"Under control."

"Do we really dare try Al Rhemish with just the Invincibles?"

"We can try anything. It would be a bold stroke. Unexpected. I don't think a move that way will complicate the eastern situation. It's winding down there. I had Karim take over. He'll subdue the Throyens. They were ready to talk when I left. A few weeks of Karim's attentions and they'll accept any terms. And El-Kader has shattered the last resistance at the south end of the littoral. El Nadim will hold Sebil el Selib. With Yousif gone there will be no trouble out of el Aswad."

The Disciple sighed. "Finally. After all those years. Why did Yousif run, Nassef?"

That was the critical question. "I wish I knew. It keeps me wondering what he has up his sleeve. Yes. We'll try for Al Rhemish. It's worth a try even if it doesn't work. It'll be a spoiling raid if nothing else. Yousif will be more dangerous there than he was at el Aswad, where his resources were limited."

El Murid still carried Yousif's taunting note. He studied it for the hundredth time, fixed though every word was in his memory.

"My dear Micah," he read aloud, "Circumstances compel me to be away from my home temporarily. I beg to leave it in your curatorship, knowing you will attend it carefully in my absence. Do feel free to enjoy its luxuries during your stay. May you anticipate all your tomorrows with as much eagerness as I anticipate mine.

"Your Obedient Servant, Yousif Allaf Sayed, Wahlig of el Aswad."

"Still a mystery to me," Nassef said.

"He's mocking us, Nassef. He's telling us he knows a secret."

"Or Radetic wants us to think he does."

"Radetic?"

"The foreigner must have composed that. Yousif isn't that subtle. It smells like a sneaky bluff."

"Maybe."

"Let's not play his game. Forget the message. In Al Rhemish he can whisper the words of the Evil One directly into the King's ear. He can gather the Royalist strength against us."

"Yes. Of course. We must do as the angel says, and strike hard, now, at the very nest of the vipers."

"Whatever his reasons, Lord, I think Yousif made a mistake. Without him to block the road I don't think the Royalists can stop us. As long as we don't meet them head-on, in a test of strength. They retain the advantages they had at Wadi el Kuf."

"Gather the rest of the Invincibles. This year in Al Rhemish for Disharhun."

"It will be a delight, Lord. I'll begin now. Give my love to Meryem and the children."

El Murid sat silently and alone till long after Nassef's departure. The critical hour was at hand. He had to wrest the most from it. His angel had suggested that the resolution of many troubles lay in the taking of Al Rhemish. And he had begun to get a glimmering of what could be done.

"Hadj."

"My Lord?"

"Find Mowaffak Hali. Bring him to me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"My Lord Disciple?" Hali asked as he approached. "You wanted me?"

"I have news for you, Mowaffak. And a task."

"At your command, Lord."

"I know. Thank you. Especially for your patience while it was necessary that the Scourge of God direct the blades of the Invincibles."

"We tried to understand the need, Lord."

"You saw the light on the mountain?"

"I did, Lord. You spoke with the angel?"

"Yes. He told me it's time the Invincibles liberated the Most Holy Mrazkim Shrines."

"Ah. Then the Kingdom of Peace is at hand."

"Almost. Mowaffak, it seems to me that worldly elements crept into the Invincibles during my brother's tenure. Perhaps this is our opportunity to expunge those. The fighting at Al Rhemish will be bitter. Many Invincibles will perish. If those who are the most trustworthy are elsewhere, on a secret mission... "

He said no more. Mowaffak understood. He wore one of the cruelest smiles the Disciple had ever seen.

"I see. What would that mission be, Lord?"

"Use your imagination. Choose your men and inform me of the nature of the task I've assigned you. And we'll celebrate Disharhun in Al Rhemish."

Hali kept smiling. "It shall be as you command, Lord."

"Peace be with you, Mowaffak."

"And with you, Lord." Hali departed. He walked taller than El Murid had seen in some time.

After a time, the Disciple called softly, "Hadj."

"Lord?"

"Find the physician. I need him."

"Lord?"

"The mountain was too much for me. The pain... I need him."

The physician appeared almost immediately. He had been sleeping, and had clothed himself hastily and sloppily. "My Lord?" He did not look happy.

"Esmat, I'm in pain. Terrible pain. My ankle. My arm. My joints. Give me something."

"My Lord, it's that curse. You need to have the curse removed. A philter wouldn't be wise. I've given you too many opiates lately. You're running a risk of addiction."

"Don't argue with me, Esmat. I can't cope with my responsibilities if I'm continuously preoccupied with pain."

Esmat relented. He was not a strong man.

El Murid leaned back and let himself drift in the warm, womblike security of the narcotic.

Someday he would have to find a physician who could outwit his injuries and the curse of the Wahlig's brat. The pain bouts came every day now, and Esmat's dosages had more and more difficulty banishing them.

The desert was vast and lonely, just as it had been during the advance on Sebil el Selib so long ago, and as it had been during the desperate flight from Wadi el Kuf. It seemed to have lost its usual natural indifference, to have become actively hostile. But El Murid refused to be daunted. He enjoyed the passage, seeing whole new vistas, wild new beauties.

It was a matter of years no more. Just days remained. Hours and days, and the Kingdom of Peace would become a reality. In hours and days he could turn his mind to his true mission, the resurrection of the Empire, the reunification of the lands of yore in the Faith.

The days and hours of the infidel were numbered. Those sons of the Evil One were doomed. The Dark One's long ascendancy was about to end.

Rising excitement made a new man of him. He became more outgoing. He bustled here and there, chattering, fussing, joking with the Invincibles. Meryem complained that he was destroying his sublime image.

He began to recognize landmarks seen years ago.

The bowl-shaped valley was nearby. And not a soul had challenged them. The angel had been right. And Nassef had been as competent as ever, slipping them past Royalist pickets as if they were an army of ghosts.

He laughed delightedly when he glimpsed the spires of the Shrines from the lip of the valley, standing like towers of silver in the moonlight.

The hour had come. The Kingdom was at hand. "Thank you, Yousif," he whispered. "You outfoxed yourself this time."