D & D - Red Sands (36 page)

"Are you Count Tedwin?" he said, speaking past the wary giant.

"I am."

"Fu'ad, son of Raflk, captain of the Sultan's Invincible Cavalry. You will forgive me if I do not bow."

Tedwin clucked his tongue, and the blond giant sheathed his sword. He came back to the count's horse, lifted the lame man from the saddle, and set him on his good leg. Tedwin was short, shorter even than Nabul, but his voice and aura of command were greater than any man's present. He limped heavily to Fu'ad.

"My sister is dead," he said. It was not a question.

"She is."

Tedwin touched the wide stain covering the front of the raven silk dress. "How did it happen?"

"When Marix of Dosen and the nomad woman Jadira put out the candles to escape, my comrade Marad and I drew swords and stood back to back to defend ourselves. Sheriff Frolder had a short sword. He called out to the countess to remain seated, but she sought the sheriff and threw herself on his blade."

"Why would she do that?"

"I saw her face, my lord, when the sheriff revealed his cruel plot to kill you and marry her. I suppose the noble lady loved your lordship so much that she died to save you, my lord."

"How do I know you didn't kill her?" Something in the count's voice made Jadira shiver, despite her aching ribs.

"I don't murder women," Fu'ad said loftily. A retort begged for release, but Jadira stifled it.

Tedwin peeled off his black suede gloves and took his sister from Fu'ad. He touched Liantha's fine hair and caressed her cheek. Slowly, painfully, he limped back to his horse. Tedwin made more clicking sounds with his tongue, and the giant stooped to take the countess from his arms.

The count faced Fu'ad. "Where is your comrade, this Marad?"

"Dead. A burning wall fell on him."

"And where are Sir Frolder and his pet magician, Phraxa?"

'' Gone—vanished.''

Tedwin put his good leg in a stirrup and hoisted himself back on his horse. "Hear me, Captain: because you brought my sister out of the flames, I give you your life. Whatever bargain existed between you and Sheriff Frolder is voided. You have one hour to leave my sight. If I find you in Maridantan territory after that time, I will

have your head on a pike."

Fu'ad lifted his chin. "If that be your lordship's will, do it now, for I cannot return to my country dishonored."

"Faziris are so tiresome," complained the count. "Roldof, let it be done." The blond giant handed Lian-tha down to four waiting soldiers. He drew his great sword and advanced on Fu'ad.

"Stop!"

The group parted and Jadira stepped out. "If anyone is to kill that murdering dog, it should be me," she said.

"By what right?" asked the count.

"This one led the soldiers who massacred my tribe. Their blood cries out for vengeance!"

Tedwin drew a polished, gold-hilted saber from his saddle. He flung it point-first at Jadira. It stuck in the scorched earth at her feet. Without a word, Jadira freed the saber and went to Fu'ad.

"So," he said, "you prevail after all."

"On your knees, butcher."

Fu'ad dropped down and leaned forward on his hands. "I trust the blade is keen?" he said.

"Extremely," Count Tedwin replied.

Up went the shining blade. Tamakh cried, "Jadira, no! Have mercy!"

"Mercy? Did this one have mercy on my husband? My family? My whole tribe?" She gripped the hilt in botb hands and brought the saber down. She turned the blade so that the dull side struck Fu'ad on the head. He pitched forward and lay still. Jadira stood hunched over, wheezing from the pain her effort had caused her.

'"Vou missed," said the count.

"No, my lord. I did not." Jadira twisted the chain that held the Eye of the Sultan until it snapped. She threw

the gold disc as far as she could. "Have him tied on a horse and whipped back to Fazir. That's the worst punishment for him. The wrath of his vizier will be ten thousand times worse than mere beheading."

The faintest trace of a smile crossed Tedwin's lips. "Let it be done," he ordered.

Jadira returned the saber and rejoined her friends. Tamakh beamed at her. "I knew you would not be so cruel," he said.

"Did you? I was not at all certain what I would do until I did it." She leaned on Marix and sighed. "In my place, Fu'ad would have killed me. All I knew was that he would not be my teacher."

