The Book of Whispers

by Kimberley Starr

  Winged demons fly over us. They aren’t frightened of horses’ hoofs, heavy on the road, or stray arrows fired after wild goats the pilgrims want for food. With wings spread, they block the sun. Beneath them, puzzled pilgrims sometimes look up, expecting to see clouds.

  Suzan’s fingers tighten on the reins. This is the city where, according to Suzan’s mother, our world comes closest to the world of shadow creatures. Here, Thanatos wants to perform his deadly charm.

  Jerusalem’s encircling walls, as tall as Cappadocia’s fairy towers, eventually come into view. The sun is as bright as it only ever is at noon. Constructed of rocks the colour of my skin, the city looks like a living organism. Its gold domes and golden crescents, visible from a distance, speak of wealth and glories within.

  The first gates we see are tall enough to admit giants, and guarded by statues of lions and demons of pride. Behind them lies Jerusalem. The Holy City. The site of our final battle.

  Here, either Suzan and I win, or everyone loses.

  Before setting up camp, we pause beside a grove of oranges while the Princes discuss a plan. The trees grow in neat rows, branches drooping from the weight of ripe fruit. Some fallen oranges have burst, releasing a pungent fragrance into the air.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ Suzan says, wonderingly, as she notices low buildings and untended grass. ‘Except us. Who would leave all this fruit?’

  ‘People who heard we were coming,’ I suggest. ‘They’ve gone to safety in the city.’

  ‘It’s the same as any abandoned place we’ve passed,’ Mattiolas adds.

  Suzan strides through the long grass, looking for the ripest fruit, while I lead Potestas and Orestes to water troughs. There is little water, perhaps not enough to go around. In the distance, beyond the circling embrace of the city’s massive walls, the minarets of Jerusalem’s mosques seem to float in the blue sky. The Dome of the Rock shines in the midst of it all, a golden promise.

  Thanatos approaches me. Unbelievably, he bows. ‘Conte de Falconi.’

  I laugh. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I have a proposition. One I’ve rarely offered a mortal. I’m suggesting we form an alliance.’

  ‘What can we offer each other?’

  ‘I need you to meet me in Jerusalem.’

  ‘Ignore him.’ Chattering as if she can’t see Thanatos there, Suzan returns. She’s gathered oranges in her surcoat. ‘I’ve never seen so much fruit. Children down there have turned themselves orange.’

  Thanatos offers her a lazy salute. Suzan frowns. ‘Luca, I brought some for you.’

  I stick my thumbnail through a thick layer of skin and pith around the fruit’s pulp. The air is thick and sweet with the tang of orange oil. I raise the juicy fruit to my lips and suck, long and noisily, on refreshing juice. It’s the best flavour I have ever known.

  Thanatos stares at the fruit, the glow in his glance intensifying.

  This is what he wants. Taste. The sensory experiences that come with having a mortal body. He wants a human body because he’s jealous of what human bodies can know.

  He forces his eyes from the fruit to my face. My chin drips with juice.

  ‘I will taste another sweetness—the sweetness of your death—soon enough,’ he says menacingly. ‘Trust me, Luca, that taste is sweeter than fruit.’

  ‘That’s something you might know,’ I agree, ‘if you’d ever known the flavour of oranges.’

  Thanatos struts off towards the Princes, whose servants have raised a sun canopy and now bring them slices of oranges.

  I follow. A guard blocks my way. Another interferes. ‘Let the boy pass. He’s the Conte de Falconi.’

  ‘The people have enough oranges for today, but food stocks are low,’ Tancred is saying to the Princes beneath the canopy. ‘We won’t be able to withstand a siege the length of Antioch’s.’

  ‘God has brought us here,’ Raymond reminds him.

  ‘God wills it,’ a group of knights mutter together.

  Thanatos moves closer, standing near them as if he is part of their discussions. Raymond shivers slightly, although there is no breeze. Perhaps he senses Thanatos’s presence with some part of his mind or spirit. Or perhaps it’s the pressure of the demon Kenodoxia, attached to the chainmail coif Raymond wears. Kenodoxia bows to Thanatos.

