“Be silent. I wish you to return to Scotland, where you left Kadar Ben Arnaud and the foreigners. You are to tell him nothing of what has transpired here. Do not mention me. Tell him only that Sinan is claiming his price. Bring him to me.”

Balkir’s eyes widened. “Sinan? But Sinan is-”

“Do you question me?”

“No, never.” Balkir moistened his lips. “But what if he refuses?”

Balkir was terrified, Nasim realized, and not of failing him. Nasim had forgotten that Balkir was at the fortress at the time Kadar underwent his training; Balkir knew how adept Kadar was in all the dark arts. More adept than any man Nasim had ever known, and Kadar was only a boy of ten and four when he came to the mountain. How proud Sinan had been of him. What plans he had made for the two of them. He had never realized Nasim had plans of his own for Kadar.

All wasted when Kadar had left the dark path and rejected Sinan to live with the foreigners. What a fool the Old Man had been to let him go.

But it was not too late. What Sinan had lost, Nasim could reclaim.

If Kadar did not die as the others had died.

Well, if he died, he died. Kadar was only a man; it was the power that was important.

“He won’t refuse,” Nasim said. “He gave Sinan his word in exchange for the lives of the foreigners.”

“What if he does?”

“You are questioning me,” Nasim said with dangerous softness.

Balkir turned pale. “No, master. Of course he won’t refuse. Not if you say he won’t. I only-”

“Be gone.” Nasim waved his hand. “Set sail at once.”

Balkir nodded jerkily and backed away from him. “I will bring him. Whether or not he wishes to come I will force-”

The words cut off abruptly as Nasim turned his back on him. The man was only trying to gain respect in his eyes. He would have no more chance against Kadar if he tried to use force than he would against Nasim, and he probably knew it.