"Thank Tuus for that," said Marix.

*****

The lord of Maridanta had come to Barrow Vitgis on his way to the conclave in Tantuffa. He had weighed the need for unity against his ambition to be sole master of the Five Cities and had come down in favor of unity. After all, no one would be master if the conclave failed. No one but the Sultan of Fazir.

That afternoon, Count Tedwin dispatched Marix with a hundred lancers to retrieve the seal of Prince Lydon. They galloped away, promising to return soon after sundown.

A city of tents sprang up on the plain outside Barrow Vitgis. Tedwin's own chirurgeons looked after Jadira and Tamakh, and gave Nabul a poltice to ease his shaken wits. The count reposed in his great tent, where the body of his sister was laid out for proper funeral rites.

Uramettu shared a tent with Jadira. "What do you think of this Tedwin fellow?" she asked.

"An unhappy man, I'd say, with moods as dark as the clothing he wears," said Jadira. "Yet he has delivered us, fed and housed us, and had our hurts seen to. I find it hard not to like him, all in all."

"That is my feeling too." Uramettu lay down on the soft pallet next to Jadira. "Sleep well, my sister. Tomorrow we ride to Tantuffa."

"Surrounded by friends, for a change."

Though it was not yet sunset, Jadira gladly slept. The learned doctors had given her a soporific, and her pain melted like fresh butter in the desert sun. She drifted away, her mind a mix of images of the dangerous days past.

I ought to cut your throat.

Whose voice was that? Kemmet Serim? Fu'ad? The efreet Kaurous? Ubrith Zelka? The cold line of a knife blade dug into her neck. Jadira squirmed, trying to push the knife away. She struggled enough to revive the tearing pain in her ribs.

Her eyes were open, but her mouth was stopped. A hand seemed to clamp it shut—though no hand could be seen.

Where is Countess Liantha?
said a voice in her ear, the voice of an invisible Frolder.

Jadira made weak sounds. The unseen hand lifted a fraction. "In the tent of her brother!" she said in a loud whisper. Her eyes shifted to where Uramettu lay. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Silence! Don't insult an old intriguer with faked pleas for mercy." His voice was quite low but coming from just beside her left ear. "Stand up. Remember, the knife I carry can kill, though it can't be seen."

Jadira started to cough, but the sharp tip of the knife blade dug into her back, and the cough froze in her throat. "If she awakens, I will kill you both," Frolder said. They left the tent, leaving Uramettu undisturbed.

The sun was down. A mild wind from the west blew moist sea air over the tent city. Pairs of Maridantan soldiers patrolled the camp. They nodded politely to Jadira and passed her by. Breath tickled her ear. She resisted an urge to scratch.

Tedwin's tent was easy to find. Taller and finer than the rest, it was lit from within by oil lamps. Jadira walked up to the entrance. Two guards crossed pikes in front of her.

"Who goes there?" said the right-hand guard. A prick in her back warned her.

"Jadira
sed
Ifrimiya, to see Count ledwin."

"On what matter?"

"I-I have news of his sheriff, Sir Frolder."

"Wait here." The guard on the left ducked under the hanging flap. He soon returned with Roldof, Tedwin's massive bodyguard.

"He will take you to his lordship," said the soldier.

"Thank you," said Jadira.

"He can't talk," said the soldier on the right. "His tongue was cut out years ago."

Roldof stepped back and swept a tree-sized arm ahead for Jadira. She stepped under it and went in.

A flute trilled softly from deeper in the tent. The oily smell of lamps contrasted with a strong scent of roses. Two priestly figures in red, swinging censers, passed them muttering benedictions.

"Are they preparing the countess for her trip to the underworld?" asked Jadira. Roldof nodded his wide head. Up close, Jadira could see his bare arms and lower legs were streaked with dozens of battle scars.

She thought for a moment that Frolder might have gone until his far-off voice buzzed in her ear again: "Tell the count you must speak to him alone."

