The Bones of the Old Ones (Dabir and Asim) (6 page)

She looked down and away, and when she replied her voice was very soft. “I do not wish you to think me foolish, so I did not speak of it. I’m afraid this is something that the wizard has done. I never … I just wish to return home.” She raised her head and then, almost against her will, faced the wall and the spear once more. She took a half step toward it.

Dabir interposed his body between the wall and the woman. His voice was kind but firm. “I do not recommend coming any closer to that weapon.”

She only stared at him.

“Why should she not?” the governor asked. “What is happening?”

My friend looked as though he were about to make some sobering pronouncement. Instead, he asked him a question. “Do you know from where this spear comes?”

“It was on the wall of the palace when I was appointed to my post,” the governor answered. “So were most of these.” He turned reluctantly to the astrologer. “Shabouh, you served the previous governor. Do you know anything of it?”

Shabouh bowed his gray head. “It has always hung here, Excellency, at least to my knowledge. I honestly paid it no heed until now. Farbod, perhaps, knows more.”

It was then Najya lunged suddenly past Dabir and grabbed the weapon.

3

I darted after without thinking. Neither Dabir nor I were ones to touch women unasked, but we both lay hold of her arms.

Yet there was no moving her. Najya’s whole body had gone rigid and she was fastened to the spear as surely as if she were bolted to the thing. She began to shake, as men will when they have the falling sickness, and she gripped the haft so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Pry free her thumbs!” Dabir shouted to me.

As I slid my hand beneath hers, my palm pressed against the surface of the spear, and a cold spread through me such as men must face when they die upon the mountaintops. I shuddered violently in the sudden chill and my mind flooded with jarring and disjointed images. I stood upon a plain sheathed everywhere in ice and snow. The sky was a slate-gray tombstone. A village of thatched round huts lay beneath a thick sheet of frost and snow. Strange beasts stomped across a frozen river, followed by giant manlike beings with long silvery hair and shining white skin. Fur-clad warriors charged with flint-tipped spears. Bodies lay strewn like leaves over the icy ground, stained red beneath them. A bearded man stared back at me through a slab of ice, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The visions vanished the moment I pulled Najya free with trembling hands. She collapsed senseless in my arms.

Dabir was there on my other side, demanding to know if she was all right, and what had happened to me. I lifted the woman in my arms and spoke with a trembling jaw. “The weapon is cursed,” I told him. “Its touch froze me to the bone.”

“Place her upon the settee,” the governor ordered, and this I did, casting a blanket over her that I found upon the back of the furniture. By this time the guards had rushed forward, and the governor sent Kharouf running for the hakim.

“She lives,” Dabir said, and he pulled fingers back from Najya’s neck.

The woman’s face was pale as the white marble inlays in the patterned floor. She shifted very slightly beneath the blanket, but did not open her eyes.

The governor frowned down at her, then turned to us, drawing himself up to his full height. Though we each topped him by at least half a head, we bowed in deference. “Explain,” he commanded.

Dabir then relayed, in short, succinct sentences, all that we had experienced since Najya’s arrival. I would have left to stand over a brazier, but I did not wish to appear disrespectful

The governor’s expression grew more and more grave as he listened, but he asked no questions. My friend finished by pointing to the weapon on the column. “It seems, Your Excellency, that the wizard Koury captured Najya to aid him in finding this unusual spear.”

“That thing?” the governor asked. “But why should anyone want it?”

Before Dabir could answer, the reception doors thumped open and Tarif of the palace guard walked in. He was trailed by four soldiers, each holding the corner of a canvas. Upon that canvas lay the blackened figure of the wooden man I had consigned to flames. One of the arm joints still smoldered. Tarif came to a halt six feet from the dais, and bowed.

The governor descended to speak with him. I glanced down at Najya; she was still pallid but breathing regularly. Dabir was scanning me with concern when I turned to him, but I waved him off, and we followed the governor down the steps. I managed at last to put hands over some hot coals, and breathed a quiet sigh, for the warmth was most pleasant.

“Set it down and return to your posts,” Tarif directed his men.

