With deft, unhesitating strokes Theodore pierced the skin at the base of the amir's skull and opened a circular flap of skin, which he lifted and pinned up out of the way with a needle, much as a tailor might do with a scrap of cloth. Kazimain folded her hands and pressed them to her lips.
Blood ran freely from the wound as Theodore replaced the knife and regarded his handiwork for a moment. Apparently satisfied, he then took up a small powdery stone and applied it to several places along the edge of the cut he had made, and the bleeding diminished considerably. A look of wonder appeared on Ddewi's face.
Selecting another, longer-bladed knife, Theodore leaned forward and began gently scraping at the wound, and I soon saw the glimmer of white bone. "Since you are here," the physician said, speaking with slow concentration, "you might as well be of use to me. Come and hold the lamp a little higher."
With a look and a nod, Theodore positioned me and directed the light where he wanted it to fall. I held the brass lamp as he bent to the study of his work, probing now and then with the tip of the long blade held lightly in his fingers.
After a few moments, he breathed a whispered, "Ah, yes!" To Ddewi, he said, "You were right, my friend. It is a small fragment of bone which has become dislodged and has caused the bleeding inside the skull."
Replacing the knife upon the tray, Theodore took up a strange tool; shaped like a pair of miniature tongs, but with elongated pincers at the end, it had loops for his thumb and finger with which he operated it. Using this, he bent to his work and in a moment I heard a wet, sucking sound and he raised the instrument into the light. A nasty, jagged piece of pink-white bone the size of a man's thumbnail glistened between the pincers' jaws.
"Here," he announced, "is the source of the amir's infirmity." Dropping the bit of bone onto the brass tray with a pattering chink, he said, "Now his healing can begin."
Replacing the tongs, he took up another cloth, doubled it and spread it carefully over the cushion beside the amir's head. "We will turn him now," said Theodore, and together Ddewi and the physician rolled the amir onto his side. Black blood oozed from the wound onto the cloth. The healer watched the flow with satisfaction, remarking to Ddewi on its colour and turgid consistency.
"You may replace the lamp," Theodore told me. "There is nothing more to be done until the wound has drained. That will take some time, I think. Refresh yourselves, my friends. I will summon you when the procedure commences anew."
"Very well," I said, and moved to where Kazimain was standing, her hands still clenched to her chin. "Come, we will walk a little before I go."
"I am staying," she said, shaking her head.
Leaving her to her vigil, I stepped through the tent flap to find Faysal hovering just outside. "All is well," I told him. "They are nearly finished."
"Praise be to Allah," he sighed with audible relief.
Glancing at the dusky sky, I said, "We must leave or the gates will be closed. Is everything ready?"
"Seven have been sent into the city already," he replied. "The rest ride with us. I have saddled one of the pack horses for Exarch Honorius. We await your command."
The setting sun shone red as it disappeared below the horizon; away to the east, a new-risen slice of moon gleamed dully and two stars had begun to glow. It would be a warm, clear night, with enough light to make our way without torches.
"It is a good night for an escape," I said, touching the handle of the knife tucked into my belt. "Come, the governor is waiting."
A few moments later, Faysal and I and the three remaining rafiq were riding towards Sebastea, leaving the Sea Wolves behind to guard the camp. Jarl Harald had all but begged to be allowed to undertake the raid, but I considered the Danes were not yet fit enough to fight. Also, their appearance would have roused undue suspicion in the city. "It is but a small errand," I told him, "and we need someone to guard the camp, after all. Nurse your strength for the battle to come."
Thus, we proceeded to the city gates, leading a pack horse burdened with bundles of straw wrapped in sacking. Appearing as merchants arriving late to the city, we passed easily through the gate without so much as a glance from the guards squatting around their little cooking fire in the shadow of the gateman's hut.
"Getting into the city is easy," I had told Faysal on my return from the city. "But getting out again-that will be difficult."
"Leave it to me," he replied. Faysal had made most of the preparations for our night raid-and with such efficiency, I wondered at his skill. And then I remembered how he had rescued me, and reflected that where such furtive activities were concerned, Faysal did not lack practice.
