Nexus Point (Meridian Series) (21 page)

       He pried open the bolt of the
door, and slid through the portal on soundless feet. The business of the night
was only just begun.

      
An hour later seven men stood in
a damp chamber at the base of the high tower of Massiaf. It was the first time
they had ever set foot in this hidden chamber of the castle, and dread began to
possess them from the moment they heard the summons to meet there with the
Sami. Now their eyes gaped at the scene before them, as if unwilling to believe
what they were seeing. Their bodies shivered, the evening chill simply
magnifying the cold terror that gripped them from within. By God, by holy God,
the voice from beyond was speaking to them!

       A silver platter sat on the
stark inlaid floor stones. It was awash with freshly spilled blood, and there,
square in the middle of the platter, was the disembodied head of a young
initiate! They knew the man, a late recruit in the Sami’s den of Assassins. He
had only just finished his first rite of initiation, drinking the cup of
Paradise. While most would still languish in dreams after such an experience,
his sleep had been final. Now his severed head sat in a pool of blood, the face
bruised with livid welts, the flesh of his cheeks and forehead pale and sallow.

       And the head spoke!

       The eyes rolled in a dreamy
trance and the mouth lolled open, slack and swollen. The head
spoke
to
them! It warned of a great danger that had come upon them, a man sent by the
enemies of Islam through a sacred passage reserved only for the highest
initiates, only for the most pure. Yet he had defiled it with his presence, and
cast a spell upon all who touched him.
The head spoke!

       It berated them for allowing
such transgression, shaming them for their lack of vigilance. It cursed the
name of one they were sworn to obey, and held him in blasphemy. The Kadi
General, it told them, was weak and beset with an evil eye. He had fallen under
the spell of the unbelievers. His judgment was skewed and he was delirious with
his own self-importance. Then, last of all, the head spoke the will of Allah in
this matter. The Kadi must die.

       The seven men listened in
horror, as the severed head gasped out a gruesome, gurgling scream. Then the
eyes dimmed and fluttered closed. The purple tongue lolled out and was silent
at last. The head returned to the dead, its message spoken, its decree branded
into the hearts of all who listened. Their eyes were glassy with tears as they
watched the ghastly scene conclude. Then a voice spoke from the high stone
chair.

       “So,” it whispered. “You have
heard.” The Sami stood up, clutching the milky green amulet at his breast and
extending a long arm, hand pointing at the seven men to drive home the charge
that had been ordained for them. “You have seen and heard the will of Allah,
with your own eyes and ears. Do not deceive yourselves, for such magic is very
powerful, and can only be worked in times of great need. You are here, and now
you know what you must do.”

       The Sami spoke, and the men
listened as he told them that they had been chosen to defend the faith and
cleanse the castle. “The stranger must die,” he told them. “Have no fear. That
is a task I will reserve for another. You need never see him, or risk his evil
eye. I will accomplish it with my own devices. But yours is the greater task.
For the evil eye has walked among us and poisoned the hearts of many. You have
heard that even the Kadi General is among those led astray. He too must die,
and you will bring holy retribution upon our enemies by the working of this
deed. So, hear now, and obey. Go to the armory and take up weapons as you
choose. Say nothing to anyone! Wash, in the manner taught to you, and pray
before you set this task before you. Go to the Kadi and bear this scroll.”

       He reached into the folds of his
long white gown and drew out a rolled parchment scroll, tied off with a slender
leather lace. “Say that it was late received from Egypt, and he will be eager
for it, I assure you. Then you know what you must do when you draw near to him.
Leave no one in the room alive to bear witness. Return here when the deed is
done. Bar the door, and heed no voice but my own.”

