Seven Veils of Seth (20 page)

The diviner asked mournfully, “Does our master understand the implications of willful disobedience of the Law?”

Ewar did not respond, and so Elelli spoke on behalf of the diviner. “This is what – in nomenclature passed down by previous generations – is known as injustice.”

On the way back to the settlement the diviner walked with the sage. They followed the western trail that cut through the palm grove before turning south to head toward the houses. They went some distance in silence, but before they reached the lush grove of palms, Yazzal asked, “There must be some secret motive for Ewar's determination to punish Isan.”

Elelli did not respond and so his companion goaded him to speak: “I discerned a prophecy in the look you two exchanged. Don't deny it!”

The sage laughed before confessing, “Even if I wanted to conceal a secret, I couldn't hide it from a diviner. Ewar confided to me that they had once been fond of each other.”

“Fond?”

“If you don't care to term it fondness then call it vengeance.”

“Is it really vengeance?”

“What should we call an attack that recompenses a good deed, if we don't use the technical term: vengeance?” “I understand. . . .”

“The jenny master saved Ewar's life from smallpox once.

He found him all alone in a tent after he had been deserted by his tribe.”

“Oh, I understand. We should never save the life of one whom the spirit world has never considered saving.”

“He saved his life with a blend of herbs.”

“Did you say herbs?”

“Ewar quizzed me a few days ago to learn whether a good deed someone performed in the past can be used as an argument against him today.”

“How did you respond?”

“I responded as I was obliged to. I told him the matter requires witnesses.”

The diviner was silent for a time. He dodged a date-stalk that blocked the path. Then he said confidently: “If he had asked me I would have told him that the evidence would not be binding even if there was a witness.”

“The fact is that another doubt troubles me.”

“Explain.”

“I have an intuition that there's some other secret.”

“Intuitions are more convincing than proofs at times, for occasionally an intuition is a prophecy.”

“A man does not take revenge on another man simply to punish a good turn.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“An antidote for a man's hostility is never lacking unless a woman is involved.”

“I was sure you would say that.”

“You would not be a diviner if you did not believe that.”

“But does the affair with the woman go back to the years of desert migration or to. . . .”

The sage interrupted him, “Tahala confided to me Tamanokalt's indignation.”

“A wife's indignation opens the door to a conspiracy.”

“Each of the sisters was able to become pregnant thanks to the stranger's amulets, except for Tamanokalt.”

“No one else has told me that.”

“Did Taddikat really not tell you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“A woman would not marry a diviner unless she's awed by his status.”

“Skip reflections on women right now and help me predict whether Ewar will dare violate the Law.”

The sage was silent for another stretch before finally replying, “It's rash to speculate about the conduct of a man who has assumed sovereignty over a group of people, but even so I doubt that he will dare commit such an offense.”

“But a desire for vengeance is stronger than a plague.”

“If you were in his place, what would you do?”

The diviner was silent for a long time before he replied, “I would set a trap.”

The sage shouted jestingly, “A passing comment from the mouth of a diviner is a prophecy.”

Isan bathed in the spring-fed pool, spreading powder from the pouch that he had tucked under an arm. Then, after slipping back into his garment, he retreated to a sandy, secluded spot overlooking the fields. Of late he had gotten used to going off by himself to the sandy, southern banks once he finished the bathing rituals to which he had become accustomed both as a pleasure but also as an opportunity to sow his suspect amulets secretly in the water while hoodwinking spies.

That day the head merchant, whom he had not seen for a long time, sought him out in his refuge. From a distance he shouted jokingly, “I thought people visited oases to mingle with other folks, not to isolate themselves.”

In a joking tone as well, he replied, “I would have thought that the ultimate form of isolation is to be surrounded by people, not by the desert's vast expanses.”

“I've found it nearly impossible to run you down.” “That's inevitable, because I never disobey my law to keep moving even when I relax with others in oases.”

He gave vent to his weird chortling but suddenly suppressed it to say, “I wouldn't throw stones at oasis life, if oasis life did not gnaw into the commandments.”

Amghar sat down on the bed of sandy, virgin earth. He cast his gaze below him, across the deserted expanse of golden sand that spread out until its depression suddenly was stopped to allow for an extensive, green, farm field crowned with palm trees that stretched haughtily toward the sky.

He freed his feet from their sandals, which he thrust into the sand as one might thrust a piece of dough into hot ashes to cook. He sighed with the relief of one from whose shoulders the burdens of the world have been lifted before he said, “The commandments will be lost in any circumstances, regardless of our druthers, because even if we could protect them against our forgetfulness we could not guard them against time.”

“Time! Time! If given a choice, I would prefer to pass away with the commandments when time decides to erase them from my mind.”

“But ponder this: Does our passion for the commandments justify our use of force to change something that people have freely chosen as beneficial to themselves?”

He turned so their eyes met. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long time. Isan averted his gaze first to stare far away, across the empty land. Then he said, “I know that no one has the right to choose for someone else, but it's also not right for a person to keep another person from proclaiming the truth.”

“Does the truth sanction the use of force?”

His companion suddenly turned toward him to respond to his question with a question: “What do you think?”

“I mean: Do we have the right to save a man who has decided to die?”

Without any hesitation his companion replied, “Yes, certainly; we have the right.”

“Don't we trespass against him by doing that?”

“We might trespass against ourselves, but not against him.”

“This is what I wanted to hear.”

“Explain!”

He looked at his companion, and their eyes met once more. The chief merchant said in a significant tone, “You truly trespassed against yourself the day you saved from abandonment people destined for it.”

“I've never regretted that.”

