Dragons on the Sea of Night by Eric Van Lustbader Page A

commitment to the cause was more than enough for one family.’
    â€˜Do you really believe that your brother is an assassin?’ Aufeya asked.
    â€˜Jesah is …’ Moichi bit his lip and turned partially away from her. In a softer voice, he said, ‘I would believe anything of Jesah Annai-Nin.’
    â€˜Moichi–’
    â€˜No, no!’ He swung around, his face afire with anger. ‘You would not understand.’
    Aufeya opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Instead, she said, ‘At least you must be looking forward to seeing your sister Sanda. You have spoken of her often.’
    â€˜Sanda, yes.’ They were almost at the gates. In contrast to the bustle of the packed streets and alleys below, the courtyard of the villa was still and deserted. But there were lights on within the main building itself. ‘I miss her very much. If there was a pain in my heart over leaving Ala’arat, it was that I would not see her for a very long time.’ He turned his face to the lights of the villa as he pushed open the gates. ‘How long it’s been! How much has happened in her life! When I left she was just a young girl.’
    They crossed the courtyard, their bootsoles crackling against the bed of crushed sea shells. As they climbed the enormous steps to the front door, Moichi was aware of a bittersweet swirl of mixed emotions, dragging up memories – some of which he would have preferred not to re-examine.
    He was thinking of his father and painful feasts of chaats past when the great doors opened inward and they stepped across the threshold of the villa of the Annai-Nin.
    Torches were thrust in their faces and strong fingers gripped their biceps and forearms. Moichi smelled strong body odors, the stench of fear and long waiting.
    â€˜Moichi!’
    He took a step toward her, but a sword-blade at his throat stopped him. Through the blinding torchlight he could see bits and pieces of rugged faces creased by wind and weapon. Then a flash of a uniform sleeve set his mind to racing. ‘I am Moichi Annai-Nin, eldest son of Jud’ae Annai-Nin. Who dares hold me hostage in my own house?’
    â€˜Your house?’ The voice was sharp, as quick as the flick of a whip. ‘Make way!’
    The uniformed men moved aside, but kept their grip firmly on Moichi and Aufeya. In the shifting light Moichi made out a tall, rangy figure, impeccably dressed in a finely woven uniform of silk and cloth-of-gold. ‘If you are the eldest son of the patriarch Jud’ae you had better be able to prove it. You’ve been gone a long time.’
    The tall officer had thick black hair and a full curling beard. His coffee-colored eyes were deep-set in a hawk-nosed face the color of burnt almonds. It was a face that gave away nothing but which saw everything.
    All of these things Moichi absorbed in the space of a split second and they would have gone toward defining the man had he not spotted something that made his stomach turn to ice. Around the officer’s neck and over the top of his head he wore the green and brown striped cowl of the Fe’edjinn.
    â€˜I don’t understand. Are you state militia or Fe’edjinn?’ Moichi asked in a hoarse voice.
    The tall officer smiled. ‘I see that you have been away a long time. The Fe’edjinn are the state militia of Iskael.’
    â€˜But how is this possible?’ Moichi asked. ‘The state cannot sponsor murderers and assassins.’
    One of the men delivered a heavy blow to the side of his head. ‘Hold your tongue, lout!’ he growled. ‘Or I’ll cut it out!’
    The tall officer cocked his head to one side, said nothing while blood seeped from a cut opened on Moichi’s cheek. ‘Bitch of a homecoming,’ he said at last.
    â€˜What are you doing in my home?’ Moichi said.
    The same man lifted a fist to strike Moichi again but the officer signed to him. ‘If you,