THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) Read online

  Ramagar stared at her in dawning understanding. “They accuse me of the crime?”

  She nodded slowly, painfully, putting her head to his chest, burying her face so that he couldn’t see her while she cried. The thief ran his hand through her long black hair and whispered her name softly. “Do you … believe them?” he asked.

  She lifted her head and gazed at him sharply. “Of course I don’t! It’s all a lie—a cruel and terrible lie. And I told them as much!”

  “Ah, Mariana,” he sighed, “if only the soldiers of Kalimar had your trust, your love …”

  She sniffed and blew her nose into the worn handkerchief he gave her. At that moment she seemed little more than a frightened child, lost and forlorn, caught in a web of events she did not understand and could not alter.

  “What are we to do?” she asked haltingly. “The Inquisitors are combing every inch of the Jandari. They’ll never give up. Never.”

  He spit the piece of wood from his mouth and scowled. “I never killed any man,” he said, “although I can think of some I should have.” There was venom in his voice, deep-seated anger and hatred she had never known him to express before. And it frightened her even more.

  “What are you saying?” she asked breathlessly.

  His eyes darkened. “Someone was paid to tell this lie,” he growled. “And he was paid by someone who might benefit with me dead.”

  She gasped. “Oro!”

  “Yes, Oro. That little weasel would stop at nothing if he felt he had something to gain.”

  In her despair she covered her face with her hand, sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook. “It’s my fault,” she cried, “because of me it’s come to this. Because of the dagger-—”

  He grabbed her wrist tightly. “The soldiers didn’t find it, did they?”

  She shook her head and he drew a long breath of relief. Possession of the glittering blade had become a more dangerous risk than he had ever dreamed. But as long as he still had it he controlled his fate. Too many men would be willing to make any bargain to claim it as their own.

  “It’s clear that the soldiers will never believe I’m innocent,” he said at last. “And if they finally do manage to catch me—”

  “You’ll never see the light of day again,” Mariana finished the thought with a voice that cracked. “Oh, Ramagar! What can we do?”

  He downed his wine with a single swallow and tossed the cup across the floor. A small water mouse scurried out of harm’s way, then dashed back into the hole in the wall.

  “You’ve got to flee the city,” pleaded Mariana. “Right away, as fast as you can.”

  The thief nodded sullenly. The Jandari was not a place many men could love; indeed most dreamed of one day being able to make their way far from it. Yet to Ramagar the Jandari was home, the only one he had ever known.

  He stood and walked to the tiny slit in the wall that served as a window and stared out across the dark shadowy wharves. Dim lights were flickering from across the estuary, beyond them dimmer lights. Jandari lights. He thought of its streets, its maze of alleys, its rooftops and gutted sewers. All suddenly seemed like a distant memory, lost but faintly recaptured in the furthest recesses of his mind. Had not the dancing girl been at his side he knew he would have cried.

  “You know,” he said, turning to her and looking sadly into her wide, pensive eyes, “once I leave, I can’t come back. Not now, not ever.”

  The girl suppressed a tiny squeal of pain. “Forget your life here, forget everything about this wretched city. Forget Kalimar and never think of it again.”

  Resting his back against the wall, he said, “And will I be able to forget you as well?”

  Her mouth opened, speechless. She pursed her trembling lips and gazed at him with distraught eyes.

  Then casting her own feelings aside, shying away from his gaze, she said, “Where will you go?”

  The thief shrugged, a bitter smile upon his lips. “What matter? I’ll be a man without a home, a land. Perhaps in the south—”

  “Across the desert?”

  “If I must. There are trade routes to be followed, caravans that cross beyond the borders. I’ve heard tales of the southern lands. They are said to be places where a soldier of fortune can be in great demand.”

  “Ramagar, no! To fight among some unknown army, to die in battle against some barbarian host, is that what you want?”

