Princess of Dhagabad, The (20 page)

Sitting in your usual place near the head of
the princess’s bed, you look with unseeing eyes at the pages of an
open book, listening to her rhythmic breathing beside you. Tonight
you read to her from the religious book of the Stikts, and the
princess fell asleep just as you were finishing the last words of
the chosen chapter. This ritual of bedtime readings was established
almost from the beginning, and, although over the last three years
she has gradually turned from a child into a young woman, the
ritual is still followed to the letter.

You watch her quiet face, not trying and not
wanting to penetrate her dreams, thinking of how strangely close
you have become to this creature, so different from you, yet
somehow similar. You still cannot understand the reason for your
closeness; the princess—for all her curiosity and hunger for
knowledge—doesn’t bear the mark of absolute power which, as you now
know, had been looming over you from a very early age. Perhaps, you
think, the reason for your bond is books, which the princess loves
so much, and which are, and always were, a big part of your
life.

From time immemorial you found more pleasure
in reading than in those activities that are usually considered an
enjoyable way of spending time. Only later, when you were already
an eminent scholar and considered a sage by some people—and by
others, a strange, ageless youth with a distant look—did you start
to take an interest in others and in the opportunity to gain more
knowledge about human nature. You spent time walking around the
noisy Dimeshqian bazaar, attending receptions in noble houses,
talking to the beggars on the streets, to the court sages, to the
owners of the shops adjoining the bazaar, and to the venerable
keeper of the Dimeshqian library. Many of them knew your parents at
the time when they were still elderly, honorable citizens of
Dimeshq. Such people always regarded your unchangeable youth with
distrust.

In time, they, too, grew old and died,
replaced by other beggars, sages, merchants, and keepers of the
books. Your reputation as a mage, which by then had become as
natural as your surroundings, made everyone treat you with respect
and uneasiness. People didn’t shun you, but they kept their
distance. Your home on the outskirts of Dimeshq, a large house
filled with books, they avoided. Then the sultan of Dimeshq started
to send the court sages to seek your advice in difficult matters of
state. The sages, looking with wonder and unease at a handsome and
somewhat remote young man, wrote down your words on their waxen
tablets and left, collecting about them the folds of their long
garments on the narrow stairs, leaving you alone with your
books.

Through your studies, increasingly, you felt
surges of special insight and saw visions of the true nature of
objects and occurrences. You moved headlong on the path of
knowledge, rapidly discovering the answers to more and more
questions. Sometimes, when recalling the Agritian scroll, you
searched your mind for indications of the burden and the despair
that had marked the way of knowledge for that mighty sage.
Marveling at the very age of the ancient scroll, yet not quite
believing it, you searched relentlessly for those signs that marked
the Agritian sage’s approach to absolute power, and you repeated to
yourself, sometimes even aloud, forming a harmony of sounds, that
mysterious Agritian word, indelibly imprinted on your
memory—“djinn”. Then, with an outward laugh and inner relief, you
insisted you felt nothing of the kind, that the old sage had made a
mistake, and that whosoever were those mysterious spirits called
djinns, you, a mage from Dimeshq, would never become one of
them.

“That Stiktian book we read last night made
me completely confused about religions, Hasan!” the princess says
impatiently. She is sitting on the floor, books and scrolls
scattered around her in disorder. Her face is frowning, her head
shawl has slid to the side, falling in folds off her shoulder.

“It wasn’t my intention to confuse you,
princess.” She hears laughter in Hasan’s voice, and raising her
head, she manages to catch a reflection of a smile disappearing
from his face. But the princess is not in the mood for jokes.

“Tell me, Hasan,” she insists, “the head
priest of the temple al-Gulsulim says that there is only one true
god who rules all the elemental phenomena in the world.
Correct?”

“That is correct, princess,” Hasan answers,
and the princess cannot hear any appropriate seriousness in his
voice. But she is not going to turn back.

“I have been thinking about it, Hasan. And I
realized that most of the people in Dhagabad also believe in one
god. Only they all call him by a different name.”

“Are names so important, princess?”

“Well, the sage Haib al-Mutassim also says
that it is not the name but the meaning of god that matters.”

“What don’t you understand, princess?”

“I heard the sage Haib al-Mutassim also say
that there really are many gods, and that every elemental
phenomenon should be called a god. And the head priest says that
there is no god but the true One, and that the sage Haib
al-Mutassim should die a terrible death for such blasphemy.”

“What is the difference between an elemental
phenomenon and a god, princess?” The smile is shimmering right near
the surface, though Hasan is not quite letting it out. “Maybe they
are the same?”

“I could have believed that, Hasan, if it
weren’t for that Stiktian book that yesterday confused me so
completely. As far as I could understand, the Stikts say that there
are no gods at all, and that the divine nature lies in each human
being.”

“Maybe this is true, princess, and that’s why
people are inventing so many gods?”

