Hasan - A Novel Part 11

"O Hasan, you're leaving us again!" Rose cried.

Ab cut her off. "Desist, girl. We'll never get moving if you start all that again."

"At least stay the night," Eldest pleaded. "We'll have music and a feast."

Ab paused. "Never could stand your music."

"Daddy wouldn't approve, anyway," Rose said.

"I don't give a fig in the fire what that coconut-head approves! Where's my room?"

Next morning, or perhaps the one following that, Hasan mounted the elephant behind the venerable gentleman and waved good-bye to his sisters once again. Partings seemed to come more frequently now, but each one wrenched his heart all over.

The elephant ambled along for three days, during which time Abd al-Kaddus did his best to dissuade Hasan from his venture. Hasan suspected that the trip would have been much shorter, otherwise, since the man had already dem- onstrated his ability to travel almost instantaneously. "Know, O my foolish son, that the Isles of Wak are seven in number, inhabited by a mighty host, all virgin girls. The inner islands are peopled by demons and marids and war- locks and various tribesmen of the jinn, and whoever enters that land never returns-at least, none have done so yet. So return to your people with the blessing of Yahweh, and-"

"Yahweh?"

"Zorothustra, then. Forget this damsel you're smitten with, for she's no damsel at all but the daughter of the King of all the Isles, and you can never aspire to her. Listen to me, my son, and perhaps Brahma will replace her with a better wife."

"O my lord," Hasan said. "They could cut me in pieces and my love would only redouble. There is no help for it; I must enter the Isles of Wak and come to the sight of my wife and children. I'll return with them or never at all!"

"My boy, think of your poor weary mother and your seven fine sisters. Don't make them spend their lives in torment because of your idiocy."

"I'll die anyway, if I don't recover Sana."

Ab shook his head, resigned, and the elephant journeyed on.

At length they came to a vast blue mountain whose stones were azure. A ma.s.sive iron door was set in its base with curious inscriptions upon it.

Hasan studied the mysterious writing. "That's the lan- guage of Confucius," Ab said. "I stole that door from-"

"You stole it from a G.o.d?" Hasan was dismayed, forget- ting that there were no G.o.ds but Allah.

"Confucius isn't a G.o.d. Whatever gave you that idea? Anyway, I never knew the gentleman personally." He raised his fist and rapped the metal.

A monstrous black slave opened the door from inside, as fierce and hairless as an ifrit. He carried a sword in his right hand and a steel s.h.i.+eld on his left arm. "Master!" he cried, kneeling to kiss the Shaykh's hand.

Ab led Hasan inside, and the slave drew the door shut behind them. They were in a huge and s.p.a.cious cavern, lighted in some enchanted fas.h.i.+on, through which ran a towering corridor. They traveled along this for several thousand paces, until it ab.u.t.ted upon a large open s.p.a.ce. Then Ab angled off toward an elbow of the mountain and stopped before two huge doors cast of solid bra.s.s.

The old man went up to the left door and set his shoulders. "Wait here," he said ominously, "and I'll be back presently. On no account are you to follow me inside."

Hasan agreed, uncertain what was about to happen, and sat down against the wall between the doors. Ab opened the portal a crack, slid within, and drew it firmly closed. There was silence.

Hasan sat for a full hour, fidgeting. He admired the enormous dripping vaults of the cave. Ponderous swords of stone hung from the ceiling, many times the size of a man and pointed at the tip, so that he was afraid to pa.s.s underneath. Rows of colored rock rose from the floor: dragon's teeth, perhaps. Was the dragon near? He did not feel easy, here.

A crash, a snort, and the door burst open. Hasan bounded to his feet, reaching for his dagger-but it was only Abd al-Kaddus, leading a spirited black stallion. It was a beau- tiful horse, with sleek flanks and a short nose, bridled and saddled with velvet trappings. Its prancing hoofs scarcely seemed to touch the ground, and Hasan could tell that this was the swiftest of animals.

"Mount!" Ab panted. "This beast is uncontrollable without a rider." Hasan mounted, and felt the eager surge of the stallion beneath him. What a horse this was!

"Keep tight rein on him, or I won't answer for your safety," Ab warned him. He opened the second door.

Beyond it was an endless desert, burning and barren. Hasan guided the horse outside and held it steady.

