Adventure Magazine Cover — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

68 slain. The family of my lord was in the hands of Jani Beg—upon whom may the curse of God fall. To the north of Badak- shan we would find none but Usbeks, enemies. To the east was the nest of bleak mountains called by some the Hindu-Kush, by others the Roof of the World. To the west, the desert. True, to the south, the Shyr Pass led to the fertile plain of Kabul, but up this pass was coming Said Afzel, the son of Jani Beg, with a large caravan. I had heard that Said Afzel was a poor warrior, being a youth more fond of sporting with the women of his harem and with poets, than of handling a sword. Still, he had followers with him, for he was bearing the giits of the Mogul Jahangir from Agra to Jani Beg. Something of this must also have been in the mind of Shirzad Mir, who had been lord of Badakshan for twice ten years, during the reign in India of the Mogul Akbar— peace be on his name! “T am ruler,” he smiled sadly, “‘of naught save two paces of forest land; my dress of honor is a robe of death. For a court I have but two friends.” Shirzad Mir was a broad man with kindly eyes and a full beard. He had strength in his hands to break the ribs of a man, and he could shoot an arrow with wonderful skill. He was hasty of temper, but generous and lacking suspicion. Be- cause of this last, he had lost Badakshan to Jani Beg, the Uzbek. He knew only a little of writing and music; still, he was a born leader of men, perhaps because there was nothing he ordered them to do that he would not do himself. Wherefore, he had two saber cuts on his head and a spear gash across the ribs. Thinking to comfort him, I rose up from the place where I was watching and squatted down by them. “There are many in Badakshan,’’ I said— long ago he had granted me leave to be familiar with him—‘‘who will come to you when they know you are alive.” “Who will tell them, Abdul Dost?” he asked mildly. ‘‘We will be hunted through the hills. The most part of the nobles of Badakshan have joined the standard of Jani Beg.” “The men of the hills and the desert’s edge are faithful, Shirzad Mir,” I said. : Adventure They were herdsmen and outlaws for the most part. Our trained soldiers had been slain, all but a few hiding out in the hills. “Aye,” he exclaimed, and his brown eyes brightened. “Still, they are but men. To take up arms against the Uzbeks we need arms—also good horses, supplies and treasure. Have we these?’’ ) thinking that the Ferang slept or did not hear. Presently I learned that he understood, for, with many pains, he had taught himself our tongue. We spoke of the position of Jani Beg. Truly, it was a strong one. He himself held Khanjut, which was the citadel at the end of the Shyr ravine leading into India. Paluwan Chan, leader of his Usbeks, was at the great town of Balkh with a garrison. Reinforcements were coming through the passes to the north from Turkestan. Out- posts were scattered through the plains. Jani Beg was a shrewd commander. Only once did I know him to err badly in his plans. Of that I will tell in due time. Shirzad Mir, who was brave to the point of folly, said he would go somehow to Agra and appeal for mercy from Jahangir himself. I had been to Kabul and I knew that the intrigues of Jani Beg had made his quarrel seem that of the Mogul and—such is the witchery of evil words—Shirzad Mir seem to be a rebel. ‘That may not be,” I answered. Then the Ferang lifted his yellow head and spoke in his deep voice. “T heard at Agra, Shirzad Mir,” he said, weighing his words, “that you were a follower of the Mogul Akbar.”’ “Of Akbar,” nodded my lord, “the shadow of God and prince of princes. He was a soldier among many.” “So it has been told me.”’ Sir Weyand rested his chin on his fists and stared up where the blue sky of Badakshan showed through the trees. “When Akbar was in difficulty what plan did he follow?” “He was a brave man. God put a plan into his head when it was needed. He had the wisdom of books and many ad- visors.”’ ‘And with this wisdom, I have heard he always did one thing when he was pressed by great numbers of enemies.” Shirzad Mir looked thoughtfully at the SO WE talked together in low tones, GEomicbooks.co