Chapter Four: Trial
Kasia's birthing was long and difficult. Haroun-rän ordered complete silence, and everyone crept about the camp, biting their nails and talking in whispers. Zara, the merchant's wife, had disappeared inside with Kumanne, Sharifah, and Larí, Kasia's sister. Every now and then, Sharifah would come outside and boil more water, then take it back inside again.
Haroun-rän stood and stared out at the horizon, following the path of a wheeling vulture with his eyes; Nathu played uneasily with the hem of his tunic and glared at anyone who attempted to talk to him. I, like many others of the camp, was hovering nearby, waiting for news or dismissal, but Haroun seemed blind to our presence, his whole attention riveted on the bird, circling high in the sky. Every so often, a small, half-smothered cry would come from inside the tent, and the whole crowd would wince. Once Kasia gave a short scream and Haroun made a furious movement towards the sound, but Nathu caught his arm, silently begging him to remain where he was.
Eventually, the tent flap opened, and Zara came out with a leather bucket full of water. She set this down, then reached back inside and brought out an armful of soiled skins. These she dumped in the bucket, causing a small wave of water to wash over the side and drip down onto the sand.
'Is she alright?' Haroun demanded roughly. 'Is the baby alright?'
'Your wife is fine,' Zara replied carefully. 'And in spite of the birth, she is tired, but well.'
'But what about the baby?'
Zara did not answer, just jerked her head towards the tent. Haroun immediately went in, and Zara began poking the skins down in the bucket so they were fully submerged. Maradin came to her shoulder, and whispered, 'Zara? What's the matter?'
She sighed, and answered in a whisper that everyone could hear, 'It's too small, barely four fils, and - '
'It is marked by ill-fortune.' Haroun had come out of the tent, and he held a small bundle in his arms, wrapped in black swaddling. His face was hard as rock, and he thrust the baby forward so the camp could see it. Zara flinched at his careless treatment of the newborn, lest he should drop it, but the camp had seen what he had wanted it to see.
'Ill fortune!'
'Marked by evil spirits!'
I burrowed through the closely packed crowd and saw what they were talking about. The baby was small, certainly; smaller than a newborn puppy, and although its face was puckered up, it had its eyes open, and everyone could see that its gaze was fixed on the end of its nose. A cross-eyed child was indeed bad, and although I felt pity, I was also curious. I had never seen a cross-eyed baby before, and it was interesting to see how its eyes wobbled up and down, yet all the while staring at its turned up nose.
'He is marked by ill-fortune,' Haroun-rän repeated stonily, and he stared at me. Everyone followed his gaze, and suddenly I was surrounded, people pressing in from every side, their faces twisted by expressions of hate and fear. I felt a chill, as though a cold finger had stroked my spine; there were too many, too close, all hating, all scared of me. I heard a mutter:
'It's been him, that boy...'
'Always him... remember the camel fair?'
'And Tabithí's baby?'
'Evil...'
'Mar of darkness and empty souls...'
'Take him to a tent,' Haroun commanded, handing the baby to Zara, who received it with thankful arms. 'Gamal, will you hold him until the evening?'
Gamal, a small, bearded man, looked nervous, but agreed, and scores of hands pinched my arms and shoved me, struggling and bewildered, to Gamal's tent and pushed me inside. Gamal was unmarried, and the tent was empty, with only a few cooking pans, a brazier and a bundle of fleeces inside. Gamal sat on his heels in the tent doorway, and after a few minutes, began to mend a broken bridle, shooting intermittent glances inside to make sure I was still there.
Sitting down near the hot brazier, I watching my distorted reflection in its shiny bronze side. They're blaming all this on me? I thought. I didn't have anything to do with that baby! How could I have? I scowled at the coals glowing underneath the brazier, like malevolent eyes glaring out at the world. The sounds outside the tent had quietened, and the angry cries of the camp had faded to a dull mumble. Gamal wove the ends of the bridle together with all the skill of a spider mending its web. When I caught one of his glances, he quickly averted his eyes, his fingers making the sign of the wheat ear in the air.
'Why'm I being held here?' I asked.
'Sid fok.'
'But, why?'
'I don't know!' His eyes would not meet mine, but flicked to the brazier, to the bridle in his lap, to the fleeces against the tent sides. 'And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Sid fok!'
