The Waters of Eternity (20 page)

“Can I see the bird?” Sabirah asked. “How could it tell anyone what we’re doing?”

“That is an excellent question,” Dabir admitted. “Some birds may speak, but they rarely say anything of use.”

“Who sent the thing?” Sabirah stared toward the window.

“Do not pay it too much attention,” Dabir said, motioning her back. His eyes dropped again to his papers. “I think perhaps it comes from the Greeks, but I cannot say. There is much here that is shielded from me.”

Sabirah chewed her lip thoughtfully then returned to unroll one of the scrolls.

“What have you learned?” I asked Dabir. I stood over him and the pulls, placed side by side on a brown rug, their gemstones twinkling.

“These are very old, for one thing.”

“How old?”

“Older than Noah, may peace be upon him. This is cuneiform script, similar to that we saw in Kalhu, but of an older make.”

“What does it say?”

“These”—he pointed here and there to strings of symbols—“call for the blessings of djinn these folk worshipped as gods. But the blessings are strange.”

“It’s all about magic,” Sabirah said from her cushion. “The folk of Ubar wanted these pulls on doors that open to a place called the Desert of Souls, where—”

“Ubar?” I repeated, my mind reeling.

Dabir gave Sabirah a hard look. “Aye, Ubar.”

There were none who failed to hear of the splendors of Ubar. The wealth of a dozen kingdoms had been funneled to the ancient world’s finest artisans in crafting the fabled city, but it had been destroyed by Allah in a rain of fire and covered over with a sea of sand because its people had turned their face from right thinking.

“Did the Greeks find the pull in Ubar?” I asked.

“No, Asim. I think they tracked this one down, or, likely, stole it. What they intend with both of them I am not sure.”

“What good are they?” I asked. “Apart from their gold and gems. Ubar is lost.”

“They may plan to find it,” Dabir said.

I laughed shortly, for men had sought the riches of Ubar for millennia. Some few returned with stories of nothing but failure; most did not return at all. “No one has ever found Ubar; no one ever shall.”

“Do not be so sure, Asim.”

The door was opened behind us and the master strode in, followed by Boulos. Jaffar’s mouth was a stern line. Boulos’s head was bowed, and I had the sense that he was both quite interested to observe and somehow ashamed to be involved.

Upon seeing who entered, Dabir rose and bowed his head.

The master did no more than glance at him, demanding instead of Sabirah, “What do you here, niece?”

“Dabir is instructing me.” Her voice was carefully neutral.

“Was it not clear that your studies with him are at an end?”

Sabirah rose, her head bowed only slightly. Her eyes burned. “Perhaps I was too simple to understand your meaning.”

Jaffar scowled. “Do not play games with me, girl! I am trying to see to your protection!”

“See to your own!” she said, abandoning dispassion. “May God see fit to open your eyes!”

Jaffar was astonished by her rudeness. She brushed past him, wiping at her eyes. Jaffar ordered Boulos after her, to see her to her quarters. The old watcher women scuttled in his wake.

Jaffar faced Dabir. “What is your excuse, Dabir? You are not a willful child.”

“Honored One,” I said, “I saw no evidence of desire between the two, save the desire for learning.”

The master rounded on me. “I did not ask, Captain! But since you intrude, how is it that you did not put a stop to them? You knew that I meant to dismiss Dabir from my service!”

I bowed. “Forgive me, Excellency. He yet remained within your service. The order had not been given, and I thought—”

“I do not pay
you
to think! I pay
him
to think!”

“Forgive Asim, Master,” Dabir spoke up. “And forgive the girl. I need help with these texts, and hers is an agile mind. When she came for her afternoon studies, I set her to work.”

“Your lie exposes you! What possible use could she be here? She does not know this language!”

Dabir explained quickly. “She has a mind that, upon reading a thing, will not let it go. It is greater for this purpose even than mine. She scans the references, and—”

Jaffar put his hand to his head, rather dramatically, and Dabir fell silent.

When the master spoke at last, it was as a disappointed father pleading for reason. Stern, but disappointed. “Dabir, I need your aid in unraveling this knot. But do not use that need to your own advantage. I can call upon other men, if need be.”

“I understand that, Excellency.”

“Do you deny that you are in love with Sabirah?”

I thought to immediately hear Dabir counter, but he hesitated. I think this hesitation even surprised Jaffar, and I was reminded that Jaffar might still be trying to convince himself the fortune-teller had confused the readings.

“I have affection for her,” Dabir said. “As is only natural for a teacher with a talented pupil.”

The master waved this off. He seemed almost relieved. “You deceive yourself, Dabir. It is easy to do, with pretty eyes. But she cannot be for you. Her marriage must be a political one.”

That was only reasonable.

“I hope that you will find more tutors for her,” Dabir said. “She chirps after knowledge as a newborn sparrow for worms.”

“That soon shall be her husband’s lookout. It is time to obey Musa’s wishes, as I should have done months ago. Her father has been after me since autumn to marry her, and I keep writing him that we should delay. She flashes her eyes at me and says ‘Uncle, do not marry me—I wish to continue my studies.’ ” He shook his head. “Now come, it is almost time for evening prayers. When we return, I wish you to show me what you have discovered.”

Dabir locked the gold pulls in a chest and dropped the key in a pouch belted to his waist.

The mosque on the grounds of Jaffar’s palace was not quite as large as that upon the grounds of the caliph’s palace—my master knew better—but the calligraphy decorating its walls rivaled or perhaps even surpassed the caliph’s in grandeur. We made ablutions, then set to our prayers.