  “What choice do I have?” he countered. “Few cities will welcome a thief—especially one whose head has a price on it.” He looked back to his window, rested his arm on the sill, and frowned. He could almost make out the range of flat-topped craggy mountains hazy and distant along the horizon. “Perhaps I could go north,” he said. “Maybe reach the sea. I suppose I might find some captain in need of a pair of strong hands, and who won’t ask any names …”

  Mariana could no longer hide her feelings. She hung her head and took a few steps toward him. “I don’t care which way you decide,” she whispered through salted tears. “All I ask is that you take me with you, wherever it may be.”

  Ramagar stared, wide-eyed, “You want to come with me?”

  “Anywhere. Any place on earth. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you, beside you.”

  “But how can I take you? You know the risks as well as I. The roads from the city will be watched constantly, they’ll be expecting me to make a break for it. It’s going to take all my skill, all my luck, just to get past the city walls. If they catch me, it’ll mean my head. And if you’re with me, it will be your own as well.”

  “I don’t care!” cried the dancing girl. “I’ll not stay in Kalimar without you—not for a single day. I’ll follow you on my own if I have to, every step of the way!”

  Ramagar took her hand and brought her to him. Tilting her chin with his fingers, he kissed her gently. “I love you, Mariana. I want you to know and believe that. I always will. But no, I can’t take you with me. The dangers are just too great. I’ll not endanger your life because of me.”

  She pulled away from his grasp and bristled, eyes wetly flashing. “You men!” she seethed. “What do you know of dangers? A woman in the Jandari faces them every day of her life, time and time again.” The thief looked on in sheer amazement as Mariana’s face grew hard and her eyes so cold that he could feel the chill.

  “And what do you suppose will happen to me once you’re gone?” she snapped. “Be taken and forced into a brothel? Or shall I walk the streets at night like the other whores, selling myself for a few coppers to fat, pompous fools with purses that bulge like their bellies?”

  “Mariana! What are you saying?”

  She sneered at him. “Or shall I become the mistress of some soldier, only to be tossed aside like a rag when he’s done and given to any man in the barracks? Perhaps I can become someone’s wife—someone who wants me, like Oro—”

  Ramagar slammed a clenched fist against the wall. “Enough! I don’t want you to talk like that ever again!”

  Mariana smiled thinly, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips. “Well? Then what do you think will happen to me once you’re gone?”

  Her point was well made, he knew. Time and again he had pitied the fate of other attractive women unfortunate enough to have been born in a place as cruel and heartless as the Jandari. The very thought that Mariana—his Mariana—might someday have to share their fate left him anguished and sickened.

  “All right,” he said after a few moments’ thought. “Maybe I can figure out some way for us to escape together.” He looked at her seriously. “As long as you know the risks—and the penalty if we’re caught.”

  She bit her lip. “You mean that? Then I can come?”

  The thief of thieves nodded glumly, then was surprised as the girl threw her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, and smothered him with wet, joyful kisses. “You won’t regret this,” she vowed. “You’ll see. We’ll find a place for ourselves, a place together where no man, no soldiers, can ever frighten us agai
n.”

  He laughed and slapped her on the behind. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, though, we’ve got to find some way to get beyond the walls.” He turned from her and paced the floor, all the while nervously biting his lip and rubbing his hands together. Then he said, “Maybe if we can get word to Vlashi he can give us some help …”

  At the mention of the pickpocket’s name Mariana’s heart skipped a beat. “Vlashi!” she gasped, recalling the earlier event she had almost forgotten.

  Ramagar stopped in his tracks and glanced at her troubled face. His own features grew impassive as he said, “What is it, girl? What’s happened to Vlashi?”

  “He—he begged me to warn you—”

  “Warn me? About what? The soldiers?”

  She shook her head ruefully, cursing at herself for not telling him sooner about this new peril the thief faced. With the color draining from her cheeks, she said, “The beggar who owned the scimitar found Vlashi and hurt him. He threatened to kill him if Vlashi didn’t give it back.”

  Ramagar sighed, rubbed gently at the side of his face with an open palm. He shuddered to hear what was coming next, although he knew it to be as predictable as the sun after a summer thunderstorm.

