He sighed relievedly when he joined the southbound caravan.
At his request it travelled more briskly than was custom ary, or good for the animals, all of which carried skins of wine. Wine brought a premium in a land where it lay under religious interdict.
The drink was bound for Megelin's crowd. Chordine got it past customs by paying a nominal „contraband tax," which found its way into the purses of the inspectors. The train entered Hammad al Nakir a day ahead of schedule, and reached Al Rhemish three ahead. Michael figured that would give him three extra days to poke around.
He had been into the desert on occasion, but never to its capital. His first glimpse stunned him.
Al Rhemish lay at the bottom of a great craterlike bowl surrounded by broad, barren vistas. After all that waste, it was a shock to crest the ringing hills and see so much green.
Al Rhemish itself stood on an island surrounded by a shallow lake. One stone causeway connected the holy city to the mainland. The inner slopes of the bowl boasted citrus orchards, pastures, olive groves, and countless little truck farms. An irrigation canal began at the wall's highest point and spiralled lazily down to the lake, making three complete circuits of the bowl.
Michael stopped and gaped. He mopped sweat from his sunburned face. He was an unnaturally pale man. His fairness served him poorly in the broiling desert sun.
„Keep moving," the master caravaneer growled. „Look all you want after we get there."
„Where does the water come from?"
„There's an aqueduct comes down from the Kapenrungs. El Murid built it. In my father's time this was desert too. Megelin wanted to bust up the aqueduct. He wanted to wreck everything El Murid did. The priests said they'd put a curse on him. His generals said they'd desert him." The caravaneer indicated a stand of monuments on the bowl's far rim. They were barely discernable from where Michael sat his horse. „He did start wrecking the Stellae of the Immortals, but Beloul and El Senoussi made him stop."
„What were they?"
„Obelisks. Graven with the names of people who died for El Murid's movement. They surround the graves of his wife and son. They say there's another stand at Sebil el Selib called the Stellae of the Martyrs."
„Uhm." Michael urged his mount forward. He knew most of this already, of course, but hearing or reading about the wrack of history was not the same as actually seeing it. He remained beside the caravan master down the long slope to the causeway. „Any suggestions?" he asked.
„Not many, son. I don't know what you're up to. I'll tell you this. Keep your head down. And watch what you say. These people aren't very tolerant. Megelin is running scared. He doesn't have much popular support anymore, so he comes down hard on critics. Try to mind the law. They don't accept ignorance as an excuse. Guess that's a holdover from El Murid's time. That old boy was a tough nut."
Michael had heard his King reminisce about the El Murid Wars. He admired the idealistic El Murid of twenty-five years ago. He was himself too young for clear memories of those days. „It's a pity the man went mad," he said.
The caravaneer's eyebrows rose. „El Murid? He was always batty. What you mean is, it's a pity he got hooked on opium. That's what ruined him. Yeah. He wasn't all bad.
Not for the desert. Too bad he wanted to convert the rest of the world."
They reached the causeway. Michael saw fish in the water below. On the island side, some of the landscaped inlets still survived, with their patches of water lilies and the tiny, colorful gardens surrounding them. Many of those gardens had become weed patches. Stately homes, in a unique blend of western, desert, and Imperial architectures, spotted the waterfront. Michael supposed they had belonged to the Disciple's more influential followers, and had fallen into the hands of Megelin's when El Murid had been driven from the holy city.
„You're in here pretty regular. What's your estimate of Megelin's survivability? Where will he be going the next few years?"
The master smiled thinly. „Son, you've asked me that question six different ways the last couple days. Why don't you just back off, make up your mind to ask what you want to know, then come at me with that? Ain't no guarantee I could answer, or that I would if I could, but this beating around the bush ain't getting you nowhere. Be cautious with them. I'm on your side."
Michael considered that while the caravan cleared the causeway and began wending through snaketrack streets. „All right. I came to find out a couple things. Most of it I can get by observation. One thing I need to know for sure is if a mysterious wizard, maybe named Lord Norath, has at tached himself to Megelin."
The caravan master turned slowly. He studied Michael through narrowed eyes. „Lord North."
„I heard one brief mention from a friend. A panicky mention, maybe three months back. Then nothing. Just a protestation about having a too active imagination."
„I see."
A sudden chill ran down Michael's spine. The master had changed. He had become cold and remote.
Had he made a fatal mistake?
After a time, the caravaneer said, „Son, don't ever say that name. I've never seen any such person. Neither has anybody else. Like you say, a few months ago there were rumors. They stopped. Bam! People who said that name tended to disappear. Maybe no such man exists. But if he does, it's safer to pretend he don't."
„I see." Trebilcock relaxed a little. His hand drew an inch farther from the hilt of his sword. „Back when there were rumors, did anybody say where the creature does his non-existing?"
The caravaneer smiled. „You're getting the knack. Best not to talk about it at all, though. And now you've named the name, best you don't show your face on the street at night. That's when the talkers disappear."
„Then there's no night life here?"
„I didn't say that. There's plenty for them as haven't said a certain name, or don't care who sits the Peacock Throne. Those as stands against Megelin also have a way of disap pearing."
„Nice trick. Would you say there's a hint of wizardry in the air?"
„Me? No. I wouldn't say anything that foolish. If there was, it might come down on me."
Michael smiled. He now had most of what he wanted. And he could have learned it in Tamerice. If only he had thought to ask his questions there!
What he wanted to know now, though, he could learn nowhere but here. What was the connection with Liakopulos? The learning process looked more dangerous than he had expected.
„Does Sam's place here have a room with doors and locks? I assume the men sleep in a barracks."
„They do. You'll have to ask Mister Chordine's brother if you want locks. He runs the show here." The master guided the caravan into a side street, and soon into a staging compound of vast size. It was structured as a small fortress, with only one gate penetrating its twelve foot adobe walls. Stables lined the walls inside, and in the center of the compound stood several three-story buildings, back to back, like a group of men facing out toward their enemies. Michael went and presented his letter of introduction to Sam Chordine's brother.
Three days passed. Michael learned almost nothing. The people of Al Rhemish were tight-lipped and grim. They spoke to one another less than they did to foreigners. Most vigorously pretended that their King did not exist.
Michael saw little evidence of Megelin's presence, other than the ubiquitous fear. Few Royalist soldiers patrolled the city. They seemed unnecessary. Then, too, Megelin's army was still scouring the wastes for El Murid's followers. The little Michael heard indicated the King was having no luck. Hammad al Nakir was vast. There were too many places where guerrillas could hide. The Scourge of God had proven that a generation ago, during El Murid's sweep to power.
Night had fallen. Michael lay on his pallet, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he could penetrate the veil sur rounding Norath. One candle wanly lighted his room. He thought he heard a creak from the tower stair. He rose quietly, made sure his door was secure. It was a massive thing of thick oak planks. Only a battering ram could break it down.