By late afternoon, San-Ragoz had covered more than forty thousand paces and was feeling the strain of his efforts. Turning his steps in the direction of Chimenae’s stone house, some eight or nine thousand paces distant, he settled into the long, clean stride that was faster than it looked, taking him along the shepherds’ trails to Aqua Frates and from there upward through the long shadows toward the treeless ridge.
Wembo and Edic were already at the stone house; they swung around protectively as San-Ragoz approached, the last glow of sunset fading behind him. Both of them held their weapons as if they were intending to use them. “The stranger,” said Wembo to Edic. There were no greetings offered.
San-Ragoz went to where the cups had been let and noticed that there were fewer than the evening before. It was an ominous turn, he told himself.
Aulutiz was next to arrive, and after him, Achona. By the time the stars were fully bright, all the vampires but Dorioz were waiting for Chimenae.
She came out of her stone house with a force of purpose that was apparent from her stance to the way she moved the door. She paused in the frame of the open door, waiting until she had the full attention of all those gathered. “By sunset tomorrow,” she announced, “Yamut ibn Rabi will be one of you.”
There was an appalled silence; then Aulutiz howled, anguished beyond the scope of words.
“Chimenae!” Edic shouted, having recovered from his stupefaction an instant ahead of the rest. His cry was taken up by most of the others.
San-Ragoz felt a cold fist gather within him.
“It is done!” Her voice cracked over the others. “There shall be no questions.” She took a step forward and closed her door behind her. “This is my will.”
This time the shouts of protest were more angry than shocked, and a few of the tribe dared to curse.
“That is enough!”
Chimenae commanded, and then waited for silence to return; when it did, it was sullen.
It was Aulutiz who braved her wrath. “Matra, you have wronged us,” he said in quiet reproach. “You bring an enemy into our numbers.”
“Not an enemy,” Chimenae told him. “He will be our best friend.”
“Your friend, perhaps,” said Achona, taking a chance.
“Achona, you are being foolish,” said Chimenae.
Very deliberately, Achona laughed. “I am not alone in what I think.”
Some shouted words of encouragement, others of derision, and for a long moment, dissent took over the tribe.
Then Aulutiz stepped forward. “No. No. You must all stop! My mother has done this thing for a reason. Let her explain it to us.”
Once again the vampires grew quiet.
The shift was subtle, but San-Ragoz sensed it as surely as if the ground had twitched beneath his feet; some portion of Chimenae’s authority had passed irrevocably to her son.
“I do not have to explain myself to anyone,” Chimenae insisted, pulling her arm away from Aulutiz’s protective touch.
Into this conflict-ridden confrontation came Blaga; he was leading a hooded and bound man in traveler’s robes. He brought the two-legged goat through the group, directly to Chimenae. “The villagers at Mont Calcius say they can spare no more of their own. They send you this instead.”
At the edge of the gathering, San-Ragoz stood more observantly, a mounting sense he did not understand making him apprehensive; he saw the increased animation in Chimenae’s tribe as the two-legged goat was turned to face Chimenae.
“Remove the hood. Let us see what the villagers have sent us,” said Chimenae.
Blaga did as he was told, Ennati holding the bound figure while Blaga pulled off the hood and held it up as if it were a treasure.
The man revealed was sandy-haired and middle-aged, lean of cheek and austere of expression. He looked directly at Chimenae. “Csimenae,” said Ruges.
San-Ragoz did not move as he stared at his old friend, apprehension changing to trepidation as he saw Chimenae’s expression set in one of fury.
“You!”
She made the word a curse. “A thousand devils! It is not enough that
he
”—she flung her hands in San-Ragoz’s direction—should be here, but now
you
!” She signaled to her companions to come closer to Ruges. “What use are you to us? You are no two-legged goat.” She pointed to San-Ragoz this time. “You are execrable. How can you do this—having this creature of yours come here? I cannot endure the sight of you—of either of you. Mont Calcius will pay for this affront.”
Those gathered around her were confused and distressed, seeing the depth of her rage; their whispers were a susurrus against the bluster of the wind. Finally Edic dared to raise his voice. “Who is this man?”
“He’s not a man at all,” said Chimenae, dismissing the notion with a shrug. “He is the tool of Sanct’ Germain. He was here with his master, long ago.”