  “Poor Vlashi was frightened out of his wits when I saw him,” continued the girl. “And I’m sure he didn’t understand what he was doing.” She glanced up to her lover’s face, seeking a reaction. Then abruptly she said, “Vlashi broke the code, Ramagar. He told, told the beggar everything there was to know. How he sold the scimitar to you—and just who you were.”

  This time when the thief slammed his fist the weak beams shook, dislodging a thin layer of dust that quickly descended over the floor. Ramagar clenched his teeth and did everything he could to control his temper. He should have known the pickpocket was untrustworthy, should have known that buying that cursed dagger was going to bring him ill fortune.

  He folded his arms and drew a deep breath of the stagnant air. “Did Vlashi give you a description of this beggar?” he asked.

  Mariana stared blankly. “No, he only said that the beggar was determined to find you at any cost—and that you had to be warned. He’s cunning, this beggar, Ramagar. He’s also eluded the Inquisitors. By now he might be anywhere in Kalimar, searching for you this very moment.”

  The thief grimaced and began to pace again. “I should have known,” he rasped. “What a fool I am! I should have known!”

  Mariana raised her brows inquisitively. “Known what?”

  Deep in thought, Ramagar leaned on the far wall and clenched his hands together, rubbing them in a slow, deliberate motion. “All day,” he said, “ever since I fled from your roof, I’ve had this uneasy feeling, like I was being watched or followed. And more than once, even after I fled from the Jandari and made my way to the wharves, I kept seeing this same beggar; keeping his distance from me to be sure, but it was the same man everywhere I went. At first I thought it only a bad case of nerves. After all, there must be ten thousand beggars in Kalimar. But now, now I’m beginning to wonder …”

  Mariana put a hand to her mouth. “Az’i! What if ‘I’ve helped lead him to you?” She looked around with a feeling of helplessness. “He could be here on the docks, in this very warehouse, waiting for us to show, biding his time.”

  Ramagar put a finger to her pale lips and smiled. “Shh. We’re safe enough. What harm can a single beggar do me, the thief of thieves?” He laughed caustically. “Today I’ve managed to fend off a full cohort of regent’s soldiers—what do I have to fear from a single beggar?”

  The girl was not put off by his taking the matter so lightly. She knew very well it was only his way of trying to put her own thoughts at ease, no easy task under the circumstances.

  “What shall we do?”

  He scratched at his beard. “We’ll have to think of a way to get out of Kalimar before worrying about other matters. Have you got any money?”

  The girl turned sideways, put a hand inside her blouse, and unpinned the tiny purse. “It’s everything I have,” she said, offering it to him. “Just a handful of coppers and a silver piece.”

  “More than enough,” replied the thief. “You hold onto it. And where’s the scimitar?”

  Mariana smiled. “Well tucked away under my skirt—where even you won’t get at it.”

  “As good a place as any, I should think,” he answered dryly. “Now what about us trying to get out of here? With any luck, we can be far away by daybreak.”

  Mariana began to pick at the loose straw clinging to her cloak and smoothed down her skirt with an open hand. Ramagar drew beside her, grinning, and put his arm around her shoulder. At that moment she felt all her fears begin to vanish. Of all the men she had ever met, in the Jandari and indeed in all of Kalimar, it was only this handsome rogue who could make her forget so many tears with but a single smile. What sorcery or magic he had she didn’t know, nor did she care. Being with Ramagar was all that mattered now, all that had ever mattered in her young life. She was more than willing to share any fate with him.

  “The first thing we have to do is get us some horses,” said the thief as he led her to the door.

  “Where? It’s the middle of the night. Besides, my few coins won’t nearly be enough to buy one, let alone two.”

  Ramagar grinned like a cat. “Then we’ll steal them—that is, if you don’t have any objections.”

  Mariana shrugged. “How you earn your living is no business of mine,” she observed merrily. But then she hesitated and cast her gaze to the ground. “There’s one thing, though, that I think I’d better tell you.”

