His big hands sparkled with rings-they would add to the pain when he struck her, and she had no doubt he would strike her. There was white now in his red beard. There was blood in his red eyes.
“Take off that quilt!” he said, seating himself beside the food.
She dropped the quilt.
He reclined on one elbow, spreading himself out along the cushions like a basking walrus. He began to eat, stuffing food in his mouth one-handed without seeming to notice or care what it was, barely taking his eyes off her.
What had she ever seen in the man? Once she had been sorry for him, she recalled. Once there had been hints of greatness, where now remained only pride and cruelty and debauchery. She remembered wise old Sheik Elkarath prophesying what happened to a sultan who trod the red road of war. In those days Azak had loomed above Arakkaran like a human thunderstorm—dangerous, frightening, but also awesome, full of menace and might and potential. Now he was a blood-soaked tyrant, glutted on twenty years of battle. Now—as she knew only too well—he was physically repugnant, gross and disgusting. She had not felt clean since he fist laid hands on her.
Unfortunately, although he now held no appeal for her at all, the reverse was not true. His lusts had more to do with power than sex, although he enjoyed that, also.
“You have worn well,” Azak mumbled. “Come and sit there.” He pointed to the floor just across from him.
Steeling herself not to tremble, Inos rose and did as she had been told.
“Pour me wine.”
She poured. Each tiny obedience ranked as a defeat, and yet each itself seemed too small to justify provoking violence. How far would she pander to his demands? Soon he would tell her to strip. Would she go that far without compulsion? She did not know.
He leered. “More cooperative tonight? Speak. Amuse me.”
“I have nothing to say to a turd like you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Revenge is very sweet, Inosolan.” I am sure it will be.
The tent flap moved in the background. For a moment she wondered about that, then decided it must just be the wind. “I have waited twenty years for my revenge,” Azak said, still chewing. “And I find it exquisite. Now, stand up and dance for me.”
“I cannot dance that way.”
He chuckled and reached under one of the cushions. He brought out a coiled whip and laid it on the rug for her to see. “Dance.”
Light gleamed on the oiled leather of the thongs. Shivering, unable to take her eyes off that awful threat, Inos clambered to her feet.
Rap put a strong arm around her and became visible.
5
Inos wondered afterward why the shock did not kill her on the spot, but it didn’t. She grabbed him in a bear hug—tight, ever so tight, burying her face against his neck. Rap! Solid, breathing Rap! His clothes were still cold from the wind outside, and he smelled faintly of horse. He was panting.
“Oh, Rap! Darling! Rap! Rap! Rap!” She mumbled incoherently into his collar, only gradually becoming aware of the fire in her shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said hoarsely. “Safe now.”
Safe? Sorcery? Wondering, she stole a look at Azak. He was frowning, peering around the big tent as if he had lost something or forgotten something, but he was clearly oblivious of her and Rap.
“He can’t hear us?” she whispered. Obviously he couldn’t. Rap did not answer. He was shaking convulsively. She looked up at his face.
The gray eyes were unfocused, his lips white and curled back from his teeth. She had seen that expression often enough in Krasnegar, that kill-crazy jotunn look. Rap was half jotunn. That explained the trembling and the odd breathing. He was a hound straining on a leash. Oh, Gods! His left arm was clasping her, but his right was between them, and she guessed that he was holding the hilt of a sword.
Die, Azak! You die now, you bastard! No? Why not? Azak heaved his great bulk to a sitting position. He fumbled with his fingers, muttering angrily.
“I want to kill him,” Rap croaked. His eyes bulged. “I’ve got to kill him. Promised I wouldn’t. I must kill him! I want to cut him in slices! Wretch! Scum! How can I kill him, Inos? Tell me how I can kill him!” He was almost sobbing.
“What do you mean?”
“He can’t see me!”
God of Madness! Suddenly Inos saw worse things than Azak. Rap could not kill a man who couldn’t see him. Must not be allowed to kill a man who couldn’t see him! The memory would drive him crazy. In a fair fight, yes. Even an execution. But to stab a blind man was murder, and cowardice. A jotunn could not kill like that, and Rap could not. After so many years she knew her man. He would never be able to live with his guilt if he violated his own ethics. It was from Rap that Kadie had inherited all her romantic notions, not from her mother.
Gods have mercy! Inos would have to break the news, tell Rap about Kadie and the goblins . . . Well, Rap himself was the immediate problem, still crazy-trembling in an agony of frustration. His teeth were chattering. She must stop him.
She must somehow save Azak, whom she wanted to die. Ask for the sword? Do it herself? No, she couldn’t do it now, either. Simple death was too good for Azak. He must know how and why he died.
But Rap was here and nothing else really mattered. She hugged him even tighter and kissed his cheek.
“Oh, my darling! How did you ever find me?”
Staring hatred at the caliph, Rap licked his lips. “Didn’t. Just luck. C-c-came here . . . t-t-talk with that slime!”
Azak lurched to his feet. Rap hauled Inos aside, and the huge djinn stormed past them without a glance. At the end of the tent he ripped aside the drape that concealed the privy. Baffled, he wheeled around and strode back again, grinding his teeth. He seemed to know that he had lost his victim, but not how.
Suddenly Rap’s grip tightened and his eyes searched Inos’s face urgently. ”He hasn’t . . . I did get here in time, didn’t I?” Fury quivered on the brink of explosion again.
“Just in time!” she said quickly. Just in time this time. The truth could wait. “You came to talk with him?”
“Get’ m to turn back.”
“Why?”
Rap opened his mouth and closed it. Then he glanced sideways at her, and she saw that something was distracting the bloodlust.
“Better not say here. The results might be dramatic.” Again Azak stamped by, again fumbling with his fingers. Eek! “Rap! Those rings! He has magic rings. One of them will summon Furkar! His sorcerer.” She had seen the truth ring in action and the women had mentioned the other. Perhaps there were more tricks, too.
“Let him!” Rap snarled. “Sorcerers won’t—Ah!” The tent flap rose and fell.
The young man who had entered was tall and sinister in a trailing black kibr. A black kaffiyeh framed his face, and red djinn eyes gleamed in its shadow. He glanced around the tent without registering Rap or Inos, and then inclined his head perfunctorily in the direction of the fuming caliph.
“You summoned me, Majesty?”
“I did! I tried calling you earlier, too. Where were you?” The newcomer must be the sorcerer himself, Furkar, if only because anyone else would be cringing in terror before the caliph’s rage. He was showing no expression at all. “I was inspecting the route we must take out of here tomorrow.”
“That is my job. You handle the sorcery and I’ll do the rest.” Azak stalked over to the two wooden chests and sat down.
The sorcerer remained undaunted. “This place makes me uneasy. And I warned you not to use that summoning while the Covin may be listening.”
Azak glared. “This is important. Did you see the dispatches?”
“No.”
“Trouble in Shuggaran. And other places.”
The younger man had not moved since he entered. He still stood just inside the door. He was a talking pillar. “As soon as your back is turned? Only to be expected. I trust you are not feeling faint-hearted?”
Azak’s face turned even redder than usual. “No. But I was a fool to leave the Prisoner alive. He is a risk. I want you to go back and kill him.”
Furkar raised coppery eyebrows. “And how am I to travel to Dreag?”
Azak ground his teeth. “The dwarf still watches?”
“Day and night. I remind you that it is not you that interests the Covin. It is me and my associates. I would have to travel by horse, so you might better send one of your assassins. He would go faster.”