Dabir went to the adjoining room to pen a quick note to the governor and I heard him bid Rami take it to the palace straightaway. He returned after having changed, replaced his turban, and washed, then reluctantly agreed that we speak in the kitchen rather than the receiving room. He chased out Buthayna, pulled out a chest she kept her larger pots in, and sat down upon it with his back to the stone oven. “It is time for answers,” he told Lydia. “Clearly the ancients were right about the spirits: when they absorb enough life force, they become corporeal—at least temporarily.”
“Yes,” Lydia agreed.
“And somehow Erragal stored magic in the bones from one of these slain spirits?”
“Not just any slain spirits.” Lydia set her plate aside. “The most dangerous and bloodthirsty. He captured its life energy as it lay dying.”
“Why couldn’t the Sebitti find the bones on their own?”
“Erragal hid their power.” Lydia pointed over to the spear leaning in the corner by the club. “Unless you’re holding one, even the greatest mage can’t gauge the true extent of its power.” She briefly faced me to ask, with a slight frown, “How far south do you think the other one is?”
“It is hard to say,” I answered gruffly. I hadn’t realized that Dabir had said anything of the matter to her, and I wondered, for once, at his wisdom.
“We can discuss that later.” Dabir rested his hands on his knees. He was backlit by the firewood in the oven so that his beard hairs and a few stray turban fibers were sharply delineated. “What are these spirits, exactly?”
“I know only a little more than what the Sebitti told me. They may have lied. I’m sure now they lied about what they wanted the bones for.”
“What do you know about the spirits?”
Lydia shrugged. “In the days after the fall, we shared the earth with many strange beings. My people call them chionzoe, though yours would call them djinn,” she said with a hint of derision, “as though there were only one type of spirit. My ancestors thought them a kind of Titan, escaped from their prison when the gods were distracted. But the Sebitti say they were something else. Spirits from another realm that craved form and sustenance. They wandered down into the warm, soft places of the earth and they sucked the life force clean from everything in their path. They brought the cold with them when they came.
“People weren’t very clever then. They all lived in dirty villages, and they didn’t even have swords. They were no match for the ice that the snow spirits brought with them. They had to flee as cold spread across the land. And then, within a few years of each other, in the same tribe, the first Sebitti were born, Adapa and Erragal. A mage like that is born once in perhaps a thousand years, but here were two in the same region who could shape sorcery as easily as this ox beside me eats.”
I scowled but refrained from comment.
“They marshaled their people to fight the frost spirits with fire and magic, and discovered bones from slain spirits could be used to hit them when other objects couldn’t. As you deduced, when they consume life, they absorb its traits. Gazi’s magic worked a similar trick,” she added.
“Why didn’t that one you summoned turn into a giant lamb then?” I asked. “It was drinking sheeps’ blood, wasn’t it?” I could have mentioned that it didn’t become a bird or a replica of the slain wizard either.
She never answered my question. “Clearly the spirit killed a wolf or two in its time. They know what humans fear.”
“Let us stay focused,” Dabir said. “What happened next?”
“I was told Erragal used the bones to drive them back.” Her voice rose in admiration. “He captured the most dangerous of the spirits and divided its power among five weapons. Some part of it escaped his hold, though, and returned to the spirit realms.”
“The part you called back?”
“Yes. I suppose hate had kept the thing from dissipating, after all these years. It was challenging to find, but I did it,” she said with pride. “I just don’t understand why I couldn’t bend the will of that one I called.”
“You didn’t control the will of the first one,” Dabir pointed out, then shook his head as if regretting the observation. “Enough. What can you tell me about the Sebitti?”
She turned up her hands. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with their abilities, and their weaknesses.”
She nodded at this. “Lamashtu may be the most powerful. She and Gazi certainly frightened me the most. She is smarter. She uses blood to power her sorcery, including her immortality. You saw what blood magic did to the old man? Well, she can throw spell after spell without much ceremony or effort. So long as she can get away to absorb more blood, she cannot be destroyed.”
“His name was Jibril,” Dabir corrected quietly. “What of the others?”
Lydia paused momentarily, out of politeness or a reasonable attempt at it, then continued. “I had seen little of Anzu’s ability until this evening. He seemed harmless … good-humored.” She paused. “None of the Sebitti really think of themselves as human anymore. I think Lamashtu looks on people as livestock, and Anzu views societies as grand experiments he likes to monitor. He’s the one who contacted me.”
“I see.”
“He told me once that he had visited my grandmother to provide her with the sorcerous secrets passed on to my father. I’m not sure if he meant to instill gratitude or claim authority. Apparently he’d been hoping one of my family would grow into the gifted sorcerer they were after.”
“So they had been grooming you?” Dabir prompted.
“He watches families or individuals who he thinks might have potential. He’s the one who found the woman, Najya.”
At that I let out a low oath.
She turned her head toward me. “You should blame him, not me, for what happened. It was my idea to leave the Persian’s soul in her body so she could help control the spirit. The Sebitti thought I should cast her out.”
