Hasan - A Novel Part 12

Hasan sat very still. He kept his eyes fixed to the sky above, trying to imagine that he was riding a camel on the ground. This helped. Why should he believe that he had not only seen a demon of the air, but now rode the back of one? Nonsense-but don't look down.

The experience of air travel was not unpleasant. The atmosphere was cool-chill, in fact-but the wind whis- tling around his ears was invigorating. How unfortunate that man would never be able to fly without the aid of the birds or jinn! He watched a cottonpuff cloud come down- they were still climbing!-and was irrationally seized with the desire to tread the spongy surface. He had always wondered what plants might grow on the sunlit tops of these floating islands. What a delightful castle might be built on such a paradise, subject to no monarch and forever free of bad weather!

"Dahnash," he said.

"Yes, mortal?"

"Can we park on that little cloud ahead for a moment?"

The ifrit's body shuddered. Hasan was alarmed. Had something happened? Then he realized that the creature was shaking with laughter. "Park on a cloud!" Dahnash ex- claimed. "Ho ho!"

Hasan was nettled. "The shaykh didn't forbid it, did he?"

"Watch, mortal."

The ifrit came up level with the cloud and accelerated toward it. Hasan had to cling frantically as the wind tore at his body.

The cloud loomed larger. Far from being a tiny puff, it was an immense boulder of material, white at the top and with a flat gray bottom.

"Dahnas.h.!.+ You're going to collide!"

"Back-seat driver. Ho ho!" the ifrit laughed, and swooped ahead faster. The outlines of the cloud grew hazy, as though it were surrounded by an atmosphere of its own.

Hasan stared, terrified. Had the demon betrayed him? Did it plan to kill him by das.h.i.+ng him against the cloud? Why had the shaykh trusted him to its care?

They were in the foglike outer fringes. The cloud was so close he couldn't make out the solid outlines at all. Every- thing was grayness and fleeting mists.

Then the sun reappeared. Dahnash had dodged it after all! He had only skirted the edge.

"You see, mortal?"

"You certainly frightened me," Hasan admitted, decid- ing honest flattery was the safest policy. "But I still don't understand why you think it's so funny to land on a cloud. Does something dangerous live upon it?"

Dahnash craned his head around to look at Hasan. "You serious? That was the cloud, mortal."

"But all we touched was a little mist."

"Now don't take offense, mortal-but you are ignorant as h.e.l.l. That's all a cloud is. Mist."

"I can never believe that!"

"Brother!" the ifrit sighed. "Some company you are going to be." He sighed again. "And they say men are going to take over the world!"

Hasan was embarra.s.sed and angry. "If you're so smart, why do you have to obey the shaykh? He's a man."

"Mortal, there are men and there are men. The shaykh is the greatest of mortals, while I am the least of immor- tals. There is a certain minimal overlap. Anyway, he offered a pretty good deal."

"Well, why do they say one man is worth a thousand jinn? If you're so powerful-"

"Who says that?"

"Men say it. Everyone knows-"

"Men say it," the ifrit mimicked. "What preposterous audacity! What phenomenal delusions of grandeur! Did you ever hear an ifrit say it? Did you ever hear Allah say it? Can you doc.u.ment such a statement?"

"Well, we have souls don't we? You don't."

"Mortal-we are souls!"

Hasan was disgruntled. "What did the shaykh offer you for this job?" he asked, trying to modify the subject.

"Ah, that." Dahnash was silent for a moment, and Hasan thought he wasn't going to answer. "He promised to put in a good word for me with the council of marids. I'm eligible for promotion, and-"

"Marids?" Hasan was concerned. "You mean those big black funnels that tear s.h.i.+ps apart?"

"Funnels? Mortal, when a marid tears loose he doesn't bother with trifles. He sweeps across the ocean with the power of a thousand thunderstorms, blacks out the sky, sinks every s.h.i.+p on the sea and destroys entire cities with the force of his breath."

"His breath! You mean he blows down houses and . . . Allah strike you down for such a story!"

"You'd be in pretty poor circ.u.mstances right now if Allah did," Dahnash observed dryly, glancing down. Hasan involuntarily followed his gaze, and felt immediately sick. They were very high. Suddenly he didn't feel like arguing any more.

"I suppose I don't know much about the jinn," he said.

"Never fear, mortal-you have inquired at the proper stall." Dahnash took a deep breath and launched into an extemporaneous lecture. "Know, O child of Adam, that Allah in his wisdom-yes, I am a True Believer-and omnipotence created three species of intelligent beings to dwell upon the earth. From the light He made the Angels, who are sanctified from carnal desire and the disturbance of anger. They don't know what they're missing, if you ask me. They disobey not His will; their food is the celebration of His glory, their drink the proclamation of His holiness, their conversation the commemoration of His name, and their pleasure His wors.h.i.+p.

