Iris Johansen - The Treasure

“Before the birth of Christ?” Kadar gazed at them in wonder. “Do you think me mad too?”

“Incredulous, not mad.”

“And how long do you claim to be able to live?”

Tarik shrugged. “I make no claims. How could I? We know nothing about this. I could die tomorrow.”

“Or live forever?”

“Dear God, I hope not.”

“And you haven’t aged?”

Tarik shook his head. “Now you see why I feel guilty enough to let you use the grail. It’s a great burden I’ve put on you.”

“It’s a great gift you’ve given him,” Layla corrected.

“You can see that Layla and I have a different viewpoint regarding Eshe. After Chion died, I couldn’t give the potion to anyone else. I didn’t have the right.”

“Who else has the right?” Layla demanded. “Were we to put it in a cave and let it be forgotten? As the years pass, surely there will come a time when it will be safe to bring it to light.”

“And that time is not now?” Kadar asked.

“Some of the herbs are rare. We could make only a small amount each year. Do you realize the uproar that would shake Christendom if everyone knew about it and we couldn’t offer it to all?”

“Oh, yes.” Kadar’s lips twisted. “And you’d be fortunate not to be burned at the stake for sorcery-or blasphemy.”

“I’ve been close to that point twice quite recently,” Layla said. “Bad judgment. This is a terrible dark time, and not everyone can accept gifts. It frightens them.”

“I wonder why?” Kadar asked dryly.

Tarik was looking at Layla. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Why should I think you’d care? You weren’t there. You were living happily at Sienbara with your Rosa.” Her lips tightened. “I’m surprised you weren’t tempted to give Eshe to her.”

“I might have been. I wasn’t given the opportunity. She died from a fall from a horse.”

Kadar barely heard them. “And, if I’m to believe you, I could live as long as you?”

“It’s possible.” Tarik glanced at Layla. “I yield to your greater experience.”

“Almost certainly,” Layla said.

Kadar felt as if he’d been bludgeoned. He’d been toying, playing with the idea on a minor scale. This was something entirely different.

“It’s enough to daze anyone. That’s why we’ve always gone slowly when telling anyone.” Tarik’s gaze was on Kadar’s face. “I was lucky. There was no shock for me. The years came and went and let me accept it gradually.”

Kadar tried to fight his way through the maze. “The manuscript…”

“I wandered a great deal after Layla and I parted. I settled for a while in Britain.” He smiled. “It amused me when I heard of de Troyes’s work. It didn’t amuse me when Nasim fastened on it with such ferocity. We had encountered each other twice. Once when Nasim was a young man and the second time nine years ago. He had grown old, I had not.”

“And he had heard rumors of your treasure.”

“Yes.” Tarik tilted his head and gazed quizzically at him. “Any other questions?”

“Just one. Selene. Did you give her the potion?”

Any hint of amusement vanished from Tarik’s expression. “No, never. She’s quite wonderful, but she wasn’t like you. You’d been seasoned by a hundred fires. I felt it might possibly be safe to give it to you. Selene has a very tempestuous nature, and I couldn’t foresee any of her responses. If you wish her to have it, you’ll have to give it to her yourself. I won’t take the responsibility.”

“When are you going to take responsibility, Tarik?” Layla asked. “You cannot narrow your choices to one man. What if we die? What if he dies? Who will protect the grail? Who will make the decision when it’s time to let the world know about Eshe?”

“You’d give Eshe to everyone on earth if you could. What of the sacrifice to them?” He turned to Kadar. “You’ll be tempted to give Selene the potion. You love her and you’ll want to keep her with you. But once it’s given, there’s no going back. Would you risk her going mad? Or all the bitterness and hurt she would know? What of the boredom and the weariness? What of the constant moving and uprooting to avoid people noticing she’s still young and comely while they grow old? Not to mention the danger of torture and death from those who either fear her or want the secret for themselves.”

“You paint an ugly picture,” Kadar said.

“It can be ugly.”

“So is life,” Layla said. “It can also be joyful. Are we all to die in the womb because we fear to face the harshness?”

It was clearly an old and bitter battle between them, and Kadar had enough with which to deal without having to think of their conflicts. “The decision wouldn’t be mine. I’m not like you, Tarik. I’d give her a choice.”

Tarik flinched. “That was unfair. You weren’t able to-”

“But you were planning to do it anyway. You manipulated Nasim to bring me to your doorstep and then-” He shook his head as he realized the subject he was arguing. “God in heaven, I’m talking as if I believe all this. It’s the wildest tale I’ve ever heard, and there’s no way of proving it true or false.”

“You’ll get your proof in a hundred years or so,” Layla said. “Providing you don’t do something foolish and get slaughtered in battle.”

“A hundred years.” He could take no more of this. He turned to leave. “I have to go tell Selene you’ve agreed to let us use the grail.”

“But nothing else?”

“Why should I tell her something I don’t believe myself?”

Tarik’s smile was sad. “But you are beginning to believe it, aren’t you?”

God help him, he was. He didn’t believe in sorcery, and if Tarik and Layla had told him the grail was magical, he could have shrugged off the rest of the story. But the discovery of the potion through intense curiosity and hard work was a concept with which he could identify. From his own experience, he knew the miracles that could be wrought with those two weapons. “It doesn’t matter whether I am or not. Since it can’t be proved, I just have to live my life as if it’s only a mad tale.” He grimaced. “Which is probably the truth.”

“But now you’ll be more careful of the grail,” Tarik said. “Because, in your heart, you know its value.”

“I’ll be careful because I gave you my promise and for no other reason. I cannot consider any of this idiocy right now. There are plans to be made.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already made them.” A hint of sarcasm deepened Tarik’s tone. “You seemed very sure of me.”

“I have a few thoughts on the subject.” Kadar smiled. “But Selene also has an idea. She wishes me to involve an old acquaintance, who is probably going to cost you a great deal of gold. What do you know of Vaden’s whereabouts?”

“This is a foul place.” Selene stepped gingerly over one of the many scraps of garbage littering the alley. “And it smells of dung and-”

“Stop complaining. You wished to come.” Kadar grasped her elbow. “The inn is just ahead. Stay close to me. From what Tarik said, it’s a low place frequented only by soldiers and whores.” He pushed open the door. “Don’t be surprised if you see things you don’t want to see. In a place like this, no one bothers to seek privacy when they wish to rut.”

“Then it’s no different than the House of Nicholas.”

But it was different. The place was as different from the pristine cleanliness of Nicholas’s house as silk was from leather.

Dimness.

Noise.

Smoke.

The sour smell of sweat, wine, and ale assaulted Selene’s nostrils as she followed Kadar into the room. Only a few candles lit the darkness. The room was crowded, the tables full, but she couldn’t make out the faces of any of the men or women.