The Tyrant's Nephew Read online

  ‘Then we will thank them, when we can,’ said Layla, pertly. ‘The important thing is, you are here, and things are beginning, at last, to change in this poor benighted country of ours.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Gur Thalab. ‘I hope I can be worthy of such trust, but many have tried, and failed, to destroy the tyrant, Miss Layla.’

  ‘Yes, but I have seen in my dreams that the time is nearly on us,’ said Layla, gazing into his face. ‘It is from the north that salvation will come; from the north, and from the marshes: together, as one, again!’

  Before Omar could stop himself, he said, ‘And what of the Shadow Walkers? What is their part in this?’

  Everyone turned startled faces towards him.

  ‘The Shadow Walkers?’ whispered Brother Yussuf. ‘But they’re all dead.’

  ‘The Vampire destroyed them all,’ nodded Layla.

  ‘Your face says you do not think so. What have you heard?’ said Gur Thalab.

  Ketta left him and pressed against Omar’s legs. He heard her voice in his head.

  ‘You fool, it’s too early to tell them who you are! They will think you are a spy; worse, that The Vampire is controlling you from afar and has somehow worked out a way, through you, of crossing the Flying Bridge. They keep their independence at great cost, and will not hesitate to kill you. Tell them you’ve heard gossip, talk.’

  ‘In Sadana,’ Omar said, his hands clammy, his heart beating fast, ‘I’ve heard them say that maybe the Shadow Walkers are coming back; that there was one, the very last of them, who fled into … into the tunnels under the capital, and that he gathered more around him, and has been training them.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Brother Yussuf, eyes wide. ‘I never heard a whisper of it in the monastery.’

  ‘But don’t you have silence there, Cousin, and isolation from the world?’ said Layla. ‘What gossip would you hear?’

  ‘More than you’d think,’ said Yussuf, grinning. He clutched at the Nashranee heart symbol that hung on a chain around his neck. ‘By the Lord and Lady, I pray that what you say, Ahmed bin Ali, is right.’

  ‘Oh! If the Shadow Walkers were back,’ said Layla, her eyes shining, ‘it would indeed be the beginning of the end, and a fitting sign for you, Gur Thalab.’

  The werewolf prince had been watching Omar’s face carefully.

  Now he said, ‘But we must have more than gossip and hearsay. Mistress Ketta, may I?’ And he bent down to her, touching her on the back. He listened for a moment, then straightened.

  ‘The Jinn says it’s not only talk. Shadow Walkers were seen in the streets of Madinatu, and laid an ambush for the Secretary.’

  Brother Yussuf made the sign of the heart against his chest and said, ‘By He who made us all, it would be a great day indeed if it were true.’

  ‘And you a man of peace,’ smiled Gur Thalab. His amber eyes still reposed thoughtfully on Omar, who shrank a little under that intense gaze. He touched Ketta again. ‘Lady Jinn, what happened?’ He paused, listening, then said, ‘Men were killed. Bodyguards. But the Secretary is not dead.’

  Omar shuddered inwardly. He saw again the snake, slipping out of the car. He saw the Secretary’s flat, cold eyes. He said quietly, ‘No, he’s not dead.’

  But – perhaps fortunately – nobody heard him. They were all too busy talking excitedly, one above the other.

  Ketta pushed up against Omar’s legs and whispered, ‘You’re going to have to get them to get a move along. We have no time to spare for their plans. It is not Mesomia we are concerned with saving, but my girl. We must get to the mountains and back to the palace within three days, or Latifa’s soul will be lost.’

  ‘If I may,’ said Omar, interrupting the others, ‘Miss Layla, I came to obtain a flying carpet from you so I can get to the mountains, to help a friend of mine who is in great danger. Time presses. I must go as soon as possible.’ He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the platinum and diamond watch. ‘I have no money, but I can pay with this. It’s my family’s only treasure. I hope it’s enough.’

  Layla looked at it, eyebrows raised.

  He said, ‘If it’s not enough, I can –’

  ‘It’s not the payment,’ said Layla rather haughtily. ‘You say you want to help a friend. We want to help more than one person. So you will have to wait, Ahmed bin Ali, till we are ready. Besides, Gur Thalab has only just arrived and he must talk to the Marshland Gathering tonight. There are many careful plans to be laid if we are to launch an attack at last on the man who brought darkness to our country.’

