He seemed to expect an answer, but I remained mute before him, still unable to open my mouth. When I did not speak, he cried out again. "How long, O man?"
I did not understand the question. Perhaps he sensed my confusion, or heard the thought in my head, for he looked down upon me and said, "How long, Faithless One, will you offend heaven with your arrogance?"
Lifting a radiant hand, he swept his arm wide, and I saw the whole vast army of heaven encamped around us with their horses and chariots of fire. I could not endure the sight, and had to close my eyes lest they be burned to cinders in my skull.
"Remember," the angel intoned, "all flesh is grass."
Opening my eyes, I looked again; but the chariots and their shining occupants were gone, and gone, too, the heavenly messenger who had spoken to me.
I could move again and my mouth was unstopped. I looked around and was amazed to see everything precisely as it had been before. No one gave the slightest indication of having seen or heard anything. The warriors still sat talking, the horses still cropped the dry grass. Nothing had changed. I lay back against the tree and closed my eyes. Sure, the heat and sun had combined to induce a waking dream.
That is what I told myself, and I believed it, too. By the time we roused ourselves to continue on, I had persuaded myself that I had seen and heard nothing-a fleeting trick of the imagination only. If there had been anything out of the ordinary…sure, the others would have seen and heard it, too.
This strained certainty remained with me through the rest of the day, and I gradually put the incident from my mind. The following days bled together, each melting into the next like ice shards in the sun with nothing to distinguish one from another. We rode and rested, ate, slept, and rose to ride again. Each day's end saw the gradual advance of the ragged line of mountains to the north. After five days, we turned away from the river and proceeded north-east towards the foothills of the nearer range. "The mines are there," Sadiq told me; he pointed to a cleft low down on one of the larger crags. "We must go through that pass to reach them."
"How far is it?" I asked, anticipation quickening within me. "How many days?"
"Four, perhaps." The amir considered this for a moment. "Yes, four-if all goes well."
"And how many until we reach the mine?"
"Another day-the mountain trails are very bad."
As if to reach our destination the sooner, he pressed on with renewed vigour, driving a swifter pace. It was well after sundown when we finally stopped to make camp for the night, and I was so tired and preoccupied by the stabbing pains in my legs and thighs and back that I ate little of the stew Faysal prepared for our supper, and quickly retired in silent torment to nurse my aches.
Sleep proved elusive, however, and I lay weary and wakeful, regarding the stars in their long slow circling sweep of heaven's dome. Without the sun to inflame it, the air grew steadily cooler, and I pulled my cloak more tightly around me and listened to the soft chitter-chatter of the insects along the river course. Eventually, I grew drowsy and closed my eyes.
It seemed as if my eyelids had no more than touched one another when a voice spoke out of the darkness. "Rise, Aidan!" whispered the voice. "Follow me."
I woke and sat upright, and saw a figure dressed in white striding rapidly away. "Faysal!" I hissed aloud, not wishing to wake those sleeping around me. "Wait!"
He halted at the sound of my voice, but did not turn around. I struggled to my feet and, with limping steps, hurried after him. What was he doing, waking people in the dead of night?
I had taken no more than three or four paces when he moved on, leaving me to follow as best I could. "Faysal!" I called, trying to keep my voice down. "Wait!"
He led me a short distance along the riverbank to a place where the tamarisk grove thinned; here he stopped to wait. I hobbled as best I could over the rough rocky ground, forbearance rapidly turning to annoyance with every painful step. By the time I joined him, I was justly irritated at having been made to scramble after him in the dark.
"Well?" I demanded curtly. "What is so important you must drag me from my sleep?"
He gave no sign of having heard me, but continued gazing across the river. "Faysal," I said, more loudly, "what is wrong with you?"
At this he turned, and I found myself looking into the face of dear, dead Bishop Cadoc.
Cadoc glared at me from beneath lowered brows. "I am disappointed in you, Aidan," he said tartly. "Disappointed in the extreme-and disgusted."
His round face warped in a scowl, the good bishop clicked his tongue in sharp vexation. "Have you any notion of the trouble your disobedience is causing? The pit yawns before you, boy. Wake up!"
"Bishop Cadoc," I said, annoyance melting in the strangeness of the meeting, "how do you come to be here? I saw you killed."
