Chapter 5

"Talia, what are you doing?"

Akar's voice froze her in place, just when she was about to step out of the common room. What was he doing down here in the middle of the night? She would have passed undetected if not for the exposing light of the candle Akar carried to find his way in the darkness. Even the embers in the great hearth had faded to ash.

When he started to ask more, crossing the room toward her from the kitchen, she jerked a finger to her lips for silence and discretion. Akar obeyed, and soon stood before her, the candlelight showing concern on his scarred face as his single eye took in her parka and backpack.

He whispered urgently, "Why are you dressed that way? You aren't going outside this time of night."

Talia thought quickly for a cover story. "Papa and I are going hunting."

"In the middle of the night?"

"We wanted an early start."

Akar eyed her with suspicion. "Then where is your father?"

She hesitated. "He's waiting for me in the Great Hall. Now I must go or he'll grow impatient with me." Talia hurried from the common room. To her dismay, her friend followed close behind. "There's no need to escort me, Akar. I can see fine without your candle. My years in the pit made me accustomed to seeing in the dark, remember?"

"Where are you really going, Talia?"

"I told you—hunting. Besides, what are you doing up this time of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep so I came down to heat up some milk."

"Well, your milk must be getting cold while you're following me, so why don't you go back? I told you, I can see fine. Papa won't be pleased that you're out of bed, slowing me down."

But Akar's dogged pursuit continued through the passageways, both of them falling into stubborn silence until just before Talia reached the Great Hall. Exasperated and desperate, she wheeled.

"Go back to bed, Akar," she hissed, hoping her display of irritation would cow him.

Akar held the candle in front of him like a shield, swallowed hard. "No, not until you tell me where you're really going."

Talia wavered, jaw tightening. Clearly he would not give up until he saw her father with her, walking out the doors. And that, of course, was not going to happen.

"Are you running away?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because you're angry with your father."

"No, I'm not."

"Talia." He frowned. "I heard you two arguing the other night."

She gaped. "You were eavesdropping!"

"I didn't mean to. I was on my way to your father's room to return a book I had borrowed."

"You shouldn't have listened."

"I couldn't help it. I've been worried about you since you didn't show up in the dojo to train."

Akar had little reason to be in the dojo during his daily chores, but often he would eat his lunch there, watching the men train, wishing he could do the same. Frequently he shared that wish with Talia, and she had done her best to console him.

"If you don't go back to bed right now," Talia said, "I will tell Papa that you were eavesdropping on us."

Akar swallowed again and squared his shoulders. "I'll go to bed after you tell me what you're doing. You aren't going hunting with your father."

"Leave me alone." She hurried onward, knowing he would follow but determined now to ignore him since he had seen through her lie.

Through the Great Hall and into the anteroom, which was lit by rows of candles in glass holders on flanking tables. She reached for the handle of one of the large wooden doors, but Akar swept in front of her, his back against the door.

"If you don't tell me what you're doing," he stammered, unpracticed in showing indignation, "I will run to your father's room right now and alert him."

His threat shocked her, for Akar was rarely forceful with anyone, especially her. "You wouldn't."

He set his jaw and stiffened his spine, looked down at her with a false sense of authority, as if imitating Bane. She would have laughed if not for her desperation to escape.

Trying a different tactic, Talia softened her expression, adopted a slightly slouched, capitulating stance. "Please move, Akar. I need to go."

"Where?"

"What does it matter?"

Akar faltered before admitting, "I told Bane I would look out for you whenever he's gone. I promised him."

Though appreciative of his loyalty to both her and Bane, she said, "There's no need. I'll be fine."

"Are you running away?"

"No. I'm coming back."

"When?"

"When I'm ready. When Papa's learned his lesson."

"What lesson?"

"That's my business. Now let me pass. I'm going to do this, Akar. You can't bar these doors for the rest of your life."

"I won't need to after I tell your father."

"If you tell Papa, I'll never speak to you again."

A lie, of course, but a threat that she knew would cut Akar to the quick. He wilted slightly.

"I'm going, Akar. Please step aside. I don't want to hurt you, but you know I can; you've seen me fight in the dojo."

Pain crossed his face, that defeated look she had seen before whenever one of the men—usually Damien Chase, her father's second-in-command—said something that made him feel inadequate because of his handicaps. It made Talia feel miserable, but she remained determined to carry out her plan.

"If you're so set on going, then I'm coming with you."

"No. You'll get in trouble with Papa and Jamyang, and…and…"

Akar scowled. "You think I'll slow you down."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

"You aren't trained like I am."

"You're just a child, Talia, no matter how much training you've had. I'm going with you. I promised Bane—"

"—that you will protect me; I heard you before. But Bane wouldn't want you getting in trouble."

"He would want me to do what I promised, and I will."

"You aren't dressed or provisioned."