“Another vampire,” groaned Aulutiz, and was echoed by the protests of a dozen of the others.
San-Ragoz had recovered from his first astonishment and was now scrutinizing those gathered around Chimenae, trying to discern how they were reacting to this latest phenomenon.
“No, not a vampire. He is something other.” Chimenae walked up to Ruges and poked at his chest. “What are you? What are you?”
“I am a ghoul, as well you know,” he said without emotion, looking only at her. “I have come to help my master; I have been seeking him for five years and more. When he was taken away, he said he might be found here. The villagers in Mont Calcius took my chests and my horses when they seized me.”
Chimenae scowled. “You will have it all back again, every bit of it,” she announced with grim determination. “And you shall be permitted to leave here, for all you have done for me and mine in the past; I do not forget these things, and I know my obligations. We shall choose a two-legged goat from among their numbers for ourselves. They have lost the right to select the goat. It is now our right.” This evoked a cry of approval from those around her. “Let us make the hunt worth our while. We will choose
two
goats, so that they will know not to disgrace me and mine again.”
Aulutiz led a ragged cheer. “Finally you give us sport,” he approved, and was echoed by most of the rest, although Achona hung back, her face sulky.
“This is troublesome,” Edic said as the enthusiastic noise died down. “The people of Mont Calcius have defied us before.”
“It is because that was my village,” said Chimenae, “the one I held for my son. They never recovered from my departure.” She pointed to Aulutiz. “You will bear the news to them—that we will come soon to take what is owed us.”
“But they will not want us to do anything so . . .” Aulutiz sought for the word, and said finally, “like fighting. They will fight back.”
“Not against me,” said Chimenae. “They will not have the courage. They owe me too much. That village is
mine.
They
owe me
fealty. If they have forgot that, I will remind them.” The fury in her eyes dissipated. “I do this for you, my son. I held the village so that it would be yours.”
Aulutiz nodded in response to this old theme. “So you say.”
“Do you doubt it?” Chimenae studied him intensely, dismay building within her. “How can you doubt it? After all I did? Ask this person”—she pointed to Ruges—“if you doubt me after all this time. He saw what I did. He knows.” She touched Aulutiz’s cheek gently. “This is for you, my son.”
“If it is,” said Aulutiz, his doubt becoming a challenge, “then do as you have just promised and send Sanct’ Germain and his servant away. They do not belong with us.” As Chimenae stepped back, Aulutiz pressed on. “You say that you are obliged to show him gratitude. Well, then, send him away. Send them both. Do not go back on your word. So long as he is here, I do not think you will be free of his influence.”
“How can you expect treachery of me? I have said they may go, have I not?” Chimenae demanded, shaking her head adamantly.
Aulutiz was ready with his answer. “I can question you as your son. Do not pretend you have never countermanded an order in the past. If you intend to protect me as you say you intend to—and if you hold our clan in the regard you claim—you will have them leave and soon, as you should have let the Moor die rather than make him one of us.”
There were whispers among the gathered tribe, and an uneasy movement toward the stone house, as if to get closer to Chimenae and Aulutiz. Ruges was shoved up against the door and pinned there while the confrontation continued, San-Ragoz moved as near as he dared, knowing how volatile the situation had become.
“This is intolerable. How can you question me?” Chimenae cried out. “You have no notion what I have done for you—for all of you.”
“Then do one more thing,” Aulutiz said. “Send those two away. Or give your Moor the True Death. Here. Now. So we may see it happen.”
“That is what you want, isn’t it? That is what you want me to do: kill the Moor. These two do not matter. They are nothing to any of us, nor should they be more than that. You’re after Yamut ibn Rabi, aren’t you?” Chimenae asked cynically. “You want Yamut ibn Rabi truly dead, so you make this absurd request.” She laughed without mirth. “Very well, my son, I will play your game this once.” With that, she reached out and took Ruges by the shoulder. “You and your master will leave. At once. With no more than what you came with. You will have two days to depart the region, and then, if you have not gone, I will not vouch for your safety. My clan will honor my word for two days. Will you not?” This last was to Aulutiz.
“We will,” said Aulutiz, his voice raised enough to carry. “They will have two days and two nights to get beyond this region. Two days and two nights, no more and no less.” A muttered agreement from the rest served to encourage him. “The Moor will have nothing to fear from us.” It was a graceless concession, and one that evoked fewer sounds of compliance.
