Working God's Mischief Read Online Free PDF

was, to most Pramans, the Adversary incarnate.
    Nassim asked, “Again, anything useful concerning his itinerary?”
    â€œAs I said. He has to follow the roads, from water to water.”
    *   *   *
    Few secrets survived long in the Holy Lands. Whatever anyone did, it would be seen and talked about by people who had nothing invested. Most natives saw not only the crusaders but the Faithful as invaders, adventurers, and oppressors. They helped when compelled, or paid, but opted out of the struggles otherwise.
    News of Black Rogert’s return spread faster than the plague. Du Tancret was an object of universal loathing.
    No one passed the word when small bands of Lucidians slipped through the wilderness, leading heavily laden camels. Not to the crusaders or Brotherhood of War.
    *   *   *
    Rogert du Tancret believed himself safe in the shade of the protective umbrella of the Crusader States. His party constituted a small army. He had riders out front and trailing. That was necessary even in peacetime. But his flankers were not out as far as they ought to have been.
    Du Tancret had a remarkable sense for personal danger. He had been accused of having one foot inside the Night, on its darkest side.
    He had been uneasy for hours.
    Two hundred screaming Lucidians swarmed from amongst tumbled boulders, following arrows and long lances. Once the lances broke, sabers came out. But these attackers were not interested in a stand-up fight. They wanted to do all the damage they could, quickly, especially among the knights. Then they would flee.
    Their pursuers chased them into a defile where they turned and fought but fell back under pressure from du Tancret’s followers.
    Then Nassim Alizarin’s falcons ripped swaths through the invaders.
    Black Rogert reined his people in. His enemies would try to lead him into further traps. He would not fall for that again. He abandoned his dead and some of his wounded and resumed travel.
    *   *   *
    Nassim asked, “Did anyone even get close?”
    Several men claimed to have seen their arrows strike Black Rogert’s shield. None had gotten near enough to ply lance or saber. Mohkam said, “And it wasn’t like anybody made an effort to protect him.”
    Al-Azer er-Selim grumbled, “They love him no more than we do. He is truly beloved of the Night.”
    Nassim asked al-Azer, his Master of Ghosts, “What did you try?”
    â€œI concentrated on his horse. It didn’t respond.”
    Old Bone snarled, “He’s the Adversary’s little brother.”
    Not a new proposal. Du Tancret obviously enjoyed unnatural luck.
    Mohkam said, “The men report killing seventeen and wounding thirty. After factoring for exaggeration. The truth could be more optimistic.”
    Nassim growled, “Not as good as I’d hoped.”
    â€œThey didn’t panic.”
    â€œAnd I was expecting that.” Had the Crusaders taken to their heels there would have been a grand slaughter.
    Nassim said, “Send a patrol back. Tell them to look for a casualty in good enough shape to be questioned.”
    Al-Azer observed, “Let’s count ourselves lucky that Black Rogert doesn’t waste time burying his dead.”
    â€œWhich will win him more enemies.”
    Nassim paced the crusaders, right or left, wherever he could raise the most dust. He launched nuisance attacks. He resisted calls to poison the wells along the way. He did not want the enmity of locals who depended on those same sources of water.
    The crusaders reached Gherig having suffered fewer losses than the Mountain had hoped to gift them.
    *   *   *
    Nassim returned to Tel Moussa. There had been news from Dreanger. A huge battle had been shaping up in the desert west of the Shirne, near a village called Patel.
    That news was a week old. Nothing further had been heard.

 
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