“How kind of you,” Dabir said dryly. I am glad he spoke, for a cold rage had seized me, and I do not think I would have managed a controlled comment. “Her soul is still trapped in her body with the spirit’s. How long can it remain?”
“As long as she’s alive,” Lydia conceded. “But I don’t know how you can hope to save her. You’d have to subdue the spirit and force it into a banishing circle. How are you going to do that?”
“You got her into this situation,” I broke in. “You must get her out.”
“I don’t know how.”
This angered me further. “You give up too easily. You have destroyed her life. You must find a way.”
“That is easier said than done.”
“We shall not give up,” Dabir promised. “And I may know how we can get her into that circle.”
At that, my interest and hope surged as one. But Dabir made clear that now was not the time by holding up a hand. “Right now I need more answers. Lydia, Najya’s spirit seems to be strengthening all the time. Is that because of the snow women the spirit sends out? Do they gather life force for her?”
“I think so.”
Dabir frowned. “Well. Let us get back to our discussion of the Sebitti. What of Koury?”
“His powers I think you know. He can shape wood, and clay to a lesser extent, then command it to do as he wishes. He has a few other tricks, but if he is separated from the container that houses his figurines, he does not seem so dangerous. He is their current leader, but he might be the weakest. Perhaps he is the best planner.”
Someone who commanded such unstoppable beasts did not strike me as weak.
Dabir pressed ahead. “And what of Anzu’s weaknesses?”
“He’s adept at sneaking in or out of places unseen, but I had no idea he was so deadly until I saw him in combat. He may be more formidable than I first thought.”
“Could Lamashtu have survived Jibril’s attack?”
“Probably. She can vanish almost instantly, and heal herself with blood magic. Anzu o
nce told me he was fairly sure she didn’t need most of her organs anymore.”
“Are any other Sebitti working with them?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she joked. She saw neither of us smiling, and she sighed. “Erragal’s had nothing to do with any of them for generations, though he was once mentor to Anzu and Koury. And he might have long ago been Lamashtu’s lover. Gazi joked about that. It was hard to know what he meant, though. He was the maddest of them all.”
I would have liked to hear more about Gazi, but Dabir changed the subject. “How about Enkidu? Or Adapa?”
“Adapa’s been dead for millennia, and Enkidu wanders in the wilderness. They really weren’t a united group,” Lydia went on. “Ever. There have been larger and smaller numbers of them at various times, and only occasionally have they joined forces. And all have found different paths to sorcery and immortality.”
“And how many others work with them?”
“Each has a few dozen followers and servants. All of them are normal humans except for Lamashtu’s.” Lydia licked her lips. “I saw one of hers, once. She passes on part of her blood magic to her followers. Their only vulnerabilities are extremes of temperature. They are preternaturally strong and fast, so long as they have regular access to blood.”
Dabir fell silent and rubbed the side of Sabirah’s ring with his thumb. Light from the oven struck the stone so that for a brief moment it seemed alive with emerald fire. “You knew all this,” he continued finally, “and their powers, and yet you turned against them. Do you wish for death?”
“My powers measure up to theirs,” Lydia said haughtily. “With these bones, and the spirits at my command, I could stand against any or all of them. Or, I thought I could,” she finished with a bitter twist of her mouth.
“But why challenge them?”
“They told me they would give me power to do what I wished with the empire. But the longer I was among them, the more I doubted. They had agreed too readily. And,” she added, puckering her lips in disgust, “I tired of being treated like a lackey. I saw they meant to cast me aside as soon as I was no longer useful.”
This seemed to satisfy Dabir. “And how is it you came to us?”
“I knew the Sebitti were on the move, in force, and followed secretly to see where they went. They thought I had moved off to ready my numbers to assist them.”
“How did you know they were on the move?”
“I am not without resources of my own.” She sounded pleased with herself.
“Resources? Explain.”
“A woman has to keep some secrets.” She flashed a sly smile.
Dabir might as well have been made from stone, so little impact did her charm have upon him. “Lydia, if we are to work together, I have to know what you can do. If you have some other tools or talents that can be useful, you must tell me.”
Her playful lilt had faded. “You will not like it.”
“I haven’t liked any of this,” Dabir said. His voice was clipped. “My mentor is dead. He was the closest thing to a father I have known. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, have perished, including the entire population of at least one village. Men, women, and children. None of them would be dead but for you, and Najya and her husband would still live peacefully in Isfahan.”
She smiled without mirth. “Now we are down to it, aren’t we? You blame me. If the Sebitti had not found me, they would have found someone else for their work. And if they had not found Najya, it would have been some other.”
“Truly?” Dabir asked bitterly. “I thought you were the most gifted sorceress of your age.”
“I did not say that.”
“You certainly implied it. And it may even be true. You said on the carpet ride here that they did not have the skills to work with these spirits. It seems to me that you might simply have refused to cooperate.”
“When offered such power, you think I would say no? Would you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “How noble. But then you have fame, wealth, comfort … you have everything you want.”
“No,” Dabir said quietly, “I do not.”