"It won't take me long to run to my room and come back ready."

"You'll get us caught."

"Not if you promise to wait for me here."

Talia wanted to stomp her foot in frustration but feared making more noise. She could see that she had little choice now. She hesitated for a long moment, lips pressed tightly together as Akar waited with an eager, determined light in his eye.

"Ugh!" she growled. "Hurry up, then. And if someone catches you, you're going to tell Papa this was all your idea."

"I won't get caught," he said with a relieved smile before rushing through the Great Hall.

###

Bane, Temujin, and Zakuani flew to the market town of Ikela, far to the north of Kolwezi, in the heart of Zaire. There they rendezvoused with a man by the name of Bernard Diako. Diako was not a member of the League of Shadows but had been hired for his knowledge of Équateur Province through which they would be tracking Mutara.

A couple of hours after their arrival in Ikela they left the safe house and crossed the broad Tshuapa River south of town. From there they left civilization behind, delving into the rich canopy of forest, a world that instantly captivated Bane. Diako led the way, carrying a machete for hacking through any vines or other leafy entanglements that could slow them down. The air was alive with the cries of birds and unseen animals, all foreign to Bane. He wanted always to scan his surroundings in search of these creatures, but the challenges of navigating the wilderness kept his attention more often focused directly in front of him. He considered the region's array of reptiles and amphibians that he had both read about and been warned of by Diako and Zakuani. Pythons, boa constrictors, vipers, cobras. Bane longed to see them yet feared them as well. He could, however, do without the myriad of biting, annoying insects. Though doused with repellent, he had to frequently reapply it to what little skin was exposed.

The temperature hovered around thirty-two degrees Celsius, and though the trees provided welcomed shade, they also killed any breeze down here on the forest floor, so in no time sweat soaked Bane. Never before had he experienced such humidity. It weighed upon him like another set of clothes and made breathing more of a chore. As hours of laborious trekking crawled by, taking them ever deeper into the wilderness, Bane's respiration became almost as laborious. He tried to hide this fact from his comrades, but the mask drew attention to it, his panting hollowly ringing within the apparatus's confines. Sweat gathered inside it, making it even more uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

Their stops were few and brief. Bane trudged on without complaint, though he knew Temujin was observing his condition closely, albeit discreetly. They had much ground to make up on their quarry.

"Mutara, I believe, will be headed for a small, abandoned village some one hundred kilometers southwest of us," Diako had said back in Ikela. "My sources told me yesterday that some hunters had found tracks southwest of town, the tracks of three men and several children. Mutara cannot carry enough supplies with him for so many mouths to feed, so he will have planned ahead and stored supplies along his route, such as that village. I expect they will stay there for at least one night."

Of course children would ensure that Mutara could not move as fast as Bane and the others. They would require frequent rests if their captor wanted them to remain in good health for when they were turned over to the buyer. Again Bane felt nauseated and enraged when he imagined Talia in the same circumstances as these victims.

"I don't want you thinking of this situation in that way," Temujin said when Bane shared his thoughts during one of their stops. "This is an assignment, not a crusade. Take your emotions out of it. They will cloud your judgment. What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Maybe these thoughts aren't a distraction at all but a motivation."

"Who is the supervising officer here, Bane?" Temujin scowled. "You will listen to me on this."

Bane turned away to drink from his canteen, disgruntled with himself for even telling Temujin about this. Though his superior, Temujin was usually not so blunt. The fact that he was told Bane the depth of his mentor's displeasure.

A moment of silence slipped between them before Temujin spoke again, this time in a tone devoid of any anger, "Your breathing has been growing more labored because of the humidity."

"I'm fine."

"You will tell me if you are not."

"Of course."

"Don't try to deceive me, Bane. You know you can't."

It was true, of course, but Bane refused to concede his mentor's intimate knowledge of him. Instead he pretended to be engrossed in his meal, angling his back more toward Temujin to encourage an end to the discussion. Fortunately his SO said nothing more.

Bane's attention drifted to Bernard Diako, who sat several feet away from him and the others. Diako, somewhere in his thirties, tall and powerful, was an unsmiling man with a low, broad brow and a jaw that jutted slightly forward like a bulldog. His neck was scarred, as if someone had once attempted to slit his throat. He had said next to nothing since they left Ikela, and before that he had said very little beyond the information he had shared about Mutara's assumed path.

Bane disliked him, yet he could not figure out exactly why. Merely a gut feeling. Perhaps it stemmed from the simple fact that Diako was not a member of the League. Of course it was not his place to question the wisdom of Diako's employment; after all, Zakuani would have been unable to acquire him without Rā's al Ghūl's approval. But Bane remembered his training and his SO's advice to always trust his gut instincts. For now, he would say nothing to Temujin and instead would merely watch Diako closely without stirring the man's suspicions.

