by J. J. Harkin
Clearly this idea seemed utterly nonsensical to Sémeion, and he smiled slyly back at Talman, thinking their conversation must not really be about magic at all. Rather, Sémeion suspected some clever ideological point would most likely come of all this – that Talman was teaching him a lesson on the futility of blind faith, or some other such thing. Regardless, he raised a finger in the direction of the cat obediently, and did as Talman had requested, hoping the intellectual exercise would soon be over.
“Mavet!” he said dramatically, happily playing along with Talman’s game. Then he turned back to Talman in expectant disgust, having followed the instructions. Yet Talman was still watching the cat, and Sémeion’s gaze was irresistibly drawn back to it. It had stopped moving, and proceeded to fall upon its face amid the trash heap, as they watched. Immediately the two men jumped up in surprise, and hurried over to investigate. Still the little animal lay stricken upon the ground, and allowed their touch, as each man checked for life signs in turn. There was nothing, though – neither a pulse nor the intake of breath. The cat was dead.
“What is this?!” shouted Sémeion loudly, wide-eyed. “How can this be?”
“Shhhh!” whispered Talman through pursed lips, looking around in alarm. He grabbed Sémeion by the shoulder as he continued. “Now come sit back down with me, please. You’ll wake the dead!”
Worried Talman might mean this literally, Sémeion was easily persuaded, and the two returned to their original spots atop the boulders in the shadows of the crypt. The sun was up completely now, and it was a relief to escape the glare. “What is going on, Talman?”
The other seemed to hesitate, but then spoke, evidently coming to a decision. “I think we both know what’s going on here, Sémeion,” he replied knowingly, “but let’s conduct another test, just in case. After all, I suppose cats do die of their own accord occasionally.” Sémeion nodded back vigorously at this, clearly hoping to fail the next test with flying colors. “Here, let’s try this:” continued Talman, appearing to reconsider their situation, “Extend both your arms to the city around you and command an earthquake – again, in Hebrew.”
This idea did not suit Sémeion at all. “But I wouldn’t want to do that, Talman, now would I? What if an earthquake actually happened? I mean, this is Jerusalem – City of Kings! I could love no other earthly destination more!” Though he took care to speak softly, Sémeion’s reaction was terse with worry. “That cat fell right over when I told it to die! Please, Talman, do ask me to do something a little less violent.”
This serious reaction was much to the liking of Talman, for clearly he had Sémeion believing already, whether the man wanted to or not. Talman patted him on the back in gentle reassurance, as it was not his intention to inspire hysterics in the man. “Don’t worry,” Talman explained. “It will be alright. You just stated that you have no intention of harming anyone in the Great City. Therefore, know that if you – while in such a mindset – command an earthquake, that all will be well. It will just be a tremor if that’s all you intend.” Talman removed his steady hand from Sémeion’s shoulder, and gestured toward the surrounding city. “Go ahead. I’m quite sure it will be fine, or I wouldn’t ask you to do it. We’re just doing some test runs here.”
Reluctant yet obedient, Sémeion stood, and extended his arms. “Ra’ash!” He spoke the command as quietly as possible this time, perhaps hoping a whisper more likely to produce a small tremor than a shout might have done. The result was immediate, but brief. A great noise went up all around them, like the groan of heaving stones. Dust was kicked up into the air as well, as if escaping through unseen vents in the ground all around the two men, and their vision clouded. To Sémeion the quake was like experiencing what filmmakers call “camera shake,” for his visual perceptions jerked this way and that faster than his body could react to steady himself, and confusing shifts in his center of gravity made it difficult to stand. Then all was over, and Sémeion looked around worriedly.
“It is alright,” said Talman, smiling wider than ever. “Look! The city is still intact.” It was true. Though clouds of obscuring dust hung everywhere, Sémeion could see no signs of structural damage in any of the buildings around him. The crypts of the cemetery seemed unshaken as well. “All is safe,” said Talman, “and silent as the grave.” He jumped up to stand at Sémeion’s side, a palpable air of excitement evident in his every gesture. “Ready for another one?”
“I guess,” said Sémeion. Though not yet as confident in the situation as his newfound mentor, there was no doubt that these strange developments had interested him deeply.
