The Quest of Kadji

THE SNOW had stopped and they rode back toward the House of the Seven Moons under a clear sky of hard wintry blue. And as they left the towering cliff of the Khalidôr behind, little Akthoob visibly relaxed and gradually became his talkative old self again. He plied Kadji with questions, and as for the Red Hawk, he answered them truthfully enough, for he felt he owed the old wizard that much courtesy at least.

“Aii, then you are not a Free Sword of the Ushamtar, as this lowly one had been given to believe, but an assassin of the Kozanga Nomads, dispatched by your lordly chieftain to slay the false Emperor! This humble person begins to understand …”

“To understand what, old man?”

Akthoob shrugged, but there was a hint of laughter in. his slanted black eyes.

“The manner in which you fought with the young lord of the kugars,” he explained. “This elderly one has seen the Ushamtar warriors in battle, and also, once, the noble-hearted heroes of the Chayyim Kozanga. And your mode and method of fighting, young sir, were purely Kozanga and in no wise similar to the Ushamtar …”

Kadji winced a little at how swiftly and easily an observant eye had penetrated his imposture. “Let us hope the Highborn Cyrib Jashpode is not so observant as you, old man; for now that the kugar lords are in control of the city, it would not do for me to have aroused the slightest suspicions in the mind of one who already has a grudge against me!”

“Ay, ‘twould not do, this one agrees,” the old wizard shuddered. Then, changing the subject: “But tell me, young Kadji (If this humble person may call you that by that name), what has become of the living Shamad? Think you that he has concealed himself in some corner or cranny of imperial Khôr? Surely he could not have fled the city—not with the kugars, his deadly enemies, in control of all gates?”

Kadji frowned thoughtfully and chewed his lower lip.

“Shamad must have been warned of the impending plot and substituted his hapless look-alike for himself; I would not put it past him to have forced the young functionary who so closely resembled himself to put on the imperial regalia—and then murder the unfortunate youth with his own hand, leaving the corpse for the kugars to see when they came to slay him. In the confusion, the kugars might well suppose others of their plot had already done the deed … but as to whether Shamad still dwells within the walls of Khôr or not, who can say? If he gambles on the swift arrival of his ally, Bayazin the High Prince, then he might well be hidden somewhere of the warren of the Khalidôr, awaiting the Rashemba host to seize the city … but methinks not. Shamad cannot know how long the kugar force can hold the city against Rashemba siege: I believe he has fled the city; he and his monstrous Dragonman servant; for, should the High. Prince break the kugars, the Impostor can always return in triumph from hiding.”

“Aii, but how could, he get out, with his dearest enemies holding every gate and entryway?”

Kadji smiled grimly.

“The sword-brothers of my clan have a saying, old man—‘Gold is a key can open. any gate’—and Shamad must have amassed much of the beautiful metal during his brief regime! And not all of the gates of Khôr are huge and heavy-guarded … yesterday as I studied the gates, I noted a small, obscure, seldom-used postern gate in the eastern wall of the city; Shamad and his pet monster could have gained it with ease, through the labyrinth of alleyways in the eastern quarter. It gives out on the empty plain, to be sure, but Shamad could have ridden east a ways and then turned aside to take the Grand Chemedis Road, the mighty highway across the plains the merchant caravans use. I wonder if it could be thus… .”

The little wizard shyly cleared his throat. “Ahem! Perhaps this small and insignificant person can assist you,” he suggested diffidently.

“In what manner?”

“This lowly one has some poor learning In the Art Sorcerons … to be precise, young sir, this person knows an art by which the minds of one or two men can be made blinded, fascinated, enrapt, and thereupon can be made to divulge any information they may possess …”

Kadji frowned, “Does it work? We don’t want to arouse any suspicions …”

Akthoob smiled affably. “leave it to this person—but come, we near our hostelry … what is toward?”

Kadji had seen it, too, and reined his black Feridoon pony to a standstill. For a host of kugar swordsmen invested the courtyard of their inn, and among them he glimpsed the face of Cyrib Jashpodoe.