“Do you mean power? I can find no way into a court ruled by that idiot Irene and her bearded fools. They will not heed me—”
“I do not mean power,” Dabir cut in, “and we have veered from the subject.”
Lydia was not inclined to return to it. “Tell me, Dabir. What do you intend for me? Jaffar banished me from these lands on pain of death.” She pointed a thumb at me without looking my direction. “You could have this killer lop my head from my shoulders at any time.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Dabir said.
“Really? Why should I trust you?”
“We need each other,” he told her slowly. Dabir shifted on the chest and spoke formally, and it was only as he went on that I realized he was fighting hard to restrain his anger. “I have no desire to see you executed or imprisoned. I have immense respect for your abilities, and your intellect. But I do hold you accountable for your part in all that has transpired, and wonder what you shall say when there comes a final judgment.”
“Your opinion is irrelevant to me,” she said stiffly.
Dabir took a deep breath and held it a moment before replying. “These resources of yours. What are they?”
Lydia weighed him with her eyes, then sounded weary as she answered. “I work with the spirits of the dead, Dabir. Do not ask which ones, or how. But I can set them to watch, and know what they see.”
“Are those the things you keep in the pouch at your waist?” I interrupted.
“No. Those are more special. And you don’t really want to know what those are.”
While some curiosity lingered, I concluded that she was right.
“I knew that the Sebitti were closing upon us at nearly the same time Asim sensed them with the club. One of my spirits was following them.”
“Is it still?” Dabir asked.
She shook her head. “We have journeyed too far, and my control has lapsed. If you ever finish interrogating me, I’ll summon a few to watch outside Mosul. Certain spirits are highly sensitive to otherworldly energies, so I’ll call ones that should be able to detect the approach of the chionzoe. Now I have a question for you, Dabir. You say that you need me. Why? What is your plan?”
Dabir’s eyes fell to me. “It will depend in part on whether Asim can get the spear working in the same way.”
“I can do that,” I reassured him.
“And,” Dabir continued, “that we can find the other weapon and get it working as well. Can you fashion a banishing circle, Lydia?”
“Of course. The symbols are not fundamentally different from those of a summoning circle. But designing one may be a little more challenging,” she added, “without my notes.”
“I have Jibril’s notes,” Dabir offered.
“That may or may not be helpful. But, again, if you’re planning on Usarshra standing obediently while we banish her, let alone cooperating to enter—”
Dabir interrupted her. “I’m planning on luring her in, and trapping her.”
“Luring her in?” Lydia asked. “With what?”
“The bones.” Dabir’s gaze was intent. “She came for them once. She’ll come for them again. Sooner than we want, probably.”
“And she’ll come with a whole army of spirits,” Lydia decried.
“Then we’ll need a very large circle.”
“Powered by what?” Lydia’s expression cleared. “The bones. Of course! But … then they are likely to become completely drained.”
“Good,” Dabir said fiercely.
She blinked at him. “I was going to suggest that we each take one when we are done.”
“They must be destroyed,” Dabir said in a tone that brooked no argument, “along with the spirits.”
“Destroyed?” She leaned forward. “Then all of this will have been for nothing!”
Dabir actually snarled. I do not believe I had ever seen him so
angry. “We shall be lucky, Lydia, to survive at all, or to save our people. That is what we ‘get’ from this. Now. Are you going to help me make this circle?”
Lydia blinked in surprise, for while she did not know him even half as well as I, she surely knew Dabir’s measure and understood that this was completely out of character. “Are you sure it will even be powerful enough to stop Usarshra?”
“I can’t be sure of anything,” Dabir admitted. “All we can do is try.”
“Why did you call her ‘Usarshra’?” I asked.
“That is what the spirit calls itself; I know not why.” Lydia shrugged, then addressed Dabir. “It’s just gotten stronger since it left the Sebitti. And I think it will continue to do so.”
“That’s why we’re going to try to find the third bone, tonight. If the circle’s going to work, it has to be more powerful than she is.”
Lydia nodded. “I suppose so.”
He studied her quietly for a long moment. “I’ll give you a better offer than the one you gave us, Lydia. If you do not want to work with us, I will give you one of our horses, and you will be free to go.”
“You will fail without me.”
“Surely we will have a better chance if you aid us,” Dabir agreed.
“If I help you,” she said slowly, “if I give up my claim on any of the bones, what will I receive?”
Dabir but stared at her.
I could not stay silent. “After all you’ve done, you want a reward?”
“You are not the only ones to lose friends and allies,” she said.
“This is all your fault!”
Dabir interrupted before I could say more. “Peace, Asim. Lydia, I have moneys at my disposal, though I do not think this is what you want. I think I have enough influence to have you pardoned by Jaffar, for the caliphate will surely owe you its thanks, if this turns out well. A post might be obtained for you, though … you are a Greek—”
“And a woman,” she finished caustically. “So best suited for knitting and rearing children, right?”
“By God,” I interjected, “if you had stayed home making children, we would not be in the midst of this.”
The Bones of the Old Ones Page 20