  ‘But I must go now! I really must!’ said Omar desperately. ‘My friend will die if –’

  ‘Many will die if we do not wait, Ahmed,’ said Brother Yussuf gently.

  ‘But she must be saved!’ Omar added, ‘She’s a Marshlander, an orphan who has to live by her wits in the city. She has no-one to care for her. She has no family, no village even – it was destroyed by the tyrant. Can’t you understand that –’

  ‘There are many such sad stories,’ snapped Layla. ‘We cannot allow them to sway us. Ahmed, don’t you love your country?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Omar, ‘but Latifa is my friend. Her fate matters to me above all. And I know that whilst my country might be able to wait a little longer, Latifa has only three days. She is under a spell and needs an antidote that can only be found in the northern mountains.’

  ‘What spell is it?’ said Gur Thalab.

  ‘The Spell of Darkness,’ whispered Omar. ‘But the sorcerer was not able to fully perform it. Ketta has told me there is a plant called nablaylee that will help her.’

  ‘Nablaylee, why, yes, I know of it. It is very rare, and not easy to find. And the Spell of Darkness is a wicked one. Miss Layla, grant this boy his wish. Don’t sell, but lend him a carpet – the simplest, easiest flyer you have. Let him give you the surety of the watch, if he wishes. Let him leave straightaway. I will speak to the Marshland Gathering, and then I will follow him to the mountains, on another carpet.’

  ‘But –’ Layla began.

  ‘Trust me, Layla. Do as I ask you.’

  Layla nodded, reluctantly.

  Omar said, ‘Oh, thank you, sir, bless you.’

  ‘There is no thanks due. Your willingness to risk so much for friendship does you great credit. Now listen well, Ahmed bin Ali, and you too, Ketta the Jinn: not all of my country is safe. My good uncle Hirpus lives in the village of Alqaba. Try to land near the saint’s shrine at the entrance to Alqaba, for the wicked ones will not dare to go there. Take care: one of my other uncles and some of my cousins have gone over to The Vampire, and now work for the White Wolves.’

  ‘For the White Wolves!’ said Omar, taking a step back. They were the most feared of his uncle’s secret police units; the most ruthless and cruel.

  ‘Yes, to my great shame, my kin cannot all be trusted. But Uncle Hirpus and his family are utterly trustworthy. Here –’ and he took off a gold ring from his finger and gave it to Omar – ‘this ring will show them that they can trust you. Tell them what it is you need. Tell them to guide you to where it is. And tell them I will be coming soon. Tell them to get ready. And ask them to find out whether the Shadow Walkers have really returned. They may need to send a secret envoy to Madinatu.’ He paused.

  ‘My ancestor founded the order of Shadow Walkers, long ago. Their headquarters were not far from our village. And it was my wicked Uncle Gorg who betrayed them to the tyrant, and who levelled their base. I believe that if they are back – if only the whisper of them is back – then there is, indeed, great hope. We would not have known of this without you, Ahmed bin Ali.’

  Was it his imagination, or did the werewolf prince lay a slight, questioning stress on the name? Omar wasn’t sure; but he felt that Gur Thalab understood, somehow, and trusted him implicitly. That made him feel good. Yet he still felt uneasy under the amber gaze.

  He said, looking at his feet, ‘Oh, I hope it isn’t just gossip, then.’

  He thought of the
red-eyed figure, made of the night, that he’d seen in those last moments before the car crashed, and he shivered a little.

  ‘I hope so, too,’ said Gur Thalab. ‘Now, Miss Layla, if we could see to transport for Ahmed and his cat?’

  ‘If you like,’ shrugged Layla, giving Omar a look that suggested she thought Gur Thalab was being altogether too accommodating to the boy’s selfish desires.

  Omar flushed. How could he tell the fierce Layla that though Mesomia as a whole wasn’t altogether real to him, Latifa was, and that he felt responsible for her fate in a way he did not feel responsible for his country’s fate? He hated his uncle at present, but it was because of what he’d done to the beggar girl, the girl who had saved Omar at the risk of her own safety. He’d heard everything there was to be heard about the tyrant before – he’d been afraid of him, like everyone else in Mesomia – but he’d not hated him before, not seen with his own eyes the cruelty and viciousness of the man to whom he was unfortunately related by blood.

