John Schettler - Nexus Point

After an uncomfortable break, Paul began to try and piece things together, more for his own sake than for that of his questioner. Yes, that was it! He had the distinct feeling now that the man was questioning him, not out of any sense of hospitality, or even to make polite small talk. It was an interrogation. The realization put the man’s strained humor into a new context for Paul, and those eyes, determined yet patient, seemed to brand him with a warning. Yet he spoke, spilling out his tale in a disjointed manner as he pieced the recollections together again in his mind.

“We were out in the desert,” he said. “We were looking for something—the Ammonite, yes, that was it.” The man’s eyes brightened a bit at the word, yet he waited, saying nothing as Paul continued. “We came to Wadi Rumm… unintentionally I think… Yes, just by chance, I suppose. It was very hot and we were looking for something there. Nordhausen!” Paul suddenly remembered Robert, and wondered what he must be doing now.

“Norod-Hassen?” The man repeated the name with his own heavily Arabic accent. “You were with another?”

“Yes.” Paul went on quickly, and haphazardly, not catching the incongruity at first. “It was all his plan, you see—the Ammonite, the Arabesque , Wadi Rumm…”

With each word the listener nodded hungrily, taking the offerings like a man receiving food after a long fast. He was clearly quite pleased to hear what his guest had to say. As Paul pieced together more details, however, he began to wonder why the man would be so interested in any of this. As far has he could discern, he had fallen into a deep, underground sink hole, and was fortunate that it was a gathering point for the waters of a subterranean stream.

“Thank god for the river,” he breathed. “You said it was unkind to me, but were it not for that water I would be lost.”

“Allah be praised,” said Jabr with a reverent bow of his head. His dark eyes finally betrayed a glimmer of real sentiment, and Paul had the feeling that this man wished him well. Yet why the reserve of caution? What was he afraid of?

“And your mission? Yes, I know you are not wishing to speak of these things.” Jabr reached out and touched Paul’s hand as he spoke, a gesture of understanding and acceptance. “Mithaq, the sacred oath, is beholden upon us all. Yet I yearn to hear the tale and know the bravery of your heart, my friend. For the sake of honor, if nothing else. Will you not unburden yourself? Clearly, your journey must end now, yes? Those that come here have but a short time. Why hold close what you might just as easily share with the other Walkers when we gather around the evening fire. We wish you no ill—surely you must understand that, unless our hospitality has somehow failed to please you. Tell me then, truly, and without fear: what do you hope to accomplish? What is your mission? What tiding do you carry? You bore no scroll. Was it lost in the fall?”

Paul just stared at the man, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Mission? Well I suppose our mission was spoiled the moment we came to Wadi Rumm. Nordhausen should have known better than to try and pull off something like this. And I was a damn fool to go along with it. It was that silly Ammonite!”

“Norod-Hassen? He was Kadi, then? It was he who was responsible for the working of Kuni–Qadar and the setting of time and place?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Paul. He began to have the distinct impression that they were talking at cross-purposes here.

“Forgive me. My heart beats fast to hear you speak, and the mind reaches for words that do not come.” Jabr gestured to his heart and head as he explained himself. “I speak the Saxon tongue, yet badly I fear. There are three ages of that tongue, and I was taken to a far place, long ago, to learn the words of the third age. Why, I do not know, for it is not a language spoken in this country, and few have ever heard it. We listened to you while you dreamed the sleep of forgetting. You spoke out in a strange tongue, and I was called, for it was said the words resembled those of the Saxon lords. Imagine my surprise to hear you speak in the tongue I had studied, using words of the third age! All thing have a purpose, it seems, and my long years of study were not wasted. So I was honored to make this greeting, and share these words with you. Still, my mind often returns home to rest in the clarity of my own native tongue. The words of Islam are very powerful, my friend. You should study with us now that you are here. I would be honored to teach you. Yet, for now, I will do my best to walk the Saxon way with you. Let me think…” He stroked his beard, clearly enthused to have struck some meaningful rapport with his guest, and eager to have this exchange bear some fruit.

“Ah yes,” he returned to his thought. “The working of Kuni-Qadar. It is our way of finding the heart of things—how is it you say this? It is fate, destiny, the vision of the wise who see what must be accomplished, and set the path for those who must walk. I was a Walker once. I have seen the seventh gate and passed through to seek the pathway whispered by my Kadi.” He seemed quite proud to share this. “You understand?”

Paul scratched his head, trying to sort through the man’s words and make sense of them. The odd incongruities in their conversation slowly began to gather like a rift of clouds on the horizon, a quiet distress in the background of his thinking. What was he saying? What was all this talk of fate and walkers and pathways? Clearly this was no simple Bedouin hiding away in the sanctuary of Wadi Rumm. And what did he mean earlier with all that business about the Saxon tongue?

“I’m… I’m afraid this is all a bit confusing for me. You say I have been here for three days?”

“As I count them, yes, that is so. On the first day you dreamed, and we bathed you in sweet water and graced your body with scented oil. You were a very deep sleeper, my friend. Yet on the second day you spoke in your dream, and we believed you sought the wisdom of your Shaykh —your sleep guide, who had come to call you home. Still, you wandered, and we became concerned. The vibration of the fall can be very profound in this place, and I speak as one who knows these things with his own heart.” He nodded gravely, eyes wide as he spoke.

“On the third day we decided to send you Samirah, and relied on the skill of her hands and the softness of her flesh to call you back again. Allah be praised, the long, quiet hours with her were enough to convince you, and you awoke seven hours ago—if only for a brief time. It was enough to share the elixir we have used to settle ourselves. Do you not do this as well? It seems to have worked a great benefit upon you. You rested in the arms of Samirah, and in the peace of Allah, until you made your final awakening moments ago. I have been watching you as Mukasir —the one who greets the unbeliever and welcomes him to seek another path. Forgive me if I make the assumption that you are not a follower of Islam.”

“Islam? Well… No, I don’t suppose I am, but—“

“Then it is my hope that you will place your trust in me, and that we may be friends. For you are here now, and time is very short. You do understand that, yes?”

Paul would get half way up the garden path with the man, and then loose his way as he neared the gate. “I’m very sorry,” he said. “Perhaps it was the fall, as you suggest. Three days? What could Nordhausen be thinking? Poor man. If he found his way to the cleft in the rock and saw the deep sink there—why, he probably thinks I fell to my death.” That thought sent him on another tangent. “Did you hear anyone call out from above?”

“Did we hear? I’m afraid that none may approach the Well. It is not for those who are settled. It would bring the madness, yes? We wait, and the river brings us messengers from time to time. We thought you were such a man, until we saw you. No Westerner has ever come to us this way.” He smiled with that, a genuine smile this time, bereft of the pretense that had colored his remarks earlier. It was as if he was sharing a private joke with Paul, but one that made no impression on him.