Swords From the West
he found himself in semidarkness amid familiar smells of frying mutton and onions, of leather and musk. Except for the cold, he might have been in the bazaar of Aleppo. Everywhere he saw the beards and turbans of Islam, occasionally the fur cap of an Alan or Russian.
    If Tron had penetrated this city-within-a-city, he would have been stared at and mocked-for Islam is arrogant to its foes-but Nial, reared among Asiatics, sauntered by unnoticed in his chaban, pausing to handle rolls of felt or damask while he listened to the talk. He passed the open gate, with a loose chain hanging over it, of a mosque courtyard, and a glance showed him that scores of desert men were squatting where the sun warmed the stones.
    Turning a corner beyond the mosque, Nial found himself in an alley, between lines of horses, where some tribesmen were arguing fiercely with a dealer. He noticed one of the horses, a powerful gray with saddle sores and marks of hard riding. But when a boy came up to accost him and be, him to look at leisure upon the splendid steed, he turned to stare at a shaggy steppe pony.
    The boy, however, had seen him sizing up the gray and, after trying two or three languages, being clearly puzzled by the stranger, harangued him in broken Arabic.
    "Nay, this one is not suited to your nobility. That one is tall and swift."
    "He hath the look of the mule which sired him." Nial bargained with the ease of habit. "Moreover, he hath been ridden by a devil with sharp stirrups. Behold the marks. Nay, I go to see the beasts of-" he searched for a dealer's name-"Mahmoud the Blind."
    "By Allah, is not Mahmoud here?"
    The dealer, who had been listening with one ear, forsook the tribesmen and hastened over. He used a long staff, and the pupils of his eyes showed white in his pockmarked face. But he moved alertly as one who could see all before him. The boy whispered something that Nial could not catch.
    "Ai-a," Mahinoud nodded complacently. "That gray steed is a Kabarda. It will run down a wolf."
    "And leap a tent," put in Nial. "And turn in its tracks at a gallop. Verily this is the breeding place of all lies, and I go."
    Loiterers on the balconies that overhung the alley-the whole quarter seemed teeming with men that day-grinned and coughed, nudging each other to listen to the chaffer. Mahmoud cast down his staff and lifted sightless eyes to the sky.
    "May dogs litter on my grave! May the Ram come out of the skies, if there is one lie in all my words." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "A hundred byzants would not buy him, if his coat were sleek and fat. Yet will I sell him to Your Honor for less. For how much?"
    "A fool would pay twenty."
    "May Allah teach you wisdom, young lord. Verily, I know this horse, and he is from the stable of Barka Khan. Still, I will forego all profit and give him up for five-and-seventy."
    "So do I know of him, and it was the command of the khan to have him slaughtered, and thou didst buy him from the skinner's market."
    A cackle of laughter greeted this exchange. All the listeners were well aware that both men were drawing on their imaginations. While Nial examined the eyes of the gray, and forced open his jaws, and-remembering a certain Tatar trader-even lifted his tail, the boy brought forth saddles until he found one to Nial's liking. Meanwhile Mahmoud had come down to forty-six, in whispers, and felt for Nial's hand to strike palms on the bargain.
    "Nay," quoth the swordsman, "first will I try his paces and see how lame he is. And I will pay no more than thirty, with five for the saddle."
    It was a high peaked saddle, and he had to sit forward in the Tatar fashion to keep his knees down. As he tightened the rein Mahmoud hissed warningly, and the boy trotted after him. At the entrance of the alley a voice called softly, almost in his ear:
    "Well done, Lord Ni-al. Come in by the door around the corner."
    In the shadow of the balcony opposite him he saw a veiled girl and he recognized Shedda's voice. When he was

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