There is a cistern. Haroun turned to Sanguinet, who expanded upon the critical question in a soft voice. He looked puzzled. Then he said, The drinking of spirited beverages is forbidden. Our religion does not allow it.

Grumble mumble growl. Holy shit, somebody shouted. What the hell kind of hole is this? No women. No booze. Hot and dirty...Hell. For this we should risk our lives?

The youth looked baffled. He turned to Sanguinet for help. Bragi prodded Haaken, who was within reach of the loudest complainer. Haaken took hold of the mans shoulder muscle and squeezed. His protests died.

Sergeant Trubacik called out, Any problems, you see me or Haroun here. At ease. Settle in. Lieutenant suggests you roam around and get to know the place. Duty assignments will come out tomorrow. Thats it.

Youd better believe Im going to roam around, Reskird muttered. This is so tight it would give me the shakes, only there isnt room to shiver.

Yeah. Me too, Bragi said. Come on, Haaken. Lets catch that Haroun. I want to talk to him. But it took them ten minutes to get out of the barracks room. By then the youth had disappeared. So the brothers went up on the wall and looked out on the barren land and wondered why anyone would fight to defend it.

Haaken, unwittingly prophetic, observed, What Id fight for is to get out.

There he is, down there, Bragi said, spotting Haroun. Lets go.

But they missed him again. And thus they began their first commission as soldiers of the Guild.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Salt Lake Encounter

El Murid had been up late discussing the coastal war. His aching limbs left him in no mood to be wakened prematurely. What is it? he snapped at the insistent slave. It had better be important, or...Well, out with it!

The man gulped. The Disciples temper had grown ever fiercer since Wadi el Kuf. Lord... He burst right into it, talking almost too fast to follow. Lord, Mowaffak Hali insists on seeing you. Hes just returned from patrol. He wont be put off.

El Murid grumbled and scowled. Hali? Hali? He could not associate a face with the name.

Mowaffak Hali, Lord. The elder Hali. The Invincible. The slave eyed him oddly, as if bemused because he could not recall a man as important as this visitor.

All right. Show him in. And if its another petty squabble over precedence between the regulars and the Invincibles, Ill crucify you both. He beckoned a second slave. Clothing.

He was dressing when the Invincible strode in, advancing like a trail-dirty thunderhead, brow furrowed. El Murid remembered him now. One of his favorites among the Invincibles. One of his best men. One of the most determinedly faithful. And, in all likelihood, one of the high brethren of the Harish, too.

Mowaffak, my brother. A pleasure to see you again.