        The seven men stooped in a
deep, respectful bow, then rose and left the room in silence, their faces as
pale and drawn as the severed head on the platter before them.       The Sami
allowed himself a smile as he remembered his ploy, remembered how he rushed to
the great oaken door and threw home the bolt. He stooped to regard the severed
head where it lay upon the platter, fearless, a devious grin twisting his
features. A moment later he leaned down to grasp the edge of the platter,
pulling hard. It separated into two haves, each with a semicircle cut in the
center so that a small hole, just the width of a man’s neck, would be created
when the halves were joined. There was a narrow pit dug in the floor and, in
it, the body of the young initiate slumped lifelessly to one side.

       The body moved, but the Sami had
no fear. He knew that another man, one of his chosen guards, was also secreted
in the bottom of the pit where he had been holding fast to the bare legs of the
initiate, a sleek dagger held tight against the mans loins, lest he fail in the
duty the Sami had demanded of him.

       The Sami sat on his haunches
while his favored guard squeezed out of the hole. “Well done,” he whispered.
“He played the moment wonderfully. Your knife stroke was perfect, and he died
well. Now, finish the job and cut off his head in earnest. There is a burlap
sack beside my chair. Place the head inside and take it out to the inner
courtyard tonight.  Mount it there upon a sturdy spike. It will stand as
evidence that what these seven have seen here tonight was true. For they will
speak. No man could harbor the vision we played out for them in his heart for
long. When they are accused in the matter of the Kadi, they will speak. The
Kadi will die tonight, along with the intruder and all who have been sullied by
his coming. It is only fortunate for me that I stayed my hand when I moved to
kill the man in council chambers. I did not touch him, and so I was not
defiled.” He drew his robes tight about him.

        “You have done well,” he said
“but if your heart darkens at anything we must do this night to purify these
chambers, remember only the words that were spoken to you long ago: that everything
is permitted… Everything.”

       He let the words hang in the
air, knowing they would brand his man, and remind him of the rite of obedience
he swore. “There is a wolf among us now, and we must be like wolves ourselves
if we are to save the moment. This subterfuge was necessary to assure
obedience, but for you I say this: tonight a bird came to me where I waited in
the Eyrie of Sinan. Yes, it is forbidden to all, but not to me. See here where
I keep the keys fastened at my belt? I waited there for news from Alamut, and a
messenger came to my window. It bore this!”

       The Sami produced a swatch of
silken cloth, holding it out for the other man to see. “Two drops of blood! Do
you see them? This is the lifeblood of Sinan himself. I sent word to him of
dark doings here five days ago. I begged him to advise me, and asked what must
be done in the matter of the Kadi’s meddling with this stranger. Do you see the
blood? Two drops! It is his mark that two must die. It is the only way.” His
eyes bored into the man, searching him for any sign of weakness or infirmity.

        
“Finish! Sever the head and set
it upon a stake as I instruct you. Rumors will run wild, and when the others
see the head so displayed, there will be no question of the truth.”

       The guard bowed and turned to
the body in the pit. It was not his to reason matters of magic. Discernment was
for another. His was the strong arm, and the deft cut of the knife. He hefted
his dagger in his hand, bowed low, and bent to the work that remained undone.

17

Paul
was
in his
sleeping chamber
,
the evening meal filling him with a drowsy heaviness. He had dined with Jabr
again, and the two had discussed the morning session with the Kadi.

       “How strange when the Sami approached you,”
said Jabr. “In truth, I believe he meant to slash you with his dagger!”

       “I thought the same,” said Paul. “Who is
that man? Why was everyone so afraid of him?”

       “They are wise in that,” said Jabr. “The
Sami is the Master of Assassins. It is he who initiates the faithful. Every man
in this hold must pass the scrutiny of his eye, and it is not a pleasant
experience to endure that man’s gaze. It is said he has an evil eye, and all
men fear him. All the more reason for surprise when he stayed his hand in the
council chamber.”

