He raised a finger, pointing at her, and said, “I’m coming for you, next!”
Qambar shifted to try to get up to challenge him, as he should. Tein raised both hands to him in humble surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard morning after a hard night. I shouldn’t have spoken that way to your woman.” He headed out toward the passageway so the old man would not have to get up and do what was right.
“Apologize to me! Not him!” Yulduz yelled behind him.
Zaytuna was coming back through the passage with a bucket of water as he was leaving. He grabbed her and kissed her roughly on the cheek. She laughed and pushed him off. He hurried past her through the lane, then went north towards the Round City, skirting the major markets, walking as fast as he could given his hangover and old leg injury.
The injury didn’t hamper his strength, nor his ability to take on a man in a fight. But every limp reminded him that he’d not seen a Byzantine water carrier coming at him with a dagger as he raised his sword against a soldier before him. One moment of carelessness had led to him getting stabbed in the thigh. At least his sword made it through the soldier’s shoulder before he fell himself. The water carrier stumbled beside him. Another ghazi was right behind him and thrust his sword through the water carrier’s neck for his efforts. He helped Tein get far enough back from the fighting where one of the women following the camp tended his wound. The muscle had been severed, but it didn’t bleed out to killing him. It healed into a gnarled lump that had bothered him ever since. He fought for another year despite the pain before he was sent back to Baghdad, kicked out of the military for good.
His head was still pounding, and he was visibly limping by the time he crossed through Solomon’s Gates to the arcades where the police for Karkh had their offices. As he got closer, he saw that Ammar’s door was open, and he swore under his breath. He called himself out, If he gives you any grief, quit. Find Khalil. You can always beat up gamblers late on their debts. It’d be a far sight less ethically complicated than this cursed job. He got to the door and saw Ammar wasn’t there and looked down the arcade. Ammar stepped out of Ibn Marwan’s office, head down, with documents rolled up in his hand. Tein hurried in to sit and try to look like he’d been there all day before Ammar got through the door.
Ammar said, “There you are.”
“I slept at Zaytuna’s last night.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“I’m here.” Tein shrugged.
Ammar went to the cabinet where he kept their case documents and placed the rolled-up paperwork in one of the diamond-shaped shelves. “I spoke with Ibn Marwan. We’re to arrest the cursewriter for performing black magic leading to murder. We’re not to call it heresy. He doesn’t want the Mazalim High Court hearing of it. No need to make the people think the Caliph’s coming down on their soothsayers and cursewriters.”
Tein sat up. “Why are we arresting her at all? It’s a death sentence!”
“Ibn Marwan wants Imam Hashim’s case wrapped up fast, so we can clear up the butcher’s case. And there was another killing last night, but that one is easy.” He laughed. “A stabbing in a tavern. The owner pinned the man who did it, breaking his arm. He’s already in the cells, we just have to get witness accounts.”
“And how are we supposed to provide evidence that it was black magic? We haven’t got the talisman yet. Do we make that up, too?”
Ammar looked at him sideways. “We’ll arrest her today, and maybe she’ll admit to it. But we can get corroboration from the people down by the Gate. Someone down there will tell us what kind of talismans she writes.”
“Ammar…”
“You heard Imam Hashim’s wife describe what the Turkmen woman did.” Ammar reflexively touched his own talisman of protection at his neck. “She played some instrument and went into a trance. Those Turkmen women out at the gate are barely Muslim. Mu’mina, she’s still calling on her Zanji gods. God protect us from these two.”
Tein shot up from the couch despite the pain in his leg. As he did, Ammar sat down in one smooth movement, putting his arm across the cushions behind him. Tein stopped himself before he got within striking distance. He forced himself to step backward to the couch where he had been sitting, then fell down hard onto it. He said slowly, biting every word, “There are leads we’re not following up. Illness. Poison. Debts. The family.”
“She confessed, Tein. There’s doubt around it, but the cursewriter can tell us if the talisman was meant to kill him.”
“You’re afraid.”
