“Do you think that God sleeps while you wicked folk live your unrepentant lives?” the gray-haired man asked. If a man could kill with his eyes, she and Raseed would be dead right now. “As I told you, outlander witch, you will be chastised! And, praise God, his merciful fury demands that your punishment reflect the enormity of your sins.”
The watchleader cut annoyed eyes at the man, but his look for Litaz was even less friendly. “You will come with us, woman. And you, too, dervish.”
This man is no zealot, Litaz guessed at a glance. The Students found some greedy, demand-a-dinar thug of a watchleader. The analyzer-of-things in her went to work: What can be done here?
“Sirrahs, I most humbly beg—” she began, just as she heard Raseed beside her say something about his authority and the Traditions of the Order.
“Shut up, both of you!” the Student shouted. “No more words!”
The watchleader sighed. “Oh damn you all, by God!” he said, taking in the Humble Student as well. He pointed at Litaz, however. “Just come with us. Now. And we’ll take your weapons.”
“What is this?” She hadn’t realized that Yaseer was in the courtyard archway behind her until she heard his voice, quiet and forceful and with none of the play that had been in it moments before.
“What concern, Sirrah, is this of yours?” the watchleader asked. The barest hint of fear entered his voice, fueled no doubt by the obviousness of Yaseer’s privileged position.
“My concerns are those which I declare mine, man.” The spell-seller fumbled for something in his silken belt pouch. When he brandished it—a four-finger ring set with a purple stone that shone with engraved lines representing the sands, seas, and cities of the Crescent Moon Kingdoms—Litaz heard herself gasp out loud. The Khalific seal!? So that is who he’s been working for! She’d known only that he’d been living in the Palace Quarter.
The Humble Student barely seemed to notice. “Watch yourself! You have wealth and some token of state, man, but Almighty God, who—”
The watchleader turned to the gray-haired man. “Be quiet, damn you by God! I know the Khalif’s Seal when I see it, and as I think on it, this man’s face is familiar to me from the Palace Quarter. Still…” He weighed something on the scales of thought. “Forgive me, Your Eminence, but you have not announced yourself aloud in the Defender of Virtue’s name. Because…” Doubt became certainty as the man’s eyes locked on Yaseer’s. “Because, perhaps, you—ah, forgive me—perhaps Your Eminence is engaged in that which the other ministers would question, eh? Again, I humbly beg His Eminence’s forgiveness.”
“You presume much,” Yaseer said in a cold voice.
The watchleader bowed low, and there was genuine apology—the sort fueled by fear—in his voice. His men looked terrified. And even the Student seemed to doubt himself. But Litaz could sense Yaseer’s nervousness as well. This was no dim-witted watchman they were dealing with. The man was a watchleader in the Round City and would know as well as Yaseer that news of the misuse of the seal could bring great trouble.
“A thousand apologies to Your Eminence,” the man said at last. “But tonight is the Feast of Providence and my thoughts are on feeding my family. It would take the merest of gestures—the merest of pittances—to destroy my presumption.”
Money. Without a second thought, Litaz dug out a handful of dirham and offered them to the man—far more than she could afford, but she could not think now of next year’s expenses.
The man looked as if he wished to spit on her, but he took the coins just the same. “Leave,” he said, clearly feeling daring. “Leave now. Take your filthy poisons back to the Scholars’ Quarter. If I see you in this neighborhood again, I won’t be responsible for what my men do.” The man spared a long, despising look for Raseed, then turned and walked off, his men trotting down the block after him.
The gray-haired Humble Student lingered long enough to give a last glare. “This is not over for you, Soo witch. Or for you, false dervish. You two will be easy enough to find.” Raseed winced at the word false, but Litaz just stared at the Student until the watchleader shouted at him to follow, and he stalked off.
Then she turned to Yaseer. “Thank you,” she said, feeling, against her every wish, her heart half in her throat. “Thank you, Yaseer! I could kiss you!”
“But you won’t.” The spell-seller’s soft face was not jovial or playful now. His eyes were as hard as Litaz had ever seen them. “You owe me a great debt. A great debt.” He shot a poisonous look at Raseed and turned and walked away coldly.
Some part of Litaz started to reach out to Yaseer, to stop him from going. But it was only a part of her. What the whole of her wanted was to see Dawoud. It was long past time to go home.
Chapter 16
As the sun was just beginning to set, Raseed followed Litaz into the Soo couple’s home. He was pleased to see that Dawoud Son–of-Wajeed, the Doctor, and Zamia Banu Laith Badawi were all there in the greeting room, safe.
“We would have been here sooner,” Litaz said upon entering, “but we ran into some… complications with a group of the Humble Students.”
“What?” the ghul hunter and the magus shouted at the same time.
“Complications? What are you talking about?” Dawoud asked.
Zamia said nothing, Raseed noted. But she looked healthier than she had even the night before. “Praise God.” He whispered the words without meaning to, and Zamia looked at him quizzically. He lowered his eyes in shame.
“I had to put a couple of them in their place, but that is not what is important right now. This is,” the alkhemist said. She placed the ornate scroll case on a low tea table. Then she collapsed onto a cushion. “Name of God! It will feel good to rest tonight.”
Raseed had to speak up. “And you have earned rest, Auntie. But I cannot allow myself to rest now. If this scroll will help us learn more of the fiend Orshado’s plans, I must—with apologies—I must have that information as quickly as possible.”
Dawoud came to stand between his wife and Raseed. “These things don’t happen in the blink of an eye, boy. The cipher-spell takes as long to work as a careful spell-scrivener’s hand. We’ll have whatever answers this scroll may hold, but we’ll have to wait until morning to do so.”
“We have some time for the luxury of rest, then,” the Doctor said.
Raseed tried to speak in further protest, to insist that they had no such luxury, but Litaz cut him off with an upraised hand. “Indeed, and furthermore,” she continued, flashing an annoyed glance in Raseed’s direction, “we have need of rest.”
“Zamia Banu Laith Badawi certainly does, whether she knows it or not.” Dawoud added. He looked at Zamia, and Raseed was impressed to see how little she seemed to still fear Dawoud—or at least how little she now showed.
Litaz went on. “And we shall not just rest, but celebrate! For sunset marks the Feast of Providence.”
The magus arched a white eyebrow. “So it does! You know, I had almost forgotten.”
“As had I,” the Doctor admitted.
Litaz rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder but spoke to the group. “We must never forget our feasts. Tonight is dedicated to thanksgiving for the bounty that God provides us. On such a day it is our duty to celebrate life through food and drink. The Heavenly Chapters say ‘O believer, thou shalt smile for God’s Providence at festival and at funeral.’ ” The alkhemist turned to him. “Am I wrong, Raseed?”