“Good!” offered Talman hurriedly. “Then try ‘baraq’ this time; that is lightning, of course. Point somewhere and say it!”
“Very well.” Sémeion obeyed without resistance now, pointing down the row between the crypts as he shouted the Hebrew command. Crack! Just as on the last two occasions, the elements obeyed him, and a finger of lightning fell to Earth with a blinding flash, leaving only sizzling soil behind as evidence. “Wow!” said Sémeion, now becoming excited. “That was amazing!”
“Yes!” Grinning back as he spoke, Talman rummaged in his pocket, and then drew out a little piece of paper, which he scanned quickly. “Okay,” he said, “now try fire. Point somewhere and command fire!”
“Nur!” shouted Sémeion, pointing toward the Dome of the Rock as he spoke confidently. The resultant display of power was terrifying in its ferocity. A massive shining ball of light was falling from heaven, a smoky tail behind it, and it raced through the air toward the mosque with frightening speed. Sémeion bit his lip as he watched, for he had not imagined quite so grand a reaction, and the building was utterly irreplaceable – a monument to the tenuous peace agreements between Israelis and Palestinians. “Oh!” was all he had time to say before it happened, and then the fireball exploded into a million sparks as it struck the building’s roof. Suddenly all was aflame, and Talman had to grab hold of Sémeion to stop him from running screaming down the hill in alarm.
“Rain!” said Talman, seeming slightly alarmed as well. “Make it rain! Raise your arms and say the word!”
Sémeion’s reaction was instantaneous this time. “Geshem!” he screamed, demanding results of the sky with raised hands. This was an emergency, and he was about to start praying as well, but Talman pulled him back to his feet as he started to kneel.
“Look!” As Talman pointed toward the Dome of the Rock, the sky darkened all around them. Clouds had arrived as if from nowhere, and then both men felt it: the first sweet drops of blessed rain. Sémeion sighed with relief. The flames on the pinnacle of the mosque were going out, turning into billowing streams of gray steam which floated gratefully heavenward. “Now come,” said Talman, and they strode back to the rocks where they had so recently been sitting.
“That was… amazing!” said Sémeion, panting with relief.
“No, you are amazing,” replied Talman. “You did that!”
“But how?”
“I don’t know. You are the chosen of Allah, I guess. Or perhaps I should say Adonai out of respect for your Jewish heritage.”
Sémeion still seemed a bit shaken by the turn of events. “But could you ever have forgiven me if I destroyed the Dome of the Rock?” he asked nervously. “Really, Talman, I am sorry. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking when I pointed in that direction. I couldn’t imagine the command would have so cataclysmic a result.”
“I don’t see any real damage,” said Talman with nonchalant ease. “Look at it! It seems you really only showered it in hot coals or something. It’s a stone building anyway; it’ll be fine.” He looked around at the falling rain appraisingly. “I bet that’s enough rain for now, though, Sémeion. Can you turn it off?”
“Probably. But how?”
“Point back at the sky and say the command word again?”
Sémeion did so, and the clouds rolled aside to end the rain immediately, just as Talman had predicted. Then he handed Sémeion the little scrap of paper he h
ad been reading only moments before. “Here, take this,” he said. “These are the seven words you should be able to use as of today. Best commit them to memory…”
“Mavet, ra’ash, baraq, nur, geshem…” read Sémeion aloud. Then he stopped himself, covered his mouth, and looked around in terror.
This made Talman laugh out loud. “It’s okay,” he said. “You were just reading them. Most likely the words will only make something happen if you say them authoritatively, while gesturing specifically – like you did before.”
As Sémeion looked around, it seemed Talman was right, for nothing more had happened. He looked back down at the sheet of paper. “Then there is ‘ohr,’ which is Hebrew for light,” he explained as he continued reading, “and also there is ‘kol’ – that is voice. And it’s like you said – above all is today’s date. Did your wife write this down?”
