Free The Paths of the Air by Alys Clare Page A

he said, ‘For many long months there was no news of Fadil but then my master was notified that his little brother had been proposed for a hostage exchange.’ Suddenly his black eyes lit up with fire and with fury in his voice he cried, ‘But from the outset it was—’
    Akhbir dug him very hard in the ribs and abruptly he swallowed the words he had been about to say.
    Josse bit back a curse. After a moment he said, ‘But from the outset, you were saying?’
    â€˜There was a – a complication,’ Kathnir said neutrally; he seemed to have regained control. ‘My master’s brother disappeared and was almost certainly killed and my master barely escaped with his life.’
    â€˜And it was during this complication that the Saracen whom you are seeking stole the treasure from your master?’
    But Kathnir was not to be drawn. His dark eyes steady on Josse’s, he said, ‘I do not know.’
    Oh but you do, Josse thought. There is much more that you could tell me of this hostage exchange that went so disastrously wrong. Of Knights Hospitaller and Saracens involved in some complication that took a man’s life and robbed another of a treasure so precious that he sent two tough and resourceful warriors thousands of miles to get it back.
    He studied first Kathnir and then Akhbir. Their dark eyes in the bland, impassive faces stared right back and he knew they were not going to say another word until and unless they decided it was appropriate.
    And hell will probably freeze over, Josse reflected, before that happens.
    He needed to think. He wanted to race back to Hawkenlye and have another look at the dead man before they put him in the ground. He wanted to go all around the spot where the body had been found, on his hands and knees if necessary, to see if he could find something – some small, overlooked thing – that might help him start to unravel this mystery.
    He wanted to talk it all through with the Abbess.
    He stood up and immediately the two Saracens did the same. ‘I cannot be of further assistance to you,’ he said flatly. ‘I have told you of the dead man found near Hawkenlye and I can only suggest that you go there. It is not too late to look at him before he is buried.’
    â€˜But—’ Akhbir began.
    It was Kathnir’s turn to stick an elbow into his companion’s side. Smiling even as the abruptly silenced Akhbir winced, Kathnir said, ‘We are grateful for your help and for the most excellent ginger drink. Now we will be on our way.’ He bowed.
    Josse saw his visitors out into the courtyard and watched from the steps as the two men mounted, gave him a final valediction and rode out through the gates and onto the track.
    Thoughtfully Josse went back to his chair. He was going to return to Hawkenlye as soon as he could, and he would have yelled for Horace there and then except that he did not want to ride out alongside the two Saracens. He would give them some time to get away, then he would be on his way.
    There was no danger that he would catch up with them on the road to Hawkenlye, even if he could have urged old Horace to the sort of speed necessary to overtake a couple of light, swift Arab geldings; quite a big if , he thought with a grin.
    Because the Saracens weren’t going to Hawkenlye.
    He had realized something as he stood watching them ride away; something that he ought to have worked out sooner. Those two men were first-rate trackers. They had followed their man all the way from Outremer and somehow they were aware that the corpse at Hawkenlye was not that of the man they hunted. We do not believe this dead man to be our quarry. There was no need for them to view it.
    They might not know where their man was now but they knew perfectly well where he had been: they had tracked him to the exact spot where he had only recently been hiding.
    New Winnowlands.
    No, Josse thought, they won’t be going to