The Djinn by J. Kent Holloway Page B

physician said as he walked up to Gregory and the
worried knight.
    The baron
nodded as relief flooded his body. At least his concerns over William’s man
could now be laid to rest. His whereabouts was now accounted for.
    Al-Dula came to
Gregory, leaned in close, and whispered, “I’m not sure what is going on here,
Baron, but there is too much at stake to allow such incompetence in your
ranks.”
    “Don’t you
think I know that?”
    “I’m not sure
you do. You have not done well against this spirit that haunts you. Now, you
allow this man’s squire to wander off unhindered into your treasure vault.”
    “I can assure
you, Al-Dula, everything is under control.”
    The Saracen
warlord grabbed Gregory by the collar and pulled him to his face. Fire burned
in his eyes as he glared at the baron.
    “Listen to me,
little man,” Al-Dula hissed. “We had a deal. The price for helping you find the
Vault was that you would provide me the means to do away with the Sultan once
and for all. An army of golems could do just that. There is simply too much at
stake to—”
    His words were
cut off by the sound of scuffling feet and a cry of pain in the passage that
Gerard had entered. Several seconds later, the mercenary walked out from the
dark, holding Samuel by the scruff of the neck.
    “I found him
marking the walls with this,” said Gerard, shoving Samuel to the ground and
holding up a strange writing instrument. “He was leaving some kind of secret
message to someone.”
    Gregory slapped
Al- Dula’s hands away from his tunic and stepped
toward Samuel’s prone form. They had been infiltrated. Somehow, the Djinn had
bewitched the whelp…the baron was sure of it. Kicking the squire in the gut,
Gregory spun around and walked toward the tunnel that led back to the entrance.
    “This meeting
is over, gentleman,” the baron said. “Gerard, take the traitor to the dungeon
and prepare him for questioning. We will continue this tour of the treasure
vault when I have the answers I seek.”
    Horatio hurried
over to his injured cousin and lifted him to his feet, but Gerard pushed him
away.
    “He’s mine
now,” the mercenary said with a malicious smile.

9

 
    “Horatio! Come in, come in,” said the familiar voice of
William De L’Ombre from behind the beautiful, red
velvet curtains.
    The knight
hesitated, struggling to prepare himself for what awaited him upon entering his
old friend’s parlor. He had not seen William in years—not since before he was
taken prisoner and came to live with Samir ibn Nassad , the sheik who had taken such a liking to him that
he made him officially an heir to his title and fortune. He’d not seen him
since before he had contracted that horrid disease.
    Horatio
shuddered at the thought. It was just so difficult to accept. William had
always been so strong, so vibrant. And while he was by no means the biggest and
strongest of the knights, he had always been the most courageous and…Horatio
sighed at the next thought…loyal.
    Yes. William
had always been loyal to a fault. Something that Horatio knew could not be said
about himself. It had been because of him that William had been injured and
captured in the first place. It had been because Horatio had been flung from
his injured horse…because he had lain helplessly immobile on the battlefield,
his fallen horse pinning his legs, that his good and loyal friend had turned around to save him. It had been because of
him that William had suffered such disgrace by the other gentry in Jerusalem.
    And what had
Horatio done to repay him? Nothing at all. Not once
had he ever come to William’s chateau to check on him. Not one single time had
he visited, seeking to discover the truth behind what the others were saying. He hadn’t even bothered to come when the sheik and
his other sons—William’s own adopted brothers—had been massacred by Gregory’s
mercenary army.
    No, Horatio
didn’t know the meaning of the word loyalty. Only now, when his