       “And the Kadi,” Paul had asked. “He seemed
to wrestle with the other in his mind. I did not know what the two were saying,
but it was clear that they were not in agreement.”
       “It is often so,” said Jabr. “The Kadi is judge. His is the eye of
discernment. The Sami holds to subterfuge, and the work of a dagger. But come,
we darken our meal with such talk, and my time is short. Let us eat. The
platter is rich and full tonight, the Kadi’s gift for all you endured this
morning at council. Look: this here we call Bukhari. It is rice and lamb, with
onion and carrot. Try it! And here we have Falafel: chickpeas ground with
spices and fried in scented oil. To cool the palate we have Fattoush, a salad
of cucumber and tomato, sweetened with mint. It is very good! There are many
other delicacies here, Kufta, Labehnah, and Ma’amul. The last is a confection
made from dates. The other things you must test with your own tongue. Perhaps
you can guess what they are. After we finish, there will be time enough for
kahwa—that you have called coffee.”

       So they ate, and talked, but Paul noticed
how Jabr deftly avoided any question asked about the castle and what these men
were doing here. Near the end of the meal Paul made a point to press Jabr for a
chance to make a telephone call.

       “See here, Jabr” he ventured. “You have been
very gracious, and I am deeply indebted to you for your courtesy and hospitality.
But I have friends that are probably wondering where I am now, and worried that
something has happened to me. And I’m worried about my partner—the one who came
to Wadi Rumm with me. Could I possibly make a phone call?”

       Jabr scratched his beard, smiling until Paul
made his request at the end. “What is it you wish to make?” He seemed puzzled.

       “A phone call. There must be a telephone
here somewhere, yes? I won’t speak long, and I promise to compensate you for
any charges, and of course, for all you have done for me here.”

       “Charges? I hear the words, but the meaning
escapes me. What is the purpose of this thing you wish to make?”

       Paul just looked at him, a bit flustered and
somewhat frustrated. They often met such roadblocks in their talk. Was Jabr being
deliberately coy with him, feigning ignorance of the language as a way of
politely refusing the request. Paul decided to press him.

       “Then are you saying am being held here
against my will,  incommunicado?”

       “En-comunicado?” Jabr frowned, considering the
word.  “Ah,” he said. “I have heard the Christians speak of this. It is the
dire warning given by your Pope in Rome, a fatal sanction or punishment for
grievous sins.”

       “You’re talking about
ex
communication,”
Paul corrected him.

       “Yes! Exactly that,” Jabr smiled. Then his
mood darkened. “Do you fear that you will be cast out of your church because
you have treated with us here? Fear not. If your Pope in Rome passes fell
judgment upon you, then you may join with us! Yes! The mercy of Allah is wide.
He will welcome you to the bosom of Islam, if you seek his will in all things.”

       Then Jabr launched himself on a lengthy
explanation of mercy and compassion, the two virtues at the very heart of his
faith as a Muslim. Paul could see that he artfully dodged his question, and
sighed heavily, listening to the treatise on the Koran as politely as he could.
It was beginning to dawn on him that he was certainly being held a captive
here. His jailers could not be more pleasant, but the whole scenario suddenly
had the stench of ‘hostage’ about it.

       He recalled that there was a long tradition
of hospitality in the Arab culture—even amongst enemies.  If a man ate from the
table of an Arab, or tasted of his salt, then he could not be harmed, and would
even be treated with great deference and respect, as one would treat an honored
guest. The custom had deep roots, dating back even to the time of the Crusades
when the knights of Christendom were  set in open warfare against the Arabs in
the Middle East.

       At the outbreak of the Arab revolt in the
desert that made T. E. Lawrence so famous, Feisal was visited by the Pasha of
the Turks. Here the Arabs had their oppressor at  their mercy, but Feisal would
not besmirch the hospitality and honor of his house. The Pasha was accorded a sumptuous
dinner and allowed to leave unharmed. There was something to be said for
character like that, he thought. A pity that the virtue was lost in modern day
terrorist cells. The treatment of captives had not been kind over the last
twenty years. But what did they intend to do with him? Did they think to
bargain for ransom? No, these groups were financed well enough without that.
Besides, who would pay?