PART III Section 2: Propitiatory Sacrifice
1 Metamorphosis
When Edahi slipped into the entryway toward the end of the night, the setting moon still shed its wan light on the depressing empty area adjacent to the base of the mountain. Because the light was so feeble, he had difficulty making out the steps that led down into the vault, but as he progressed further he could see clearly once more, for he found himself in a space illuminated by a hole overhead. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened carefully. The whispered breathing of the ignoble man sounded like a viper’s hiss to him. The strategist! His breathing was like a viper’s. His laughter sounded like a viper’s. His conduct was like a viper’s. His cunning resembled a viper’s. The tribes’ elders were not mistaken when they labeled him ‘the strategist’ nor were those sages of previous generations mistaken in calling the viper a strategist as well. Each of these two was formed from the same substance and derived from the same stock. The offspring of the desert would never flourish until they exterminated both with this magical knife. He felt for the knife, which was concealed in his sleeve. He opened his eyes and the room seemed even lighter. He drew a deep breath. He gazed at the corner where the bare-headed strategist was curled up. His large ears resembled those of a she-ass. O Tanit, Goddess of the Desert, how large his ears are! How hideous his ears are! Temarit had told him about these alarming ears, but he had not believed her. The man’s close ties to the hateful she-ass were not accidental. In his substitution of the she-ass for the camel lay concealed a secret truth that no one who ever saw these ears would question. Ha, ha, ha! Here the evil fellow lay at his feet. Here the ruse master was stretched out limply beside him, lost in his frightening dreams, plotting new snares even as he slept. He did not stop working even in his sleep. The scoundrel! The wretch! But this magical knife will put an end to his work, his dreams, his snares, and his evil. Slaying him will save the desert. First off, the oasis will be saved, but the desert will be saved as well. His own hands would wreak this salvation. He had warned people they needed to slaughter this scoundrel the first day he intruded into their settlement, but the people had hesitated. As they always did, the people had gotten caught up in a debate and had neglected their duty. Groups of people always prefer debate over action. Groups of people always spend their lives debating, not doing. For this reason, groups of people perish, because they have emphasized debate over action. He had, however, taken charge of the matter. He had decided to take charge of the matter some time ago. He had decided to take charge of the matter on the sly. No one had guessed his intentions except the strategist Ewar, who had attempted to get him to confess once, but he had escaped. Ewar had tried a second time, but he had ignored the look. But Ewar knew. And he knew that he knew, just as Ewar himself knew that he knew that he also knew. But the noblest affair was one known without having transited a tongue. What was known and also said was inevitably badly tarnished. The noblest matter was concealed even if it was known. He had gone to intercept one of the caravans and there had discovered a sorcerer from the forest lands far to the south. He had told him about the true nature of the strategist. Thus he had learned from him that unlike other beings the ignoble creature could not be slain with just any weapon. From his sleeve, the man had extracted an extraordinary knife with secret designs carved on its handle. He had told him that it was the only one that could spill the blood of strategists. He had exchanged for the knife a bag of precious Madjezzan salt. Here it was now in his possession, in his palm; its hilt in his hand. Its tongue gleamed in the sinister light from the opening overhead. Its tongue was as ravenous as a viper’s tongue. It was as symbolic as a viper’s tongue. The blade was coated with poison like the venom of a viper, because the strategist was a viper. The knife was a viper. And only a viper could kill a viper.
He brought the knife down on the man’s breast. It plunged into his breast with alarming ease. It plunged into the man’s chest as if into a pile of dirt or a sack stuffed with wool. When he drew it out, it emerged all bloody. He smelled a strange odor. He observed the color of blood coat the blade of the knife. The strategist emitted a hoarse, choked, rattling groan and shivered like a meek hare. He brought the knife down this time on the throat of the man, who groaned with pain. He shook violently and rolled over in bed.
He struggled to free himself. He lay on his back and the gurgling rattle in his throat continued on and on till it changed into a hiss. It became a genuine, protracted hiss capable of giving a person goose flesh. While he waited for the body to cease its hideous hissing he felt little bumps all over. But the hissing grew louder. Then he witnessed the body go through a terrifying transformation. It suddenly took on a pale color and matted hair swept over it too. It finally revealed itself as a terrifying serpent that was writhing and complaining with a hideous hiss. He tried to leap back, out of the vault, but. . but another transformation stopped him. The serpent began to disperse and dissolve the way a mirage does. The hissing too became muffled and began to die away until it ceased. At that time. . at that moment, he could not believe his eyes. The viper that had enveloped the body had vanished and another body had taken its place. . a body he detested finding there. . a body he could not believe he would be capable of allowing even a breeze to profane. It was inconceivable that he would attack it with a magic knife. The body swimming in a pool of blood before him was Temarit’s; it was not the strategist’s body, not the viper’s.
2 The Elegy
Vassals led the fool, who was bound with ropes of palm fiber, to the council of elders. He had a crazed look in his eyes and was foaming at the mouth. From his tongue came a repeated refrain like a charm: “It dispersed like a mirage. It dispersed from her like a mirage.” He repeated this to the council many times over before the sage Elelli was able to quiet him with a wave of his hand. Edahi fell silent but his wheezing did not cease. Indeed, it may have intensified, and he exhaled liberally on the nobles’ faces.
The men consulted one another with their eyes. Ewar retreated behind his blue veil, which he had drawn across his face until even his nose and eyes were concealed. In a corner Amghar whispered with the warrior Emmar. The sage and the diviner exchanged a dejected glance. Yazzal signaled with his eyes and the sage began the proceedings. He motioned for the vassals to untie the fool. The poor wretch started to repeat his charm, but sage gestured for him to desist.
The interrogation commenced.
The diviner asked tersely, “Did you kill the girl?”
The fool answered with certainty: “Absolutely not!”
“But you left the stranger’s residence holding a knife smeared with blood and when people hurried into the tomb they found the belle, slain.”
The fool glanced round the circle of eyes as if seeking support. He was looking even more squint-eyed than usual. His eyes showed the misery of someone frustrated by the inability to express himself. He said, “I did not kill Temarit. How could I kill Temarit? But I. . killed the strategist. I swear by the Law that I killed only the strategist.”
“Do you want to say that you meant to kill the strategist but killed the girl, because it was so dark?”
The fool looked around the circle of eyes again, as if to search for an answer there, but all he discovered in the nobles’ eyes were question marks. So he said, “Not at all. Darkness was not to blame. The moon illuminated the area through a hole overhead. I saw the strategist, who was asleep and bareheaded. The ears on his head resemble those of a donkey colt. You can check on that yourselves. This ignoble fellow’s head has two donkey ears hanging from it. Then. . ”