Some called Tarif ugly, but that was not entirely fair, for when seen only from the right side he was a striking figure of a man. A Greek spear had smashed into his left cheek, ruining his lip and taking out a number of teeth in the bargain. He was better off than some with like injuries, for he could close his mouth and speak clearly, but his features were forever marred by lumpy flesh and a patchy beard. Despite all this, or perhaps even because of it, all of the governor’s soldiers looked upon Tarif with favor.

As his men departed Tarif raised his deep voice to a more formal level. “Excellency, this is one of the wooden demons that the wizard set against folk in the square. Asim pitched it into the fire, where it died. The other one fled after killing two of my men and badly wounding another.”

The governor stared down at the motionless form, saying nothing. The long-bearded court hakim came in through the open doorway, a female attendant trailing. They bowed to the governor, who pointed up to the settee, then moved off to obey.

“I set riders after the wizard who commanded these things,” Tarif continued. “But he galloped away on a wooden horse, and vanished into the distance.”

The governor prodded one of the wooden man’s charred legs with his foot. “At great cost,” he said reflectively, “I have set up a place for my people to find succor in the square of my city.”

“You are a very shepherd to your people,” Shabouh broke in, bowing his head.

You might think that Shabouh was one of those who sought praise from his superior by giving it, but you would be judging the poor old astrologer unfairly, for the comment was heartfelt and shared by anyone with sense in the whole of the city.

“This is not to be tolerated.” The governor’s head rose resolutely. “My people were endangered, and my soldiers murdered. Tarif, I wish you to find this wizard and bring him to me to answer for his crimes.”

Tarif grinned fiercely. “Nothing would please me more.”

“If I may, Excellency,” Dabir said, “there is a man I know in Harran who is a great scholar, and knows much about the history of wizards, perhaps even the identity and powers of this one. I believe he could be of tremendous help to us.”

This was the first I had heard of this matter, or of anyone important in Harran, and I eyed my friend curiously.

“I shall send for him,” the governor announced.

“Better, I think,” Dabir said, slowing his speech so as to be more respectful, “if I go to him. He is disinclined to travel and cannot bring his library with him. Together the two of us might find the clues we need to ascertain the true aims of this wizard.”

The governor frowned. “What are we to do if the wizard comes for the woman while you are gone?”

“It was my thought that I might take the woman and the spear with me so that the scholar could examine them both.”

The governor’s expression had softened, but he did not speak for a long while. “I care not a whit for the spear,” he said finally. “If I might rectify matters by hurling it into the Tigris, I would do so on the moment. But the young woman is afflicted with madness. Shouldn’t she be left in the care of her relatives?”

Again Dabir bowed his head. “She has no relatives in Mosul, Excellency. And I do not think she is mad. Her reports match the strange things that we have seen. I suspect she is suffering from her treatment at the hands of the wizard. I hope that my friend—the learned Jibril ibn Jaras—may be able to help her.”

The governor turned to Shabouh. “What do you think of all this?”

The astrologer patted his ample belly. This, I think, was the moment he had been waiting for. “Excellency, have I not been warning you of the dire signs? Merrikh and Mushtarie are both passing through Al-Jabbar.”

“So you have said,” the governor replied. “And things surely have grown worse. But what is to be done?”

A lesser man might have used that moment to further his own schemes at Dabir’s expense, but Shabouh was no Baghdad courtier. “It is folly to hesitate,” he said. “I think you should heed Dabir’s plan.”

“Let us go get this man of Dabir’s straightaway,” Tarif agreed, eager for action. “If Dabir knows about wizards, then let him come with us.”

The governor considered this briefly, then nodded. “Let it be done. Make arrangements, Captain.”

Tarif bowed. “We will see whether magic can stop a spear thrust.” He bowed again and departed.

I smiled to myself, for I liked Tarif’s sentiment well.

The hakim had been waiting at the edge of the conversation for a short while, and was staring down at the wooden soldier with great fascination.

“How is the woman, Ari?”

“She seems well enough.” Ari sounded years younger than his white beard would have suggested. “She is weak, and sleepy. Rest would be good.”

