The Prince had paused and was regaining a minimum of composure. In a milder voice he said: “Know then, my young friend, that my great friend Prince Mark of Tasavalta, despite many misgivings on his part, was generous enough to loan me secretly the Sword called Stonecutter. Why, you ask? 1 will tell you. In one far corner of my domain, hundreds of kilometers from here, there is a nest of robbers that has proven all but impossible to eradicate, because of the nature of the rocky fastness in which they hide. With the Sword of Siege in hand, to undermine a crag or two would be no great problem-but now the Sword is gone from out of my hands, and I am the most miserable of men!”
Kasimir felt moved to compassion. Ever since they had first encountered each other, a month ago, al-Farabi had been a most kindly and generous host, willing to provide an insignificant stranger with free passage across the desert.
“Is there anything that I can do to help you, Prince?” the physician asked. Though he had never visited Tasavalta, he knew it was a land far to the northeast, bordering on the Eastern Sea, and he had heard that its rulers were respected everywhere.
“I fear that there is nothing anyone can do to help me now. I fear that I will never see the Sword again.” Al-Farabi turned away, seemingly inconsolable.
Gradually the excitement in the camp quieted. With a double guard now posted, the fires were allowed to die down once more. An hour before dawn the riders who had been sent in pursuit of the thieves came back, reporting in Kasimir’s hearing that they had had no success. When daylight came they would of course try again.
Kasimir, lying awake in his blankets in the cargo tent, hearing the extra guards-now that it was too late-milling around outside, thought that few members of the caravan were likely to get any more sleep during the last hour of the night. But at last, after vexing his drowsy mind with the apparently minor, pointless, and insoluble problem of why the tent wall had been slit twice-one gash was only a minor one, not really big enough for anyone to crawl through-he dozed off himself.
His renewed sleep was naturally of short duration, for at first light the camp began to stir around him once again. As soon as full dawn came, al-Farabi sent out a different pair of trackers. Then he ordered camp broken, and, with the remainder of his men, his passenger Kasimir, and the laden baggage animals, pushed on along the caravan’s intended route toward the Abohar Oasis and, a day or two beyond that, the city of Eylau.
Choosing to ride side by side with the young physician, the Prince explained that his men as well as their animals needed to rest and replenish their supply of water at the oasis before undertaking what promised to be a lengthy pursuit into the wilderness. And al-Farabi himself appeared even more fatalistically certain than before that the Sword was permanently gone.
The conversation between the two men faded, and most of the day was spent in grim and silent journeying. The pace was steady and there were few pauses. In late afternoon tall palms came into view ahead, surrounded by a sprawling burst of lesser greenery. They had arrived at Abohar Oasis.
Several other groups of travelers, Kasimir observed, were here ahead of them; indeed he thought that there would probably be someone resting here almost continuously. He had already learned it was an unwritten rule that peace obtained in the oases, and that the rule was usually observed even when bitter enemies encountered one another. Water was shared, fighting rescheduled for some other time and place.
On this occasion, there was certainly shade and water in plenty for all, and no question of fighting. The Prince gave no sign that he observed any enemies of his Firozpur tribe among the people who were already resting at the oasis- and as for Kasimir, he was not aware of having an enemy anywhere in the world.
As soon as the caravan had halted the Prince directed his people, working for once in shade, as they busied themselves seeing to the animals, and laying out their campsite for tonight. Meanwhile Kasimir, wanting to enjoy a walk in the grateful shade himself, left them temporarily and went exploring.
He moved along cool, well-worn footpaths bordered by grass and shrubs, between inviting pools. Eventually, having chosen the largest and deepest pool of the oasis to quench his thirst, he noticed as he approached it that on the far side of the pool, upon a little knoll of grass, there stood a richly furnished tent. Though it was no bigger than a small room, such a pavilion obviously belonged to someone of considerable social stature if not of great wealth.
Kasimir threw himself down upon a little ledge of rock at the near edge of the pool to drink. As he finished and arose, wiping his lips, there arrived near him at poolside a woman from some tribe whose dress Kasimir was unable to identify. As she was filling her water jar, he questioned her as to whether any single traveler, or pair of them perhaps, had arrived at the oasis since last night.
She answered in a melodious voice. “No, I am sure, sir, that your party is the first to arrive today.”
“How do you know?”
“My family has been keeping watch on every side, for some kinfolk who are to meet us here.”
“I see. By the way, whose tent is that across the pond? Have you any idea?”
“Certainly.” The woman seemed surprised at Kasimir’s ignorance. “That is the tent of the Magistrate Wen Chang. He has been here for several days.”
Kasimir blinked at her. “The Wen Chang?”
The young woman laughed again. “There is only one Wen Chang that I know of. Only one that anyone knows of. From what remote land have you come that you do not know him?”
“I know of him, certainly.” Now the conviction was growing in Kasimir’s mind that it was, or ought to be, somewhat below the dignity of a physician to stand here debating with a girl who had been sent to fetch water. He turned and started round the pool, ignoring a smothered giggle behind him.
The tent ahead of him was silent as he approached it, the entrance flap of silken fabric left half open. If this pavilion were really occupied by the legendary Wen Chang, then it appeared that the gods might be favoring Prince al-Farabi and his friends with a matchless opportunity.
The Magistrate Wen Chang was a renowned judge, whose fame had spread far from his homeland, which lay well to the south of the desert. In the more fanciful (as Kasimir supposed) stories, Wen Chang was credited with the ability to see into the secret hearts of men and women. It was said that he knew, as soon as he laid eyes on any group of people, which of them were innocent and which were guilty. It was even alleged-Kasimir had heard this variation once-that the Magistrate could tell, just by staring at the thief, where stolen treasure had been hidden. But Kasimir had never heard that the famed Wen Chang was wont to travel as far as this from his usual base of operations.
When Kasimir was still a score of strides from the tent’s doorway, the flap opened fully and a tall, imposing man emerged from the dim interior. He was dressed for desert traveling in a gray robe, almost plain enough to be that of a pilgrim.
If this was indeed Wen Chang, he was a younger-looking man than Kasimir had expected, with black hair and a proud narrow mustache still quite innocent of gray; but there was that in his bearing that convinced Kasimir he was indeed confronting the famed Magistrate. From his elevation upon the little knoll the tall man squinted through narrowed eyes in Kasimir’s direction; then he ignored the approaching youth and went unhurriedly to the edge of the pool, where he knelt down and with a silver cup scooped up a drink.
Meanwhile Kasimir had come to a stop about ten strides away, where he stood waiting in an attitude of respect.
Presently the tall man rinsed his cup, hurling water from it in a little silver spray, and rose unhurriedly to his full height. His eyes, turned again on Kasimir, were remarkably black. It seemed to the young man that those eyes glittered whenever they were not squinted almost shut.
Kasimir cleared his throat. “Have I the honor of addressing the Magistrate Wen Chang?”
“It is my name. And that was formerly my office.” The voice was precise, and spoke the common tongue with a slight accent of a kind Kasimir had seldom heard before. “Whether you are honored by the mere fact of talking to me is something you must decide for yourself.”