Down in The Bottomlands (36 page)

What the Muslim judge said was: "Are you sure you are a Christian? You should be made to convert to Islam, for you argue like one of us."

"La ikraha fi'l-din,"
Park answered: " `There is no compulsion in religion.' "

"You even quote the holy
Qu'ran
at me." Muhammad shook his head. "I find that your precedent has some validity." Muawiyah let out a howl of outrage; Ankowaljuu, and a moment later Waipaljkoon, cheered. "Be still, all of you," the
qadi
said sternly. "More learned men than I must make the final decision in this case. Until they do, I declare these two Tawantiinsuujans People of the Book, under the protection of the Christian
qadi
here. If I am overruled, however, they shall become the property of the airwain pilot Muawiyah. I have spoken."

"Now what?" Park asked him.

"Now I send you on to my more learned colleagues, which means, in the end, on toward the court of the Emir, Allah's blessings upon him." The
qadi
's eyes were shrewd. "Which, no doubt, is what you had in mind."

"Who, me?" Park grinned at Muhammad ibn Nizam. It was always easier to do business with someone who understood him.

"You did that aforethockly," Ankowaljuu said the next day as they jounced along in one of the Emirate's military goodwains toward its ruler's headquarters.

"Did what aforethockly?" Park asked. They used English for privacy's sake; had Park been in Muhammad ibn Nizam's shoes, he knew he would have salted away a Ketjwa-speaker or two among the guards who made sure nobody tried diving out over the rear gate. Park had no intention of escaping but, since he'd fallen into the Emirate's hands in the company of two enemy citizens, was certain the Moors would not believe that.

"Had me make that faithly writing," Ankowaljuu said. "You never planned to change to Patjakamak—you wanted the writing to show the Muslims we Tawantiinsuujans are People of the Book."

"Who, me?" Park said, just as he had to the
qadi.
 

"Aye, you, and don't naysay it, either. You made me so hopeful of the ghostly good coming to you that I forgot to think straight through, as a
tukuuii riikook
ock. But tell me this, Thane Ready-for-Aught: how were you thinking of getting the writing to the Muslims had we gone on to the Son of the Sun as we reckoned we would?"

"I'd have had you take me over the lines," Park answered calmly.

"I'd nay do that!"

"Oh yes, you would, if you're as hot for peace as you say you are. The best chance to get it is to show the Muslims you're no heathen country, but earnful of being treated like other folk with a godshown faith. I'd have talked you into getting me over there, all right, never fear."

"You just might have," Ankowaljuu said after a pause in which he seemed to be examining his own feelings. "I thock I was good at fingertwisting men into doing what I want, Judge Scoglund, but I own I've met my thane in you."

"That's sooth," Eric Dunedin put in. "He even got me to learn Ketjwa. He's the slyest man I ken for—"

Park never did find out why Monkey-face thought he was so sly. Just then, a beetle almost the size of a kitten flew into the goodwain's passenger compartment. Christians, Patjakamak-worshipers, and Muslims spent a couple of frantic minutes knocking it down and squashing it. By the time the remains were finally scraped off the floor and tossed out, the conversational thread was broken.

When they arrived at the base from which the Emir was directing his war, Park did not find the Arabian Nights-style encampment he had half expected. Instead, the neat rows of mass-produced shelter tents reminded him only of the Vinlandish camps he'd seen the year before. The Industrial Revolution, even this world's less complete one, inevitably brought industrialized warfare with it.

He had hoped he and his companions would be whisked straight to the Emir, but that did not happen. Muhammad ibn Nizam led them to a
qadi
he knew, one of hardly higher reputation than himself. That judge listened with the same skepticism Muhammad had shown, and only slowly came round to reluctant acceptance of the possibility that the Tawantiinsuujans might have had some long-ago share of divine revelation, however much their current doctrine distorted it. Ankowaljuu bristled at that; Park could not even kick him under the table, as they were sitting on rugs again instead.

The
qadi
said, "How ancient are these beliefs of yours?"

Park knew the cult of Patjakamak had sprung up in the fourteenth century. Before he could answer, though, Ankowaljuu said proudly, "They date from the time of the creation of the world, thousands upon thousands of years ago."