  ‘Go in peace, and take care. May you find what you need, and may your friend be safe. I will be in the mountains soon after you. If you are still there.’

  ‘I’ll be on my way very quickly back to the city, to help my friend,’ said Omar. He wanted to save Latifa, not be part of a rebellion against his uncle.

  Ketta pressed against him and he heard her voice saying, briskly, ‘Now, tell the Enchantress you want the second carpet from the bottom, in that pile on the right-hand side. It’s a good solid flyer, with no unnecessary accoutrements; I have a fancy our young lady dreams of being innovative, and that’s always dangerous. We’re just going to steer straight ahead, set a compass for north, not try any fancy manoeuvres. Come on, Omar, what are you waiting for?’

  Layla seemed surprised when he asked for that particular carpet.

  She said, ‘So you do know something about carpets, then? That’s exactly the one I was going to offer; perfect for a beginner.’

  There was a touch more respect in her voice, and Omar pushed his advantage.

  ‘It’s a good solid flyer,’ he said, fingering the thick wool of the plain red and blue carpet. ‘It’s just what I need.’

  ‘It practically flies itself,’ said Layla, stroking one corner of it. A little compass popped up. She touched another corner, said, ‘Rise,’ and the carpet levitated gracefully into the air. She said, ‘You just have to set the compass and tell it where you want to go. A boring little carpet – no challenge to it, it was one of my firsts – but it’s foolproof.’

  ‘What about stopping it?’

  ‘Well, you just touch the opposite corner – and say “Land.” That’s all.’ She suited the action to the word, and the carpet flopped down onto the floor again. She went over to open the window. ‘Take care, though, to be in exactly the spot you want to land on. It has been known to drop people on the tops of mountains and in pine trees if they say “Land” too soon.’

  Omar and Ketta climbed onto the carpet. Omar’s legs were shaking – with fear and with excitement. He looked around at the others as he sat down.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘I hope you find the Shadow Walkers, and that you are successful.’

  ‘Good luck to you too, Ahmed bin Ali,’ they all chorused.

  Gur Thalab added, ‘And I might well see you soon, in Kirtis.’

  Omar picked Ketta up, put her on his lap, closed his eyes, and said, ‘Rise!’ Then he fell over backwards in an untidy heap as the carpet rose steeply, twirled once, and flew out of the open window as if it were a freed bird eagerly escaping from a cage.

  Twelve

  From the air, the Mydannar Marshlands looked enchanting. A shallow, shining blue lake spread out as far as the eye could see, dotted here and there with villages on stilts and busy parties of fishermen in canoes. On both water and in the sky there was also a great number of birds, some of whom nearly forgot to flap their wings in sheer surprise as the flying carpet sailed sedately past them.

  After the first flutter of panic, Omar began to enjoy the ride. He lay on the carpet, Ketta beside him, and looked in great interest at the watery life unfolding beneath him. A couple of people down below saw him, and waved and pointed, but otherwise, very few Marshlanders seemed to notice him. Flying carpets could not be the rare sight here that they were in other parts of Mesomia.

  Once upon a time, Mesomia had been known as the homeland for the best flying carpets in the world. The Guild of Carpet Enchantresses was a hereditary one, the talents passed from mother to daughter or aunt to niece, in certain families only. Their headquarters had once been in Madinatu es Salam. But the Guild fell foul of The Vampire, quite early on, when a flying carpet was used to transport a would-be assassin into The Vampire’s stronghold. And though it was never proved that the Guild had anything to do with it, The Vampire reacted in his usual ruthless way, putting the Guild elders to death and destroying the Guild headquarters. He tried to enlist some of the remaining members into his own employ, but most refused. Those who managed to escape were scattered all over the country. Some of them disappeared into exile in neighbouring countries. A few found their way into the Marshlands.

  The Guild was outlawed, along with the production of flying carpets – except by The Vampire’s tame Enchantresses. It was rumoured that they were cursed by the destruction of the Guild, and certainly, no flying carpet of any note or value ever came out of the renegades’ workshops. All crashed or failed in some other way. The Vampire hated failure, and so the renegade Enchantresses languished in the Black Prison.

