Ibrahim al-Koni - Seven Veils of Seth

“Are we revisiting the issue of clear evidence?”

“It is the Law that demands clear evidence, not us.”

“But isn’t the leader of the people justified in violating the law when he thinks this necessary to save his people?”

A buzz of comments traveled through the group. Turbans bumped against one another and bodies drew closer together. Some tongues murmured confidentially. Other tongues publicly expressed their disapproval. Even the fool huddled in a corner with his head down. Meanwhile, to express his indignation, the warrior brandished in the air his fist, which resembled a camel’s hoof. The turmoil was followed by a charged silence.

The diviner asked mournfully, “Does our master understand the implications of willful disobedience of the Law?”

Ewar did not respond, and so Elelli spoke on behalf of the diviner. “This is what — in nomenclature passed down by previous generations — is known as injustice.”

On the way back to the settlement the diviner walked with the sage. They followed the western trail that cut through the palm grove before turning south to head toward the houses. They went some distance in silence, but before they reached the lush grove of palms, Yazzal asked, “There must be some secret motive for Ewar’s determination to punish Isan.”

Elelli did not respond and so his companion goaded him to speak: “I discerned a prophecy in the look you two exchanged. Don’t deny it!”

The sage laughed before confessing, “Even if I wanted to conceal a secret, I couldn’t hide it from a diviner. Ewar confided to me that they had once been fond of each other.”

“Fond?”

“If you don’t care to term it fondness then call it vengeance.”

“Is it really vengeance?”

“What should we call an attack that recompenses a good deed, if we don’t use the technical term: vengeance?” “I understand. . ”

“The jenny master saved Ewar’s life from smallpox once.

He found him all alone in a tent after he had been deserted by his tribe.”

“Oh, I understand. We should never save the life of one whom the spirit world has never considered saving.”

“He saved his life with a blend of herbs.”

“Did you say herbs?”

“Ewar quizzed me a few days ago to learn whether a good deed someone performed in the past can be used as an argument against him today.”

“How did you respond?”

“I responded as I was obliged to. I told him the matter requires witnesses.”

The diviner was silent for a time. He dodged a date-stalk that blocked the path. Then he said confidently: “If he had asked me I would have told him that the evidence would not be binding even if there was a witness.”

“The fact is that another doubt troubles me.”

“Explain.”

“I have an intuition that there’s some other secret.”

“Intuitions are more convincing than proofs at times, for occasionally an intuition is a prophecy.”

“A man does not take revenge on another man simply to punish a good turn.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“An antidote for a man’s hostility is never lacking unless a woman is involved.”

“I was sure you would say that.”

“You would not be a diviner if you did not believe that.”

“But does the affair with the woman go back to the years of desert migration or to. . ”

The sage interrupted him, “Tahala confided to me Tamanokalt’s indignation.”

“A wife’s indignation opens the door to a conspiracy.”

“Each of the sisters was able to become pregnant thanks to the stranger’s amulets, except for Tamanokalt.”

“No one else has told me that.”

“Did Taddikat really not tell you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“A woman would not marry a diviner unless she’s awed by his status.”

“Skip reflections on women right now and help me predict whether Ewar will dare violate the Law.”

The sage was silent for another stretch before finally replying, “It’s rash to speculate about the conduct of a man who has assumed sovereignty over a group of people, but even so I doubt that he will dare commit such an offense.”

“But a desire for vengeance is stronger than a plague.”

“If you were in his place, what would you do?”

The diviner was silent for a long time before he replied, “I would set a trap.”

The sage shouted jestingly, “A passing comment from the mouth of a diviner is a prophecy.”

Isan bathed in the spring-fed pool, spreading powder from the pouch that he had tucked under an arm. Then, after slipping back into his garment, he retreated to a sandy, secluded spot overlooking the fields. Of late he had gotten used to going off by himself to the sandy, southern banks once he finished the bathing rituals to which he had become accustomed both as a pleasure but also as an opportunity to sow his suspect amulets secretly in the water while hoodwinking spies.

That day the head merchant, whom he had not seen for a long time, sought him out in his refuge. From a distance he shouted jokingly, “I thought people visited oases to mingle with other folks, not to isolate themselves.”

In a joking tone as well, he replied, “I would have thought that the ultimate form of isolation is to be surrounded by people, not by the desert’s vast expanses.”

“I’ve found it nearly impossible to run you down.” “That’s inevitable, because I never disobey my law to keep moving even when I relax with others in oases.”

He gave vent to his weird chortling but suddenly suppressed it to say, “I wouldn’t throw stones at oasis life, if oasis life did not gnaw into the commandments.”

Amghar sat down on the bed of sandy, virgin earth. He cast his gaze below him, across the deserted expanse of golden sand that spread out until its depression suddenly was stopped to allow for an extensive, green, farm field crowned with palm trees that stretched haughtily toward the sky.

He freed his feet from their sandals, which he thrust into the sand as one might thrust a piece of dough into hot ashes to cook. He sighed with the relief of one from whose shoulders the burdens of the world have been lifted before he said, “The commandments will be lost in any circumstances, regardless of our druthers, because even if we could protect them against our forgetfulness we could not guard them against time.”

“Time! Time! If given a choice, I would prefer to pass away with the commandments when time decides to erase them from my mind.”

“But ponder this: Does our passion for the commandments justify our use of force to change something that people have freely chosen as beneficial to themselves?”

He turned so their eyes met. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long time. Isan averted his gaze first to stare far away, across the empty land. Then he said, “I know that no one has the right to choose for someone else, but it’s also not right for a person to keep another person from proclaiming the truth.”

“Does the truth sanction the use of force?”

His companion suddenly turned toward him to respond to his question with a question: “What do you think?”

“I mean: Do we have the right to save a man who has decided to die?”

Without any hesitation his companion replied, “Yes, certainly; we have the right.”

“Don’t we trespass against him by doing that?”

“We might trespass against ourselves, but not against him.”

“This is what I wanted to hear.”

“Explain!”

He looked at his companion, and their eyes met once more. The chief merchant said in a significant tone, “You truly trespassed against yourself the day you saved from abandonment people destined for it.”