"Hmp." The
qadi
gave an audible sniff. "There were many prophets before Muhammad. Maybe one did indeed visit your folk, unlikely as I would have thought it. Had you told me your religion grew up after the Prophet's time, I would know it for a sure falsehood, as he was the seal of prophecy. . . . You said something, Judge Scoglund?"

"Nothing, Excellency." Park swallowed a gulp. He had forgotten about that detail. A good thing Ankowaljuu had been irritated enough to interrupt with that bragging, he thought, or all his plans would have gone down the drain.

"Please let us deliberate by ourselves for a time now, Judge Scoglund," Muhammad ibn Nizam said.

"Why? I am judge, too." Park was anything but happy at having the two
qadis
decide things without his being there to see to it they decided his way.

But the other religious judge said pointedly, "You may be a
qadi
of
qadis
among Christians, Judge Scoglund, but you are not a Muslim." Park knew a warning to back off when he heard one. He got out, taking Ankowaljuu with him.

"Even if they do ontake us as Folk of the Book, they'll still be as faithproud as ever," the
tukuuii riikook
said while they waited and worried. "You
are
a Wick of the Book, and look how the
qadi
brushed you aside. We and they will still find grounds for ficking each other."

"I don't doubt it," Park said.

"What then?"

"If you're Folk of the Book, that makes you a civilized country—"

"What kind of country?" Ankowaljuu asked. "I don't know that word."

"Huh? Civi— Oh." It was a wonder, Park thought, that he didn't absent-mindedly use his native brand of English by mistake more often. "A burgish country, I mean, in Muslim eyes, not a bunch of savages to be fickt whenever the mood takes the Emir, and surely not a fit dumping ground for
ghazis
who'd likely be in jail if they weren't out hunting heathens."

"I hope you're rick," Ankowaljuu sald, "because if you're not—"

Muhammad and the other
qadi
came out of the tent. The more senior judge looked as sour as if he'd been sucking on a lemon, but he said, "Come with us. We'll lay your case before the Emir's
qadi,
to let him make the final decision."

Getting in to see the Emir's
qadi
took most of the afternoon, though he did not seem that busy. He was one of those important people who show how important they are by making everyone else wait. His name, Muhammad ibn Nizam told Park, was Uthman ibn Umar.

Park's heart sank when he was finally led into Uthman's presence. The chief
qadi
was an ancient man whose hair and beard were white but whose bushy eyebrows somehow remained defiantly dark. The deep-set eyes that glittered beneath those brows were also dark, and as unyielding as any Park had ever seen. Convincing him of anything new was not going to be easy.

"Well, what is it?" Uthman asked peevishly.

By way of answer, Muhammad ibn Nizam handed him the sheets Ankowaljuu had composed. He put on spectacles and began to read. "You know Ketjwa?" Park said in surprise.

Those eyes, like an old hawk's, lifted from the paper. "Why should I not?" Uthman said. "Even pagans may produce worthy thoughts. Surely the Greeks did. For all their wisdom, though, they burn in hell." He read on, dismissing Park from consideration. Park glared at his turban, but did not interrupt again.

Finally Uthman set down the sheets. "So," he said, "you claim the Tawantiinsuujans are People of the Book and not pagans?"

"Yes, excellent
qadi
,"
everyone said together.

"From this, I might even believe it, but for one thing," Uthman said.

"What?" Park asked, wondering how he would have to finagle with the
shari'a
next.

"This book is no Book." Uthman tapped the pages with a skinny finger. "It is but one man's belief written out, not a true holy text like the Torah or the Gospels or the perfect book, the
Qu'ran.
Let the Tawantilnsuujan priests accept it and I could do the same." His laugh told how likely he thought that was.

Park winced. The
qadi
had a point, one that could be stressed if the Emirate wanted to go on reckoning the Tawantiinsuujans pagans, wanted an excuse to fight their neighbors whenever they got the whim. "How fares the war, excellent
qadi
?"
he asked tensely. If the Muslims were winning—

But Uthman did not start to gloat. "Many souls have mounted to paradise, martyrs in the
jihad
,"
he said. "On this earthly plane—" which he obviously thought of smaller importance "—gains are small on either side."

"Then urge the Emir to call a truce," Ankowaljuu said. "He loses little, and may gain much. Consider—perhaps we will be less harsh to the Muslims in our land if you stop tormenting those who follow Patjakamak in yours.

