Chapter 11: Fury

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” – Buddha.

Isfahan, Seljuk Empire. September 1078

A week after Luke escaped, Malik was still furious; his anger knew no bounds as he surveyed the burnt-out remains of Isfahan. The prisoner he had held for years escaped and burned the city down to cover his tracks. To make matters worse, several people reported seeing his sister and her two servants leaving with the prisoner. Orders had been sent out to every governor to be on the lookout for Morvarid, her twin servants, and Luke.

If his capital being burned to the ground wasn’t bad enough, Malik’s face had been severely burned, with most of the skin on the left side being blistered. It annoyed him that his wives were not harmed. After Luke left, they managed to get the ropes off and run. However, by the time they found the guards, the bedroom was on fire, and Malik’s face was burned by the time the guards got to him. If it hadn’t been for a traditional herbalist, Malik would have suffered a severe infection that would have most likely killed him. She used several potions that promoted healing, reduced inflammation, and protected against infections. Realizing her value, Malik made her his court herbalist and insisted she teach selected members of the army her healing arts.

While Malik was saved, the same couldn’t be said for most of the people in the city, with one of the dead being Asadullah Hashemi. His chamber had been directly above one of the places where Luke left a fire bomb, and he died from smoke inhalation while never waking up. It didn’t help any that he was passed out, drunk. Guards would never find his body as Hashemi’s fat caused his body to act as a candle and burn until there was nothing left but some ash and bits of bone. He was identified by some of his jewelry.

Malik might have been furious with his sister for helping the British general escape, and when he caught her, she would burn, but he was proud of the job his mathematician did until he could get back on his feet. Ghiyāth had sent letters to every governor between Isfahan and the western border. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Luke was headed; the only question was which way he would take. Would he take the northern route? The southern route? Or would he go straight west? Malik didn’t know, but Ghiyāth had cast a wide net.

“Have we heard anything about the bastard?”

“Not yet, My Sultan,” responded Ghiyāth.

“Where could they be? There’s four of them, and three are women, so there should be no way they can hide.”

“Your sister is not a stupid female. I fear what she may accomplish if she were a man.”

“That woman is not my sister. She is corrupt, as no sister of mine would betray me. I let that bastard out of the hole after she asked, and this is how she repays me!” Malik screamed. “Ghiyāth, send out an additional message. I want her brought here alive so she can face trial.”

“Of course, My Sultan. I will send this out immediately.”

“Send out extra patrols as well. Have them search the nearby mountains for any clues. That bastard is enough of an animal that it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he’s living like one in the nearby mountains.”

“Yes, My Sultan.”

Ghiyāth bowed and went to send out the Sultan’s newest orders. It greatly annoyed Ghiyāth that he couldn’t figure out where Luke went. It was almost like he had vanished, but that was impossible. After sending the messages, Ghiyāth sat at his work table and brought out Luke’s drawings for the clothes cleaner. As Ghiyāth studied them, a disturbing thought emerged; Luke was far more intelligent than he gave him credit for. The more Ghiyāth stared at the drawings, the more the thought bore into his mind until that was all he could think about.