  ‘There’s no need for a siege like Antioch or Maarrat,’ Tancred says.

  And now it’s my turn to shiver. I could never have imagined abominations like those I witnessed at Maarrat. And the book says there will be more horrors still, in Jerusalem. Thanatos tilts his head to one side, listening carefully.

  Tancred taps his fingertips together and nods. The others are silent.

  ‘Conditions here are not suitable for launching a long-term siege,’ Tancred says. ‘A full-frontal attack, and as quickly as possible, is the only option we have.’

  Thanatos nods. He catches my eyes and smiles, miming a sword thrust at me. He seems sure everything is going his way—but he did just suggest an alliance. Perhaps he isn’t completely confident.

  Suzan

  The scale of the city is only truly apparent as we get closer. Mid-afternoon, we gather outside the city’s Jaffa Gate to watch an envoy, bearing a message signed by the Princes, being admitted through a small doorway in the otherwise massive construction, one that opens only momentarily. He is soon swallowed up.

  The letter asks Jerusalem’s Saracen leaders for terms, and makes promises about the reasonable way we pilgrims will behave, if allowed to enter freely. There’s no honesty in these messages. Pilgrims have spent years marching for their share of Jerusalem’s wealth. They won’t be content with the proceeds of reasonable behaviour. They want gold, palaces, power, and they want lots of everything.

  Jerusalem’s leaders send the envoy out again with their own message:

  We have heard of the pilgrims’ peace at Maarrat. We prefer our kind of war to your kind of peace. Prepare to suffer if you’re not prepared to leave.

  A siege it will be, then. The mystery is how long it will last.

  Jerusalem’s walls are thick and the gates resolutely locked. We set up camp on the hillside a bow’s length from the top of the walls, where Saracen archers and guards occupy the battlements, ready to fire at any careless pilgrim who gets too close.

  Luca pitches his tent, and I erect one beside it for Serafina and myself, unrolling my rugs on the dirt. I’m used to sharing my tent with her and we rest easily after our long day.

  Early the next day—before the matins bell has sounded—Serafina’s voice wakes me. ‘Are you still asleep?’

  I roll over to face her. ‘Not any more.’

  She smiles. ‘I need to ask a favour.’

  ‘Yes?’ I ask, uncertain. We’ve never become the friends we might have been. My mixed emotions about Luca always get in the way.

  ‘Will you walk with Mattiolas and me this afternoon?’

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  Her eyes are happy. ‘I wondered what you would say,’ she confesses. ‘You’ve asked exactly the right question. We’ll be walking to your friend Brother Bonaccorso and asking him to marry us.’

  ‘Marry you!’ There’s a squeak in my voice. I sit up.

  ‘Well, yes. I know people say only priests should perform marriages, but monks still do—’ Serafina begins.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I interrupt. ‘Marry you and Mattiolas? What about Luca?’

  Serafina’s eyes widen. ‘Luca?’ she repeats. ‘Well, he’ll be there. If he agrees to come. Mattiolas is asking him.’

  ‘Aren’t you—?’

  Serafina tips her head to one side. ‘Really?’ she asks. ‘Suzan, Luca is like a brother to me. And he wouldn’t marry me while he loves someone else.’

  ‘Someone else?’

  ‘Don’t play coy.’ Serafina grabs my hand. ‘This is my day. This is a day for Mattiolas and me. So tell me, will you walk with us?’

  A whoop sounds from not too far away.

  I
recognise Luca’s voice, and Mattiolas’s, in a similar cheer. Serafina keeps hold of my hand and pulls me through the tent opening.

  We meet Mattiolas and Luca walking towards us. Luca’s eyes glow. A thrill of pleasure and relief rushes through me. He’s happy, not jealous.

  Luca lifts Serafina into the air, spinning her in his arms. ‘Serafina! You’re getting married?’ He lowers her to the ground and hugs her. ‘I’m so happy for you!’

  ‘Not as happy as me.’ Serafina’s eyes soften as they land on Mattiolas. The two about-to-be-weds move to each other and Mattiolas folds Serafina into his arms.

