Ibrahim al-Koni - The Scarecrow

The governor was delighted and sent his soldiers to fetch this foreign adviser. When the guards returned, accompanied by the guest, the setting sun was pouring twilight rays generously on the walls of the glorious fortress.

3

He was a specter as dark as coal — a perfectly formed black man. The oasis had never seen a person with such well-proportioned features; he had a lean build, tall stature, and straight nose. His eyes had a friendly look, although the stillness of his pupils reminded people of the absent look of eternal wanderers and hermits.

The governor placed before him the charming doll and stared at the man’s eyes with intense curiosity. Then he stretched out his hand to present the skull to him.

The cunning tactician gazed at the message indifferently. No, no — that look was not genuine indifference; it was another type of look. The sorcerer seemed to have discerned the glance’s symbolism, because he acted to forestall the master of the sign from voicing his idea.

The governor said, “Don’t tell me that my message is a script from a heavenly message, not a human one. Know that the fate of this nation, which has fed you when you were hungry and kept you safe from fear — just as it has fed and offered security to many before you — is concealed in the damn riddle you hold in your hands. So beware!”

An enigmatic smile glinted in the eyes of the wily foreigner. No — it was not a genuine smile; it was the shadow of a smile, a sign preparing the way for the birth of a smile.

Then….

Then he spoke. The retinue heard a soft, melodious voice — like the song of the wind blowing in the retem groves. “I’m sad to hear you had trouble deciphering this message.”

“What are you saying?”

“Via the doll, the message’s author demands back from my master the woman (or women).”

The leader gazed at the man’s eyes, which were as beautiful as a gazelle’s, and asked attentively, “The leader of the foreigners demands back the woman or the women?”

“The beauty! The leader beyond the gates demands the beauty by means of the doll, master. The perfectly crafted doll in our spoken language means ‘beautiful woman,’ either in the singular or the plural.”

“Beware!”

“A genuine message, like a prophecy, always brooks more than one interpretation.”

“We could return the beautiful women from Azjirr’s tribes, but how could we return all the women? Can we find for the leader of the foreign coalition his captivating daughter, who was allegedly kidnapped and brought by a warrior through the gates of the oasis one day?”

“I beg forgiveness, but human issues are beyond my purview.”

“What about the second half?”

“The second half spells destruction!”

“Destruction?”

“Even children back home know that a skull is a symbol of destruction.”

“What destruction are you talking about, wretched alien?”

“If my master will allow, I will read him the message’s two parts together.”

“Quickly!”

“If the beauty is not returned, your fate will be destruction!”

“What are you saying?”

“This is the message, which was composed in the language of semiosis.”

“But, but, this is an ugly threat and not an appropriate communication for one leader to send to another.”

“A messenger can do no more than communicate the message.”

“This … this is an insult, not a message.”

“A messenger can do no more than communicate the message.”

4

He issued a stern order to the vassals, soldiers, and guards to search for the daughter of the leader of the foreign coalition. So they vied to investigate, searching every room, nook, and cranny in all the houses, but found no trace of the beauty. They scoured the entire oasis and plowed up the fields. Then they returned to stand before their leader. Some trembled with fright and others bowed their heads dejectedly.

The chief vassal stepped forward and stammered, “It seems most likely, master, that she was sold in the markets and that men from some passing caravan bought her.”

The leader, whose cheeks were yielding to pallor, stared at him with expressionless eyes. After a period of silence, he asked, “Do you mean that this calamity has departed from the walls of our oasis?”

When the chief vassal nodded in the affirmative, the leader added, “If this female jinni has fled from the oasis, a curse has descended on it.”

A new expression passed through the master’s eyes — one that was unfamiliar to the soldiers, vassals, and courtiers. It was an expression that no beast in a herd would see in the herder’s eyes. It first afflicts those suffering from some unknown angst and eventually casts them into ague’s kiln. The onlookers were a miserable community who viewed rulers and powerful figures in the world as gods soaring above the hateful paralysis called “weakness” in the language of the masses.

The way the downtrodden see things, the weakness of sovereigns is always an ill omen.

To fend off the specter of weakness, the chief vassal said, “I would have thought that the arrival of the beauty was the curse, not her flight.”

“Would she have run away had she not first settled here? Her flight is a cunning scheme associated with settling here.”

“I knew Ah’llum was a hero but have realized only today that he was a diviner too.”

“….”

“The day he left the oasis he said that when women are plentiful on a patch of earth, a calamity will soon strike there.”

“The secret lies in his blindness. The secret lies in the affliction. Blindness turns a creature into a clairvoyant. The affliction makes a man a sage.”

“I wonder where he is now.”

The leader gazed at him inquisitively. Raising his eyes to the heavens as if to read a prophecy in the grim void, he remarked, “Somewhere in the badlands he is rubbing his hands together with all the intoxication of those who have waited patiently to see the day their revenge is accomplished.”

“Revenge?”

“People like him endure the pains of life merely to take revenge. Revenge for them isn’t merely a consolation; it is life itself.”

“Does my master — like many others — suspect that our friend played a part in decimating the women of the oasis with secret potions?”

The sorcerer journeyed far into the sky’s void. There was an uncanny glint in his eyes when he remarked casually, “We shouldn’t dwell on what is obvious while ignoring what is covert — either in our judgments or our lives. When the Spirit World frowns in our face, what difference will the means make?”

“Had the women not been decimated, master, we wouldn’t have sallied forth to hunt for them. Had the women in our homes not been slain, we would not stand today encircled by massive armies we are powerless to combat.”

“When a wanderer is struck by a destiny like this, he must read the message as it ought to be read.”

“The message?”

“The Spirit World never wrongs us. If a transitory calamity strikes us, we should welcome the lesson, because it is merely a trial. If the time is ripe for a disaster in our settlements, we can still control it, because we can fashion an ending that terminates the pain.”

“If I understand my master’s words properly, their import is no doubt painful.”

“The Spirit World has placed in our hands the panacea for all pains!”

5

The governor ordered the people’s nobles to gather.

He received them on luxurious carpets in the courtyard of his glorious bastion and addressed them tersely: “The leader of the foreign coalition suffocates us with armies we cannot possibly repulse and demands the return of a girl we cannot find. What do you advise?”