Someone spoke who never spoke. Someone spoke who spoke only in times of disaster. Amasis the Younger said: “We killed him. We killed the man in whom we saw the pious ancestors reflected. We found in his face the faces of our forefathers. We have killed our pious ancestors. We have killed the Law. We killed him just as we killed Aggulli before him!”
The prophetic voice rose again to swallow every other voice in the sanctuary: “The venerable elder does not disappear into the earth without a disaster descending on it.”
They thrust their hands into the dirt to ward off misfortunes and to seek refuge in the earth from the evils of the people of the earth.
THE PROPHECY
1
“Our only option is to appeal for guidance to the Unknown and to place in the hand of the Spirit World what belongs to the Spirit World.”
The chief merchant detected questioning looks in his companions’ eyes. So this clever strategist was obliged to leave allusion’s corridors in order to reach their minds.
“If the scion of the wasteland cannot deal with a matter, the riddle is transferred to the offspring of the Spirit World.”
The look of inquiry remained unchanged in his comrades’ eyes. Then the scion of clever strategists was compelled to descend reluctantly to the plain of clear expression.
“Our only choice is to refer the matter to the tomb maiden.”
Ah’llum was the first to applaud. “Why didn’t we think of this before? How could we have forgotten the presence of this diviner in our community all this time?”
But Imaswan ignored this happy news and challenged his comrade in hopes of perceiving the insight hidden in the allusion. “In the Law of our forefathers we have inherited nary a maxim that asserts a link between leadership and prophecy.”
The man with two veils cast him a patronizing look and proceeded deliberately with the approach of clever strategists. He fiddled with his hands before he replied, “I see you have forgotten in a short time what we said once about the typical nature of sovereignty.”
“The typical nature of sovereignty?”
“Didn’t we agree that the jinn take possession of the master of sovereignty at the very hour he is seated on the throne of leadership? Didn’t we agree that the head of state leaves the wasteland and loses his link to the people and language of the wasteland — to become a puppet in the hands of the residents of the Spirit World the instant he receives this noble title? Didn’t our peer Aggulli serve as an example and test case for this? So how can the deity of coincidences and fortunes not rule over both of them? How can the Spirit World not be a homeland for a person who is possessed by the Spirit World, which has been an oasis for prophecy and the world’s fortunes since the desert learned about prophecies and fortunes?”
“If we place the matter in the palm of prophecy, we will have entrusted our necks to the hand of luck.”
“Prophecy is the tongue of the Spirit World, and where leadership is concerned, the Spirit World reigns.”
“Whenever I hear the word ‘luck,’ I get goose bumps all over.”
“Luck’s dominance derives from the Spirit World’s. This is the secret reason for our fear of luck’s caprices.”
“We have read in the narratives of the ancients that this ignoble being gives today with the right hand only when it is sure it will repossess its boons on the morrow with both left and right hands.”
“The messenger isn’t blamed for whatever evil lies in the message, and luck is a loyal slave of sovereignty.”
“The tribes assume this is simply one of the avatars of ignoble Wantahet. Yes, yes, you should believe that luck is Wantahet.”
“The desert’s ultimate strategist likes to bring tribes good news too.”
“But we know that glad tidings in his mouth entail a net loss. You bask in delight today and find yourself at the bottom of the abyss tomorrow.”
“We must accept the abyss if our fall into it has been willed by the Spirit World.”
“If the matter pertains to the Spirit World, all I can do is clasp my hands behind my back as a sign of submission.”
“So we finally agree.”
2
Prophecy!
Inspiration sparked by a flint of the Unknown.
Prophecy!
Panacea from the spiritual lands, it treats patients who suffer from pangs of separation, longing, and the desolation of desert lands.
Prophecy!
Heaven’s tongue that yearns to speak but that communicates solely through symbols.
Prophecy!
Refuge of diviners in their struggle with the world’s vanities and the fates’ cruelties.
Prophecy!
The dream of poets and the hope of women singers during the tribe’s soirées, when the full moon rises to reign in the desert sky.
Prophecy!
The treasure of lovers who embrace despair because death has robbed them of any hope of a tryst.
Prophecy!
A dew drop on a retem blossom, a violet glow before daybreak, a gust of sea breeze bathed in the moisture of clouds from the far north.
How can a person find the way to the Pleiades, which served as a guide, a call, a promise, and a draught of water for the ancient wanderer?
3
“Eygahan wattmmaghan taghzzit àd sirdin addunat dagh àman en sarian; às tenkaram tegmiam talgha dagh sagheran. Prophecy does not descend to a plain unless its inhabitants cleanse themselves with the water of solitude. Once you have finished, solve the riddle with sticks.”
The messenger from the female diviner placed the scrap of leather inscribed with this prophecy in their hands. Then they found themselves pawns to a gloomy silence that reminded them of the silence they had experienced when another messenger had come to inform them of the departure of the man they had chosen from among them as their puppet. He, however, had refused to play this game and had preferred to withdraw from a realm he had always considered nugatory. On that day, his obituary had been another prophecy that had terrified the desert, paralyzed all creatures, and changed the nature of things. Today’s silence, though, pervaded the council but did not affect creatures beyond their circle, for council members heard, over their silence, the bleating of goats returning from the pastures, the shouts of the herdsmen, the clamor of boys in the alleys near the sanctuary, and the cries of caravan traders in the commercial markets.
The commotion outside doubled the cruelty of the stillness inside the council chamber, but stillness is always washed with water from the heavenly spring of the Unknown and holiness. From ancient times it has been a forthright opponent of sophists who boast about the intellect’s authority, because stillness has never acknowledged any union save with strangers who flee to the homelands of solitude. For this reason, people of the nugatory feel embarrassed when silence lasts a long time, because it lays bare their hidden cowardice, which they wish to camouflage and hide — even from themselves.
For this reason, perhaps, they mumbled, cleared their throats, and pretended to cough. For this reason, perhaps, the chief merchant resorted to the use of his tongue. “Obtaining a prophecy is always easier than interpreting it.”
The rebel jinni commonly known as the tongue had escaped from its flask, and the pillars of silence were shaken. Then sanctity fled to the most distant land. Imaswan took heart and supported his fellow council member with the enthusiasm of a person who had been forced to refrain from speaking for a long time. “The danger of a prophecy is when its good news becomes destructive thanks to a flawed interpretation. So beware!”
The hero also attacked from his corner. “It would be best for us to take a lot of time to consider this if we wish to avoid ruin.”