The Thin Executioner. Даррен Шэн

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СКАЧАТЬ him when the stench of burning flesh tickled the inside of his nostrils.

      Jebel fell away from the high lord, clutching his arm to his chest, squeezing the flesh above the mark left by the brand, trying to cut off the pain. It was far worse than he’d anticipated.

      “Show me your arm.” Wadi Alg examined the brand. It was an ugly red colour, but the lines were solid — a coiled, fiery cobra. “While you live, this will be your proudest mark,” the high lord said and he sounded almost envious. “Very few have the courage to quest to Tubaygat. Even if you fail, you can be proud of the choice you have made. All who see this brand will know you are a true um Wadi, and your family will boast of you from this day forward.”

      Jebel took comfort in the high lord’s words. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he wiped sweat from his forehead. “Thank you for making it a clean brand, my lord,” he croaked. If the mark had come out smudged, he would have had to be branded again.

      “I’ve had lots of practice,” Wadi Alg laughed, then slapped Jebel’s back and guided him to the door. “Come, let us prepare for your departure. You must leave Wadi immediately. Your quest starts now, Jebel Rum!”

      SIX

      Debbat didn’t believe Jebel would go through with it until she saw the brand. She was sure that he would back out at the last moment, and had prepared a number of insults to hurl after him as he fled the palace like a whipped dog. But when the boy staggered out of the hall of quests, shaken but upright, she realised this was for real, that he was truly going to quest in her name.

      Debbat’s heart beat fast and her eyes twinkled. She almost raced forward and kissed Jebel. But then reality reasserted itself. The weedy youth would surely fail, and it wouldn’t do for people to think that she was fond of him. The winner of the mukhayret (J’An or J’Al — she still couldn’t decide!) might lose interest in her if he believed her heart belonged to another.

      “Did it hurt?” she asked as they walked behind her father.

      “A mere sting,” Jebel said, his teeth still chattering from the pain.

      “What’s the hall of quests like?” Debbat whispered.

      “Incredible,” Jebel lied.

      “Were there heads? And a hound?”

      Jebel didn’t answer, but by the way he smiled, she assumed that there had been — heads, hounds and a whole lot more. Why hadn’t she been born a man so that she could have quested too!

      In the high lord’s chamber, Wadi Alg bid Jebel sit and went to a large chest. “You will need swagah,” he said, opening the chest to reveal a mound of coins.

      “I have some already, my lord,” Jebel said. J’An Nasrim had presented him with a small bag of swagah before leaving to tell Jebel’s father the news.

      “Some is good,” the high lord grunted. “More is better.” He filled a pouch with gold swagah and another with silver. Jebel accepted the gifts silently. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

      “Guard the coins carefully,” the high lord said. “Divide them between yourself and your slave. The path to Tubaygat is never easy. Even a small fortune like this won’t ensure your safe passage. Don’t rely on swagah. Keep your wits about you too.”

      “Thank you, my lord,” said Jebel.

      Wadi Alg thought about what other advice he could bestow upon the boy, then decided this wasn’t the time for a lecture. Instead he clapped Jebel on the back and dismissed him. He didn’t wish him luck – it wasn’t the custom.

      Jebel retreated with Tel Hesani. Debbat slipped out after them. “I thought you might like to look at me one last time,” she preened, free to act as she liked now that there was no one to see.

      “It won’t be the last time,” Jebel said confidently. Then he did something he wouldn’t have dared under any other circumstances — he bent forward and kissed the high maid. Debbat’s eyes widened, but she didn’t pull free. When Jebel released her, he was beaming dreamily.

      “I could have you executed for that!” gasped Debbat.

      “You won’t,” Jebel smirked.

      Debbat glared at him, then giggled. “If you return, perhaps you’ll receive more than a kiss next time.”

      With that she swept away, buzzing from the memory of the kiss but not sure if she should tell her friends about it — after all, it was only Jebel Rum, and who on Makhras had ever wanted to kiss him!

      Jebel watched the high maid leave, wishing he could kiss her again. Then Tel Hesani said, “We must make a start, master.”

      “It’s still early,” Jebel grumbled.

      “We have much to do before we leave. We need to study a map, decide on our route, purchase supplies…”

      “All right,” Jebel snarled. “Just don’t forget who’s in charge.”

      “I would never presume to tell my young master his business,” said Tel Hesani. “But since I know more of the world than you, I urge you to heed my advice. That is, after all, one of the reasons why you chose me.”

      Jebel thought about whipping Tel Hesani for his impudence. But when he gazed into the slave’s eyes, he hesitated. Jebel was certain the slave loved his wife and children, and would help the um Wadi for their sake. But slaves were savages at heart. He might forget his vow and strangle Jebel if pushed too far.

      “Come on,” Jebel said, nudging ahead of the tall, pale-skinned man. “We have to drop your brood of rats off at my father’s before we leave.”

      Tel Hesani didn’t respond to that, just followed with a wry smile.

      Murasa and the children were waiting outside the servants’ entrance, and so, to Jebel’s surprise, was Bastina.

      “I know what you’ve done,” Bastina said. “I feared you’d do something stupid, so I came here and Murasa told me about your deal.”

      “It’s not stupid,” Jebel grunted. He thrust his arm out at the servant girl, so she could admire his brand. “See?”

      Bastina didn’t even look at his arm. “You shouldn’t have done this,” she said softly. “There were other ways to redeem your honour.”

      “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jebel huffed. “You’re just a girl.”

      “Maybe,” Bastina said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “But I care about you. I know you’re going to die or be captured by slavers. And I know I’ll miss you. I…” Tears overwhelmed her and she had to stop. Murasa put an arm around the girl and hugged her, glaring at Jebel accusingly.

      “It’s not my fault she feels that way,” Jebel muttered. But he felt bad, so he reached behind his tunic to where he’d strapped the bags of swagah and pressed three silver coins into Bastina’s hand.

      “I don’t want your blood money,” she wept.

      “It’s a gift, Bas,” СКАЧАТЬ