Ab handed him a long roll. "O my son, take this scroll and go where this steed will carry you. When he stops at the door to a cavern like this, dismount and throw the reins over the saddle-bow and let him go. He will enter the cavern, but you must stay outside. Stay there five days, and don't go away. On the sixth day a black shaykh clad all in sable, with a long white beard flowing down to his navel, will come out. As soon as you see him, kiss his hands and seize his s.h.i.+rt and lay it on your head and weep before him, until he takes pity on you and asks you what you want. Then give him this scroll. He will take it without speaking and return to his cavern. Wait outside another five days. If the shaykh comes out the sixth day himself, all is well; but if one of his pages emerges, depart in all haste, for he comes to kill you. Then may the mercy of Buddha be upon you, for he who takes such chances risks death; on the other hand, he who won't gamble can't win. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle," Hasan said more bravely than he felt.

"Now you don't have to risk your life this way, you know. If you'd rather return to your friends, the elephant is still here. You can ride back-"

"I must go on."

"That's what I thought. You're lovemad. Well, in this letter I have presented a strict account of your case to Abu al-Ruwaysh, son of Bilkis, daughter of Mu'in, for he is my mentor and my teacher, and all men and all jinn humble themselves before him and stand in awe of him. And now go with the blessing of-who is it?"

"Allah-I think."

"With the blessing of Allah!" Ab slapped the flank of the horse and it galloped away with a surge that rendered any formal leavetaking impossible. Hasan was on his way.

He rode. The stallion raced all day across the desert, never changing direction or easing his pace. Hasan looked about him at first, wondering whether he was still on Serendip; but as the hours pa.s.sed he grew weary, and his thighs chafed with the steady movement.

Night came, but still the steed pounded on, flinging back occasional spume from its flaring nostrils.

Hasan nodded sleepily. When was this ride going to end? Did the horse never tire? He looked down-and knew he was dreaming, for the flas.h.i.+ng hoofs appeared to be galloping over deep water. Water!

The long night pa.s.sed; the sun came up on his right. Hasan's legs were throbbing with fatigue, and he was desperate for a call of nature. The horse was running through strange country, up a long coastline with the ocean to the east.

Mountains rose to the west, and the land was a wild deep jungle. But evidently the mountains in sight were not his destination.

Hasan sat up straight and hauled on the reins. The stallion bucked and skittered, unwilling to be restrained, but it slowed and finally came to a halt in a deep forest.

He was about to dismount, but remembered Ab's re- mark that the beast was uncontrollable without a rider. Yet he had to get off for a few minutes, at least. Why hadn't Ab told him the trip was going to be so long?

He searched through the saddlebags. In one was a folded tunic. He drew it out, but was surprised to discover that it was not after all an article of clothing, though of rich design. It was an oddly shaped sack.

A sack-or a hood? Suddenly he remembered the way Eldest controlled her falcons. Would it work on a horse?

He leaned forward and dropped the hood over the stal- lion's head. There was no complaint. This had to be it!

He dismounted, keeping his hand on the bridle, but the horse did not move. He retreated among the trees and did his business; then he located a small stream and performed the morning ablutions. His legs were stiff and very sore, but at least the most pressing discomfort had been eased.

He was hungry! He had not realized this until drinking from the cool stream. He'd better find something to eat. There was no way to tell how long this journey would be.

He walked around the horse and delved into the opposite saddlebag. There were packages of something. He with- drew one, opened it, and looked at the brown lump inside. Bread? It didn't smell like it. He took an experimental bite.

The stuff was dense and chewy, but not unpleasant to the taste. How could he be certain it was edible?

Hasan took out another package, unwrapped it, and poked it under the covered nose of the horse. The animal sniffed, then took a gigantic bite that just missed his fingers. This might be horse feed, but at least it should be safe. He attacked his own chunk in earnest.

Strength flowed into his arms and legs. He felt full of fire. He could run for miles without tiring. He neighed.

It was horse feed all right. Hasan checked his appet.i.te as he led the stallion to water. Best not to eat too much of the stuff.

He rode. Days shot by under the flas.h.i.+ng hoofs, and scenic lakes and valleys and mountains pa.s.sed in review. The ocean to his right disappeared, but the sun showed his route to continue north. Occasionally the horse skirted native villages, the dark-skinned tribesmen staring curi- ously. Could any of this country be Sind?