"If they
are
People of the Book, you may
honorably
stop tormenting them," Park added.

Uthman ibn Umar plucked at his beard. "Let it be so," he said at last. "I think you will fail in your effort, thus showing that Tawantiinsuuju's faith truly is pagan. But if I am in error, if revelation did reach you in the ancient days, I would be sinning if I denied you the chance to prove it. Wait here. I shall speak to the Emir." He rose, tottered out of the tent.

A squad of soldiers soon appeared to take charge of Park and his companions. They led them to a bigger, fancier tent. One of the soldiers frisked them, quickly and efficiently, before they were allowed inside. A servant shouted, "Bend yourselves before the mighty Emir Hussein, beloved of Allah!"

Ankowaljuu and Waipaljkoon prostrated themselves as they might have before the Son of the Sun. Park and, following his lead, Eric Dunedin bowed from the waist. "Rise," Hussein said. "Uthman tells me you have a curious tale for me. I would hear it."

Hussein was not what Park had imagined an emir would be. He was short and thin and wore glasses. In the dark green uniform of the Dar al-Harb, he looked more like a corporal from the typing pool than a ruler.

He thought like a ruler, though. He proved that at once, asking, "Judge Scoglund, if I agree to seek a truce so you can try to show that the Tawantiinsuujans are in fact People of the Book, what is the advantage for me?"

Park carefully did not smile, but he felt like it. He approved of people who got down to brass tacks. He said, "If the followers of Patjakamak are People of the Book, you do not need to persecute the ones in your land any more. Make them pay
jizya
instead."

"The tax for the privilege of keeping their religion in peace, eh?" Behind the lenses of his spectacles, Hussein's eyes grew calculating. He was figuring out how much the tax would bring, Park thought—probably down to the last copper. He must have liked the sum, for he said, "Aye, that is interesting. What else?"

"If you stop persecuting those who worship Patjakamak, the Tawantiinsuujans likely will go easy on their Muslims. That gives you both one less thing to fight about."

"This could be so." Hussein was a cool one, all right. He steepled his fingers—a hell of a thing, Park thought, for a Muslim to do. "What else?"

"Damn," Park muttered. If all that wasn't good enough— He racked his brains. At last, carefully, he said, "Lord Emir, how do you feel about your
ghazi
raiders?"

"Why?" Hussein was cautious too, revealing nothing.

"If you want to be without them, hope the Tawantiinsuujans do show they are People of the Book. Then
ghazis
will have less excuse to come to your country from overseas, and you will not need to worry so much about what so many ruffians running around loose in your land may do."

He wondered if he'd gone too far. But hell, if he were running a country, the last thing he'd want in it was a bunch of gangsters and terrorists, no matter how holy their motives were. He just hoped Hussein thought the same way.

The Emir said, "They are men given over to Allah," and Park was sure he'd stuck his foot in it. Then Hussein went on, "But it is true, they are sometimes difficult to control." Park breathed again. Hussein finished, "I will try to arrange a truce, then, of ten days' time. If you fail, we fight again."

"What if I don't?" Park said. "What if I do what I say?"

Hussein stared at him. "Do you challenge me?"

"Only this far—if I succeed, do as you agreed to do before this stupid war started: accept my settlement of your dispute with Tawantiinsuuju. Do it on the spot, right here, right now—or then, I mean."

"You do not lack courage," the Emir said slowly.

"Or gall," Uthman added.

Park only waited. Now he grinned. Finally Hussein said, "We have a bargain." After that, Park did prostrate himself. Hussein, he figured, had earned it.

Neither the Moorish officers who escorted Park and his companions across the line of battle nor the Tawantiinsuujans who received them seemed to have much faith in the green-and-white-striped flags of truce both sides bore. The two parties hastily separated from each other; members of both kept looking back over their shoulders to make sure no foe was going for a weapon.

"Is the truce holding?" Park asked the Skrelling soldier next to him.

"So far," the Tawantiinsuujan replied. "Who knows how far we can trust the cursed Sun-deniers, though?" Park knew the men of the Dar al-Harb were saying the same thing about Tawantiinsuuju. He also knew that telling the soldier so would do no good.