Part 29 (2/2)

The rider had disappeared.

Afraid to turn back, Nur Rahman ran on, sweating beneath his chaderi, aware of people's curiosity at the sight of a woman alone, praying that no one would stop and question him, that no one would offer him help.

He stopped for tea near the Pul-e-Khishti and drank rapidly, hidden in a doorway. He would wait for the man here, he decided, for sooner or later, everyone in Kabul pa.s.sed over the bridge.

”Oh, Allah,” he whispered, ”please let the lady's stranger return on his gray horse before it is too late.”

Tomorrow she would march with Aminullah's kafila. He had promised Muns.h.i.+ Sahib not to leave her...

Two hours later, he still waited in his doorway, his feet numb, his eyes on the traffic crossing the bridge. On the right bank of the Kabul River, the sellers of silver ornaments had boarded up their shops. Oil lamps and fires lit the approaching night. Groups of armed men talked among themselves as they crossed the river and moved in groups toward the cantonment.

As the sunset call to prayer rang out, Nur Rahman looked up, and sucked in his breath. Twenty yards away, a man in a brown-shawl turban rode through the fading light, across the teeming bridge.

There was something about him...

But what was the color of his horse?

The crowd parted. A proud, silver-gray horse's head appeared, then vanished again.

Nur Rahman leapt to his feet and began to run.

He forced himself through the crowd, ignoring the surprised glances as he elbowed his way past loaded coolies and gangs of small boys, struggling all the while to keep his eye on his quarry.

Across the bridge at last, he peered eagerly into the crowd.

The man and his horse had vanished into the city.

Sagging with exhaustion and disappointment, Nur Rahman turned into the Char Chatta Bazaar and followed it to its end, ignoring the smell of kababs cooking over hot coals and the lamplight that changed the bazaar into a tunnel of mysteries as the afternoon faded.

After two more turns, he was deep in the labyrinth of the old city, hurrying past its closed-up shops, avoiding puddles of dirty, melted snow, grateful to have come so far without drawing attention.

He stopped at last, raised his closed fists, and pounded on a high wooden door with a heavy lintel. After the bolt groaned and the door creaked open, he stepped over the threshold and into Haji Khan's courtyard, then stood still.

Tethered to the courtyard's lone tree stood a silver-gray horse.

The boy gestured silently toward Haji Khan's room. The old gatekeeper nodded.

Haji Khan's chamber looked the same as it had when Nur Rahman had left it that morning, down to the nightingale in its cage on a low table beside the blind man's platform.

The room was warmed by a small brazier of well-burnt coals that did little to dispel the chill. Nur Rahman could see his breath as he crouched beside the door.

A dozen men sat facing Haji Khan, their backs to him. Seven of them wore turbans. Muns.h.i.+ Sahib, of course, wore his golden qaraquli hat.

Only one man wore a brown turban fas.h.i.+oned from an expensive Kashmir shawl.

”After I found I could not enter the cantonment,” he was saying, ”I spoke to hawkers of food along the road. None of them had seen a lady of her description leave its gates.”

He sounded worn and disappointed. Nur Rahman held his breath and leaned forward.

”They did not see her, my dear Ha.s.san,” Muns.h.i.+ Sahib replied gently, ”because she was wearing a chaderi when she left the British fort. She is now under the protection of Aminullah Khan. It was only yesterday that we learned of her escape.”

My dear Ha.s.san? Nur Rahman craned to see the man's face. He seemed to know everyone... Nur Rahman craned to see the man's face. He seemed to know everyone...

”A brave, resourceful action.” A white-bearded man nodded approvingly. ”An action worthy of our own women.”

The man called Ha.s.san hunched his shoulders. ”But has he taken her out of Kabul?” he asked tensely. ”Does anyone know where she is?”

Nur Rahman could wait no longer. ”May peace be upon you, Haji Khan,” he interrupted.

Everyone turned to look at him. All but one man registered surprise at the sight of him in his chaderi. From his place on the carpet, Muns.h.i.+ Sahib lifted an encouraging hand.

The blind man raised his chin. ”And peace upon you, my child,” he returned. ”On what errand have you come?”

”I am searching,” Nur Rahman announced, already certain what the reply would be, ”for the owner of the gray horse that is tethered outside.”

The man in the brown turban frowned. ”The horse is mine,” he said.

The boy reached into his pocket and withdrew the gold medallion on its delicate chain. ”In that case,” he said, savoring the drama of the moment, ”I have something to give you.”

THAT EVENING, in General Elphinstone's drawing room, Brigadier Shelton glared at his Commander in Chief. ”Of course course we can trust Akbar Khan,” he barked. ”He has signed the treaty with us, hasn't he? He has promised us safe pa.s.sage to Peshawar, hasn't he? What else could we possibly ask for?” we can trust Akbar Khan,” he barked. ”He has signed the treaty with us, hasn't he? He has promised us safe pa.s.sage to Peshawar, hasn't he? What else could we possibly ask for?”

Charles Mott squared his shoulders. ”And in return,” he observed, ”we have promised him all our treasure, and seven of our guns. I call that a very generous offer to the man who murdered my uncle.”

”What right have you to call it anything,” snapped Shelton, ”when your own superior has run away?” run away?”

”He has not not run away, Brigadier.” Mott lifted his chin. ”As I have already reported, he has been detained by the same chief who abducted his niece.” run away, Brigadier.” Mott lifted his chin. ”As I have already reported, he has been detained by the same chief who abducted his niece.”

He dropped his gaze from Shelton's.

Shelton shrugged an armless shoulder. ”I could not care less about either of them, Mr. Mott. In any case, Akbar has told us a dozen times that he had nothing to do with the Envoy's murder. He has wept over it for hours.”

”He may have wept,” General Elphinstone said weakly from his place beside the fire, ”but nonetheless, I fear he has been false to us. One of our officers has been warned that ten thousand tribesmen are already waiting for our column at Khurd-Kabul, and another ten thousand at Surkhab.”

”And all in spite of Akbar's promise of protection and plenty of food for the journey?” Shelton insisted, his voice rising.

”I call that a clever move, not a promise,” Mott replied doggedly. ”Now, if we attempt to protect ourselves or provide our own food, it will show our lack of faith in him. If we do nothing, we may find he has deceived us.”

”A clever move, you call it?” sneered the brigadier.

”I do, since I am the intelligence officer in this room.”

”There is another point to be made,” Lady Sale's son-in-law put in, his scarred face contracting painfully as he spoke. ”The entrance to the cantonment is too narrow for our force to move out with the proper speed. I suggest we throw down our eastern rampart and create a forty-foot breach in the wall.”

”But,” objected General Elphinstone, ”if we open such a large breach, then who is to defend it?”

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