“She told me to,” Talman explained, “and she said those last two will take effect only if you point toward yourself. ‘Ohr’ should set you glowing like a torch for all to see, while ‘kol’ will make your voice heard to everyone for miles around. At least I think that’s what she said…”
“Why didn’t you just bring her along with you?” asked Sémeion curiously. “I should have liked to hear whatever else she had to say.”
Talman frowned in reaction to this sentiment. “I wish that were possible, Sémeion, but she has not been well. Keep this between just the two of us, mind you, but she cannot be moved. I will have to play the role of relay person, unfortunately.”
“Oh.” This was sad news, and Sémeion was not sure what his reaction should be.
“Anyway,” said Talman, doing his best to move the conversation forward, “do you believe her now? Do you believe in your own power?”
“Well, yes, I suppose I do.” Sémeion felt very strange admitting this. “But how do you think such power might best be used?”
“I should say that seems fairly certain,” remarked Talman cordially. “You are a Jew. You are back in Jerusalem. And now you have power – even the power of death. Obviously you are the Messiah, so I suppose the wisest course would be to rebuild the Temple, remove the Palestinians, and return Israel to its original glory.”
Talman’s use of the M-word had been too much for Sémeion. The little man now sat staring off into space without a thought in his head, utterly mind-blown by the concept. “I…” he began. “I don’t think that’s possible, Talman. After all, nothing supernatural has ever happened to me until today. What if it’s all some sort of fluke – a coincidence?”
“It isn’t. You saw all those wonders, just as I did. It was no coincidence. Say, rather, that it was a coincide-ence, to coin a new term, for the former denotes the interplay of chance, while the latter reminds us that clear intent and purposefulness are most often present when events coincide.” Talman waited a moment for his comments to sink in before continuing. “You said it yourself: nothing supernatural had ever happened to you until today. So you can believe that your life is ruled by a series of meaningless, uncontrollable chances, or you can believe that something in the cosmos has changed for the better. I would say that an astrological shift must have happened overnight, activating your abilities, so-to-speak. After all, astrology is the oldest form of psychic appraisal, and indeed it was a psychic who told me to be here to speak to you today.”
Still Sémeion had no idea what to say, though Talman’s words were a comfort to him. Perhaps it was true – maybe the universe was some sort of grandiose machine. Maybe the oscillation of some fateful pendulum within the quantum mechanical clock had rendered him impossibly powerful overnight. Whatever the case, there was no denying the things he had just done.
“Do me a favor,” said Talman, and Sémeion looked up at him as their conversation resumed. “It seems you might need some guidance in the hereafter. You should stick with me. Do me this favor: swear to me an oath.”
“An oath?”
“Swear to me that you will allow my continued visits,” said Talman, “as presumably I’ll be back with further words of power for you before long. Let’s stay in contact. Let me be your trusted advisor – that is what I’m saying. Do you think you could do that, my friend? Do you think you could allow me into your heart?”
Sémeion was quite relieved at the offer, actually, as venturing into the great unknown which his future had suddenly become seemed a daunting prospect at the moment. His answer was spoken quickly and wholeheartedly. “Yes, Talman!” he said, smiling. “Yes! Let’s work together! After all, I might never have noticed these capabilities if you hadn’t arrived to set me in the right direction. It will be good to have someone to talk to – someone to trust with this secret. How, then, would you like me to take this oath?”
“What’s that you say? An oath?” The voice had come from up the hill just a little way, and both men jerked nervously from their necessarily private conversation upon hearing it. Talman and Sémeion stood to see who the newcomer was, and were greeted by a cheery-looking man of middle age. His head was covered, he wore a traditional Hebrew prayer shawl, and held a copy of the Torah in his arms like a cherished infant.
“Who are you? What do you want?” asked Talman suspiciously. Sémeion said nothing, though equally disturbed by the man’s sudden appearance.
“Oh, nobody – not doing nothing,” explained the man, slightly agitated. “I was visiting the grave of a relative, you see, when I heard all the commotion. Did you see the strange signs in the sky? I heard yelling and came to investigate. This is a clamorous day indeed, it would seem. Call me Bahari Tarak. Did you see the fire fall from heaven?” It seemed Bahari was quite friendly, though capable of endless inane babble.
“We saw it alright,” replied Talman grudgingly, “and strange though it was, we were having a private conversation.”