  ‘Back in Cappadocia, Luca, I asked if you’d found a girl.’ Mattiolas kisses Serafina. ‘I never thought I’d find my own.’

  ‘Remember it’s God’s errand bringing us here,’ Luca jokes.

  Mattiolas and Serafina laugh and free each other. ‘Love is God’s business too,’ she says.

  It’s been a long time since I felt such joy.

  Luca rests his hand on his hilt. ‘You do realise she was promised to me?’ he says, lightly, to Mattiolas. ‘I suppose I should fight you over this.’

  Mattiolas unsheathes his own sword. ‘And so?’ he demands, feet moving into a defensive pose. Luca laughs again and the two of them face each other, swords gleaming.

  The mock duel doesn’t last long. Soon Mattiolas and Luca shake hands. Then the engaged couple, arms linked, walk off to find a priest who will hear their vows. Luca and I are alone.

  Luca stares at me. ‘Mattiolas should have told you.’

  I’m puzzled. ‘He should have told you. Serafina was promised to you.’

  ‘I hope this doesn’t come at the cost of your own happiness.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Luca looks away. ‘You deserved to know, since you love him.’

  I seize his lower arm. ‘Luca!’ My mind wanders back over all the past moons, all the conversations we have had…What could have led Luca to this extraordinary conclusion? How long ago? I shake my head, hoping I’m sending the right message, hoping I’m sending the message he needs to hear. I can’t let Luca love me, but I have never loved Mattiolas.

  The bell sounds for matins while I’m working out what to say. ‘They are good people. They deserve happiness.’

  ‘If you’re sure—’

  ‘Of course I’m sure! Mattiolas is a good friend. But I couldn’t ever love him. Not like I…not like that!’

  Luca blinks.

  Quickly, I tell him, ‘I can never love anyone. Really, Luca. But Mattiolas and Serafina! Now I think about it, we should have known.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They were so often together! She looked after him in Antioch. He followed her in Maarrat…We should help them out by bringing food to their wedding feast. I’ll get my bow. You get yours. Fresh meat will be a better gift for them than oranges.’

  Luca and I walk uphill, away from the city. The ground is bare. Surely only my enchanted bow could find food for us here. The air around us is full of unsaid words, like spider webs we have to push through.

  ‘Suzan, can you put your bow down?’

  Unsure, I do as he asks. Luca lays his bow on the ground as well. ‘There’s something I need to tell you—’ Luca begins.

  ‘Look!’ I grab his arm. Towards the city walls, a small animal moves the grass it runs through. I see the soft tops of a pair of brown ears. A hare!

  I reach for my bow. There may be only one animal. I take careful aim, my arrow pointing not where I saw the ears, but where the animal was running.

  I draw my breath, pulling the bow’s string. A moment later, my patience is rewarded. There’s more movement in the grass and another view of brown ears.

  I exhale as my arrow flashes through the air.

  It finds its target. Luca and I run, as quietly as we can, not wanting to attract the attention of bowmen on the city walls. We find the hare’s warm body and move back to a safe distance.

  ‘You did it,’ Luca says.

  There’s wonder in his voice. I pick up the hare that will be our wedding gift to the happy couple and pull the arrow from it.

  ‘Of course I did it,’ I say. ‘Since I’ve had that bow, I’ve never missed.’

  ‘That’s the thing.’ Luca points at the bow now resting across my shoulders. ‘You didn’t take your enchanted bow. You took mine by mistake.’

  I swing the weapon around for closer inspection. Luca is right. It’s an ordinary bow.

  ‘I shot it myself,’ I say, wonderingly.

  Luca laughs beside me. ‘You must be the finest shot in the world. I’m glad you’re on our side!’

  I’m thoughtful as we walk back to camp. Luca asks why.

  ‘Something in the book,’ I tell him. ‘It says that charmed things—my bow, your helm—will stop working once Thanatos reaches Temple Knoll. Maybe we won’t need them.’

  Back at the campsite, we find Mattiolas resting his head on Serafina’s lap as she pushes orange segments between his lips. If only Luca and I could be together like that!

  It’s still early in the day, before noon. I sit with the other three and play on my santur. It’s a tune I have played often. The tiny hammers come to life in my hands, playing out stories on the keys, playing out my story.