  He cocked one eye. “Oh? What?”

  “I don’t know how to ride.”

  The thief of Kalimar groaned.

  6

  Hand in hand they ran from the warehouse and the courtyard, dancing among the shadows, following the path beside the endless rows of decrepit quays and abandoned storage sheds until at last they came to the ancient footbridge that spanned the estuary at its narrowest point. Aging wood creaked and moaned beneath their feet. Around them they could hear the gentle slapping of waves against the docks and the occasional faraway blast of a ship’s horn piercing the fog-shrouded night.

  In such tense moments the wily thief was at his best—every muscle taunt and strained, every sense fully alert, poised and prepared for unseen peril. With the night vision of a panther Ramagar led the dancing girl across the bridge. Where Mariana could see only shadows, he saw shapes and forms with animal clarity. But sometimes even a thief of thieves can err; and it would take only a single mistake to shatter all their hopes and dreams.

  Beneath the bridge itself he followed. Wading slowly through the muddy, shallow water, hunching low under the planks, he listened to every footstep above. The water was foul; filled with moss and clinging slime, crabs and jellyfish that swam between his legs and crawled in the mud each step of the way. But the cunning beggar gave no thought to these things, not even when his tender flesh felt the sting of claws tightening around his ankles. As the thief and the girl moved he matched them with every pace. When they paused, he paused, when they hurried, he hurried. In the silence of night they almost breathed together, each hunted, each hunting. The beggar’s eyes watched, his ears listened. And the smallest hint of a smile parted his lips. At last, he thought, at last his search was nearing its end. Soon the precious scimitar would be in his possession again—where it rightfully belonged—and he could continue his long journey anew.

  “This way,” whispered the thief, taking the girl by the arm and hurrying her onto land again. A berthed ship loomed high to their left, and Mariana glanced briefly at the tall, bared masts, the lonely silhouette of a sailor standing grimly at his post upon the quarterdeck.

  Ramagar adroitly slipped them back into the safety of the lumbering shadows. The fog was rolling in more quickly now, tumbling down across the water and dimming the scattered lanterns and torches set along the wharves. Ramagar smiled; the mist was an ally, and never
could one have come at a better time.

  Shadows merged and merged again; Mariana held her breath trying not to listen to the grisly sounds of the wind. Kalimarians were a superstitious people, and their lore was filled with tales and legends of strange happenings that befell the city on nights such as this. As the fog became denser she fancied that above the wild throbs of her heart she could hear these legends come to life; fiendish voices calling to her, laughing, taunting; the flutter of huge unseen wings that at any moment would swoop down from the starless sky and whisk both her and her lover away to some bottomless pit where the fires of hell raged and crackled with laughter at the chance of capturing yet another hapless soul.

  Such were her fears when Ramagar yanked her strongly and pulled her off her feet into a dark, deserted doorway.

  He put a finger to his lips to keep her from venting her fright, then pointed his hand to the unseen street. A few seconds later she heard the sound, dim at first but steadily growing louder. The harsh scraping of hooves slowing moving toward them. Soldiers! And she bit her lip so as not to cry out.

  Then there were voices, casual banter between the riders as they cautiously negotiated the tricky path. She strained to hear what they were saying.

  “… or cut off his balls,” one shouted, to the hilarity of his companions. Then something else was muttered among them, something she couldn’t hear, and their laughter became louder.

  Mariana was shaking. If only they would pass! If only time were speeded so she and Ramagar could run again, back to the shadows without being seen.

  It seemed like forever, but at last they were gone. The last of the hoofbeats faded into the night and her prayer had been answered. Her sweat-drenched hand closed on Ramagar’s own and they stole from their hiding place. Racing along the broken cobblestone, they dodged helter-skelter among the warehouses, once nearly tripping over a drunken sailor lying in the middle of the road, another time zigging and zagging at sharp angles to avoid the roving eyes of a well-armed night watchman.