The village of Sheikh Adda, the holiest of the Yezidi cities, was a collection of white, cone-shaped tombs and temples in the center of a few hundred huts situated in a green valley. Peacocks, symbols of one of the semideities that the Yezidi believed ruled the earth, roamed freely. There appeared to be little commerce other than the raising of goats and horses, and by Yezidi standards Ali was a wealthy man because he owned a gun, a horse, a
khanjer,
and his own little shop that dealt in tea and the cheapest of Western trinkets. Because he was considered the most powerful man in the village, other than the high priest, he had been allowed to learn and speak English.
"How many Yezidi are there?" Mystery asked as she got out of the sidecar.
"Nobody knows," Indy said. "Estimates range from a few thousand to perhaps tens of thousands. In an area in which religious war is the biggest industry, the Yezidi have the misfortune of being identified with the one personality that is nearly universally hated. They have been persecuted for centuries."
"How long have they been around?"
"Nobody knows that, either," Indy said. "But they appear to be one of the oldest religious groups in the world. Some have claimed they are a direct link to the religion of the Sumerians, but that hasn't been proven. They can be traced as far back as the mystery religions, however."
"Do they really worship the devil?" she asked.
"Worship is the wrong word," Ali told Indy as he approached. It would have been impolite for him to answer Mystery directly. "We believe that Allah is good. Because Allah is good, we have nothing to fear from Him. It is Shaitan you must watch out for and give respect."
"What are the ways in which you give respect?" Indy asked.
"In every aspect of life, of course," Ali said. "Come, are you hungry? We will eat."
Indy followed Ali into his house, but stopped Faye and Mystery before they could enter.
"Sorry," he said. "But you have to wait out here until the men finish. Then, you'll be brought the scraps."
"The
scraps?"
Mystery asked.
"She's right," Faye said. "That's barbaric."
"Don't make a scene," Indy said. "It reflects badly on me. Look, I don't make the rules around here. Besides, it could be worse; at least you don't have to wear veils, which is considered pretty progressive in this part of the world. If you're hungry, there is plenty of decent chow in the sidecar."
After the meal, Indy emerged wearing a white turban and a coarse
zebun,
the traditional Arab homespun robe. Over his arm were a pair of dark robes. He paused just outside the hut, put his hands on his stomach, and belched elaborately.
Faye and Mystery were still sitting beside the motorcycles, since none of the other villagers, male or female, dared to express the slightest interest in them.
Ali slapped Indy on the back and thanked him for the compliment. "Come," he said. "I will show you your house. Bring your women."
"Have a good time?" Faye asked.
"You got the best end of the stick, believe me," Indy whispered. "Mutton and sheep eyes. I'd give anything for a ham sandwich right now."
"Sorry," Faye said. "Mysti and I ate all the potted ham."
"It was delicious," Mystery said.
"Here, put these on," Indy said as he threw the robes at Faye. "They think it's indecent for a woman to wear pants."
Ali led them to a modest hut not far from the village well. They left the motorcycles outside, after Indy removed the spark plug wires.
"Don't you trust us?" Ali asked.
"Of course," Indy said as he stuffed the plug wires into his satchel. "But would you leave your horse outside with a bit still between his teeth?"
The dirt floor of the hut had been freshly raked, and there were two straw mats arranged for sleeping. Other than the mats, there was no furniture. A basket of fruit had been placed by the doorway, which was covered with a strip of canvas.
"I hope you find it adequate," Ali said.
"More than adequate," Indy said. "Thank you, my friend."
Before dawn the next morning, Ali crept inside the hut and knelt beside Indy. Faye and her daughter were still asleep, sharing a straw mat in the far corner of the hut.
Ali placed a hand on his shoulder.
Indy's eyes snapped open, and his hand reached for his revolver. Ali's
khanjer
was at his throat before Indy's fingers could close around the butt of the Webley.
"It is only I," Ali said as he sheathed the knife.
"I thought somebody was trying to steal the bikes," Indy said, lowering the revolver.
"Dress quickly, my friend," Ali said. "Here, put on this turban—the proper headgear for a man. You have been invited to our temple, something no white man has seen before—at least not one who has lived to tell about it."
