Examining the other man in the pale light, the young man asked, “Our master?”
“Have you no shame? You’ve awakened the dead in their graves. Your din deafened me when I was walking in the wasteland.”
“It’s the jinn, master. The jinn are to blame. We found that he was hiding the forbidden metal in his pocket and wanted to bind him so we could bring him to you, but he has a jinni’s power. Don’t let his size deceive you, master. His arms are stronger than any warrior’s.”
“Is he a member of the tribe, a caravaneer, or a nomad?”
“How can we determine his community, master, when we can’t even bind his wrists? How, then, can we wrest an answer from his lips and interrogate him?”
At that moment, strong men pushed forward to assault the lean body, and their garments screened him from sight. The wretch, however, shook free of them with a heroic bound. They retreated, causing each other to lose their balance and fall backward.
Standing before the crowd, he shouted, “Let him go!”
They did not, or did not obey at once. They were silent. Some of them gazed in astonishment at him. Others separated from their prey. One of them, however, continued to hold a palm-fiber rope, the end of which was tied to a wrist of the skinny body.
He repeated, “Let him go!”
They made way for him. He stood above the head of the kneeling victim who looked up at him with obstinate, gleaming eyes. The man was panting and trembling. His veil had come loose during the struggle, revealing his mouth and part of his head. He stretched out a shaky hand to rearrange the lower part, without taking his eyes off the figure standing over his head.
He said, as he gazed into the distance, as if addressing another specter, “Come with me to a private place!”
A mixture of determination, astonishment, and anxiety showed in the lean body’s eyes, but the captive said nothing, nor did he attempt to flee.
He turned to the youth who still clung to the fiber rope and ordered: “Free his hand from the fetter.”
The young man waved a leather purse in the air and asked testily, “But what will we do with the gold, master?”
7
They traversed a dark, stifling alley. High walls hid from him the nascent sphere’s light. In the next stretch, the walls on either side were farther apart, and the depressing alley was transformed into a spacious street manacled with draped shadows. At its end, the track led to an empty area that extended to the market space reserved for caravans arriving from the west. Then it descended to the south to join the region that began at the well’s mouth and ended with the thickets by the fields.
Light from the deluded sphere, which rose ever higher, flooded the empty area. The ancestors’ beloved appeared pale and tired after struggling for a long time with conspirators.4 It had finally been able to defeat these enemies from the Spirit World, even though it had lost a side of its body during the struggle.
The leader spoke as if resuming a conversation that had just been interrupted. “If you tell me the truth, I’ll free you.”
Hearing no response, he clarified his remarks in the same tone, “The tribe has never arrested one of its members for theft. I imagine you’re not ignorant of the severe punishment that awaits anyone who doesn’t merely steal another person’s wealth but adds to the theft a deed even fouler.”
“Another deed?”
“Have you forgotten that possession of gold is an even worse offense under the laws of the oasis?”
“I’m not responsible for bringing it into the oasis, master.”
“But the young men discovered it in your pocket. So you’re responsible for the metal that was in your physical possession only moments ago.”
“I thought, master, you would order a splendid robe of honor for me as a reward for taking this perfidious metal from the hand of perfidy in order to rid the oasis of its evil.”
“A daring argument such as this sounds like something a vassal’s son would say. Do you belong to one of the tribes of vassals?”
“We are all vassals, master.”
“Despite its cleverness, your argument doesn’t convince me. Do you mean to say that seizure of stolen property constitutes restoration of the rights of the original owner, not theft? Desert tribes all agree that no matter where gold has been found, it has been stolen from the tribes of the Spirit World. Did you intend to return this trust to its owners after seizing it, or did you wish to possess the gold for some other reason?”
His companion was silent for a long time. Looking vacantly at the empty land, he said enigmatically, “Forgive me, master, but this is my secret.”
“You see, the Law says that a man shouldn’t steal a commodity in order to return it to its rightful owners, even if they are the residents of the Spirit World. So what drove you to commit this offense?”
There was no response.
“Was it need?”
No response.
“Are you hungry?”
No response.
“The desert’s miracle is that it is barren, devoid of vegetation, and may lie dormant for many years but never starves its inhabitants. What land spawned you that you should claim that hunger drove you to a deed that customary law universally condemns?”
“I affirmed to my master, moments ago, that this is my secret.”
“Wretch, what secret could sanction commission of a major offense?”
“Forgive me, master.”
“Fine. If you don’t want to divulge your secret, tell me whose treasure it is.”
“Who besides a merchant would possess gold, master?”
“Is he a local merchant or a member of a passing caravan?”
“Does my master promise to release me if I tell him the truth?”
“I started our discussion with that pledge. So tell me!”
“The owner of the treasure is the man with two veils.”
“The man with two veils?”
There was no response.
“Are you referring to the chief merchant of the oasis, the man who debated leadership with Imaswan Wandarran? Is the treasure his?”
“Yes. Some people like to refer to him as the man with two veils to mock his style of veiling.”
“But he has taken a place in the council of nobles because of his wealth. Is it conceivable that a man who has joined the council of nobles would violate the law of the nobles?”
“The man with two veils isn’t the only one who owns gold in this oasis, master.”
“What are you saying?”
“Most of the people in the oasis own gold and trade it covertly when selling and buying.”
“What are you saying?”
“That includes the nobles in the council, master.”
“What are you saying?”
“Everyone knows this. I fear that my master is the only one who doesn’t.”
“Don’t you know, wretch, that possessing gold dust is a punishable offense under the law of the oasis? Don’t you know that this prohibition didn’t originate with the founding of the oasis but is an ancient law that recent generations have inherited from ancient ones? Don’t you know that down through the generations people haven’t substituted silver for gold out of asceticism but because of the prohibition that stemmed from acceptance of a pact concluded between our ancestors and their Spirit World neighbors? Don’t you know that violation of the pact is a matter that will bring misfortune to the oasis and its people?”
“The slave standing before you, master, isn’t the only creature who knows about the ancient covenant. Indeed, everyone knows. The nobles of the council know, first and foremost.”
The leader was silent. They had reached the high fields, where scents of grass, trees, and moist earth assailed them. A scarecrow was positioned somewhere to the east. By the light of the looted sphere it looked mysterious, enchanting, real, and worthy of the legends that describe the conduct of scarecrows.