Ammar stood up and adjusted his sword belt around the waist of his leather cuirass. “We’re picking up the Turkmen woman. Let’s go.”
“There’s no magic and no jinn.” Tein stood to follow.
As he was walking out the door, Ammar raised his hand dismissively and pronounced, “Enough.”
“Ashura? The Prophet’s family slaughtered on the plain of Karbala?”
Ammar stopped cold and turned back, “Be careful.”
“If magic worked, if talismans could kill, then why Ashura? You think that Husayn was ignorant of curses and talismans? You think he would not have made use of them, or, if not him, a woman among them? Someone would have invoked God’s power or the jinn. Yet, they were still slaughtered.”
Ammar put his hand on the hilt of his sword in warning.
Tein pushed anyway, “These women’s lives are at stake because you’re afraid of creatures that don’t exist and leather pouches hanging around someone’s neck.”
“I’ve heard you. Let’s go.” Ammar stood aside and pointed to the door.
If Ammar wouldn’t follow up other leads, he would. Tein walked out, cursing him under his breath.
Ammar caught up with him and passed him.
Tein nodded sharply, Good. Better we walk in silence.
Ammar turned around, “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say a word.” Tein pulled his head back. He’d not said it aloud.
Ammar looked past Tein. Tein turned around but no one was there.
Shaking his head at Tein, Ammar turned back to walking ahead a few paces. Ammar, for his short legs, kept a faster pace than he knew Tein could manage all the way to the Fruit Seller’s Gate.
As they were approaching the square outside the yellow-bricked arched gate that led into the alleyways lined with produce stalls, they found their way was partially blocked. A crowd was gathering around a young woman standing on a block.
Ammar stopped. When Tein caught up to him, he said, “Ya Rabb, this better not turn into a riot.” He tipped his head toward the crowd. “Let’s keep an eye on this for a minute and see what direction it’s taking.”
The young woman’s threadbare wrap was pulled around her closely, held shut under her chin in her fist. She was taking in the crowd, asking questions, listening. Tein could tell from the way her body moved with the energy of the crowd that she had them well in hand.
She was a slight thing, but her voice projected across the square. “Tell me where you are hiding something, and I will name it! If I surprise you, then leave a coin in the bag that our friend will pass around among you. Who will try?”
It was nothing but a Seer. Tein thought, These fakes know no shame when it comes to stealing what little money the people have.
An older woman in a clean, but faded and stained green wrap, frayed at all its edges, yelled out, “Tell me what’s in the pocket of my sleeve!”
The Seer shifted to the left as if she were leaning in to hear an invisible someone whispering to her. She nodded, then stood up and called out, “May God, The Provider, help you and fill your pocket. I am sorry to say that you do not have even one fals. Not in your pocket. Not anywhere!”
Tein looked to either side of this Seer for an informant whispering to her but didn’t see anyone. He moved closer, winding his way through the crowd. Only then did he realize that she must have been born without eyes. Her eye sockets were sunken in.
The crowd turned to the older woma
n for confirmation. “Subhanallah! She’s right! My pocket’s empty, and I’ve nothing to my name.” The old woman pleaded, “My grandson and I don’t know how we’ll eat today.”
The crowd gasped and dropped coins into the bag being passed around.
The Seer turned and spoke to someone behind her. Tein pushed past a tall man in a leather apron to see. There was another woman, and this one was wrapped more warmly in good wool. Quilted sirwal and boots stuck out from under her wrap. There was money being made here. Tein wondered what the Seer was wearing under her costume of poverty. The assistant called over a young man in a decent turban and robe standing nearby, and handed him a few coins. The young man pushed through the crowd to give the old woman the coins grandly with a “Bismillah” and a bow. Here and there, people nudged each other, saying, “Mashallah,” at this gesture of generosity.
Tein’s anger at Ammar spilled over onto this scam. He said loud enough for everyone to hear, “She pulls you in through this act of kindness. The woman asked what was in her pocket. It had to refer to money. Anyone could see that woman hasn’t got a fals, her clothes are in tatters!”