"From the Fire he made the Genii, ranked in five orders: the lowest are the Jann, who have little power; next are the Jinn (though this term is over-used generically); then the Devils; then Ifrits; and finally the most powerful of all, the Marids. Each of these groups maintains its representatives on land, in the sea and in the air. I am a flying ifrit-and it is from my group the whirling funnels come. We are second only to the marids."

"But you have nearly human shape," Hasan said, fascinated.

"Do you want me to change?" Dahnash demanded, and Hasan hastily demurred. "We can a.s.sume any shape we wish, except that the larger it is, the more diffuse it becomes. I could become the size of an ant-but I would be an exceedingly heavy ant, and have strength to crush stone in my pincers. I could become a hundred feet tall- but I would have no more substance than the cloud we flew through. That's why our form changes so much. The size determines it. A man-shaped, hundred-foot ifrit would be blown all out of shape by the wind, unless he really was that big in solid state."

"You mean you couldn't destroy a s.h.i.+p, in your funnel-cloud form?"

"O mortal, I could destroy a s.h.i.+p-but it would be a lot more difficult than it looked from the outside. If it were easy, I a.s.sure you that there would be very few vessels left on the ocean! An ifrit in that shape is invisible. What he has to do is exert himself to start the air moving and circling about. Once he gets it going, he can increase the velocity bit by bit and make the whole affair larger, until water or sand is sucked up and mortals can look upon him. If he moves over a s.h.i.+p then, he can do much damage while he has his inertia going for him."

"His what?"

"You wouldn't understand. Just think of it as one of the magical attributes. Inertia. Anyway, it does take pretty careful preparation to accomplish something spectacular, like the destruction of a s.h.i.+p, and I want you to appreciate that."

"O Dahnash, I do!" Hasan said, and did.

"The water ifrits have some success with great circles of liquid that suck down everything on the surface of the sea. Same principle. And you should see the spectaculars put on by some of the earth-ifrits! I don't know how they do it, but they come up with cones of fire, red-hot rock, and sometimes they shake the ground so hard the houses of mortals fall down. What sport! I tell you, not in thousands of years will your kind avail against such things!"

Hasan was silent, impressed in spite of his conviction that the ifrit exaggerated considerably. So much of what he had been told about the magical realms was exaggerated. He had heard no angels singing, for example.

Time pa.s.sed. The ifrit landed once, upon request, to allow Hasan a rest-stop and some food, then resumed the long flight. The day darkened, and still the flight contin- ued. Hasan clung as well as he could and hoped sleep would not tumble him off.

"Where are the angels?" he inquired, hoping the con- versation would keep him alert.

"Mortal, it isn't safe to fly that high. I'd be incinerated and dashed to the ground long before I reached heaven."

"I thought you were immortal."

"I am-but that doesn't mean I can break the rules. Haven't you seen the shooting light of chastened ifrits being abolished from heaven? Just a flash in the night, and they're gone. They live-but not as flying ifrit any more, you can be sure. The smart ones stay well within the three-mile limit."

Hasan had seen the occasional streaks among the stars on cloudless nights. It was amazing the way everything fell into place, once he understood the causes.

"You said there were three intelligent species on earth," he said, remembering another little mystery. "You've told me about the angels and the jinn-"

Dahnash laughed and laughed. "Ho mortal-if you don't know, I am not the one to tell you!"

Hasan was not so easily put off. "Can the third species fly?"

"No, mortal."

"Can it perform feats of magic?"

"Very little-and most of those are illusion."

"Are there many around?"

"Very many."

"What can this species do?"

"It can reproduce, mortal-that's why there are so many. Ho ho!"

Hasan was frustrated by the ifrit's too-obvious satisfac- tion. "It doesn't sound like anything worthwhile to me," he said.

"My opinion exactly, mortal!" Dahnash laughed. And laughed.

Chapter 9. Shawahi.

In the morning the ifrit landed in the middle of a white desert. He set Hasan down, still chuckling, and departed. For a moment Hasan thought he saw a funnel rising in the air, but it was gone immediately with a faint "Ho ho!"

He was on his own again.

He hiked, foraging what he could from the land and bearing directly toward the rising sun. The hills were gentle and rolling, and as he marched the land became flat, and was cultivated extensively with rice. Some of the dwindling hills were terraced with more rice growing on the additional levels.

At length he arrived at the city. It was a handsome one, whose architecture differed from everything he had en- countered before and whose people were yellowed-skinned. They spoke a language totally different from his, as he discovered when challenged at the gate.