“It takes courage to do what you've done and even more courage to have no regrets about it, but you shouldn't forget that the reward for a good deed is ingratitude.”

A mysterious smile gleamed in the strategist's eyes. Then his companion added, “You weren't content to do a good deed. You committed an even more serious offense by denying the man's wife the amulet for offspring.”

“I've not been stingy with the water nymphs with my amulets, but I can't bring dead bones back to life.”

“Do you mean. . . .”

“If his wife did not become pregnant after I deposited my amulet in her, she must be barren. Yes, Tamanokalt is barren. Is that my fault?”

He was silent, and the stillness was widespread. From the west came the squawk of a crow.

Ewar kept his eyes on the fool and tried to decipher the look in his eyes whenever his companion lowered his veil to uncover his lips. Edahi seemed even more lost and miserable. Each time, however, he would raise the end of his veil again to hide the weak spot the Law identifies as a man's lips. He glanced stealthily at the chief from time to time as if wanting to tell him a secret, only to reconsider and look far away.

This cat-and-mouse game continued for some time before the fool's tongue launched a question: “But who is this Isan?”

He gazed miserably at the ruler, but Ewar's eyes fled from his companion's gaze and roamed into the distance.

“No one knows.”

The fool was not satisfied. The skeptical expression of his eyes was inescapable. Smiling mysteriously, he asked, “He's been wandering the desert for ages, and no one knows?”

Ewar answered coldly, “No one has ever been able to name his father or mother.”

“I can't believe that.”

“Why not? The desert people are superior to unknown creatures whose lineage no one can trace.”

“It's said that in his heart lives the ancient foe whom the Master of the Orchard expelled for allying himself with the wretched Mandam. Is that true?”

The ruler smiled as his gaze wandered through the empty space outlined by palms to the south of the oasis. He replied, “That's what the griots report.”

Silence reigned. Then the braying of a male or female donkey shook the stillness. Taking this for an evil omen, Ewar murmured some charms. The fool continued with his line of questioning: “But where do you suppose he learned the secrets of medicinal herbs?”

Ewar kept his gaze fixed on the empty space and then swept across it to the horizon. He transcended the horizons to the blue sky, which was innocent of any cloud. Its nudity – like the desert's – was companionable and secretive. From this naked realm he pulled an answer to the fool's question, and thus his companion heard the revelation of a prophecy: “Are the secrets of medicinal herbs hidden from one to whom the secrets of the spirit world are not?”

The fool roamed around. He went to the fields and hid behind a fig tree to place the spring under surveillance. Some children were playing on the bank above the spring, pelting each other with clods of mud and calling each other names. Then they dashed away, shouting at one another. He waited in his hideout, but no one neared the spring; not the farmers, the water sprites, or the strategist with his alarming herbs. He listened to the gurgling of the fountainhead for a time and then jumped out of his bunker and darted off. He climbed some sword-type dunes and walked far into the sandy belt that encircled the oasis to the south. He wandered aimlessly for a time. He lay down for a while. Finally he returned and the palm groves concealed him. When he worked his way free of them, he found himself in the secluded area leading to the mountain slope with the tombs of the ancients scattered across it. He climbed the slope, trod on some graves, and rolled aside some skulls before he stopped at the ruined mausoleum in which the intruder had taken up residence. He listened carefully but heard nothing and shot off again. He passed by the mud-brick houses to the north and then turned right. He started down a road where recently some homes had been constructed. He stopped by a house that was splattered with lime. A symbol representing the goddess Tanit surmounted the top. He knocked on a door formed from sections of the trunk of a palm. The sign of the goddess appeared on it too, as a brass triangle. The door opened and the beauty appeared. She smiled and stepped aside, but the visitor did not enter. Without any preamble, he blurted out: “Some people have told me that the water nymphs have fallen in love with the master tactician.”

She laughed and pulled her wrap around her face without withdrawing from the doorway. She replied scornfully, as if mimicking the fool's tone: “The water nymphs are merely women, and women only fall in love with men who pique their curiosity. Only strangers and geniuses pique their curiosity.”

He gazed at her for a long time, appearing even more squint-eyed. A line of saliva trailed down from his mouth, from which his veil had dropped. He stammered, as if to himself: “‘A woman's jest is serious, and a woman's serious statement is a jest.' What they say is true!”

She laughed seductively once more and commented, “Add to that saying a second one: ‘A woman does not mock a man she loves.'”

When he looked questioningly at her, she added, “If a woman mocks a man she has loved, you know she's fallen in love with someone else.”

The fool's pain showed in his eyes. The fool's saliva glistened. The fool's tongue declared, “I can understand why your sisters rushed to the arms of that ignoble man – their desire for children won out – but I don't understand why you did. . . .“

She interrupted him curtly, “The sisters did not rush to the arms of an ignoble man. The sisters rushed to the master tactician to receive amulets.”

“I know about those amulets.”

As she glared angrily at him, he added, “The sisters can hide the true nature of those alleged amulets from the oasis, from the people, from their spouses, but you will never succeed in hiding the truth about them from the fool.”

“When desire for a child overwhelms a woman, she will search for that child wherever it may be found. She will search for a child even in the arms of an ignoble man, because a childless woman is not a woman.”

He started to say something, but she slammed the heavy door, which was fashioned from planks cut from the trunk of a palm tree, in his face.

Amghar, who was carrying his glad tidings in his right hand and a message in his left, came to Isan and stopped by the tomb's entrance as evening fell. He paused to catch his breath and finally said, “In my home a cry of glad tidings has finally resounded.”

Isan invited him to sit down and asked casually, “Boy or girl?”