“That’s not what we’re here for.” Ammar got behind him. “Are you trying to create a riot?”
A woman nearby yelled at Tein, “She’s blind! How could she know?”
Tein turned back to Ammar, ignoring the woman. “This is criminal. She has assistants who are passing the information back to her. Don’t you see her listening to someone?”
“That’s her re’ya, her personal jinn. They tell people’s secrets!”
“That’s her human assistant.” Tein scanned the crowd. Poor and rich alike mingled, all moving in as close as they could to the Seer. A small cluster of rich women stood together in brightly hued and patterned woolen wraps, their gossamer-thin niqabs fluttering with their conversation as they gestured toward the stage. Their servants stood nearby, dressed in clothes as fine as their masters. Only one of the servants was keeping an eye on the women to see if they needed anything, while the others paid close attention to the Seer.
The Seer called out again, “Who else will ask me what they have?”
A boy in a good turban and a stiff robe raised his arm, his hand was balled into a fist. “Me! What have I got in my hand?”
The crowd gasped as the young woman leaned to the left.
Meanwhile, Tein picked out a young boy in a ratty scrap of turban and filthy short robe tied with rope over sirwal so long they dragged in the dirt, squirming past the wealthy women, one of them pulling her wrap away from him so he wouldn’t touch it. He called out, “Mother!” as a ruse while keeping his eye out for purses to cut from the belts of those stupid enough to expose them in the marketplace. Tein didn’t bother with him. Pickpockets were the Marketplace Inspector’s job.
Off to one side, three men stood near the Seer, their heads together talking. They wore linen robes darkened from age and use, but bright white turbans, wrapped like Hanbalis with a twist under the chin. He wondered what their pious selves could be doing here, until one turned and looked toward him. He nudged Ammar. “Isn’t that Hanbali over there, the one with the few beard hairs? Isn’t he one of Barbahari’s men who was taken into custody for harassing women in the street and destroying property?”
“You still angry that he smashed Salman’s wine jars?”
Tein wasn’t in the mood. “Why is he out on the street?”
“I thought he’d been jailed for good without a hearing.” Ammar said, “Let’s get a bit closer to them to keep an eye on them.”
“They’ll only be here to start trouble.” Tein nodded.
The boy in the good turban called out again, “What have I got!”
The Seer said, “I’d tell you that you have a sticky candy in your hand, but there’s a policeman here who thinks all I can do is say what is obvious.”
“What?” Ammar looked at her.
With his eyes still on Barbahari’s men, Tein answered, “I complained of her loud enough for anyone to hear. There’s nothing clairvoyant about it.”
“I do have a candy!” The boy opened his hand and showed a hardened brown lozenge covered in fibres from his pocket.
An old working woman in the crowd yelled at them, “You, police! Pay attention!”
Tein realized everyone was watching them.
The Seer called to the boy again, “Boy, how about I tell you what you had in your pocket this morning, but is no longer there?” The crowd murmured as she leaned toward the left to listen to an unseen voice. She nodded, then called out, “A lizard! You caught a lizard yesterday as it was sunning on a wall and put it in your pocket. But you crushed it by accident, so you threw it into a canal. You even said a prayer for it.”
Everyone turned to look at the boy. His face had lost all its colour. He could barely get the words out. A man next to him bent over to hear him, then stood up and said, “It’s true! The boy says it’s true!”
Nearby them, they heard a woman hiss, “Didn’t God warn us not to take allies other than Him? God protect us from evil things. Her sockets are sunk. Her jinn took them in payment for her soul! God told us that the blind and the seeing are not the same!”
Some whispered in assent, shifting uncomfortably, and saying, “God protect us from evil things.”
A man called back to her over his shoulder, “You old bat! That’s not what God means. God’s talking about ignorant, unseeing fools like you! What are you doing standing out here watching the show if you are so afraid of a blind woman? Go home and complain to your poor husband!”