  Will I ever be able to tell him what I feel? I love Luca. I have loved him every day we’ve been together. Sometimes it feels like I’ve loved him since the first moment I saw him, the golden flecks in his brown hair like a halo against the sunlight, his eyes, sky-coloured, turned towards me, myself in that surprising moment, already feeling an unfamiliar certainty that I knew him. That I was meant to talk to him. That we were both meant to be there, to meet—that some missing part in each of our lives was somehow about to click into place.

  But I can’t let him love me, or know how I feel. It would just be too dangerous, and not only for Luca. We have a more important goal. We have to stop the demons. Not just because they want to permanently possess pilgrim bodies, but also because of all the harm those possessed people could do. I imagine the entire world turned into a version of Maarrat and shiver at the thought.

  After a while, when Luca and Mattiolas go to find more food for the celebration, I turn to the book, looking for information about the bow. I’m intrigued by the suggestion it has taught me how to hunt. Or maybe some of its enchantment has worn off on me? Once we get to Temple Knoll, will we be able to defeat Thanatos without the bow or the helm? Will the book itself stop talking to us? The book delays me for a while, calling Tancred the Prince of Galilee. I don’t care about that. Impatient, I look for solutions to more important puzzles.

  There’s a secret to hunting, the book tells me. You have to feel at one with the animal. You have to feel its approaching death as you’ll feel your own.

  No, that’s not quite right. I lift my finger from the vellum, trying to find a better translation. You have to feel its approaching death as though you’re already a part of it. As though, from the moment of the creature’s birth, it has been racing towards this moment with you, and with your bow. In the second between you firing the bow and the creature’s death, the result becomes inevitable.

  My finger pauses over the words as a shiver runs down my spine. Demons, it says, need to take over human bodies in the split second between a soul giving up and the body’s organs ceasing to function. They enter the human body like a false new hope. They have their own energy, just enough to cool a burn or cauterise a wound. They give the body just enough of their eternal essence to animate it briefly. To enjoy the body and to live its death. The secret to demonic survival is to leave the body before the heart stops beating.

  Until the Jerusalem charm is performed on Temple Knoll, demons can control human bodies for only a short time.

  The Jerusalem charm gives the demons the ability to take over a healthy human body. The human soul will die and the demon will win possession of that body for the rest of its natural lifespan.

  The death
of all the pilgrims, the sacrifice of their souls—that’s what this whole pilgrimage is about.

  And only Luca and I can stop it.

  Luca

  The oranges were a brief distraction. Already I’m aware of how little food we have left. Worse, no sooner have tents been pitched than we realise there’s no water. Saracens poisoned the wells as they retreated into the city, and springs have run dry. There is a pool at a place called Siloam, but it’s within bowshot of the city walls, and a Saracen guard fires arrows at anyone who approaches it.

  During a noon meeting in Raymond’s pavilion, I watch the Princes continue to disagree. Everyone knows we need to enter Jerusalem as soon as possible, but no one knows how. One thing we need is a siege tower. For that, we need timber. Orange and olive trees are the only trees within a day’s walk, and they don’t offer enough. Search parties are sent out to see where we can get more.

  Meanwhile, as happy as I am for Mattiolas and Serafina, I feel a stab of jealousy because they will be together like I want to be with Suzan. I go to find her after the meeting. My fingers brush hers as we read the book, and she tenses. She senses the flash of desire washing over me when I touch her and turns away.

  ‘Luca,’ she says, looking down. ‘Don’t.’

  I clench my fists and leave. I kick through dirt and grass and reach the outer line of tents. From here, it’s easy to pretend I’m not fleeing the frustration of my own emotions.

  I’m scouting, I tell myself. I’m becoming more familiar with the land.

  A shadow catches my attention on the hillside in the distance. I’m unsure if it’s a demon or a bird and I don’t care. I’m relieved. It gives me something to aim for, something to sprint towards. For the distance of several bowshots, I quicken my pace and concentrate on my breathing and on the rhythm of my feet on the dusty ground. It helps put Suzan out of my mind.