THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) by Graham Diamond Page B

end, the first light of a new dawn was little by little inching its way through the clefts and cracks of the shutters. The banging grew louder as she shook the sleep from her mind. Harsh, gravelly voices rang in her ears. “Open up! Open up at once!”
    Mariana threw her gown over her shoulders and ran to the door.
    “Who is it? Who’s there?”
    A deep resonant voice boomed in response: “King’s soldiers. Open the door or we’ll break it down!”
    Frightened, her hands trembling, she unbolted the latch. The door flew open, pushing her back and causing her to lose balance. Three husky men barged inside, each brandishing a short curved sword. Hand to her mouth, Mariana fell back against the wall. Two of the intruders paid her not the slightest bit of attention; they rummaged through the room, turning over everything in their way, pushing aside curtains, searching every inch of the floor and walls for hidden hatches and doors.
    As Mariana watched breathlessly the third of the soldiers wielded the tip of his blade before her eyes. Without hearing his voice she knew who he was. And the captain of the Inquisitors smiled grimly. “Where is he?” he demanded.
    “Where is who?”
    The wily soldier broadened his grin and Mariana shuddered as she felt his eyes poring over her. He pressed the tip of his sword lightly against the supple flesh of her breast. “Your lover. Where is Ramagar?”
    There was no way she could hide the fear in her eyes. “He’s … not here,” she replied truthfully, biting her lip to subdue her rising terror. Then she drew all her courage and lied. “I—I haven’t seen him for days.”
    The soldier applied just enough pressure on the blade so that a needle prick of blood was drawn.
    She stiffened and he snickered. His left hand reached out and gently caressed the side of her face. Her skin was a marvelous gold, softly blended against full lips and dark eyes whose quick intelligence showed even through fear. The soldier leered appreciatively. He knew her loveliness was due to natural beauty and not to the cosmetics so freely used by the more aristocratic women of Kalimar. And he recalled seeing Mariana in her dance, her lithe form twirling across sawdust floors, causing heartbeats to quicken and desire to rise while patrons sipped their honeyed wine. It was indeed a pity, he mused, that such a girl was wasted on a common thief. But then, after this day, perhaps that situation would be remedied.
    Mariana felt sickened and disgusted as his hardened fingers slipped gingerly across her mouth and played with the twisting curls at the edge of her hair. She wanted to squirm from his grasp but the feel of the blade prevented her from moving a muscle. Holding her slim, soft hands at her side, she forced herself to meet his glowering stare, and whispered, “I told you he’s not here. What do you want?”
    The soldier did not answer; he looked to his companions, who by now were busy tearing and breaking everything in sight. One of them took hold of the laced pillow at the edge of the divan and scrutinized it. Mariana held her breath. The scimitar had been carefully hidden within the feathers, the seams resewn. If he looked carefully enough he was sure to find it. Then the pillow was tossed haphazardly across the floor, and she secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
    “Nothing here of any worth,” one soldier told the captain. “Just a lot of useless junk.” He was tinkering with her costume jewelry and frowning. The captain sheathed his sword and sighed. “All right. That’s enough.” While his men disappointedly marched from the room he returned his attention to the girl. “Best for you that the thief wasn’t with you tonight,” he snarled. “Consorting with a known criminal is a serious offense.” Here he smiled. “A very serious offense. I’d have been forced to take action.”
    Mariana stood defiant. “Not in the Jandari—”
    “Oh, no?” His face returned to its dour mask. “This time