Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

“You’re wrong,” said Jebel. “My people know all about the gods, how the world was created, what’s wrong and what’s right. If you studied our beliefs, you’d know it all too.”

“But the Um Kheshabah have studied them,” Tel Hesani said. “We seek answers from all the people of Makhras. We believe that each race holds part of the overall puzzle. Only through sharing can we draw closer to the truth. That’s why we don’t hate the Um Aineh, despite all that they have done to our nation over the years. We need you, just as you need us.”

“How dare you!” Jebel exploded. “We don’t need you. The Um Aineh don’t need anybody, certainly not the slaves of Abu Kheshabah. I should whip the skin from your bones for saying such a thing.”

“But you won’t,” Tel Hesani said calmly. “If you did, the Um Siq would kill you. You see, you do need me, just as I need you to free my wife and children. We are bound as all men are, and only a fool hates those upon whom he relies.”

With an angry snort, Jebel turned his back on the Khazneh and stalked off. He heard Tel Hesani following and would have liked to tell the infuriating slave to leave him alone. But he couldn’t, because it was true — Jebel did need Tel Hesani. At least until they got to Tubaygat. After that… The boy smiled grimly. He would teach the slave a costly lesson about need then!

The regiment left the next day, taking the northern branch of the siq out of the city. Qattar and Ramman came to the exit with Jebel and Tel Hesani and thanked them one last time for returning their daughter’s head. They provided the questers with dried meat and thick coats made from the hide of an animal Jebel didn’t recognize.

“Move swiftly through Abu Saga,” Qattar advised. “The Um Saga enslave many travelers and send them to work down mines.”

“We’ll be careful,” Tel Hesani vowed.

“I hope we meet again,” said Ramman.

“I do too,” Tel Hesani said, then added beneath his breath, “although I fear it won’t be in this world.”

The siq ranged higher in the north than in the south, rising steeply until they were soon marching over the mountains, not beneath them. The peaks still towered overhead, but Jebel and Tel Hesani no longer felt as if they were crawling through the bowels of Makhras.

It was colder up here, and the rocks were dark and hard. The path was less accessible, and they often had to clamber over boulders and in some sections climb cliffs. It was tiring work, and even the Um Siq found the going difficult.

They marched late into the night before stopping. When Jebel rose in the morning, he was shivering, and the chill remained as the march resumed. He was sweating heavily beneath his warm layers. Tel Hesani noted the boy’s discomfort and insisted on examining him when they stopped for a break.

“It’s not serious,” he said, having held the back of his hand to Jebel’s forehead, examined his throat, and taken his pulse. “But you’ll need to rest for a few days, somewhere warm.”

Tel Hesani had planned to cut west after the siq, journey with the soldiers to the al-Attieg gorge, then follow the as-Sudat north. But now he revised his plans. “We’ll go to Jedir,” he said. “It’s not far once we exit the siq, and there are inns where we can stay until you improve.”

“As you wish,” Jebel sniffed, not worrying about the dangers they might face by branching out on their own. But if either had known of the fate awaiting them in Jedir, they would have pushed straight on west and taken their chances with a dozen deadly fevers.

Jedir was a small town less than a day’s walk from the mouth of the siq. Tel Hesani led Jebel there once they’d parted company with the soldiers. Jebel was shivering and sweating even worse than before, but Tel Hesani wasn’t overly worried. He was more concerned with the conditions in Jedir. The Um Saga were generally hostile to foreigners and quick to enslave stragglers, so he knew they would need a good story to stave off the interest of those who would otherwise view the pair as easy pickings.

They made slow progress and arrived at Jedir a couple of hours after sunset. It was a square, walled town. Entrances were set in each corner, where suspicious guards judged visitors from a platform overlooking the gates. If they disapproved of those who presented themselves, there was a pot of scalding oil close by to tip over the unfortunates beneath.

The guard who addressed Jebel and Tel Hesani was covered from head to foot in thick furs, and only a small area of his face was visible. He called out to them in his native tongue, a challenge to state their business.

“We do not speak your language,” Tel Hesani replied.

The guard rolled his eyes, then stepped back as one of the men with him moved forward. “Who you?” the second guard bellowed. “Where from?”

“We’re Um Aineh traders,” Tel Hesani said, knowing they’d stand no chance if he admitted to his true nationality — the Um Saga thought even less of slaves than Jebel’s people did. “We’ve come from Abu Siq. We want to spend a few days here, make contacts, and establish business links.”

“Came through the siq?” the guard roared. “I not believe!”

Tel Hesani shrugged. “Believe what you want. But if you turn us away, you’ll have to explain your decision to your superiors when the rest of our party turns up and inquires as to our whereabouts.”

“Not travel alone?” asked the guard.

“Of course not,” Tel Hesani snorted. “We’re part of a large trading party. The rest are coming by river. We only came by land because we wanted to check out the path between the mountains.”

The guard had his doubts — this pair didn’t look like traders — but if they truly had come through Abu Siq, they weren’t to be lightly dismissed. He barked an order for the gate to be raised. Tel Hesani didn’t thank him, only nudged Jebel forward before the guard changed his mind.

Jedir was a cramped, messy town. The houses pressed tightly together, cutting out all but a sliver of light from the moon. The people were surly, hard-faced, wary of strangers. They didn’t see many unfamiliar faces here. The town was off the main trading routes. There had once been a tin mine nearby, but that had run dry years ago. The town was maintained purely because it was useful to have a post this close to the siq so that the Um Siq could be spied upon.

There wasn’t a great choice of inns. The first two they passed were foul. The third had no vacancies. The fourth, according to an old crone squatting outside, was the best in Jedir, the place favored by wealthier traders. Tel Hesani tipped her a small silver swagah, then entered with Jebel. They made their way to the bar, and the Um Kheshabah asked about a room. The barman didn’t speak their language but gathered their intent. With hand gestures he set a price — six silver swagah for the night. Tel Hesani haggled him down to four, then led Jebel upstairs.

The room was on the top floor of the inn. It was basic — rugs laid on straw for a bed, one rickety chair by a tiny window — but cleaner than Tel Hesani had dared hope. He told Jebel to lie on the bed and remove his clothes, then examined the boy’s chest. Jebel was coughing miserably, but there were no signs of a dangerous infection.

“You’ll be fine,” Tel Hesani said. “You’re just not used to the cold and damp. With rest and warmth, you will make a full recovery.”

“I feel terrible,” Jebel moaned. “Why aren’t you sick too?”

“I have traveled widely. I am accustomed to changes in the weather.”

“It’s not fair,” Jebel sniffed. “You’re the slave. You should be suffering, not me.”