"Why me?" Indy asked as he pulled on his boots.
"Because of my dream," Ali said, "and because the other sheikhs attach significance to your visit as well. This is a time of great portent."
Indy followed Ali outside as he wrapped the turban around his head. The stars were shining brightly in a cloudless sky. They walked down the dirt street to the temple with the cone-shaped top, and Ali paused. A dozen pairs of shoes and boots were outside the doorway.
"Take off your boots," he told Indy. "Leave them outside, and do not step on the threshold when you cross the doorway. Say nothing, do nothing, unless you are instructed."
Once inside the temple, Ali took a lighted candle from a table and moved a tapestry hanging on the far side of the rounded wall, revealing a flight of stairs.
Khanjer
in hand, a priest stood beside the tapestry, which represented a peacock.
"Is this always guarded?" Indy asked.
"Of course," Ali said as he descended the steps. "This is the center of worship for all Yezidi. It is ancient beyond memory. We cannot allow you to witness our rituals, but as sheikh I can show you our most venerated object. After all, that is why you are here, is it not?"
Indy smiled, but said nothing.
On the walls of the passage were representations of large black snakes twisted around each other.
Indy could hear the sound of running water, and as they descended the sound grew louder.
"What do the pictures of the snakes mean?"
Ali held his finger to his lips.
When they reached the bottom of the steps, they were in a large granite cavern. Ali used the candle to light a pair of torches held in sconces upon the wall. In the center of the room was a pit, and at the bottom of the pit was a flowing stream of clear water.
"You may ask questions about anything except the pictures upon the wall," Ali said. "Those are the property of Shaitan, and we are forbidden to speak of them."
"The water," Indy said. "It is from the village well."
"Yes," Ali said. "Our temples are always built over underground streams."
Then Ali walked over to an alcove cut into the rock, and from the light of his candle Indy could see the wooden doors of a coffin-shaped reliquary.
Ali opened the doors, revealing a bone-white piece of wood. It was nearly two meters long, Indy judged. Ali gently removed the Staff from its resting place.
"You may hold it," Ali said, "but under no circumstances it is allowed to touch the floor."
Indy nodded, then took the Staff.
"It is so light," Indy said.
"It is very old, and has lost much of its weight. If you were to drop it, it would shatter like a piece of glass."
"Bring the candle closer," Indy said, "there are some markings here, but I cannot make them out. They look like Hebrew, but I can't be sure."
"It has not produced miracles in my lifetime," Ali said. "It has healed the sick in the past. I remember my grandfather telling me about the lepers and the demon-possessed it cured."
"Is that why you thought I was a physician?"
"More of a hope, really," Ali said. "We have had a few foreigners come seeking the Staff every generation or so, but they are always after power."
"Within the last few years," Indy asked, "was there ever an Englishman named Kaspar?"
"No," Ali said. "You are the first in a generation."
"The Staff and the...," Indy said and nodded toward the stairway. "We have a Western symbol, the caduceus, which represents healing, that is a combination of those pictures and the Staff."
"I know of it," Ali said.
"How did the Staff come into the possession of your people?"
"We do not really know," Ali said, "there is an old story about the Staff and the Ark of the Covenant being stolen from Solomon's Temple at the same time, long ago, but we cannot be sure. It is just a story."
Indy carefully handed the Staff back to Ali, and as the sheikh put it back into the reliquary Indy asked:
"Has anyone asked merely to borrow the Staff?"
"That would be quite impossible," Ali said. "We have very strict laws about that. It must remain here, under our protection. And if someone were to steal it, woe to them. After we cut off their hands, they would be staked in the desert and disemboweled. What a feast for the vultures, eh? But we are a peaceful people. Tell me, Dr. Jones, what is your interest in the Staff?"
"Purely academic," Indy said.
"Of course," Ali said. "You know, there is one circumstance only in which the Staff may leave the village, and that is in the hands of the Expected One, who again can bring forth miracles with the aid of the Staff. Frankly, my friend, I was hoping that would be you."
"I'm not your man," Indy said. "Sorry."