“Oh! Sorry, sorry – suit yourselves, my friends,” said Bahari obligingly, as he turned away to head back up the hill. “I apologize for bothering and interrupting you. Only I thought I’d better come check on the situation before…”
Bahari’s monologue trailed off lamely at that point, but Sémeion – struck by a sudden creative impulse – rushed over to stop him. “Actually,” he said, “we could use a little help.” Talman gave Sémeion a questioning look upon hearing this, yet his actions were soon explained. “You heard us speaking of oaths, yes?”
“Yes,” replied Bahari cautiously, turning back around to face the men, “but I swear I didn’t hear what it was all about. Honestly, I only just arrived! Eavesdropping is not my habit, I promise. Not a good habit to be in at all, you see. My father always said…”
“That’s fine – that’s fine!” said Talman, finally understanding what Sémeion must be up to.
“Yes, good,” said Sémeion, interrupting as politely as he could. “Listen, would you do us the courtesy of solemnizing our mutual oath? Are you aware of the old Arab custom? We need a third person.”
“Oh, sure!” agreed Bahari, happy to have found better justification for his presence.
Talman began searching the ground for stones, as they would need seven for the ritual. “Bahari Tarak…” he said, thinking aloud to himself as he looked, “that’s not Hebrew, is it? Now what is a Jew doing with an Arabic name like that?”
Bahari smiled knowingly. “Such is what people always ask me, brother,” he said, as Talman gave him a sharp look. “I’m a convert to Judaism, though I’ve kept my given Muslim name. Never been an easy thing to explain, I can tell you that. Anyway, who are the two of you?”
“Ah, yes,” laughed Sémeion, “we haven’t told you. I am Sémeion Shosheqets, and this is Sheik Talman Abasi A…”
“My goodness, I’ve heard of you both!” interrupted Bahari, with widening eyes. “Clearly I am in the presence of greatness! It seems my interruption was far more unforgiveable than I ever could have guessed!” At this point he cupped his hands, as Talman poured the seven small stones he had found into them. Then Bahari got right to the point of it. �
��Now gentlemen,” he continued, “I will need a bit of wool from some part of each of your clothes.” He knelt between the two men, arranging the seven stones into a line between them. “And now I must find something sharp – and hopefully clean,” he said as he stood.
“Here you go,” said Talman, pulling a silver knife from a pocket somewhere. This Bahari took, and then he waited patiently, giving the other two a bit more time. Talman had already pulled a tuft of wool from his robe, for his hands were mightily strong, but Sémeion was still struggling with the inner edge of his tweed jacket. Finally he too pulled a decent-sized bunch free, and the two men stood before Bahari expectantly, their offerings pinched between the fingers of their outstretched hands.
“Very well, then,” said Bahari, doing his best to look quite official. “State your oaths.” He clasped his hands behind his back, listening carefully.
“I, Sémeion, special envoy to the Knesset and the other tribunals of the Middle East, swear to keep Talman in my confidence throughout the coming months. From him I will learn the true path, for he will teach me… secret things.” It had proved a challenge for Sémeion to state his oath without revealing too much to the stranger.
“And I, Talman, swear to teach and mentor you in the best way I know how,” stated the other man slowly, choosing his words carefully as well. “I will do my best to support you, both politically and with good council, for as long as you continue to need my help.”
Bahari looked between them to make sure they were finished. Becoming certain, he pulled their hands toward himself in turn – first Talman’s and then Sémeion’s – and made a tiny cut across each of their palms. Blood leaked forth from the wounds, and Bahari applied the bits of wool to absorb it, soon leaving him with two small, red lumps. Then he knelt to the stones set in a line between them, saying: “I invoke the names of al-Lat, al-Uzza, and Manat – the goddesses three – to stand in watchful judgment of this oath!” He dabbed the seven stones with blood as he spoke, first with one piece of wool and then with the other. Finally Bahari stood, handing the woolen pieces back to the men, thinking they might need them to staunch their wounds, and he rocked back on his heels with hands clasped behind his back. “As the blood of the two mixes, so shall their purposes unite! May the heavens be praised by this!”