He covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly. Veeda came to him and took him into her arms. He sobbed on her shoulder as she held him tightly and made soothing sounds.
Presently he collected himself and said, "You are right, Ulrika. If I slay my enemies and burn their village, someone will survive, and that man will spend the rest of his life in pursuit of me, until he kills me and my tribe is utterly erased. Yes, I have a duty to my ancestors to carry out revenge, but I have a greater duty to my descendants, and to Veeda, and to her people, for through us, our two bloodlines will continue."
Ulrika placed her hand on his cheek. "Iskander, make Veeda proud to be the wife of a prince. Build your house and fill the rooms with many children, for you will be the founder of a new tribe." As she said this she recalled that, before arriving at this place, Iskander had planned to go eastward, but she had persuaded him to take her to the City of Ghosts. Had he traveled eastward, she realized now, his pursuers would most likely have caught him and killed him. And so Ulrika had saved his life, fulfilling the prophecy of the prophetess Miriam—that Ulrika was to help a prince save his people.
29
WHEN THE SNOW CAME, the three abandoned their camp in the ruins and lived for a while with Zeroun and his family while Iskander built a small house, after the tradition of his tribe. They lived there through the winter, Iskander continuing to build, helping with repairs on other houses, while Veeda entertained the villagers with her singing and dancing, and Ulrika helped nurse those who came down with winter fevers. She went daily to the stone archway, where she easily summoned the vision of the Crystal Pools of Shalamandar, and there she meditated and prayed, honing her spiritual gift and its power.
At the first snowmelt, a caravan came from the north, and accepted Ulrika as a paying passenger.
Iskander and Veeda were there to say good-bye, and she embraced them in love.
When she said good-bye to Zeroun, she asked if he were the last of his kind. He said, "I am not the first Magus of Shalamandar, nor will I be the last. For as long as there are seekers of truth, there will be a Magus in this valley."
As Ulrika took her place in the caravan, she thought of her newly discovered destiny.
In Babylon, she would search for the Venerable Ones, and she would watch each day for news of a caravan making its return journey from distant China...
BOOK SEVEN
CHINA
30
THEY ARE CALLED DRAGON BONES," the third interpreter said to Timonides, "they predict the future."
The Greek astrologer watched in fascination as the fortune-teller, a local man from a mountain village, smeared the ox scapula with blood, then inserted it into the hottest spot of the campfire. As everyone watched for the bone to crack and reveal a message from the ancestors, Timonides glanced over to where his son was preparing the night's dinner—a curious dish comprised of long fat threads made from rice flour, called noodles, boiled in a broth and mixed with vegetables and meat. Nestor's round face glowed in the light of his cook fire, a smile on his face as he added spices to the pot.
Timonides sent a silent prayer of thanks to the stars. His son was safe. Nestor's crime back in Antioch was behind them, and although the caravan was not far now from its destination—the Imperial Court of China—by the time they returned to Rome, Nestor and Bessas would be forgotten. The gods had clearly forgiven Timonides for falsifying horoscopes, he concluded gratefully. Perhaps they did not blame a man for wanting to protect his son.
Pulling his cloak tighter about himself against the chilly spring night, Timonides pondered the miracle of being on the other side of the world. They were camped in the mountains, a great caravan of camels, donkeys, and horses, accompanied by men, women, and children, with herds of sheep and goats to feed the great crowd. Through towns and provinces, raging rivers and grassy valleys, mountain passes, harsh deserts, and forgiving plains, the Gallus caravan was always met with great curiosity and interest. From Persia through Samarkand, over the towering Pamirs, past the shifting red-gold dunes of the Taklamakan in the arid and formidable Tarim Basin, Timonides's master had shared meals with chieftains and potentates, humble shepherds and self-important kings, conducting trade and information. He drank curdled camel's milk and feasted on lamb kebab and onions, ending with sweet rice pudding with raisins. And when his caravan departed, Sebastianus took on travelers in need of protection: a family going to a wedding in Kokonor, envoys from Sogdiana carrying trade agreements to Tashkurgan, a group of monks who called themselves Buddhist missionaries carrying the teachings of their founder from India into China. The Gallus caravan camped in sun-seared deserts and blizzard-swept mountains; sought hospitality in villages and settlements comprised of nomads' tents and mud huts; and discovered, as they moved farther east, the delight of Chinese teahouses established for travelers. Now the caravan was camped in the Tsingling Mountains near Chang'an, with their destination, fabled Luoyang, a day away.
Timonides glanced in the direction of his master, who sat at his own campfire, studying his most recently acquired map of the region. Timonides wondered briefly what was going through Sebastianus's mind—entertaining thoughts, no doubt, of Ulrika—and then Timonides returned his attention to the flames and the "dragon bone."
As Sebastianus studied his map, he was momentarily distracted by an eruption of loud, drunken laughter. He looked up to see Primo and his men, sitting at their campfire, comfortably wrapped in warm cloaks and passing around a wineskin. We have come a long way, my comrades and I, Sebastianus thought. And soon we will see the wonders of a world no Roman has ever seen, a world called the Flowery Land.
Along the route, people had told Sebastianus strange and impossible tales of the Han People, some stories too incredible to believe—"Women give birth through their mouths." "They live to be a thousand years old." Tomorrow he would see with his own eyes. If only Ulrika were here to share the triumph with him. How he missed her. He would memorize and record every detail for her, so that she could experience it with him when they were together again.
The ox scapula made a cracking sound and the fortune-teller, using bronze pincers, pulled it from the fire. Sebastianus watched as Timonides and his companions bent forward to see the dark blood-figures etched into the bone. They held their breath as they wondered what Timonides's future was. The fortune-teller frowned, shook his head, then sat back and, through the interpreter, said, "Beware the mulberry worm."
Timonides waited for the rest. When none was forthcoming, he said, "That's it? Beware of a mulberry worm? In the name of Zeus, what is that supposed to mean?" Certain that the translator had made a mistake, he had the fortune-teller repeat his pronouncement. It went through three interpreters before it was repeated exactly the same to Timonides.