"So am I," Ali said. "We are sorely in need of the Age of Miracles to return. In my dream, even the heavens responded to the will of the Chosen One."
"So you saw it," Faye said.
They were sitting on the straw mats in the hut, and Indy had just finished telling her about the tour of the temple and its underground chamber.
"Yes, or something like it," Indy said. "Very old, kept in a wooden cabinet in an alcove cut into the rock."
"This pit that had the well water in it," Mystery said. "How big was it?"
"About three feet across."
"Could you tell how deep the water was, or the chamber in which it ran?"
"No," Indy said, "it was too dark."
"This is going to be difficult," Faye said.
"This is impossible," Indy said. "The temple is guarded around the clock."
"Yes, but just by one priest," Faye said.
"There's no way to get past him. Even if you could somehow overpower him, you'd have to fight the entire village to escape."
"Maybe," Faye said. "Unless you could put a duplicate in its place. From your description, it doesn't sound all that special-looking."
"Look, I don't want to have my hands chopped off and then be staked in the desert to serve as food for vultures," Indy said. "It's just too risky. And besides that, it wouldn't be right. These people have shared their food and their shelter with us. Let's not repay them by stealing the most valuable thing they own."
"We could bring it back," Faye said.
"It would still be stealing," Indy said.
"It's the key to the Omega Book," Faye said. "It also may be our only chance of finding Kaspar."
"Too risky," Indy said.
"The famed scholar, adventurer, and grave robber concedes a challenge he can't meet?" Mystery asked mockingly.
"I prefer to rob my victims after they've been dead a few thousand years, not while they're still walking about," Indy said sourly. "We'll leave for Baghdad tomorrow, at first light. There is nothing more for us here."
Indy sat upright on the straw mat, awakened by the shouts of men and the ululation of the women in the center of the village. He glanced across the room and saw Faye sleeping, but not Mystery.
"Oh, no," he said.
"Where's Mystery?" Faye asked, rousing.
"I don't know," Indy said as he pulled on his shoes and grabbed his
zebun.
"But I'm afraid she may be the cause of all the excitement."
There was a crowd gathered around the temple, and everyone seemed to be talking at once in Arabic. "What's wrong?" Indy asked Ali.
"The Staff is gone," Ali said. "We came here for morning worship, and it was missing. Where is it?"
"You can't think I stole it."
"I can think of no one else," Ali said. "I shouldn't have showed it to you. It was a mistake."
Ali made a motion with his hand, and Indy and Faye were grasped by their arms.
"Where is the girl?" Ali said.
"I don't know," Indy said.
"Again, where is the Staff?"
"Again, I don't know," Indy said.
Ali shook his head. He drew his
khanjer,
the blade of which gleamed in the pinkish light of dawn, and held it beneath Indy's chin.
"You will tell me," Ali said. "Better you tell me now than later, but you will tell me. Because I will start by peeling the skin from your arms and legs," he said. "The palms and the soles of the feet are particularly sensitive. Then, I will do the same to your chest and belly, and finally I will peel your face and scalp away. After that, when we recover the Staff, we will cut off your hands—"
"I know the rest," Indy said.
"Stake them down," Ali commanded.
The crowd grabbed Indy and Faye by their hands and feet, then staked them spread-eagle on the sand with leather rope and wooden pegs.
"Do you have any ideas?" Faye asked.
"Not one," Indy admitted.
Ali sat cross-legged on the ground and removed Indy's left boot. Then he pulled the sock off and pressed the blade of the knife to the thin skin over the bone.
"We are a peaceful people," he said.
"Hitler says the same thing," Indy said.
"Who is this Hitler?"
"Guess," Indy said.
"You force us to do this," he said. Then Ali leaned close to Indy and said: "For fear of Shaitan, please tell us where you have hidden the Staff. I thought you were my friend. I do not want to hurt you. We will have to kill you now, of course, but I do not want to torture you."
"Then don't," Indy said.
Ali shook his head and began to trim the flesh from Indy's ankle. Indy gritted his teeth, but could not suppress a scream when he felt the blade of the knife skim along the bone.