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To realize, after a moment, that what she was hearing was her father’s laughter.
Ammar ibn Khairan swung neatly down from the window and landed softly on the carpeted floor. He walked past Jehane and stood before her father’s heavy chair.
“Ishak,” he said gently.
“Ammar,” her father said, almost clearly.
The murderer of the last khalif of Al-Rassan knelt before him. “I had hoped you might remember my voice,” he said. “Will you accept apologies, Ishak? I ought to have been here long ago, and certainly not in this fashion, shocking your daughter and without leave of your wife.”
Ishak reached out a hand by way of reply, and ibn Khairan took it. He had removed his gloves and rings. Jehane was too stunned to even begin to formulate her thoughts.
“Muwaari? Wha happ?”
Ibn Khairan’s voice was grave. “Almalik is a subtle man, as I think you know. He wanted Fezana quelled, obviously. He also seems to have had a message for the prince.” He paused. “And another for me.”
Jehane found her voice. “You really didn’t know about this?”
“I wouldn’t bother lying to you,” Ammar ibn Khairan said precisely, without even looking at her.
Flushing, Jehane realized that it was, of course, quite true. Why would he care what she thought? But in that case, there was another obvious question, and she wasn’t especially inclined to accept rebukes from men who climbed in through the windows of their home: “What are you doing here then?”
This time he did turn. “Two reasons. You ought to be able to guess at one of them.” Out of the corner of her eye Jehane saw her father slowly nodding his head.
“Forgive me, I’m not disposed to play at guessing games just now.” She tried to make it sting.
Ibn Khairan’s expression was unruffled. “It isn’t a game, Jehane. I’m here to ensure that Husari ibn Musa is not killed by the Muwardis this evening, and that the physician, more brave than intelligent perhaps, who is assisting him to escape, is likewise enabled to live beyond tonight.”
Jehane felt suddenly cold. “They are coming for him, then?”
“Of course they are coming for him. The list of invited guests was known, and some of the Muwardis can read. They were instructed to execute every man on that list. Do you think they’d forgo the pleasure of killing even one, or risk Almalik’s reaction to failure?”
“They’ll go to his house?”
“If they aren’t there by now. Which is why I went before them. Husari had already left, with Velaz. The servants and slaves had been sent to their quarters, except the steward, who was evidently trusted. A mistake. I demanded of him where his master was and he told me he’d just left, disguised as a wadji, with the Kindath doctor’s servant.”
She had been cold before; she was as ice now.
“So he will tell the Muwardis?”
“I don’t think so,” said Ammar ibn Khairan.
There was a silence. It was not a game at all.
“You killed him,” said Jehane.
“A disloyal servant,” said ibn Khairan, shaking his head. “A melancholy indication of the times in which we live.”
“Why, Ammar?” Ishak’s question this time was astonishingly clear, but it might mean many things.
This time ibn Khairan hesitated before answering. Jehane, watching closely, saw that odd expression in his face again.
He said, choosing his words, “I already carry a name through the world for something I did in my youth for Almalik of Cartada. I can live with that. Rightly or wrongly, I did it. I am … disinclined to accept the responsibility for this obscene slaughter—as he clearly intends it to fall upon me. Almalik has his reasons. I can even understand them. But at this point in my life I do not choose to indulge them. I also found Husari ibn Musa to be a clever, unassuming man and I admired your daughter’s … competence and spirit. Say that it … pleases me to be on the side of virtue, for once.”
Ishak was shaking his head. “More, Ammar,” he said, the sounds labored, dragging a little.
Again ibn Khairan hesitated. “There is always more to what a man does, ben Yonannon. Will you permit me the grace of privacy? I will be leaving Fezana myself tonight, by my own means and in my own direction. In time my motives may become clearer.”
He turned to Jehane, and she saw by the candle and the light coming in through the window that his eyes were still altered and cold. He had said enough, though; she thought she knew what this was about, now.
“With the steward … unavailable,” he was saying, “it is unlikely the Muwardis will come here, but there must be nothing for them to find if they do. I would advise you to forgo a meal and leave as soon as it is dark.”
Jehane, grimly subdued, could only nod. With each passing moment she was becoming more aware of the danger and the strangeness of the world she had elected to enter. The morning market, the treatment rooms, all the routines of her life, seemed remote already, and receding swiftly.
“I also have a suggestion, if I may. I do not know what ibn Musa intends to do now, but you could both do worse than go north to Valledo for a time.”
“You would send a Kindath to the Jaddites?” Jehane asked sharply.
He shrugged. “You lived among them during your studies abroad, and so did your father in his day.”
“That was Batiara. And Ferrieres.”
He made an exaggerated grimace. “Again, I am crushingly refuted. I really will have to leap out the window if you keep this up.” His expression altered again. “Things are changing in the peninsula, Jehane. They may start changing very quickly. It is worth remembering that with the parias being paid, Valledo has guaranteed the security of Fezana. I don’t know if that applies to internal … control by Cartada, but it could be argued, if ibn Musa wanted to do so. It could be an excuse. As for you, I would certainly avoid Ruenda and Jaloña if I were a Kindath, but King Ramiro of Valledo is an intelligent man.”
“And his soldiers?”
“Some of them are.”
“How reassuring.”
She heard her father make a reproving sound behind her.
His gaze very direct, ibn Khairan said, “Jehane, you cannot look for reassurance if you leave these walls. You must understand that before you go. If you have no plans and no direction, then serving as a doctor under the protection of Valledo is as good a course—”
“Why would you assume I have no plans?” It was curious how quickly he could anger her.
He stopped. “Forgive me.”
“Where?”
She would not have answered Ammar ibn Khairan, for any number of reasons, but she had to tell her father. He had not spoken a word to her in four years before this afternoon.
“Ragosa,” she said quietly.
She had never even thought of it until ibn Khairan had begun his speech, but once the name of the city was spoken it seemed to Jehane as if she had always been heading there, east towards the shores of Lake Serrana, and the river and the mountains.
“Ah,” said ibn Khairan, thoughtfully. He rubbed his smooth chin. “You could do worse than King Badir, yes.”
“And Mazur ben Avren.”
She said it too defiantly. He grinned. “The Prince of the Kindath. Of course. I’d be careful there, Jehane.”
“Why? You know him?”
“We