“What is wrong with her?” the governor asked.

“I cannot say, for certain. She is cold, and will not rouse from sleep. Your guard said she has suffered a fit. Is she prone to this?”

The governor looked to Dabir.

“We do not know her well,” Dabir explained. “But she has undergone great trials, and may have experienced privation.”

I thought to mention it wasn’t privation, but a greater blast of whatever had almost frozen me, then realized that Dabir deliberately avoided further discussion of sorcerous doings, though I knew not why. Thus I stayed quiet.

“That might explain it.” The hakim did not sound completely convinced. “If she is in your care, you must do better. She must be dressed more warmly in weather like this. She’s chilled. I would see that she rests in a warm bed. When she wakes, give her a light meal. Broth. Tea. Durriyah will stay with her until she rises,” he added with a look to his attendant.

“Thank you, Ari,” the governor said.

The hakim bowed to the governor, nodded to his female assistant, kneeling beside Najya on the dais, and left the room. One of the guards closed the door behind them.

The governor turned to Dabir as the thunk of the door’s closing echoed through the chamber. “I will house the woman in the palace this night, and tomorrow you may be on your way. I cannot say that I envy your travel through the snow.”

“Sometimes one chooses the journey,” Dabir said, “and sometimes the journey chooses him. If I may, Governor—I would like to study that spear in a room with better light.”

“Of course.”

As my friend moved to claim the weapon, I could hold comment no longer. “Dabir, that spear leveled the girl and set me to shivering. I don’t know that anyone should touch it.”

“Let us be sure, then,” said Dabir.

He approached without hesitation and, over my objection, brushed fingers against the thing gently, once, twice, then grasped it solidly.

“Interesting,” he said.

The governor waited for explanation, but I think it was my dumbstruck surprise that evoked Dabir’s response.

“If the spear alone caused your reaction, some poor slave would have been frozen flat while hanging or cleaning the thing years ago. We would have heard of it.”

The governor stepped forward to lay hand on the weapon himself. “Now that I look closely at this spear, there is something disquieting about it.”

“I doubt it is dangerous unless Najya is touching it, or if someone is touching both Najya and the spear,” Dabir went on.

“Why?” I asked.

“That,” Dabir said, “is one of any number of questions for which I have no answer at present.” He bowed his head to the governor. “With your leave, Excellency, there is much to do.”

The governor asked us to sup with him that night before ordering one of the soldiers to remove the spear and carry it to a room in the east wing where Dabir would be working. Slaves arrived with a litter for Najya and I had a final glimpse of her being lifted carefully onto it before Dabir and I strode into the hallway. I bethought then of all that the lady had endured, and hoped for her sake that we might soon deliver her from her troubles.

Dabir set up in a first-floor room with two ample windows viewing the courtyard, which meant it was bright as well as cold. He questioned me at length about all I’d experienced when touching the spear, but seemed less satisfied the more he learned. Then he sent me back to our house to retrieve some old scrolls and a book. I did not ask why. Before I left I saw to it Kharouf was posted outside, for, while inexperienced, he was serious by nature and a capable soldier.

When I returned, I watched until late in the afternoon while Dabir turned the spear every which way and laboriously copied each mark he discovered on the old weapon, regardless if it seemed a carving or a scratch. Occasionally he’d pause to rifle through references. He grew completely absorbed in the work, as he was whenever presented with a compelling puzzle.

I did not interrupt him, even though I wondered why anyone would bother making a weapon from a bone. Perhaps its use was merely ornamental, for surely the edge would break under strain. I sat with my arms crossed near the brazier slaves had brought in, and my mind returned repeatedly to Najya. We were supposed to be informed when she recovered. I hoped the silence did not mean that her condition had worsened.

Dabir could not be parted from his studies for food, so I alone joined the governor, Shabouh, and several other court intimates. They pressed me for details about Dabir’s discoveries but I could only shake my head. “Dabir never likes to speculate before he is more certain of an answer. He would not wish me to say.” This was true, of course, though I could not have told them Dabir’s theories even if I wished, for he had not shared them.