“It is done, then.” Chimenae thrust Ruges into the crowd, saying as she did. “You and your master will leave at once. You will take what is yours from Mont Calcius, and if anything is refused you, I will make them answer for it. You will have two days and two nights to get beyond our reach. When the two days and two nights are over, you will be hunted.”
A bellow of anticipation came from the gathered vampires as Ruges, his hands still bound, stumbled through them toward San-Ragoz. As they met, Ruges managed to smile. “Well met, my master.”
San-Ragoz managed a chuckle as he freed Ruges’ hands. “By all the forgotten gods, I hope so.” Was he actually dismissed? he wondered as he clasped Ruges by the shoulders. Had Chimenae decided to be rid of him at last? Was this mercurial determination genuine, or had she some deeper intrigue in mind? He would not wait to find out. “Are we able to travel?”
“I have two horses and a mule, in Mont Calcius; I came with them, and therefore I should be allowed to claim them,” said Ruges. “If the villagers will part with them, we may be gone by mid-day.” He looked around circumspectly, asking just above a whisper. “What has happened here?”
“I will tell you, but later,” San-Ragoz assured him.
Chimenae raised her voice again. “Sanct’ Germain must have his things. And we must have an accounting. We go to Mont Calcius!”
This time all the tribe roared approval, and stood aside for Chimenae as she started away from her stone house toward the slope that led down the mountain to the village she had claimed for her son a century ago.
Text of a letter form Timuz ibn Musa ibn Maliq in Usca to Numair ibn Isffah ibn Musa in Karmona.
Before Allah, the All-Compassionate, I tell you, my nephew, that your soldiers are chasing a dead man. I have received the report of Omma ibn Ali from his own lips, and I tell you that it is impossible for San-Ragoz to have survived; there is no report of such a man at the passes we control, nor has any ship’s captain taken the fugitive aboard a ship. We know he did not flee to the north, perhaps to avoid the fighting there, or perhaps because he did not think he could escape us in that direction. We do know he left Zaraugusta headed east and north into the mountains, but we can find no trace of him beyond that, inspite of the determined searches of your soldiers. You have ordered a thorough search, and your men have done all they can to carry out your wishes. It is not by accident that these mountains have proven a barrier to our efforts. The mountains are steep and difficult to travel and the villagers are not friendly. Furthermore, Omma ibn Ali has lost forty-two men in the region known as Sacred Blood: they have vanished as if into a void. If your soldiers have disappeared in those mountains, armed and mounted as they were, how little chance is there that San-Ragoz could succeed where they have failed?
I know you have sworn to have this San-Ragoz back, and I know you have declared that he will answer to you for his perfidy, but I ask you to think: it is possible that this man will not be found, except, perhaps, as a corpse, or a scattering of bones. Your men have better things to do than to tramp about these mountains, taking risks that endanger their lives, all so you may be satisfied in your vengeance. Not even those cutting timber on the lower slopes go willingly into the higher valleys, and the peasants say it is dangerous territory.
This is one man, my nephew, and a slave. What has he done that has made him worthy of your wrath, but put himself into danger? If by some quirk of fate he has managed to stay alive, he must be living like an animal, and among such people and beasts as would turn survival to torture. I do not think he is still alive, nor does Omma ibn Ali, who has said that he is certain San-Ragoz is not alive. Even the Christians here in Usca say that they are wary of the Sacred Blood region, and they do not venture there. If they are in accord with Omma ibn Ali, do you not suppose that it is futile to continue this search? How many of your soldiers must you lose before you are willing to accept San-Ragoz’s death as unquestionable?
It is my intention to begin my return to Karmona in three days, for I have neglected my duties for too long on this fruitless quest. I will stop in Zaraugusta for a few days to see if I can garner any more information about San-Ragoz; I have offered rewards to Muslims and Christians alike for information that will bring this escaped slave to heel. There may be word brought from the mountains, or from the passes, that will tell us something of use, and if that should happen, I will pursue the matter as diligently as I can. But if I should learn nothing more, I will continue on to Karmona, where I shall present all my findings to you upon my arrival, and await your decision in their regard. Your soldiers are willing to do your bidding, although they have little stomach for this hunt.