The Waters of Eternity (22 page)

Dabir held up a hand to me. “That is not helpful, Asim. Dastur, what does Firouz mean to do with these door pulls?”

“What mean
you
to do with them?” the priest countered.

Dabir stared hard at the old man. “I do not know what they are capable of. You have not told me.”

Silence fell then among us, filled only by the steady drum of rain against the roof. The thunder now was distant.

I wondered where the youth was with our refreshments.

When the dastur finally spoke, it was tiredly, as though the weight of ages hung upon his words. “Long years past, before the coming of the prophet, there was a great city in the desert. It is known by many names in this day, and your book calls it Ubar. It was a place of glories, where goods flowed in and out like water, where the streets themselves were lined in gold. In this city was built a doorway that opened into another place. An entry point into the land of djinn.”

Stories for children,
I thought, and might have said as much except that Dabir gave me a sharp look when I grunted doubtfully.

The dastur continued. “The folk of Ubar traded readily with the djinn that dwelt nearby, the Keeper of Secrets. So long as they paid the proper price, they could ask anything of him.”

I realized with a start that the Keeper of Secrets had been mentioned upon the door pulls, or so Dabir had said.

“What was his price?” Dabir asked Esfandiar.

“The Keeper of Secrets,” the dastur said with a searching look, “wanted nothing less than the souls of men.”

Dabir let out a low whistle. “Thus did the folk of Ubar grow rich with knowledge.”

“And invite the wrath of God,” I added.

“Aye,” Dabir agreed. “So these pulls were set upon the doors that opened this … entryway. Firouz must plan to open it himself.”

“Ubar,” I said, “was destroyed by God.” So did all know, for Ubar’s end is described in one of the shortest of suras, those first learned by children. “There is nothing left of it. What can this Firouz hang the pulls upon?”

Neither man answered.

“And if God destroyed the city, would not he have destroyed this djinn?”

“Firouz must not think so,” Dabir mused. “Djinns are said to be immortal.”

“What does this Firouz want to know from a djinn?” I asked.

Dabir shook his head. “Whatever he seeks cannot bode well for us. Neither he nor his ally, this Greek, is a friend to the caliphate.”

“We must stop them,” I said.

“Yes. Dastur, if Firouz wishes to find the Keeper of Secrets, he must know the location of Ubar. Is that possible?”

The priest licked his lips but did not answer for a long time. “It may be,” he said finally.

Dabir and the priest measured one another with their eyes.

“You know where the city lies,” Dabir said.

“I may.”

“Subhan’Allah!” I cried. “How can that be?”

“You must tell us the way,” Dabir told him, ignoring my question.

Esfandiar eyed him soberly. “What then will you do, Dabir?”

“I will stop these men. And you must help me.”

“But if you stop them, and these pulls fall once more into your hands, and thence into the hands of the caliph—what then?”

“I shall pray to Allah, for guidance. Now is not the time. You worry about good men tempted to villainy when villains already command the situation. If you know the way to Ubar, you must help so that we may stop them.”

The priest’s shoulders slumped as he rose. “I will draw no map and write no instructions. Such could fall into other hands.” He sighed. “I will come with you, though I feel it shall be my death.”