Which was something he knew a lot about.
“What I don’t get is this,” she concluded. “Someone’s willing to shed a lot of blood to get his hands on this book, but there’s nothing sinister about what these scientists were trying to achieve. So what’s in this book?”
Boustany chuckled softly. “Must be the ikseer.”
“The what? What are you talking about?”
“Man’s oldest craving. See, you’re just looking at it from a rational point of view.”
She frowned. “So I’m told.”
“You’ve been reading up about the achievements of these scientist-philosophers that are easily demonstrable. But, as you know, they didn’t limit themselves to one discipline. They were interested in everything known to man, they wanted to master the mysterious forces of nature and become the leading lights in all of the sciences. So they studied medicine, physics, astronomy, geology…their minds were hungry, and there was a lot to discover. They dissected bodies, postulated about how the solar system operates…And sooner or later, the one thing that hogged their attention was alchemy.”
“Alchemy? These guys were scientists, not quacks.”
Boustany’s voice came back tranquil as a lake. “Alchemy was a science. We’d still be rubbing sticks for fire without it.”
And with that, he took her back to the earliest days of the uneasy relationship between science and religion, and to the origins of alchemy.
Boustany explained how the ancient Greeks had separated science — which, at the time, consisted mostly of studies of astronomy and explorations of khemeia, which meant “the mixing together” of substances — from religion, to great effect.
“Science flourished as a rational vocation of academics and thinkers,” Boustany told her. “This all changed when one of Alexander the Great’s generals, Ptolemy, established his kingdom in Egypt. Alexandria — the city that had been founded by and took its name from the great conqueror — became a center of advanced learning, as exemplified by its legendary library. The invaders were impressed by the Egyptian mastery of khemeia, even though it was fused with their religion and their obsession with the afterlife. And so the Greeks absorbed both the science and the religion. Khemeia became intertwined with mysticism, and its practitioners were viewed as shady adepts of dark secrets. Practitioners of khemeia and astrologers became as feared as priests. They soon embraced that perception, reveling in their newfound status of sorcerers and magicians, and closed ranks, retreating behind a veil of secrecy. In an effort to feed their own myth, they shrouded their writings in a symbolism only initiates could understand.”
Science and magic became indistinguishable.
And, as a result, science — serious science — floundered. This mind-set led to scientists working apart and not sharing their discoveries — or their failures. Even worse, it attracted quacks and charlatans, who dragged science further into disrepute. The allure of the ultimate chemical challenge — changing base metals into gold — became prevalent. It all spiraled out of control until two forces all but smothered science in Europe: the Roman emperor Diocletian’s fear of cheap gold undermining his rule, which led to his ordering the burning of all known writings of khemeia; and the rise of Christianity, which ruthlessly stamped out heretical, pagan learning. The Christian Roman empire was thus cleansed of Greek learning. The East, however, would take up the mantle and run with it.
In the seventh century, armies of Arab tribes united and, driven by a new religion, emerged from the Arabian Peninsula and fanned out across Asia, Europe, and Africa. When they conquered Persia, they discovered the surviving remnants of Greek science. The writings intrigued them. Khemeia became al-kheemia, the Arabic prefix al meaning “the.” Fate had entrusted Greco-Egyptian alchemy to Arab scientists. It would remain in their care for the next five hundred years.
And they would serve it well, embracing the knowledge handed down to them and greatly advancing it.
That golden age would wither away under the invasions of the barbaric Mongols and Turks. Eventually, the Crusaders would bring the remnants of Arabic scientific knowledge back to Europe. The Christians of the Iberian Peninsula, in particular, would spearhead the return of the lost Greek knowledge back to its European home as they reclaimed the lands of Spain and Portugal from the Moors. Through the efforts of translators working in Toledo and in other centers of learning there, the scientific advances of the East would find a new life in the West.
Al-kheemia would become alchemy, and centuries later, it would take on the more respectable name of chemistry.
“These philosopher-scientists achieved great things in the field we now call chemistry,” Boustany informed her. “They created acids, mixed metals, and synthesized new substances. But one substance, in particular, was the most sought after for centuries.”
“Gold,” Mia said flatly.
“Of course. The tantalizing possibility of manufacturing gold never failed to seduce even the most levelheaded of these scientists. At some point in their careers, every one of them became obsessed with the one thing that their patrons, the caliphs and the imams, were most interested in: turning base metals into gold.”
Mia mulled his words. She’d skimmed a brief bio of Jabir ibn Hayyan — whom the Europeans would later refer to as Geber—at Corben’s apartment. His writings, cloaked in an unreadable code, were thought to be at the root of the term gibberish. He had been able to prepare strong acids, but he’d also worked extensively, and with success, on the transmutation of metals. Mia hadn’t given it much attention since, even if it were remotely possible, not that she thought it was, she didn’t think that it was, to use Corben’s pet adjective, relevant, given the discoveries in the hakeem’s lab.
“I don’t think that’s what this is about,” she said.
“Why not?”
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned,” she added somewhat hesitantly. “There’s a guy out there who we think may be behind all this. He…he was running some weird medical experiments.”
Boustany’s voice disappeared for a beat. “On humans?”
“Yep.”
Boustany went quiet, weighing her response. “So maybe this guy really is after the ikseer.”
“Again with the ikseer. What the hell are you talking about?”
“An obsession as old as time itself. The Epic of Gilgamesh, which is one of the oldest written stories in recorded history, is about this.” In the brief time she’d known him, the historian had developed this habit of teasing her. It was often endearing. Right now, she needed to know.
Boustany explained how for Avicenna and the other philosopher-scientists, the missing piece of the puzzle was the trigger, the catalyst that would stimulate the right mix of the base metals. Ancient tradition led them to believe the catalyst was a dry powder. The Greeks had called it xerion, which meant dry. The word became al-ikseer in Arabic. Hundreds of years later, the Europeans would refer to the undiscovered al-ikseer as the elixir. And, since scientists of the era were referred to as philosophers, and because it was believed to come from the earth, it also became known as the philosopher’s stone.