“Don’t laugh at me, Hasan! You are
all-powerful! Tell me!”

“Gods lie beyond my powers, princess.”

“In that case, tell me about Stiktian
religion. How do they conduct the services if they have no gods? Do
they pray to themselves?”

“Something like that, princess.”

“Tell me, Hasan! The book says that only the
initiated Stikts may know that.”

This time she catches a glimpse of the smile,
and she suddenly finds it hard to keep from laughing. The merry
sparkles in Hasan’s eyes are so contagious.

“If you don’t tell me, Hasan, – I – I’ll die
of curiosity!” She laughs, knowing how ineffective is her threat,
and how filled with desire she is to learn the answer to her
question.

“All right, princess,” Hasan says. “The
Stiktian cult is called the Cult of Release. The purpose of their
ritual is to release the divine from the influence of mind. Only
high priests can do it and only the initiated are allowed to see
it. The minds of common people are too resistant to such
things.”

“If only I could see it…” the princess
says, not daring to phrase her wish as a direct order. “Is it true
that the Stikts pray in underground temples?”

“Some call them temples, princess. In reality
they are natural caves. The Stikts believe that you can pray to the
divine only in temples that were not created by man.”

“I know what we shall do, Hasan! You will
take us to a Stiktian temple and we will see the ritual!” The
princess holds her breath, wishing with all her heart to see the
mysterious rite, yet giving Hasan a chance to voice his
concern.

“Are you sure of the stability of your mind,
princess?” Hasan says, unexpectedly serious.

“I thought you would say it’s too dangerous!”
the princess says with relief.

“I don’t know, princess.” There is doubt in
Hasan’s voice. “I can make our journey safe, but you must take care
of your mind yourself.”

“Is it really so terrible, Hasan?”

“Not exactly terrible, princess. I’d rather
say it’s unusual for the uninitiated.”

“I am too curious to turn back now, Hasan.
Tell me, what kind of safety do you have in mind? If you are going
to turn us into stones in the cave, I’d rather not.”

“I will make us invisible, princess.”

“Will you really, Hasan?” The princess jumps
up impatiently. “I always wanted to become invisible!”

“But if you start talking or bumping into
things, we can get into trouble, princess.”

“I promise to be silent as death and still as
stone,” the princess answers with impatience.

“One more thing.” Hasan also rises to his
feet and the princess’s heart leaps with expectation. “To avoid any
accidents I will make us visible to each other.”

Strange forest surrounds Hasan and the
princess. Trunks of low, wide trees seem to be composed of massive,
intertwined brown snakes with their shining scaly tails flattened
on the ground and their heads hidden in the stiff leaves of the
crown. These extraordinary trees cover the steep slopes of a canyon
in grayish-green spots. A noisy mountain stream rushes at the
bottom, working its way through many rapids down the rocky
foothills of the Halabean range. Straight ahead, the princess hears
roaring and rumbling of falling water. Looking more closely through
uneven rocky spurs, she can just glimpse the crystal-blue water of
a mountain lake.

“Is that the noise of a waterfall?” she asks.
“Are we going there?”

“Yes and yes, princess,” Hasan says. “There
is a cave beyond the waterfall and inside it is the most famous
Stiktian temple. By the way, you just broke your vow of
silence.”

“But we are not in the temple yet!”

“We are close enough for unfriendly ears.
Keep silent and don’t fall behind.” Hasan moves ahead along the
side of the canyon, stepping lightly on the rough rocks. The
princess climbs carefully behind him, and soon, around the river
bend, a giant waterfall unravels before them in all its magnificent
power. The wide wall of water, like an enormous curtain, is falling
into a smooth stone basin below. A wet path carved into the rock
girds the vertical wall midway from bottom to top.

“You probably won’t be able to walk this
path, princess,” Hasan says anxiously.

“If the Stiktian women can walk it, I
can.”

“They are initiated,” Hasan reminds her.

“I will hold on to you. If I fall, you will
catch me, won’t you?”

“You trust me too much, princess.” Hasan
grins, then presses his finger to his lips for silence.

Holding Hasan’s hand and trying not to look
down, the princess carefully walks along the stone ledge behind the
waterfall. Her hair and clothes are soaking wet; but now, so close
to the Stiktian temple, she is too excited to notice.

She sees a narrow gap in the stone wall
behind the waterfall.

“In there,” Hasan says.

Trembling with excitement, the princess ducks
into the chilly darkness. She immediately sees that it is not dark
at all. The walls of the cave are covered with a glowing substance,
and as her hand touches the wall, it also starts to glow.

“Luminescent fungi,” Hasan whispers. “Don’t
stop.”

Careful not to slip, the princess and Hasan
move along the gradually sloping, winding corridor. The entrance
has disappeared behind them and the princess stays closer to the
djinn. She can now hear a hollow drumbeat and monotonous chant
straight ahead.