The Bones of the Old Ones

by Howard Andrew Jones

  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, Ex
cellency, 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.

  After evening prayers at the governor’s side, a servant informed us that the woman had roused and asked for Dabir and me, so I excused myself and went to find my friend.

  Kharouf still leaned against the wall outside. Inside, a partially eaten meal of stewed dates and lamb rested near at hand, but Dabir was otherwise as I had left him, studying a text and making notes. A densely packed ring of candles now burned off the encircling darkness.

  “Najya is awake and asking for us,” I told him.

  “Ah. Good.” He nodded, glancing up. “You should go talk to her.”

  “She asked for both of us,” I said, though I was not entirely sure the servant had truly conveyed the lady’s request.

  “Yes, but I am busy.”

  If he was at all interested in her, he was doing a poor job of showing it. I began to think it was the problem, and not the woman, which held his attention. “What do you want me to say?”

  Dabir looked blandly up from the scroll. “Convince her to come with us.”

  “Cannot the governor simply order her to do so?”

  “Nay—she is not a criminal, and she is not of Mosul. The governor, being a just man, will not exercise authority over her he does not have. And she must accompany us, for her own safety.” He looked back down. “Oh—ask if she, too, witnessed anything when she touched the spear.”

  Feeling somewhat useless to him otherwise, I had Kharouf point me in the right direction and then found a servant to lead me to the well-appointed room where Najya waited. There were braziers there, and a platter of breads and cheeses, and also a girl attendant who was brushing Najya’s hair by candlelight as she sat on a couch. Najya had removed her veil and did not bother affixing it on sight of me. Without the fabric she proved even more lovely, with a clear complexion, a small, full mouth with bright lips, and a delicate, rounded chin.

  I had a sudden misgiving about why I’d been thinking of her all day, and didn’t realize I was staring until several uncomfortable moments passed while she waited for me to speak. I think she’d acknowledged me with “Captain Asim.”

  I brought myself back around with some effort. “It is good to see that you are well.” I then noted that she wore a dark blue dress and decided to comment upon it, for women delight in such things. “Is that a new garment?”

  “It is a gift from the governor,” she said with disinterest. “Captain, the servants say I am to ready for a journey to Harran. But surely,” she emphasized, “that cannot be right.”

  Here I’d been thinking I’d have to break the news to her, but naturally palace gossip had reached her ear already. I doubted that would make my mission simpler.

  “So it is true?” she asked.

  “There is a man in Harran who Dabir thinks can help you.”

  “Dabir promised he would help me return to Isfahan.” Those stunning eyes pierced me like spear points. “That is two weeks the other direction from Harran.”

  When the matter was broached this way, I knew shame, for Najya was absolutely right—word had been given, and must be broken if Dabir had his way. Speech failed me, and as I struggled for a proper reply Najya’s scrutiny intensified, which made concentrating on a response all the harder. I could not help wondering if Dabir had sent me in his stead because he’d anticipated some of this. “You are right,” I admitted. “Dabir promised to return you to Isfahan. We fully intend to do so … but right now…”

  Still she glared daggers.

  The servant girl could not have been more than eight. She lowered her head while brushing, as if she expected us to begin hurling pottery at one another.

  Truly, I had been more comfortable fighting strange monsters. “We didn’t know the power of the men who had kidnapped you. Or that you suffered strange fits. Or that there was a peculiar spear involved. Did you, too, see strange visions when you touched it?”

  At this last, she left off glowering; now her stare was more blank, which was equally disconcerting. It would have been nice if she made some reply. But she did not, so I was left to continue the conversation on my own.

  “So. Eh. There is a man in Harran, and Dabir thinks he can set everything aright with you. Also, he is an expert on the kind of wizards that Dabir thinks are chasing you.”

  Najya pressed lips tightly together, then raised a hand to still the servant tending her hair. “Thank you. You may go.”

  “Madame?” The girl lowered the brush.

  Najya turned her head, and her voice was firm, though not harsh. “I said to go.”

  The girl collected all the feminine beauty articles in a little basket beside her and exited hurriedly.

  Najya waited until the girl had shut the door, then considered me with more care.

  “I do apologize,” I said. “But you were not conscious, and we … Dabir, I mean—”

  “What did you see in the visions?” she asked.

  I found it far easier to discuss the distressing images I had seen than to speak to her about Harran, so I welcomed the change of topic. I omitted nothing.

  She did not listen like Dabir, with interruptions. Instead she waited pensively and allowed me to reach a natural conclusion. After, she sat looking troubled.

  Once again I tried to prod her forward. “Did you see something similar?”

  “Somewhat.”

  With that admission, it was easier to take the initiative. “You see, then, why we need to speak with someone better able to help you? Dabir would not have suggested going to Harran if he did not think it would aid you.”

  “I believe you,” she said finally, and touched a hand to her face.

  It was a relief to know my arguments were seeing me to victory, and I began to relax. Another fine point had just come to me, one I might have mentioned earlier if I’d been thinking more clearly. “If we return you to Isfahan, who is to say the sorcerers would not simply follow and take you away once more?”

  She frowned, seemingly in acknowledgment. “Who is this man Dabir
is taking me to see?”

  “I do not know him,” I confessed. “But he is a scholar who helped train Dabir. Dabir is one of the brightest men in the caliphate, and if he respects the fellow, he must be wise indeed. I am sure he will be able to cure you.”

  “Very well,” She said resignedly. “I will go.” She then addressed me with great dignity. “Your … friend is very kind to me. I will happily remunerate him for these expenses. My family is not without resources.”

  It took me a moment to decide how to respond. “That is thoughtful of you,” I said at last. “But Dabir is not a hireling. He is a trusted servant of the caliph. He does not aid you for money or any other favor, but because it is the proper thing to do.”

  “You hold him in high regard.”

  “His wisdom has unraveled great mysteries.” It occurred to me then that she still had told me little that Dabir had asked me to learn. “Your pardon, but one of the things he asked me to, eh, ask you was whether you yourself had seen visions. And what they were.”

  “The coals have dimmed,” she said.

  I had been looking at nothing but her for a long while now, and though I had noticed a fading light, it had not occurred to me to see if the coals in both braziers had left off steaming. I was not so foolish that I had missed her change of subjects, but I did not wish her to be uncomfortable, either. “Are you cold? Shall I call for more?”

  “Nay. Though my skin is cool.” She touched fingers to her face once more. “Are you warm?”

  “I, too, am fine.” Now that she mentioned it, I had been chilled ever since I had touched the spear beside her, but I did not mean to reveal it.

  She adjusted herself into the cushions, then considered me seriously. “Tell me, Captain. Do you think I am a witch?”

  “Nay.”

  “Do you think I am mad?”

  “No, not at all. You have borne yourself through difficulties that would send some men quaking in fear.”

  She weighed me then with her eyes, and her shoulders sank a degree. She proceeded tentatively. “There is something I think I should tell you. Dabir should probably know. I did not say anything of it sooner because … well, I thought this would end quickly, and I did not wish to speak of it.”