Spira Mirabilis (13 page)

Suddenly it collapsed, like a great tree falling toward her, impossible to outrun. All she could do was cover her face, bury Iscanno’s head in her breast and cry ‘
Madonna!
’ as the roar enveloped her. She was powerless to resist as she felt her feet leave the ground and she was borne up into a cloud of hostile winds studded with tiny shredded diamonds, each fighting for the privilege of flaying her. Her headdress was ripped open and the sand-saturated air battered her face.

Hush
.

The assault ceased and the stillness of night cocooned her. The scream remained, but it was a muted echo, miles away. With her eyes still shut, she reached out and felt the void. The air which moments ago was furnace-hot was delightfully cool now. The rumble of thunder was now more like the soothing throb of the tide. Iscanno laughed in delight, and when she opened her eyes she saw his were open already. They were in the belly of the Jinni, and Iscanno gurgled as balls of blue fiery strings drifted about them. All was calm. The air flowed over them. Only the streaking stars above revealed the speed at which they travelled. She was too tired to be amazed, but not too tired to rejoice that the Jinn at least were not amongst her enemies. That was enough. She gave herself to sleep, certain that she could only wake somewhere better.

Sand shifted, thinned and was gone, leaving them in the crepuscular embrace of dusk. They’d spent the better part of a day travelling.

She uncovered Iscanno and batted their clothes free of dust, and laughed when she realised where the Jinni had let them down. The burial ground was at the bottom of a steep-sided wadi. It must have known that dead humans were buried here. Death was almost certain, but to have it confirmed like this … She laughed again. Crying would only spill precious water. She turned her back to the dark band on the horizon, knowing too well what it signified. A month ago the Sirocco, a wave of turbulent hot air straight from Barbary, had filled Akka’s streets with a braccia of sand that the Ebionites had spent days cleaning away. The unconscious monsters of nature were powerful as any Jinni, and they would not heed her pleading.

The craggy sides of the wadi threw weird shadows in the evening light. The overlapping rock walls were gouged with deep holes like eyes and broken-toothed grins. The Sown of Akka reserved Jerusalem’s sacred name for prayer, using other names in conversation, and she remembered one:
Golgotha
, the place of the skull. Arik had once joked that even the dead were territorial in the Sands. She wondered now if he had been serious. She shuddered at the memory of the last time she had been in such proximity to the dead – but the fevered atmosphere of All Souls was absent from this solemn place. Iscanno murmured in his sleep and she cooed softly and reminded herself this was
no time to indulge in fancies. She had to find shelter before the Sirocco hit.

The higher caves would be safer from scavengers but the only chance of finding water would be in the lower ones, and that was urgent. She was about to try one when scattered pebbles falling warned her that she was not alone. The sound, echoing in the narrow pass, was impossible to place. Slowly she removed her headdress and crouched. She searched by touch for a rock the right size, all the while straining to see if something was lurking between the pillars ahead, or behind her, or above.

She was looking up when one of the skulls blinked – just a momententary yellow wink of light – and it was all too quickly gone, extinguished or covered. There were more scattered pebbles, and ghostly laughter, but this time they were close enough to place. Whatever was coming for her was still hidden in the forest of pillars ahead, but she forced herself to look up, straining her night vision to the utmost.

There
.

It was not as obvious this time, just the reflection of an unsteady light on the cave ceiling, and she only caught it because she was looking so hard.

As she searched the slope for a route, she heard a throaty rumble that collapsed into scattered yelps and huffs, and a dog pack – large striped shoulders and snapping salivating jaws – came padding between the pillars. Their shining eyes saw her and they froze, their dry laughter dying. The largest dog appeared to be taken by surprise, judging by the sharp howl that erupted from his throat and snapped his head back.

She bolted, and the dogs followed her, scrambling up the initially gentle incline. She could climb better than most Rasenneisi – well, she could once – but there was no firm footing on the loose pebbles and she had only one hand free. She could prevent herself falling, but not from scraping her legs. She felt the wetness
of her blood on the night air and the dogs smelled its heat. It drove them to frenzy and a jaw snapped shut just behind her heel. She kicked back and the beast yelped and scrabbled on the loose stone until it tumbled back through the pack. Its long howl was interrupted every time it bounced. It finally ended when the dog hit the wadi floor.

