John Schettler - Nexus Point

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.

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.”