The land opened out into a mighty plain with rich black soil. They crossed a river as large as the Tigris. Now Hasan became a.s.sured that the steed was magic, for it ran on the surface of the water as though it were sand.

On what Hasan estimated was the tenth day a vast mountain range arose ahead, walling the world from east to west. The peaks were towering and white at the tops; Hasan was sure that nowhere else on earth did their like exist.

The stallion neighed exuberantly as it approached the forbidding range and there were answering neighs. Horses flocked to it, mares as numerous as drops of rain on the monsoon wind. They thronged so tightly that their backs made a restless sea; they pressed against the flanks of his steed. What did this mean? Abd al-Kaddus had not advised him of this situation, either.

It occurred to him that there were many things in life that friends could not or did not predict.

There was nothing he could do except maintain his seat and fare forward, hoping for the best. And so at last he came to the mountain cavern accompanied by thousands of mares.

The stallion drew up at the entrance and Hasan dis- mounted. He threw the rein over the saddle and let the animal go, half expecting it to frolic among its compan- ions. That feed was potent stuff. But it trotted up to the door, opened it with a blow of its front hoof, and disap- peared inside.

Hasan waited, but the door did not open again. Once more he grew hungry and thirsty-but Ab had told him not to leave this spot. He dared not disobey the instructions. Magic was involved, and his perils were great enough already. But he would starve before his vigil was up, since it was scheduled for five full days, with five more to follow that. It was cold; what would the nights be like?

He thought of Sana and his children, and recovered strength. He would survive somehow. Allah would pro- vide a way. There were horses, waiting at the door for their stallion to return. He could kill one and live off its flesh. He could squeeze juice from the fruits of the bushes. He would survive.

But no such drastic measures were necessary. Several of these mares had foals. He caught and milked them, careful not to take from the same one twice in succession, so that there would be milk for the foal as well. At night he bound one and curled up beside her, using the heat from her body to drive away the cold that would otherwise have de- stroyed him.

This was not his idea of luxury, but he was man enough now to sacrifice convenience for the sake of his objectives. The thought of his family bore him up. Unless he pre- vailed, his children would grow up fatherless and his old mother would die alone and unmourned. There was grief enough without failure on his part.

The prescribed time pa.s.sed. The door opened. A man came out, his robe as black as his face. Hasan recognized him as the Shaykh Abu al-Ruwaysh, and threw himself at the man's feet.

"What do you want, O my son?"

Wordlessly Hasan handed up the scroll. The Shaykh accepted it and re-entered the cavern, making no reply.

Five more days pa.s.sed. Hasan's nervousness increased as he thought about his situation. If the shaykh did not come out the second time, his quest was a failure. He would have either to escape or kill the page, then make his way home, never to see his lovely wife again. It was too horrible to contemplate.

On the sixth day the door opened and a white figure emerged. The page! Hasan staggered back, stricken, but reached for his sword.

The figure made no hostile sign, and Hasan relaxed. It was the shaykh after all-this time in a white robe. His pet.i.tion had been accepted!

The old man took him by the hand and brought him into the cavern. This was even more extensive than the other. Sputtering torches lit the cold pa.s.sages, and twists and turns were so numerous that he soon lost track of direc- tion. It seemed hours before they stopped at an arched doorway with a panel of a steel for a door. The shaykh opened this and led the way into a vestibule vaulted with onyx, arabesqued with gold and blessedly warm.

They pa.s.sed through this and came to a wide hall, paved and walled with marble. In its midst was a flower-garden containing a variety of trees and flowers and fruits, with birds warbling on the boughs and singing sweetly. There were four daisies facing inward, and in each a jetting fountain at whose corners stood golden statues of lions spouting water from their mouths into the basin.

On each dais stood a chair, and in each chair sat an elderly sage with a library of books before him and golden censers containing fire and perfumes. Students gathered around each elder, reading the books to him.

When Hasan and Abu al-Ruwaysh entered, the sages stood up and did the shaykh honor. The shaykh gestured them to dismiss their scholars, and they obeyed promptly. The four then seated themselves before him and inquired about Hasan.

The shaykh turned to him. "Tell this company your tale-everything that has happened to you from the begin- ning of your adventure until the end." Hasan obliged, relating the manner in which Bahram the Persian magician had appeared and tricked him with promises and dazzled him with gold and kidnapped him into a mighty adventure.

"You are one of the lads that man sent up to the Mountain of Clouds in camel-hides?" they asked, amazed.