"He won't agree to that."

"Do it or—"

Jadira twisted out of his grasp. A searing pain in her chest bent her double, but she saw a deep gash suddenly open in Roldof s neck. As blood spilled from the gaping wound, the giant sank heavily to the ground. He toppled forward on his face, falling through the split gauze curtains.

A phantom hand twisted itself in her long hair and Jadira couldn't smother a gasp as her head was yanked back. Frolder hauled her through the curtains.

Frolder released her. The cloth-walled room was set as a chapel. Jadira saw that Liantha lay on her bier, draped in white. Only her perfect face showed through an oval opening in the shroud. Jadira was stunned by the serenity of that face. What a pity, a sorry wasteful pity!

"What is the meaning of this? Roldof?" said Tedwin. He was bare-headed, and Jadira could better see the resemblance between brother and sister. Had Tedwin been straighter and taller, he would have been as handsome as Liantha was beautiful.

"The sheriff," she blurted. "He is here."

Frolder flashed into sight. The short sword in his hand was red with Roldofs blood.

"Two of my favorite people, together for the last time," said Frolder. Madness darkened his words.

"My humblest apologies, Count," said Jadira. "He forced me here at sword point. He has killed your man."

"What will you do, Frolder?" asked Tedwin.

"You mean, besides kill you? I have come to see Liantha one last time."

"The murderer wishes to admire his victim."

Frolder cut the air with his sword. Jadira flinched, but Tedwin stood unmoved. "I did not murder her! She was my beloved—her life was sacred," Frolder said.

"Yet there she lies dead. Who humiliated her? Whose blade did she fall on? The Faziri said it was yours. Do you deny it?"

The tormented sheriff turned to the bier. "May the gods forgive me. I cannot deny it. After hearing of my plans, she lost her reason. She—she called to me to embrace her, and when I did ..." He left the tale unfinished.

Jadira was sidling over toward Roldof. The giant carried a dagger in his belt. It was not much smaller than Frolder's sword, and if she could get it—

"You've lost, Frolder, lost everything. Killing me now won't bring Liantha back, or gain you control of Mari-danta. The Faziris are gone, and in a few notches of the candle, Marix of Dosen will return with the seal of Nar-sia. The conclave will take place. The alliance will happen."

Frolder began to laugh. "Do you think I care for cities or empires anymore?" he said. "I hate you, Tedwin. I hate your ugly, twisted leg and black clothes and the cold-blooded wits you live by. To kill you will be the last pleasure in my life."

Jadira snatched the dagger from Roldof s belt. Frolder saw her movement. He didn't try to attack her; he simply replaced the silver charm in his mouth and became invisible.

"My lord, beware! He can slay you though you cannot see him!" Jadira cried.

"Give me the dagger!"

She tossed it to him. "Defend your back!"

So saying, Jadira dashed out. There was only one way to deal with Frolder, only one weapon that needed no eyes.

At the entrance to the tent, she ran into Uramettu arguing with the guards. The efreet bow was in her hand. "Let her through!" Jadira cried. "Uramettu, the bow!"

The Fedushite woman tossed the efreet's gift over the crossed pikes. As Jadira turned to run, she heard the guards exclaim in terror. A panther's roar resounded through the tent.

Jadira stepped over the fallen Roldof. Tedwin was on the ground, his back to the bier. Long slashes showed through his velvet robe, and the count bled from a dozen minor wounds. Frolder was toying with him, murdering him as slowly as his madness would allow.

Jadira nocked the arrow. Tedwin raised his hand to her. His eyes widened as she took deliberate aim on him.

"Larsa, I know you not, but guide my aim!" she said.

The efreet arrow leaped off the string. Tedwin threw up a hand to ward off the shot, but the arrow veered away. It curved around, farther, farther, until Jadira had to throw herself down to avoid being hit. The arrow circled the tent once before turning in. It stopped suddenly in midair. The arrowhead and a span of the shaft disappeared.

Frolder appeared, blood and the charm falling from his lips. The arrow was in his heart.