Only when total nightfall blanketed them did they halt for the night. The noises of wildlife increased twofold, keeping Bane awake even after he had served his turn on watch. He thought of carnivorous creatures, like the leopard. Such contemplation caused no fear in him; they kept a small fire burning, and his guns were next to him. His attention went to Diako, and the uneasiness he had felt all day about the man bothered him more than the prospect of any wild thing attacking them in camp.

He remembered Diako's facial expression when he had seen the mask. Unlike Zakuani, it had been apparent that Diako had not been forewarned about the apparatus or even about the man who wore it. Diako's eyes had narrowed with curiosity, but he said nothing, asked nothing. Bane sensed, though, that the man was concerned that the mask would be a weakness, a chink in the team's armor. Or perhaps it was not concern. Perhaps the African was instead pleased to believe that he was physically superior to the man who bore this strange handicap.

The second day of their trek through the remote forests brought heavier humidity and higher temperatures than the day before. Even the natural beauty and mysterious surroundings could not completely distract Bane from his respiratory difficulties. There were a couple of occasions when Temujin met his gaze and was about to order another rest stop, but each time Bane shook his head in silent dissuasion. By late afternoon he had fallen to the rear of their single file, fighting to keep his breath from rasping through the mask and exposing just how badly he struggled.

Just when he feared collapse, he spied a brightening ahead of them through the thick foliage, and he thought he caught the faint music of a stream. He closed his eyes in thanksgiving. Water to cool him, an open space where he could breathe better.

When they reached the waterway, Bane softly sighed and wiped his brow with his sleeve. It was a picturesque setting, like so many views before this—a stream narrow enough for a man to step over, framed by overhanging branches, tripping gently along with a robust flow, as clear as glass. He wanted to bury his face in it.

"We will rest here," Temujin announced with a glance at Bane. "Half an hour."

"Too long," Diako insisted. "Fifteen minutes."

"My orders aren't negotiable," Temujin said darkly and crouched beside the stream to cup his hands full of water and splash his face.

Bane kept his gaze from the African, but he could feel Diako's angry stare, heard him mutter something in Swahili under his breath. Zakuani responded in the same tongue, an obvious rebuke.

After injecting his morphine, Bane removed his mask and his boots. He drank long and deep of the cool waters, closing his eyes, then he sat on the bank and submerged his aching, burning feet with a smile. As always when confronted with such pure, natural water he harkened back to the warm, stagnant, multi-purpose pool at the bottom of the stepwell in the pit prison. Back then he could never have imagined that something such as this stream existed anywhere. He dug a protein bar from his pack and savored it along with more of the water before donning his mask once again. Then he lay back, closed his eyes, and listened to the varied cries of birds both large and small, the earth cool and soothing against his sweated clothes.

Once they were moving again, Bane took up the position in line directly behind Diako and the man's trailblazing machete. Bane did this not only to show the others that he was fully renewed—which he was not—but because he had a feeling that his close presence in Diako's blind spot would vex the man. And the fact that the African frequently cast baleful glances over his shoulder proved Bane's assumption correct.

"What caused your injuries?" Diako finally asked in an irritated, vaguely snide tone. "Did your face meet with the prop of an airplane? That is what it looks like."

For a long moment Bane said nothing. No one had ever made such rude remarks to him about his appearance. "My visage is no concern of yours," he growled.

"It is if you keep slowing us down."

"I have done nothing of the sort."

"I have a feeling if you weren't with us, Temujin would not have requested several of our stops, including the last one. Temujin shows little sign of fatigue himself. The Mongols are a hardy sort."

"You are a mere hireling," Bane said. "I'm surprised you are concerned with our pace, as if this operation were yours."

"The amount of my wages depends on our success. So I am well-motivated, my masked friend."

Bane considered this stipulation in Diako's contract, a smart contingency on Rā's' part.

"We must catch up with Mutara before he leaves that village. After that, he could melt into the forest," Diako continued. "It will be our best chance of capturing him." Again he tossed a dark glance back at Bane. "Your large size slows you as well as your breathing. Zakuani and I are far more suited to this environment; perhaps the three of us should leave you behind if you continue to hamper us."

"No one's being left behind," Temujin said.

"You will compromise our speed and the mission for your masked friend? What will your employer say to that, Mongol?"

"We will compromise nothing. You underestimate Bane, Diako. And you talk too much."

"Mutara and his men will hear his breathing from a kilometer away."

"Bane will be acclimated by then," Temujin said. "Besides, they will hear your talking long before they hear Bane's breathing. Now, enough of this dissension. If you continue insulting my friend, I might have to let him teach you some manners."

Diako chuckled humorlessly. "He may try, Mongol."

With that, they all fell silent and trudged onward as the sun—somewhere hidden by the surrounding wall of green—crept farther down the sky. All that could be heard beyond their footfalls was Bane's breathing and Diako's slashing machete.