Part 2: War
A moment of reflection
Dramatis Personae
Ibrahim – Hassan’s spy in Omar’s household .... maybe.
Arzu – Omar’s lover ... a lady who can use a knife when she needs to
Ibrahim awoke, stretched … and almost screamed in pain.
His upper body and arms were criss-crossed with knife wounds, some deep, some superficial, all painfully healing. Omar had ensured he received medical assistance from Ismail’s own physician. Outwardly at least, Omar and Arzu had accepted his explanation of a fight with a simple thief.
But there was another problem. His mind was in as much pain as his body.
Who had sent Ali? Why had Ali been sent?
It seemed to be clear he was sent to kill at least one member of Omar’s household but why had Hassan not ordered himself, Ibrahim, to do it?
Ali had not known he was there. His surprise was genuine and had cost him his life. Ibrahim shuddered at the final memory of Arzu walking forward, grabbing the knife and plunging it even deeper into Ali’s neck.
So either Hassan had sent Ali thinking Ibrahim was dead or Hassan had not sent Ali. Strife in Alamut seemed unlikely but was also the most likely explanation.
However, that led Ibrahim to the next problem. If, … no when, Hassan contacted him, did he still serve Alamut? Or was he what Omar and Arzu treated him as, a friend met on the road, someone who had saved Omar’s life [1], a valued and welcome houseguest.
He groaned again, this time not from the pain of his wounds. He knew the answer but could not bring himself to acknowledge it even to himself.
As he settled back he was disturbed by the rustle of silk as the drapes around his bed were drawn back.
“my lady”
“Ibrahim, I think we need to talk”
Ibrahim lay back, trying to gather his tangled thoughts. His attempt to calm himself was not helped by seeing the long knife that Arzu carried.
[1] when he fled Sistan
A moment of reflection
Dramatis Personae
Ibrahim – Hassan’s spy in Omar’s household .... maybe.
Arzu – Omar’s lover ... a lady who can use a knife when she needs to
Ibrahim awoke, stretched … and almost screamed in pain.
His upper body and arms were criss-crossed with knife wounds, some deep, some superficial, all painfully healing. Omar had ensured he received medical assistance from Ismail’s own physician. Outwardly at least, Omar and Arzu had accepted his explanation of a fight with a simple thief.
But there was another problem. His mind was in as much pain as his body.
Who had sent Ali? Why had Ali been sent?
It seemed to be clear he was sent to kill at least one member of Omar’s household but why had Hassan not ordered himself, Ibrahim, to do it?
Ali had not known he was there. His surprise was genuine and had cost him his life. Ibrahim shuddered at the final memory of Arzu walking forward, grabbing the knife and plunging it even deeper into Ali’s neck.
So either Hassan had sent Ali thinking Ibrahim was dead or Hassan had not sent Ali. Strife in Alamut seemed unlikely but was also the most likely explanation.
However, that led Ibrahim to the next problem. If, … no when, Hassan contacted him, did he still serve Alamut? Or was he what Omar and Arzu treated him as, a friend met on the road, someone who had saved Omar’s life [1], a valued and welcome houseguest.
He groaned again, this time not from the pain of his wounds. He knew the answer but could not bring himself to acknowledge it even to himself.
As he settled back he was disturbed by the rustle of silk as the drapes around his bed were drawn back.
“my lady”
“Ibrahim, I think we need to talk”
Ibrahim lay back, trying to gather his tangled thoughts. His attempt to calm himself was not helped by seeing the long knife that Arzu carried.
[1] when he fled Sistan
