Just then Jafar said that he’d like to try.
“Good show,” Abdul Malik praised him. “But first tell me what you have to think about in order to focus your will.”
“Allah, great and all-powerful, keep me from being burnt. And I won’t be,” Jafar responded.
“Good. But do you have the necessary confidence?”
“I do, reverend dai.”
“Then go in the name of Allah.”
Jafar stood in front of the rectangular pit and began to focus his thoughts and his will. The novices noticed that several times he decided to start across the fire but then reconsidered.
Abdul Malik said to him, “Free yourself, shake off the convulsions and go in confidence. Allah is master of our fate.”
Then Jafar set off from the edge like a boat sets off from the shore, and he walked briskly and safely over the embers. Once on the opposite side he stood still for a while, as if dazed, then he slowly looked back over his shoulder. Behind him he saw the glowing, smoking coals, and a blissful smile came over his pale face. He visibly caught his breath.
“Truly, a brave young man,” Abdul Malik exclaimed.
A whisper of acclaim also passed among the two ranks of novices.
“All right, Suleiman! Now you show your mettle too, though we’ve already seen before that you’ve got it.”
Abdul Malik was in a good mood. Suleiman obeyed him with obvious relish. He collected himself and then walked over the embers as though he were long since used to it.
“Now let me try too,” Yusuf said, growing angry. He thrust his chest out, tightened his muscles, and stepped up to the pit. He tried to focus, quietly murmuring the prescribed words, while at the same time flinching at the thought that he still might get burned. He was on the verge of stepping onto the embers, but when he looked at what lay ahead, he started waving his arms like a swimmer who wants to dive into cold water but doesn’t quite trust himself, and he lurched backwards.
Abdul Malik smiled.
“Think of Allah and his help and forget everything else,” he advised him. “What do you need to fear if he’s with you?”
Finally, when he’d lost patience with his own hesitation, Yusuf gently approached the embers with one foot. But he instantly yowled and jumped back in fright.
A suppressed snigger coursed through the ranks.
“You’ve got courage, but your will is weak,” the dai said.
Yusuf hung his head and returned to his place.
“Could I try?” ibn Tahir asked shyly.
“The time hasn’t come for you yet, grandson of Tahir,” Abdul Malik replied. “But I have confidence that some day you’ll be among the first.”
The novices dragged a heavy metal plate out of a barrack. They fanned the embers again and then set the plate over them.
Abdul Malik called on them to walk over it. They did so in a single file, twice, three times, four times in succession. The plate got hotter and hotter and burnt their soles worse each time. When it was red hot, Yusuf hopped around on it like a madman, frying and burning himself as if in punishment for his earlier failure.
Ibn Tahir’s soles were also getting burnt. He gritted his teeth and told himself that it didn’t hurt, but to no avail. He couldn’t focus enough. The unwonted exertion wore him out, and he was afraid that he might faint.
Finally Abdul Malik called out that the exercise was over and that they should put the equipment away. Then the two rows formed for one last time. He stepped before them, sternly sized the novices up, and told them to think about everything they had seen and heard. Then he bowed slightly and walked away with the same long, impetuous stride as when he had first appeared.
The novices returned to the rooftop, where dai Abu Soraka instructed them in poetry, in their native language of Pahlavi. Ibn Tahir immediately shone in this subject. For each genre of poem he knew examples from Firdausi, Ansari and other older poets. Abu Soraka practically glowed with satisfaction. He praised him in front of all the others.
“Indeed, the military arts and training in force of will are indispensable to any fighting Ismaili. But it is equally as important that he train his spirit in the word, so he can become agile and learn to express his thoughts precisely and accurately. I am delighted to have found a bright student in you, grandson of Tahir.”
The time of the third prayers arrived and Abu Soraka led the youths in performing them on the spot. He hadn’t yet finished the invocation of Ali and Ismail when ibn Tahir, unused to so much exertion, passed out. Naim, who was next to him, noticed that he remained prostrate when the rest of them had risen. He bent over him and saw that his face was as yellow as desert sand. He called to Yusuf and Suleiman, and the novices immediately surrounded their comrade. Someone quickly brought water, and with its help they soon brought ibn Tahir back to consciousness. Yusuf and Suleiman led him into the dining room. It was already time for dinner.
Once ibn Tahir had eaten his fill, his strength quickly returned. Yusuf gave him a good-natured pat on the back.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Soon you’ll get hardened, and then you’ll be able to hold out for a day or two without eating, however much you have to exert yourself. Fasting is nothing unusual for us. Abdul Malik sees to that.”
“What should we do with the donkey you arrived on?” Abu Soraka asked.
“Keep it here,” ibn Tahir answered. “My father won’t need it, and it could be useful here.”
“As you say,” the teacher responded. “And now don’t think about home anymore. You’ve broken your last tie to the outside world, and from now on your thoughts should turn entirely to the business of Alamut.”
After dinner the novices removed to their sleeping quarters for a short rest. They stretched out on their beds and talked. Even though ibn Tahir was exhausted, he still wanted explanations for many of the troubling things he didn’t yet understand.
“I’m curious what the relations between us and the soldiery are like,” he asked. “Also, what’s the relationship between the dais and Captain Manuchehr? And what are the ranks among the Ismailis at Alamut?”
Yusuf and Jafar were first to respond.
“For Ismailis every believer occupies a precisely defined place. The lasiqs are the society of ordinary followers. Next above them are the refiqs, conscious and militant believers who teach the lasiqs about the fundamental truths. Lasiqs who have been educated this way can become soldiers, while the refiqs who are in the fortress serve as their immediate superiors, the corporals and sergeants. We novices of the feday have our own special place. As long as we remain in training, we’re responsible to the officers immediately above us. But once we’re consecrated, we’ll only obey the orders of the supreme commander or his designated representative. Then come the dais, who know the higher truths and propagate our doctrine. Captain Manuchehr, who is the commander of the fortress, holds a rank equivalent to theirs. Then above him are the grand dais, or the dais of all dais, of whom there are currently three: ‘dai eldoat’ Abu Ali, who came to Alamut recently from Syria; ‘dai eldoat’ Buzurg Ummid, which means ‘great hope,’ who is the commander of the castle of Rudbar; and ‘dai eldoat’ Husein Alkeini, who seized the fortress of Gonbadan in Khuzestan in the name of Our Master. At the very top of the structure is the head of all Ismailis, Our Master, Hasan ibn Sabbah.”
“What an intelligent arrangement!” ibn Tahir exclaimed.
“But the differences within the ranks are more sharply drawn than that,” Suleiman said. “For instance, dai Abdul Malik is just barely beneath dai Ibrahim, but a bit above dai Abu Soraka, even though he’s younger. But he has a stronger record in fighting for the Ismaili cause, and that’s the decisive factor in determining rank. There are also differences between us. For instance, since you just arrived at the castle yesterday, you’re just a shade beneath any of your colleagues. But when you distinguish yourself for the Ismaili cause in any way, or if you do better than others at examinations, then you’ll have pushed your way forward to a position that’s more appropriate to your accomplishments and abilities.”