THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) by Graham Diamond Page A
Authors: Graham Diamond
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stallion firmly in hand.
“I’m scared,” she said, as they prepared to ride.
“Not as scared as you’re going to be if we don’t manage to get out of the city. Anyway, you’ll get used to it. Just show her that you’re the one in control. Keep your body loose, try to sway with her as she runs.”
Mariana nodded.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Whenever you say—”
All of a sudden, they both looked up, startled. The stable doors had been flung open wide, and a sleepy-eyed servant stood staring at them, a small lantern dangling from his hands. And beside the servant stood two of the most vicious dogs that either of them had ever seen.
“Who are you?” demanded the servant in a shaky voice.
Ramagar whooped and slapped the mare and his stallion. Both horses bolted ahead. The servant wisely jumped to the side and rolled onto the grass as the horses thundered past. The hounds gave chase, yelping and snarling, barking at the top of their lungs, yapping at the horses’ heels. Lamps began to be fit in a dozen windows, and a great commotion started as others servants and soldiers came running, pants unbuttoned into the chilly night air.
“Stop them!” someone cried. “Don’t let them escape!” called another. “Bring them back!” chimed a third.
But it was too late; the unseen riders had long broken for the road, darting among the trees and well away from the palace and its environs. Soon even the dogs were left panting behind, exhausted and whimpering, uselessly continuing to bark sporadically after their prey. By the time the first group of soldiers rode from the gate, they could only scratch their heads in confusion, trying to figure out which of many ways the thieves might have gone. It made no difference though. The riders were too well along their way to be caught.
7
The sky was changing color from black to azure, violet, and plum, then suddenly blood-red pouring up from the corners of the horizon. Along the sandy road came the caravan, a kilometer-long procession of camels and packmules and donkeys, all worn and weary, all shuffling slowly under the weight of their burdens. Snorting and wheezing, they moved to the crack and the sting of the taskmaster’s whip and the shouts and whistles of the muleskinners until the time when the gates of Kalimar came into sight and the long journey was at an end.
The tradesmen lifted themselves from their wagons and beasts, and shook the dust from their flaming-colored robes, watching with sly eyes while the host of laborers unpacked their wares. It was then that the soldiers and inspectors came onto the scene. They assessed the wares and tallied the levies to be imposed, blindly misreading the scales at the feel of silver passing clandestinely into their palms.
While all this transpired the city began to awaken from the long night. As always, it was the sound of morning prayers cried from the minarets that brought most from their slumber. Soon the streets and bazaars would be crowded with the throngs crossing from one side of the river to the other. Most citizens would be completely oblivious to the numerous patrols of soldiers marching through the streets and guarding each of the Nine Gates. Most, that is, except for those who had something to fear, those whose escape meant the difference between life and death.
Mariana walked slowly and casually along the perimeter of the caravan. Unsought by the Inquisitors, she had passed through the gate with hardly a glance, although she was still careful to keep her gaze low and her veil high. Three times they had been thwarted in their plan. Three times! Alert guards posted at the road beside the Old Wall had signaled the alarm before their horses could even attempt to make the dangerous ride through. They had been forced to turn back, seek another route. But Ramagar’s next choice proved equally disastrous; dodging whistling arrows, they had barely made it away in time. Fortune in the shape of night had been with them,
“I’m scared,” she said, as they prepared to ride.
“Not as scared as you’re going to be if we don’t manage to get out of the city. Anyway, you’ll get used to it. Just show her that you’re the one in control. Keep your body loose, try to sway with her as she runs.”
Mariana nodded.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Whenever you say—”
All of a sudden, they both looked up, startled. The stable doors had been flung open wide, and a sleepy-eyed servant stood staring at them, a small lantern dangling from his hands. And beside the servant stood two of the most vicious dogs that either of them had ever seen.
“Who are you?” demanded the servant in a shaky voice.
Ramagar whooped and slapped the mare and his stallion. Both horses bolted ahead. The servant wisely jumped to the side and rolled onto the grass as the horses thundered past. The hounds gave chase, yelping and snarling, barking at the top of their lungs, yapping at the horses’ heels. Lamps began to be fit in a dozen windows, and a great commotion started as others servants and soldiers came running, pants unbuttoned into the chilly night air.
“Stop them!” someone cried. “Don’t let them escape!” called another. “Bring them back!” chimed a third.
But it was too late; the unseen riders had long broken for the road, darting among the trees and well away from the palace and its environs. Soon even the dogs were left panting behind, exhausted and whimpering, uselessly continuing to bark sporadically after their prey. By the time the first group of soldiers rode from the gate, they could only scratch their heads in confusion, trying to figure out which of many ways the thieves might have gone. It made no difference though. The riders were too well along their way to be caught.
7
The sky was changing color from black to azure, violet, and plum, then suddenly blood-red pouring up from the corners of the horizon. Along the sandy road came the caravan, a kilometer-long procession of camels and packmules and donkeys, all worn and weary, all shuffling slowly under the weight of their burdens. Snorting and wheezing, they moved to the crack and the sting of the taskmaster’s whip and the shouts and whistles of the muleskinners until the time when the gates of Kalimar came into sight and the long journey was at an end.
The tradesmen lifted themselves from their wagons and beasts, and shook the dust from their flaming-colored robes, watching with sly eyes while the host of laborers unpacked their wares. It was then that the soldiers and inspectors came onto the scene. They assessed the wares and tallied the levies to be imposed, blindly misreading the scales at the feel of silver passing clandestinely into their palms.
While all this transpired the city began to awaken from the long night. As always, it was the sound of morning prayers cried from the minarets that brought most from their slumber. Soon the streets and bazaars would be crowded with the throngs crossing from one side of the river to the other. Most citizens would be completely oblivious to the numerous patrols of soldiers marching through the streets and guarding each of the Nine Gates. Most, that is, except for those who had something to fear, those whose escape meant the difference between life and death.
Mariana walked slowly and casually along the perimeter of the caravan. Unsought by the Inquisitors, she had passed through the gate with hardly a glance, although she was still careful to keep her gaze low and her veil high. Three times they had been thwarted in their plan. Three times! Alert guards posted at the road beside the Old Wall had signaled the alarm before their horses could even attempt to make the dangerous ride through. They had been forced to turn back, seek another route. But Ramagar’s next choice proved equally disastrous; dodging whistling arrows, they had barely made it away in time. Fortune in the shape of night had been with them,
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