Another – the big one – came at her; it was surer-footed, this one. She let it get close before releasing the sling. First there was the hollow
doitt
of stone on skull, then it fell silently though the air and landed beside the other dog that was wheezing through broken ribs. She climbed to another ledge. Crouching there, she searched the darkness for another stone.

The dogs were wary now, and the climb too steep. Besides, they had to attend to their fallen brothers. Sofia listened to the ripping of flesh and the snarls as the pack fought for the choicest meat.

Though the escalade was close to vertical, the uneven rock-face afforded plenty of purchase to climb, though she was breathing hard before she got to the cave-mouth. Iscanno murmured plaintively in his sleep, but thankfully didn’t wake. She peered into the darkness. The light was a mere flickering, a star’s reflection in a well – then it disappeared. The choice was stark: follow, or be lost. She stepped inside, and discovered that the cave was pleasantly warm, and that it led downwards: so well-chosen for defensibility. The ceiling was low and she had to crouch as she proceeded into the earth’s bowels. Whispering winds from tunnels on either side suggested there were other routes, but she did not stray, and at last her fidelity was rewarded with another glimpse of the light, dipping and blinking like a firefly. It was just a glimpse, but it gave her hope.

Gradually she was able to stand again, and proceeded on tiptoe. She worried about jolting Iscanno awake and making him cry out, so when the light came to rest, she put him down and pulled up her head scarf, arranging it so that only her eyes
showed, before slowly approaching. She heard whispering voices: a man and a boy. Her Ebionite was good enough now that she could understand most of it.

‘If the nasi caught you, he’d have you disembowelled. Why were you sticking your head out anyway?’

‘I heard something.’

‘Dogs barking is all. You want to betray us with that light?’ The question was punctuated by a thump.

The boy stifled a sob. ‘It’s dark. I thought it might be a Jinni.’

‘You’re too old to be scared of the dark, Jabari.’ The man sounded unsympathetic. ‘A true Sicarii ain’t frightened of nothing. Darkness is his ally.’ He swayed his light – a burning wick in a ceramic tray of oil – as though demonstrating his mastery of the dark.

Sofia stepped out of the shadows. Before he dropped the light, she had time to see he was a heavyset brute with downward-sloping eyes and prominent lower teeth. Next to him was a boy of eight or nine with a freshly bloodied nose.

Darkness fell with the ring of a dagger whipping out of its sheath; that glimpse had been enough for Sofia to gauge the distance.

She took two long strides and leaped, kicked herself off the wall. Her knee slammed into his jaw and she felt some teeth cave. She landed and picked up the lamp and pulled the wick straight. Her knee hurt. The light flickered into life. The dagger’s edge was under her chin.

She pulled her scarf down to show her face. ‘You wouldn’t hurt a woman, would you?’

The boy was unsmiling, resolute. She was about to throw the oil into his face when Iscanno cried out. The boy’s eyes widened and he tucked his dagger back in his belt. Sofia reached for the knife that the older man had dropped and turned to find the boy
holding Iscanno and tickling him. He was laughing with delight, and so was Iscanno.

‘He likes you.’

‘What’s his name?’ the boy asked brightly.

‘Iscanno – and yours?’

*

As Jabari led her deeper into the cave, Sofia realised how lucky she had been so far. Without a guide she would have certainly become lost. Perhaps the Madonna was looking out for her.

Presently she heard the sound of animated argument.

‘I did not call you a fool, Yūsuf – I said it would be foolish to take Mik la Nan at his word.’

‘A Sicarii’s duty is to cut those throats I decide need cutting,’ a quarrelsome voice spat back, ‘and since your throat-cutting days are behind you, Bakhbukh, your place is to advise me, not irritate like a camel-tick.’

‘I am trying.’ This voice was deep, and filled with controlled passion. ‘Since no one else will tell you the truth, I must—’

‘Jabari, you little fool!’ The other voice cut across as the boy walked into the clearing. ‘Who bloodied your nose? A Jinni who dislikes little beggars?’

There were sniggers at that, and by way of answer, Jabari looked back the way he had come. The laughter fell away as Sofia appeared.