  Miss Layla’s carpet was perfectly functional, though. It winged steadily on, over the Marshlands, then took a turn to the east so that it would fly over remote parts of Parsari rather than more populated parts of Mesomia, where the wrong person might see it. Rocked by the motion of the flyer, Omar began to feel rather drowsy. He closed his eyes …

  He was awakened by Ketta scratching at his hand.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ she said. ‘We’re going to have to get it to land. You’ll have to brace yourself.’

  Omar peered over the edge. They were flying over a beautiful landscape of green hills with little stone villages nestled into their folds, rustling woods and rushing streams. In the distance was a range of sharp, harsh dark-grey mountains, whose tops were covered in snow.

  He said, ‘So this is Kirtis?’

  ‘This is Kirtis, land of the Shadow Walkers, land of the werewolf clans.’

  ‘It is not as I imagined it,’ said Omar. ‘It is much lovelier than I thought it would be.’

  ‘Omar, don’t let its beauty blind you,’ said Ketta. ‘This is a land where strangers are not welcome, for strangers have caused havoc here many times, and the people are proud and fierce and independent. Take care you show them Gur Thalab’s gold ring immediately.’

  Omar said, smiling, ‘Don’t worry, I will. Now, do you know where it is we’re supposed to land?’

  ‘Alqaba’s at the foot of those mountains,’ said the cat. ‘That’s where the carpet’s heading. It’ll hover over the right spot. Wait, and I’ll tell you when to say “land.”’

  A few minutes later, they landed on a hill on the outskirts of the village, near a pretty little whitewashed building.

  Ketta said, ‘That’s the saint’s shrine Gur spoke of; he was a Truthseeker sage, and much revered.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Omar. Truthseekers, who followed a mystical way of the Mujisal religion, were rare in his own province and in the more central parts of the country. But Truthseeker saints and wise men were held in high regard by most Mujisals, except those who practised the very strict form of the religion, the Pumujisals. Omar bowed his head and asked the saint to help to protect him in this, the saint’s own land.

  Just then, a man came round the corner of the shrine. He was dressed in rather shabby but very clean clothes, of the kind worn in Kirtis – baggy trousers, belted tunic and jacket – and wore a faded turban on his fair head. He wore a knife in his belt, and his face was strong and
harsh, with very light eyes and a weathered, brown complexion.

  He said, ‘What is a stranger doing at the shrine of the great Dervisha?’ Then, seeing the carpet at the boy’s feet, he clapped his hand to his knife and frowned. ‘And what in the name of –’

  ‘Sir,’ interrupted Omar hastily, ‘my name is Ahmed bin Ali, and I have come from Prince Gur Thalab al Kutroob.’

  The man’s eyes widened. They widened even more when Omar showed him the ring. He said, ‘Then he is alive!’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Omar. ‘He is on his way home.’

  An expression of fierce joy came into the man’s eyes. But all he said was, ‘Then it is a great day!’

  ‘I need his kinsmen’s help,’ said Omar, ‘for I must seek nablaylee on the mountain.’

  The man’s light eyes rested thoughtfully on Omar for an instant. ‘You will need that help for certain,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

  Omar rolled up the carpet, tucked it under his arm and, with Ketta on his shoulder, followed the man down the hill and into the village. So far, so easy, he thought.

  It was a much less cheerful-looking village than Mydannar, for it was built of austere grey stone, but the wheat and barley fields around it were fertile and prosperous enough, and the people they met along the way seemed not unfriendly, if a little wary. The man led Omar down a maze of streets to a walled compound – the estate of the village chieftain, Gur’s Uncle Hirpus. He rang the bell on the wall and a servant dressed in smart white livery appeared.

  ‘This is Ahmed bin Ali, a messenger from Gur Thalab,’ said the man.

  The servant’s eyes widened, then he said, ‘Wait here. I will go and announce you to the master.’

  He was back very quickly. ‘Come in. The master will see you at once.’

  ‘I will leave you here,’ said Omar’s guide, shaking his hand. ‘It is a great day, Ahmed bin Ali.’

  Omar followed the servant through the door and found himself standing before a big whitewashed stone house surrounded by a garden full of trees and flowers. The servant led Omar to a bent old man sitting beneath a tree. He must have been dozing, for his beaky, gaunt face had the crumpled look of sleep, and his turban was a little askew.