John Schettler - Nexus Point

“What’s happening?” he asked, his eyes instinctively searching the darkness for signs of hidden danger.

“The Sami’s men are moving tonight. A severed head was planted in the courtyard moments ago. It is a sign of evil. There is no time to explain, but we must go—and with great haste. Follow me, Do-Rahlan. It will be dark, and you will not know the way. Here, hold fast to the sash of my robe, and stay close. Move as quietly as you can. Come!”

Jabr led the way to the far end of the room and through a low stone arch there. It was the same passage that they had taken the previous morning on the way up to the Kadi’s council chambers, and the same two dour guards were waiting silently in the shadows as they passed the gate. This time they bent right to another landing where the stairs fell in a steep descent. As before, one of the guards took the van, drawn sword in hand. Jabr and Paul followed after, and then the last guard trailed in their wake.

The winding stone stair seemed interminable. Along the way he was dogged by the feeling of urgency that seemed to infect Jabr and the two guards. Then an odd thing happened. About half way down, by Paul’s reckoning, he heard the shuffling of other footsteps behind them. He strained to see, but the lighting was very poor here, and he could not make out what the commotion was before the sour faced guard came up from behind to nudge him on. Jabr had noticed his hesitation, and pleaded with him to hurry on, clearly worried. Paul’s legs ached by the time they halted at the bottom. It was a small Donjon, sturdily built with heavy mortared bricks and a low arch formed from wedges of coarsely hewn stone. The atmosphere of the place had a musty, muggy feeling, and he could see the gleaming trails of water seeping through cracks in the walls, and greenish moss on the stonework.

“Hold on,” he said. “Where are you taking me?”

Jabr gave him a wide-eyed glance, his finger covering his mouth to indicate silence. “We must be very cautious now,” he whispered. “We must move you to a new location, a hidden chamber. I will explain later.”

That’s done it, Paul thought. There was some unresolved argument between the Sami and the Kadi, and now he was being moved. He began to realize, with a sinking feeling, that he was probably a hostage after all. The two sides were just quarreling over his fate. Perhaps the argument was over whether he should be kept alive as a propaganda tool, or killed outright, like many Westerners had been slain at the hands of Muslim radicals in recent years. The only hope he held was the notion that this group seemed to want him alive.

He hurried on, through the low arch and down a long circuitous underground route that eventually ended in a black iron gate. Jabr produced a key, and the gate grated open. “I regret that our accommodations will not be so comfortable now,” he said, gesturing for Paul to pass through.

The gate opened to a small portal chamber with a similar gate on the far wall. The outermost opening was supported by massive basalt lintels, dark with age and wear. Once inside Paul was surprised at Jabr’s next statement. “I must ask you to undress,” he said hurriedly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Please, there is very little time. You must change clothing.” One of the guards tramped in with an armful of dull brown burlap.

“As you wish,” said Paul, feeling very uncomfortable about this situation. “What about the clothes I was wearing when I arrived?” He suddenly realized that he had his wallet, money, keys and other personal effects with him that had gone missing.”

“I’m very sorry,” Jabr said quickly. “They were all destroyed by fire. It is customary when anyone comes through the well. Please, we must hurry.”

Paul didn’t like the sound of that. Now there would be no easy way he could identify himself to the authorities if he ever obtained his freedom. He wondered if they meant to kill him here and now. Were they merely reclaiming the finery he had been dressed in so they could dispose of his body in these rags? He took up the garment, unhappy to see how it was soiled and muddied, as though only recently cast off by a traveler on the road. Was this to be his burial gown? Resigned, he undid the woven sash at his waist, and moments later he was tying off the new robe, if it could be called such, with a simple twine rope.

“The hood,” said Jabr. “Please cover your head.”

Paul reached back to pull the drooping hood up onto his head, realizing that he must look like a cloistered monk in these heavy brown robes.

Jabr squinted at him. “That will do. Be careful not to show your face. We must move quickly now.”

It comforted Paul to see that both the guards, and Jabr himself were changing into similar garb. It was now evident that they meant to secret him away from the castle, and they seemed in a great hurry.

“Alas,” Jabr forced a smile. “Samirah was nearly turned by the Sami. I think she meant to poison you tonight, or at least she was pressed to that deed by some great fear. I am sorry to have burst in upon you in such an unseemly manner, but if you had taken the cup from her hand I think your sleep would have been very dark. Sadly, you will not enjoy her company tonight. Before you count your losses, consider that your life may be gained by this move. Things did not go well with the Sami. The severed head is an ill omen. His men are afoot in the castle and there may be bloodshed soon. The Kadi has ordered me to secure your life, but the next few hours will be critical. Another will lie in your place, dressed in your robes, and carry out the ruse that you are still in your quarters as before. I do not envy him. Come, we must make haste!”

The guards pushed open the outer gate and they passed through to emerge at the stony edge of a steep precipice. As his eyes adjusted Paul soon saw a narrow path winding down into a cloven gully, lit by a low setting moon, and partially obscured by the hills. The whole setting was overshadowed by the brooding prominence of a great castle that had been built on a high limestone hill. The walls leapt up from this point, as if they had grown from the sheer cliffs about them. The tawny stones were scored with the weathering of wind and occasional rain, yet they seemed impregnable—a massive fortress of brick and rock spiking up into a gray-black sky.

Paul realized that their long descent had taken them below the level of his original quarters. Apparently the castle builders had exploited many natural crevices and hollows to delve out a series of underground passageways and vaults beneath the rugged limestone elevation.

“Follow quickly,” said Jabr. “Keep to the shadows. The way may be open for a time, yet we must be very careful. I do not think that the Sami could to spy us out in this light, even from the Eyrie of Sinan, but he will certainly have watchers on the outer towers. This way is seldom used, and not easily seen from above. We must reach the chamber of hiding before the Sami realizes you are gone.”

So much for drifting to this place on the underground river, thought Paul. He was on a high range of coastal mountains, and the terrain about them looked nothing like Wadi Rumm. How could he have reached this promontory height from an underground cavern? Think now, he told himself, you must have been driven here while unconscious. He was very confused, but pressed by the immediacy of the danger.

There was now little doubt in his mind that the Sami had argued for his death in the council that morning. He probably meant to stab him or cut his throat, but something stopped the man when he approached. Perhaps he could not risk such an obvious act of defiance in the presence of the Kadi. Paul thought of Samirah and the decoy that would take his place in the room where he had been quartered. He wondered what would happen to the girl if Jabr’s suspicions about her complicity in the plot proved true. The subtle clues began to mount up in his mind, and he understood why she seemed so upset. The porcelain cup had been filled with a lethal agent. She had been ordered to poison him! Yet, though her fear compelled her to obey, and pour the dark liqueur for him as before, something else happened there. She dashed the cup away, protecting him on an impulse. He must tell Jabr that Samirah should not be harmed.