The cavern smelled of sweat and decline. Its domed ceiling was shrouded in smoke, and not even the braziers burning around the curved walls managed to penetrate the darkness. A natural outcrop gave the cavern a second rocky tier and without a word Jabari scrambled up into this viewing gallery and took his place amongst dozens of gaunt, silently staring boys.

Around a pit of glowing embers sat the circle of grim debaters. All faced – with varying degrees of deference and resentment – a bare-chested youth with manic red-rimmed eyes. He had a sharp
nose and an equally sharp chin, covered in a grand unkempt beard which served more to emphasise his youth than the gravitas to which he aspired. His wiry strong arms tapered to delicate wrists wrapped in black rags. He wore a baggy loincloth high around his waist, tied with an old leather belt from which hung a handsome curved dagger.

Now he placed his hand on its pommel and glared. ‘Woe onto thee, stranger, to have discovered the lair of the Sicarii.’

His was the petulant voice then. She’d seen a similar dagger before. She looked him over for a moment, then glanced around the circle. They were all scared and chary, obviously waiting for the bearded one’s lead. Only one retained his composure: a large man with a wizened face shaped like a cashew nut. His chin was covered in grey stubble, his forehead by wrinkles. He was sitting on the opposite side of the circle. He was not very old, but compared to the rest he was the venerable elder. He looked calmly back at her, then took a date from the bowl in his lap and chewed it meditatively, waiting to see what happened.

The bearded one, embarrassed that the stranger was neither impressed nor cowed, tried again. ‘Who art thou? It is Yūsuf of the Sicarii who asks.’

That too failed to amaze, but then the stranger pulled down the scarf and it was the Sicarii who gasped at the sight of a foreigner –
and
a female, at that.

‘Since you ask so nicely, my name is Sofia Scaligeri, Contessa of Rasenna – but that is a country far from here. All that matters is that I am an enemy of Catrina Guiscard.’

‘Her spy, more like,’ said Yūsuf, regaining confidence. ‘How did you find us? Where’s Zayid?’

‘The big bully? He’ll be along presently.’

‘Where is he?’

She shrugged. ‘Flat out, where I left him.’

The elder who’d been chewing dates spoke up now. ‘Zayid bloodied Jabari’s nose?’

Sofia recognised the voice: he was the one who had been trying to change Yūsuf’s mind. ‘And I bloodied his.’

‘What does
that
matter, Bakhbukh!’ Yūsuf hissed. ‘I’m sure the little criminal gave him cause. What matters is that this trespasser—’

‘—is but a poor woman. We ought to offer hospitality,’ Bakhbukh said.

Yūsuf angrily replied, ‘The Sicarii are not bound by tribal law!’

While they argued, Sofia handed Iscanno up to Jabari. The boy took the baby willingly. ‘There seems to be a misunderstanding.’ she interrupted. ‘There’s a sandstorm coming up from the south. This is my cave now. Keep your voices down and I’ll let you stay for the duration.’

Yūsuf broke the ensuing silence with a dry laugh. ‘The winds have deranged this foreign whore. We have no food to spare for lunatics.’ He tapped the shoulder of a fierce-looking fellow with hawk eyebrows. ‘The Jinn and the jackals can fight over her.’

Sofia let him come close. When he grabbed for her, he caught only her scarf. She leaned away from him and let him come free, then a precise kick under his jaw clamped his teeth shut on his tongue. He staggered back and as three others jumped up, Sofia ran at the staggering man and used his body as a ramp to propel her towards the trio. The first she struck in the chest, a Water-Style kick that sent him flying into the other two; he landed amidst their sprawled bodies.

Yūsuf pushed another at her. This one, seeing she could fight, was warier, and came with his blade drawn. It whipped close to her neck, back then forth, and the second time he swiped she jabbed her fingers into his arm, just above the elbow. He yelped and dropped the dagger. Gamely he tried to land a blow with his
remaining arm, but she blocked it easily. Her attention was now on the rest of the circle of men advancing on either flank.

She had to end this before someone got seriously hurt.

She caught his arm as it shot past her ear again and as she twisted him round there was a wrenching sound. When she let go, he bowed low, weighed down by two now-useless arms. She dropped him with an elbow between his shoulder blades and took a step back as pairs of men advanced on either side of his body. Stepping back, she ran into the fellow with the eyebrows whom she had left sprawled earlier. He’d recovered enough to grab her left leg, but she kicked her heel back without turning.