"I am."

They turned to the shaykh. "Never have we heard of someone surviving that ordeal. How did he get down?"

"Tell them, Hasan."

So Hasan continued his story, leading up to his marriage with the princess of Wak and her subsequent escape.

"Verily," the sages exclaimed, "this youth is to be both admired and pitied. Surely, O elder of elders, you will help him to recover his wife and children."

The old man pulled sadly at his beard. "This is a grave and perilous matter. This youth is determined to throw away his life. The Isles of Wak are very hard to reach, and no one can go there without risking his life. The empire of Wak is very powerful. Moreover, I have sworn an oath not to tread the soil of that land or transgress against its people in any way. How then shall I help this man to come at the favorite daughter of their King?

"O shaykh of shaykhs, this man is consumed with desire for his family, and he has already risked his life to come to you from our brother-in-scholars.h.i.+p, Abd al-Kaddus, who has importuned your help. He has endured the trial of ten days without the gate, which few men survive. How can you deny his plea?"

Hasan went to the old man and threw himself down before him. "I beg of you-reunite me with my wife and children, though it cost me my life and my soul!"

"It is liable to, Hasan-that is why I hesitate."

But the four elders continued to plead for Hasan, and finally the shaykh relented. "This willful youth little com- prehends what he's getting into," he murmured, "but we'll help him to whatever extent we can."

Hasan and the elders rejoiced. Abu al-Ruwaysh took up his pen and a sheet of fine paper and wrote a letter, which he rolled up and sealed and gave to Hasan. Then he produced a pouch of perfumed leather which contained incense and firesticks and similar magic. "Take strict care of this pouch. If you get into trouble, burn a little of the incense and speak my name, and I will come to you and help." He spoke to one of the elders. "Fetch me a flying ifrit."

"One of the jinn?" the sage asked, startled. "As you wish."

Hasan marveled. Could these sages actually summon a jinni?

The elder left, to return shortly with a horrendous ifrit in tow. Hasan had never seen such a creature before. It resembled a huge, grotesque man, with a muscular body, two descending tusks, and mighty wings. Yet, stripped of these special features, it would not have been unhand- some. Certainly it was more closely related to man than to the animals, and perhaps its sympathies would normally also lie with man. Of course it had no soul, but- "What is your name?" the shaykh asked the ifrit.

"Dahnash bin Faktash," the creature boomed.

"Come over here."

The ifrit approached, and the shaykh put his mouth up to its ear and said something. "I accept, O elder of elders!" Dahnash said.

The shaykh spoke to Hasan. "Arise, O my son, and mount the shoulders of this ifrit, Dahnash the Flyer. But be careful: when he ascends into the heavens and you hear the angels glorifying G.o.d with their hymns, don't you try to imitate them, or you will both perish."

"I won't say a word," Hasan said. "No, never."

"O Hasan, after faring with you all today, Dahnash will set you down at peep of dawn tomorrow in a land cleanly white, as though it were made of camphor. That is as far as he can go; you will have to walk the rest of the way. After ten days you'll come to a city. Enter the gate and ask for the King. When you come into his presence salute him and kiss his hands; then present to him this scroll and pay careful attention to his advice. Farewell!"

"Farewell," the four elders echoed. Hasan was getting accustomed to the abrupt manner of acquaintance and leave-taking in these enchanted realms, and accepted his dismissal gracefully.

"Hearing and obeying," he said, and climbed onto the ifrit's broad shoulders, trying not to bang his wings.

"Take care of him, Dahnash the Firedrake!" the shaykh called, and the powerful wings spread and raised a confu- sion of dust.

"I'll take care of him!" the ifrit muttered as the world tilted dizzily. Hasan didn't like the sound of this; but by the time he got his bearings they were above the mountain, rising into a calm morning sky.

Hasan was perched on the ifrit's shoulders, seated be- tween the wings with his feet dangling on either side of the thick neck. This had seemed secure enough when the ifrit stood upright in the cavern; but high in the air and horizon- tal it became the most precarious lodging. He glanced down, saw the mountain features pa.s.sing far below, and instinctively drew back-almost losing his balance in the other direction. He was not on the Mountain of Clouds; he could not retreat from the dangerous drop-off so easily, this time!

"Sit still, mortal-want to throw us into a tailspin?" the ifrit demanded.