Her face turned bright red as laughing and jeers erupted. She swatted the air around her as if the insults were swarming flies.
Tein said loudly, “One of her informants saw a bloodstain on the pocket of his robe and told her. It’s not too far to guess that a little boy would be chasing lizards. We all did!”
The Seer answered him, “The boy threw it into the Musa canal across the Tigris.”
An old woman in a black wrap covering all but one eye turned to Tein and Ammar, taunting, “Are you disbelieving now?”
Tein put his hand on his heart and bowed to the woman as a gesture of conciliation, but had his eye on Barbahari’s men, who seemed angered by the Seer’s last answer.
Ammar had seen it, too. “This doesn’t look good.”
The man had one of his hands concealed inside his qamis. He yelled to the Seer, “You! Tell me what I am holding in my hand!”
The Seer remained silent. People called out here and there, “Tell him! Tell him!”
Ammar said to Tein, “Go to the front and stay with her in case anything blows up. I’ll move behind them.” Ammar skirted the crowd so the men would not see his approach. He came up close behind the man, but he couldn’t see what he was holding and readied himself for it to be a weapon. Ammar whispered in his ear, “Brother, we’ll take care of her once this is over.”
The man jumped at the voice. He recovered himself, looking Ammar up and down. “If you police would do your job, the streets would be empty of this blasphemy.”
“I hear you. The Marketplace Inspector has jurisdiction here. I’ll get hold of her afterward and make sure she’s handed over to the religious courts.”
“The religious courts!” The man scoffed, “You think those judges rule by God’s Law? God curse them, and the High Judge himself! If they will not care for the souls of the people, then we will.”
Ammar kept his voice cool, “I can see why you’re frustrated, brother. In that case, for you, I’ll put her into a cell in the walls of the Round City without so much as writing her name down. She’ll be lost forever. No one will know.” He gave a quick nod. “What she deserves.”
Shocked at the admission, the man whispered conspiratorially, “It’s a shame the Matbaq Prison is shut. Its deep holes were the right place for the likes of her.”
“All I’m saying is, stand down. I have this.”
The crowd was becoming impatient for her answer. Sever
al more picked up the chant, “Tell him!”
The man considered Ammar for a moment, then relaxed his stance. Ammar put his hand on the man’s shoulder and whispered, “Tell me, what do you have in your hand?”
He laughed, then whispered back, “My cock.”
Ammar laughed with him, and the two turned to see what the Seer would say. She stood still, then leaned in to listen. Ammar thought he saw the air beside her ripple in the bare outline of a man leaning towards her to speak. Or was it an animal who looked like a man? His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the prick of sweat under his arms. Then it was gone. The crowd fell into silence.
“I’m sorry,” she called out over the crowd. “I don’t know. My vision must be lost for today. May God bless you all and restore the coin that you have shared with us a hundred times over!” The woman in the good wool wrap came up behind her, putting her hand on her elbow. The Seer climbed down off her perch. The two quickly made their way through the Market Gate.
The man pushed at Ammar. “She’s getting away! What are you doing standing here?”
“See that tall black fellow. He’s mine. He’ll have her in a moment.”
The man saw Tein move in after the girl and nodded to Ammar. The crowd was beginning to disperse, a few people standing nearby turned to him, crowding in. “Well, then, what did you have?”
He fished around under his robe. Then his hand emerged, holding a reed pen. He held it up. “A pen!” He shouted so everyone could hear, “The girl could not guess a pen! Don’t let these fools trick you! They are nothing but agents of Satan!”
Ammar clapped the man on the back and went to find Tein. He was waiting just inside the gate, holding the Seer in one hand and her associate in the other. Ammar said, “It’s alright, you can let her go. They aren’t going to make a move on her.” Ammar turned to the assistant, saying, “Not now, anyway. You should be careful.”
The Seer spat on the ground at his feet. “Speak to me directly! Do you think because I have no eyes, I have no mind?”
The Jealous Page 11