Master Of The Hashomi

Chapter 18

Blade's room was in a tower of the White Palace, one of the five palaces in the Baran's private citadel. He was there for a week, until the doctors pronounced him entirely fit and recovered.

The week was tedious. Blade was confined to the room by the doctor's orders, and even if he hadn't been he couldn't have wandered freely in the palace. There were guards at every stairway and in every corridor. Even the Baran's most trusted men could go only where they were supposed to, when they were supposed to.

Esseta spent two nights with Blade, and he did not lack female company on the other nights. The Baran saw to that. He also visited Blade twice, once bringing the scroll that proclaimed Blade a free citizen of Dahaura with the rank of Demad, once just to talk. The second time, Blade was finally able to tell of his adventures among the Hashomi.

The Baran listened to Blade's entire story without comment. When Blade had finished, the Baran stood up, went to the window, lit his pipe, and stood there smoking it in silence for nearly ten minutes. Blade was not comfortable during those ten minutes. He could not be entirely sure that the Baran would believe him, or what might happen if the Baran thought he was lying.

Finally the Baran turned to Blade and frowned. «I am not sure I want to believe you. No, do not be afraid. I do not say this because I think you are an enemy to the Baranate, a teller of lies to sow fear and confusion. You would not have spat in the face of the Thieves Guild if you were. That was the act of a brave man, an honorable one, a man worthy to be a Demad and one of the Eyes of the Baran.

«I do not want to believe you, because if what you say is true, then there is no hope of peace with the Fighters of Junah.»

«How much hope did you think there was before?» Blade asked bluntly.

«More than there can be now,» replied the Baran, after a moment's hesitation. «I cannot say exactly. I was thinking of a plan, to offer them freedom from persecution in return for oaths of loyalty and the disarming of their trained warriors. I had not reached the point of asking my councilors to study the plan, so I do not know how practical it might have been. Yet it would have been worth trying, even if it held only a small hope that I would not be obliged to shed the blood of my own subjects.»

Blade was tempted to point out that rulers unwilling to shed the blood of their subjects often wound up with the subjects shedding the rulers' blood. However, saying that would certainly give offense.

The Baran seemed to read Blade's thoughts, and smiled sadly. «Yes, I know. I should not be so tender toward the Fighters of Junah. They have made themselves enemies not only to me but to many of my loyal and peaceful subjects. Still, I prefer that war and slaughter be the last weapon I take up, rather than the first. You would not quarrel with that wish, I trust?»

«Not at all.»

«Good. I may as well tell you that your knowledge of the Hashomi will make you an important man in any plans we make against them and their allies. It is good to know that you will not be thinking entirely of killing.»

«You believe I'm telling the truth?»

«Yes. No matter how many problems your tales of the Hashomi may cause, I must believe them. We have learned something about the Hashomi ourselves, over the years. All that we have learned matches what you saw in the Valley of the Hashomi. So I believe you, and I will make new plans from what you have said.»

Blade could no longer keep from grinning. This was not just success, but triumph. His news had not only reached the Baran, but it would turn the whole power of the Baranate in a new direction for the fight against the Hashomi. That didn't guarantee victory, but it would certainly make the Master's task a great deal more difficult.

The Baran noticed Blade's pleased expression. «You'll stop grinning soon enough, Blade, when we put you to work. The first thing you're going to do is write down everything you've learned about the Hashomi.»

«Is that safe?»

«You'll do it yourself, and what you write will never be out of my own hands. But it must be written down. We can't risk losing all your knowledge if you don't come back from some journey as one of the Eyes.

«Then we'll be taking you out to the place where the Eyes of the Baran learn their work. Perhaps it won't impress you, considering that you've seen the Hashomi at work in their own country. But we have a few tricks of our own that you'd do well to learn.

«Then-«The Baran spread his hands and shrugged. «Then you'll go out, and it will be as Junah wills it.» He rose and slapped Blade on the shoulder. «It may be some time before we meet again, so I will say-may Junah bless you.»

«With a long life?» said Blade, laughing. «In this work, I doubt it.»

The complete story of Blade's adventures among the Hashomi was nearly as long as a novel. He had to write out every word of it with a quill pen and ink, on sheet after sheet of parchment. Then they sent him off to learn how to be one of the Eyes of the Baran.

The training camp was in an ancient castle, centuries older than the Baranate, perched on top of a mountain several days travel to the north of Dahaura. From the top of the castle a man could see nearly a hundred miles in every direction on a clear day.

Unfortunately there were few clear days up in the mountains. Even so, Blade was kept much too busy to admire the scenery.

The training was rigorous and intelligent but taught Blade practically nothing he didn't already know. The only novelty was the skilled work done in giving him a disguise.

As the eunuch in charge of the training put it, «We know that you have done certain things to make you a marked man for the Thieves Guild. You will not live long enough to do any work for the Baran without a disguise.

«We cannot take away your height or your scars. Yet there are things we can add to you, until your own mother would hardly know you.»

Blade's head was shaved again, and his scalp rubbed with something that made it turn blue. He was ordered to grow his beard, and when it had grown long enough it was tinted gray and divided into two plaits braided with gold thread. A patch went over one eye, and several impressive scars were tattooed on his face, neck, and arms.

The final touch was a heavy leather boot with complicated bindings and fastenings. When the boot was on and everything was tightened, it looked as though Blade had one foot so deformed he didn't dare show it. Yet he could move just as fast with the boot in place as he could barefoot.

Blade's mother certainly wouldn't have recognized him. In fact, he barely recognized himself the first time he looked in the mirror in his room.

The eunuch smiled at Blade's surprise. «We respect the Hashomi here, but we do not believe they are the only people in all the world with secret arts and skills in death. Perhaps they believe they are, but if so, then that is their problem-not ours.»

That was quite true. The arrogant confidence of the Hashomi in their own skill might lead them to a foolish contempt for their enemies. Or at least it might have done so, without the Master. As unbalanced as he was, the Master of the Hashomi was too shrewd to make such a blunder.

Besides, the Hashomi were only part of the menace facing Dahaura, and not even the most dangerous part. Without the Fighters of Junah, the Hashomi could hardly be more than a large nuisance.

Suppose the alliance of the Hashomi and the Fighters of Junah broke apart? What then. Either would be much less dangerous separately.

That was an idea worth pursuing, Blade realized. But not now-he didn't know enough about the plans of the Fighters of Junah, and neither did anyone else. In time-yes, he'd file away the notion in his mind. There might be something in it, for the future.