I shut up.
٭ص
I had been taking the situation too lightly. I had been expecting some small punishment, some justice to be meted out by the camp's elders. What I had not been expecting was to be attending an execution. My own.
The sun had been set for an hour when Gamal opened the tent flap and jerked a thumb behind him. 'Come on, get out.'
I came out, feeling the chill of the night air strike my face. The stars were twinkling high above me in the dark purple sky and the desert sands were a pale blur in the distance. Gamal poked me in the shoulder, and when I jerked away from his touch, he gave me a shove and the order to get moving. He shepherded me before him to Haroun-rän's tent, and as I came out of the gap between the other tents, I could see that what seemed like the whole camp was there, standing silently in the shadows. There was an enormous fire lit in front of Haroun's tent, higher and brighter than any I had seen before. This must be special, I thought wonderingly. To build a fire this big... that means the elders are going to do something important. I took a step closer, stretching my hands out, wanting to feel the fire's dancing warmth, the living heat of it, as though each flicker it made was the beating of a glowing heart trapped in its embers. It was so bright, so alive...
Gamal yanked me back, and Haroun stood up, spreading his arms out in an unnecessary gesture for silence. When he was satisfied, he began, 'Adu-al. We are gathered here tonight to see justice done. For years, we have tolerated this boy, Rohsair, in our midst. We have allowed him food, shelter and clothing. There is not a morsel of food in his stomach that we have not given him, not a stitch of clothing on his back that we have not provided.'
I suddenly saw the merchant from the caravan standing in the crowd, his arms folded and a frown on his face. By his side was the scribe, and he was staring at me with a burning intensity, his eyes glittering in the firelight. One end of his black turban was coming down, but he made no move to fasten it.
'For fourteen years, he has lived with us, and what has he given us in return? Nothing but ill-fortune. You call him a mar of darkness and empty souls, and it was his hand that caused the trouble today. My son entered the world, too weak to even cry with his first breath, and with his eyes crossed. He will be forever marked with this deformity, and it is by Rohsair's hand that this happened! Adu-al, what should we do? What must we do? If we cast him out, he will only spread his poison to other bedu, and the blame will fall back on us. We must decide his fate, for the good of all. The elders will make their decision, and insh'aweh it is the right one.'
The elders behind the fire bent their heads together, and in the dead silence, I could almost hear their beards growing as they murmured together. My mind was grasping the numbing fact that this situation was more than a little dangerous. If they weren't going to cast me out, then there was only one other alternative. But... that means death. My heart, already thumping against my ribs, now gave a painful jump upwards as though it would leap out of my mouth. Death, no, it can't be death, it just can't!
The elders raised their heads. 'We have decided.'
No! I tore out of Gamal's grip and tried to break away through the crowd, but they pushed me back. Gamal twisted his hand in my ragged collar and held my arms behind me. I was too scared to even feel his touch upon my skin, and I wrenched and fought, but the elders rose in a body, and proclaimed in sonorous voices, 'The boy must die, to stop the spreading of ill-fortune.'
The fire gave a huge leap upwards in accordance with my wildly pounding heart, and the light sparked off the blade of Haroun's sword as he drew it. 'Hold him still,' he told Gamal. His teeth were bared in a snarl of vengence, his eyes gleaming with the light of justice and blood lust. Gamal gripped a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. I felt the cool air on my throat, saw the stars above gleaming cold and white, saw the thin slice of silver moon surrounded by a milky halo.
Haroun placed the edge of his sword on my throat, and I saw the manic grimace etched on his face. 'Mar...'
'Wait!'
The shout made me jerk backwards, and the blade slipped. I felt a sharp flash of pain and a warm trickle of blood started down my throat. I closed my eyes, not realizing that Gamal had released me until I hit the ground. My eyes flew open, one hand pressed against my throat, and I looked up to see the scribe with the loose turban standing before Haroun and waving his arms about in the air. 'I want that boy!' he cried. 'I'll pay you for him, any price, but don't kill him!'
-
Sid fok: Shut up.
Adu-al: People.
your semicolon obsession strikes again! 
Really, darling, think these would work better as separate sentences, especially as I can’t see how the second is really a continuation of the first. 