Barry Sadler - Casca 13 by The Assassin

Author:The Assassin [Assassin, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-01-07T13:55:24+00:00

At last finding a tavern which catered to the foreign element, Casca settled in to wait a while, taking a tankard of crude wine cut with water to ease the dryness in his throat. He then called for an Arab hookah, which apparently wasn’t on the Emir’s forbidden list since every cafe — and there were plenty of these and plenty of coffee — was full of the Faithful puffing away. After the second pipeful he was feeling very happy, content with a life which had no problems. He felt as though he was floating high up, and that was why he was now out on the street juggling two happy decisions in his mind: whether to look for better wine, or to look for a woman.

That was when Yousef made the mistake of trying to rob him.

Casca saw this scrawny little beggar standing at the dark entrance to the inevitable alley — Arab towns had more alleys per square foot than anywhere else — and he would probably have given him “alms” if the little bastard had asked. Casca was feeling very generous. He loved everybody in the whole damned world.

But Yousef made the mistake of trying to take him.

Laughing, Casca mildly applied one of the simpler blows Shiu Tze had taught him a long time ago.

“Now, why did you try that, little fellow?” Casca asked. He was floating twenty paces high over the fallen assailant, and some little genie in the back of his mind whispered: “Look there! Somebody trying to assassinate an Assassin!” Casca roared with laughter. He thought it was a marvelous joke.

Ah . . . ! Suddenly it occurred to Casca that not only did he love everybody, everybody in the world loved him. He looked down at the fallen Yousef who by now had the look of a man who had caught the wrong tiger by the tail.

“Mu salam aleikom — Peace be with you!” he said benignly. “Now get the hell out of here before I bust your balls.” He raised his foot to kick, but had a little trouble deciding whether he wanted to use his right foot or his left.

Yousef scrambled away.

However . . .

There was one moment there when the combination of the dim moonlight, the lamp from an open window, and Yousef’s sharp eyes brought recognition to the mind of the ex-bandit.

The gray-blue-eyed Circassian with the scar on his face. The one who had warned the Mamelukes at the raid. The bad luck man. The one Allah had allowed to cause his, Yousef’s, problems.

By all the djins of the dark!

Somehow he would get revenge before this one passed out of his sight again and he was reduced once more to disguising himself as a beggar in order to scout out houses. Since their fortune had changed the men remaining in his band were forced to rob or to find a few purses to cut. He, Yousef, who planned one day to be Yousef the Great was reduced to this.

He would not stand for it!

There were still remnants of his followers encamped outside the city.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.