winter? There are no campaigns being readied on either side. Rogert isn’t strong enough to launch one of his own.” Though Nassim was not sure about that. Rogert