When I am troubled, I bow to Mecca and pray to God, and my spirit is eased; it is as though a mighty river sweeps me up and carries me upon its current, my back to the streambed, my face to the stars. Prayer both soothes and comforts. Yet this day my mind was elsewhere. My brother Tariq had warned me that I must always mean the words, but that day I dishonored his memory; that day my spirit was uneasy and I focused less upon the marvels of God than upon the burdens of Dabir, and the legends of lost Ubar.

After prayers Jaffar put off the servants who demanded this or that from him, and put aside the request of one of his wives to join him for a fine meal, and returned with us to the room of study. Along the way he was at his charming best, alert and witty, although it was plain to see Dabir was troubled. I think Jaffar meant to put him at ease.

As it happened, God had veiled the sky with black clouds, so that it seemed night chased eagerly after the evening. The halls were dark.

A particularly loud blast of thunder heralded our arrival at the study room, rattling the palace just as Dabir pushed open the doors. Darkness can clothe the unknown in malignance, thus when the dark man-shapes hunched by the chest whirled at our entry, I thought them dwarf demons sent up from hell.

4

A lightning bolt slashed the sky outside the window and in a split second the dark furred shapes were revealed as monkeys larger than any I had seen, taller even than my knee, with dark glittering eyes and fangs. There was something especially malefic in their all too human reaction to us, as though they were two burglars interrupted in the act of thievery. The chest was open and each clutched one of the gold pulls to its furry bosom. The bird that had watched us sat gripping the opened lid with dark claws.

Then the lightning was gone and the monkeys were scurrying for the window.

“Come, Asim!” Dabir cried.

I was a heartbeat behind him, for I paused to draw my sword. The bird rose up, flapping at my face; I swung and connected and it did not come again, but I did not hear it fall or see where it landed.

The first of the monkeys reached the window and clambered onto the sill, the gold pull still clutched to its chest. Dabir grabbed for it, but was too slow. I was a moment behind him and swung at the second creature even as the first leapt over to the wooden screen outside and climbed swiftly out of sight. I threw myself forward, chopping with my blade. I did not miss. The sword sliced clean through the monkey’s leg, which flew free. Yet the monkey did not react. In silence it leapt after the first, climbing more slowly with two limbs and tail while it kept the plaque and its dangling ring-pull tight to its furry body.

Dabir thrust his head through the window. There was room enough for me to join him in time to see the second beast clamber over the roof ledge and disappear.

Dabir’s study chamber lay on the second floor. Ornate wooden screens blocked the second and fourth windows. All but one of the others was closed with shutters. It was this open window through which the monkeys had fled. I threw down my sword and climbed out onto the narrow ledge after them. Thunder roared all about me.

Holes suited for the claws of monkeys are not as useful for a warrior in boots, and I struggled for a foothold in the wooden screen. I jammed my toe in a round hole and reached up for the overhanging roof only to hear a loud crack. I thought at first it was the thunder, and then my foot gave way.

I sprang off my left foot, caught the roof ledge with my fingers, and pulled myself up. Dabir urged care; I do not think he heard my response, as I was too busy not falling to answer clearly, and my words do not bear repeating. I slung one leg up, then clawed my way over the edge and stood as another lightning bolt shattered the sky and showed me the length of the roof.

There was no one up there but me. I looked quickly to right and left, dreading that the monkeys might lurk in the shadows, but there was nothing to see but a splendid view of the mosque and the courtyard where Pago had died. The thickening shadows beyond the edges of the flat roof disclosed no sign of our quarry.

Jaffar,
I thought,
would not be pleased.

I had more immediate problems. Simply getting down proved difficult, as the roof overhung the second floor, which meant that I could not quite reach the window ledge even though I dangled out from it. Fortunately Dabir noticed my difficulty and came over to grasp my leg and help pull me in. There followed a brief moment of tangled exertion, and then I was once more upright within the study.

Dabir had lit a lantern in my absence; there was no sign of Jaffar.

“Did you see which way they went?” Dabir asked.

“No. They were gone.”

“The master ran out to call for the guards and is moving to arrest the Greeks.”

I nodded. “I must follow.”

“Hold, Asim.” Dabir touched my shoulder and pointed down. For the first time I saw that the lantern light spilled upon a furry, severed limb.

“I struck it from the monkey,” I said.

“I have looked at the leg, and I have looked at your blade. Tell me, did you wipe your weapon?”

“Nay.” What sort of question was that? I had been in a hurry. “I cast it down and climbed.”

“There is no blood upon it.”

I stepped to where my sword lay, on a rug by the window, and lifted it.

Lightning scorched the air and I saw the blade’s hungry gleam as thunder set the walls to shaking.

“There is no blood upon your weapon or upon yon limb.”

“Strange,” I said.

“The monkey’s leg is dry, Asim. As dry as dust.”

I bent with him to examine the thing. There was no blood; the flesh was thin as parchment, and wrinkled. The bone was brown with age. The muscles were lean, shriveled.

It looked as if there had been no blood anywhere within that limb for a very long time. “It had a withered leg,” I said, pretending that I did not feel a chill along my spine. I did not believe my own words.

“Nay, you saw how swiftly it moved.”

A thought struck me then, and I took up the lantern and set out across the room, searching the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“The bird flew at me,” I said. “I hit it—”

I found it cut in twain near the south wall. I walked but slowly toward it, already seeing that it, too, lacked blood that should have stained the floor beneath its little body. Dabir knelt beside the two halves. He announced what I had already seen.

“It was dead when you slew it. Look; it is stuffed with sawdust. And its eyes are black jewels.”

I backed off and raised my hand, spreading my fingers in the sign against evil. “What does it mean?”

“It means the pulls have greater power than we know. Our enemies have spared nothing to gain them.”