Free Assassins - Ian Watson & Andy West by Ian Watson Page B

bamboo
not quite as wide as his wrist, and removed its stopper, a plug of
clay. The bamboo, its top rim sharp, looked greased inside. Then
the old man thrust this device at the victim’s scrotum, twisted to
cut, and captured the soft black oyster of a testicle, for what
private purpose of witchcraft Hakim had no idea.
    This done, Arwe seemed utterly exhausted.
Hakim had to practically carry him back to his throne.
    And so having seen the unimaginable, they
departed, much to the relief of the rest of the party.
    An hour later, a fit of coughing shook the
old man as he was borne along, Hakim pacing alongside. Finally Arwe
spat out a gob of dirty phlegm, and then, breathing hard, he began
to gasp words, as though of a sudden mortality haunted him, and he
wished in Guba’s absence to confide some legacy of wisdom to
Hakim.
    Yaqob translated. “Plague. From evil spirit.
Makes home in monkey.”
    “Yes?” urged Hakim and Sadiq, almost with one
voice.
    “Most spirits in monkeys… benign. Some
sublime. So we worship. Others naughty. Make mischief, small
mischief. A few very bad . Often monkey with evil spirit…
weeps, so very sad because made to do evil. Weeps and weeps.”
    Hakim reinforced all this in his memory,
hoping soon to make notes, repeating to himself: plague lives in
monkeys, and those monkeys that harbour it often weep . What did
this signify? A few months earlier Hakim might have dismissed this
as a fanciful tale. Not now. He was all too aware of Arwe’s depth
of experience and insight. Merciful Allah, preserve this old
pagan a while more! Even so, an evil spirit in a monkey…?
    At that moment, it was as though a muezzin
wailed from a minaret within his mind: From Ethiopia the empire
of Axum exported along the Red Sea gold and grain, rhino horns, and
MONKEYS!
     
    ‘ Elephant
Walk’, Cambridge, Massachusetts: May
    The crisp atmosphere and inspiring light of recent
days had gone, sealed off from New England by a leaden lid of
cloud. Rain streaks chased each other down the windows of Elephant
Walk, distorting the hurrying humanity of Cambridge into ungainly
creatures with poorly applied blotches of colour.
    Abigail had arrived early, trying to claim
the military high ground. She removed soaking outer layers and
hoped the restaurant’s warmth would soon evaporate uncomfortable
damp patches from the rest of her clothes. A meaty aroma sharpened
by exotic herbs awoke her hunger. The place was mainly Thai
cuisine, with some Cambodian. Jack came in. The downpour had left
him unscathed, Abigail noted sourly. He was folding up an enormous
golfing umbrella.
    He spotted her, coming over and sitting down
without a greeting. “Your nose is wet,” he then observed with a
grin.
    Patriarchal crap , thought Abigail, but
the approach of a waiter prevented her from spitting out a rude
reply.
    She ordered something very spicy. Without
even looking at the menu, Jack ordered the same.
    “Glad you could make it,” he offered.
    “Did I have a choice?”
    “I thought you’d relish the opportunity to
instruct on medieval history, and maybe help America too of course.
We’ve always been big buddies with Canada.”
    Abigail got the message and gave a
noncommittal grunt. No doubt he had the power to get her thrown out
of the country. She swallowed her pride and bit down on her
resentment at narrow-minded government agencies.
    “What do you want to know?” she asked,
managing a business-like if not actually pleasant tone.
    Jack’s face crinkled with supercilious
amusement.
    “Our language folks tell me that Alamut derives from the Arabic for teaching of the
eagle .”
    “That would figure. An eagle is supposed to
have shown Hasan as-Sabah, the first Master of the Assassins, where
to build his fortress.”
    “They also said that the word assassin originally meant those who take hashish , and these
particular ones specialised in high-risk missions to murder
political and religious leaders. Apparently they took out