For a time he was afraid they would slay him or im- prison him as a stranger, and felt nervously for the pouch with the fire and incense to summon the shaykh. But surely the man had known about such difficulties, and would not have sent Hasan hither unless he also knew they would be resolved. What was obvious to a magician was seldom obvious to Hasan. But determination and on-the-spot ingenuity had prevailed so far.

This time he did not overcome the problem. The people of the city did. They brought a translator.

"What is your business here?" the yellow man in- quired, once he settled upon Hasan's dialect. .

"I must see the King. I have a message from the Shaykh Abu al-Ruwaysh."

The man nodded. He recognized the name. After due formalities Hasan was ushered into the presence of King Ha.s.sun, Lord of the Land of Camphor. At least, that was the way Hasan understood the t.i.tle. It appeared to suffer somewhat in translation.

"So you come from the mighty sage of the mountain, the Father of Feathers," the King said. Again Hasan won- dered how much distortion was engendered by the indirect mode of communication. "A wise man. He sent a letter?"

Hasan gave him the scroll.

The King read it with interest, shaking his head. It was in the King's language; Hasan had peeked, and seen the peculiar paint-brush symbols resembling those on Uncle Ab's stolen door.

The King looked up. "Take this youth to the lodge of hospitality," he said.

For three days Hasan resided in the guest-house, royally treated and fed delightfully exotic meals. He told his entire story to the King, who was suitably amazed to converse thus with a citizen of a country so far removed from civilization.

On the fourth day they discussed Hasan's mission. "O traveler," said the King, "you come to me seeking to enter the Isles of Wak, as the shaykh of shaykhs advises me. I would send you there today-but on the way are many perils and many terrors, and I am afraid you go only to your death."

"O King-I must go, for my wife and sons are there."

"So I understand. We certainly comprehend the ties of the family. Have patience; I shall help you in whatever humble way I can. I have devised a plan that at least gives you an even chance, and that is the best I can do, even for the sake of the venerable Abu al-Ruwaysh, whom I would dislike to disappoint."

"Thank you, thank you, O auspicious King!"

"I am not certain I am doing you any favor," the King said sadly. "But since you insist upon this adventure I will put you on a s.h.i.+p going in the direction of the Isles. I would take you to Wak myself-but although I have a mighty host of fighting-men, I can not hope to prevail against the forces of Wak. You will have to enter surrept.i.tiously."

"Only tell me what to do," Hasan said, undismayed.

"I will place you on board with a note in my own hand designating you as a clansman of mine, so that no one will interfere with you. But my protection ends the moment you leave the s.h.i.+p, for it sails beyond my domain, and my name cannot help you at Wak. Now as soon as the captain bids you to land, go ash.o.r.e, for this will be your closest approach to the Isles. You will see a mult.i.tude of wooden settles on the beach. Choose one, crouch under it, and do not stir a muscle. When dark night sets in you will see an army of women appear and flock about the goods, for this is the way we trade with that empire. One of them will sit upon the settle you have chosen. Then you must put forth your hand to her and implore her protection. And know, O traveler, that if she accords you her protection, you stand an excellent chance of continuing your quest; but if she refuses, you are a dead man. You are risking your life, and will probably lose it, and I can do no more for you-but Allah (here the translator considerately supplied Hasan's word for G.o.d) has smiled on you so far, or you never would have achieved this much. Perhaps he will smile again."

"O mighty and puissant King, when are the s.h.i.+ps com- ing here?"

"It will be a month, and it will take time for them to complete their business here; but you are welcome to stay with me that time."

Hasan thanked him and spent a pleasant month in the Land of Camphor, learning something of its language and custom.

He also strained to remember the speech of Wak that he had learned from Sana, and improved upon his knowledge of it by studying with a linguist who spoke it. His experi- ence with the King had impressed upon him the need to know other tongues than his own.

The s.h.i.+ps arrived, among them one huge vessel with four masts, enormous square sails reinforced by horizontal rods of bamboo s.p.a.ced every two feet, and sixty tiny cabins, each sufficient living-quarter for a single merchant. The sides of the boat were brightly painted, and the whole affair was spectacular and quite entertaining to the stranger. Hasan was unable to count the number of people upon it; there were hundreds.

The days of unloading and reloading were interminable, for these traders did not rush things, and put protocol before convenience. Hasan stamped fretfully around the docks, unable either to wait or to hurry up the process. At last the King sent for him, gave him attractive gifts, and equipped him with the things he needed.

Next the King summoned the captain of the largest s.h.i.+p. "Take this youth with you in your s.h.i.+p, but do not let any man know he is there or what his purpose is. Put him ash.o.r.e where you trade with the amazons of Wak, and leave him there."

"Leave him there! Is your headsman ill, that you must resort to this manner of execution?"

"This is no convict, Captain, but an honored guest, who desires to travel to Wak."