The next few minutes passed in a blur for Ashe, as if the colours of the world had been left in place, but all its substance removed. The world was in the wind, scattered in the sky.
He remembered Laila clutching his arm, pulling him close, calling to him, as the liquid tapestry of people flooded down the valley towards the Shrine of the Sun. He saw her mouth move, her eyes imploring.
He caught sight of a grey head as Baba Sheykh marched forwards, children all about him. He heard a call from behind. He turned. Amongst the bouquet of faces was Sherman Beck’s, out of place, out of time. Laila tugged at Ashe’s arm, pulling him on. Beck was shouting. ‘Ashe! Dr Ashe! I gotta speak to you. You gotta speak to me!’
Ashe stopped. Was he running away? He wouldn’t run away.
‘This Aslan guy, Toby. You shoulda told us! God! All these people!’
‘Take your shoes off, Beck!’
‘What?’
‘Take your fucking shoes off!’
‘Who’s the guy on the bull?’
Laila called to Ashe. ‘You must come!’
Beck grabbed Ashe’s arm. ‘Listen, man, I gotta see this Baba Sheykh guy! I ain’t taking my shoes off until I do. D’ya hear me, Ashe?’
Ashe looked down at Beck’s fist, gripping his arm. He stared Beck in the eye. ‘This valley is holy, Beck.’ He pushed Beck back hard into the crowd.
Ashe ran on, past the crowds, past the bull now surrounded by pilgrims, past the Shrine of Sheykh Shems, into the woods, among the olive trees and tiny oaks. A flash of colour in the distance. The voice of Laila, screaming. ‘Tobbi! Please!’
Ashe came to a ridge. Laila was sobbing on the ground. ‘He ordered me to stay here, Tobbi. He told me, for my own soul, I must wait.’
‘Where is he?’
‘There! Down there!’
‘Well what is it?’
‘There is the last sight of the Zemzem stream. Then it flows underground, into the mountains.’
Behind them, they could hear the singing of the pilgrims, gathered around the bull, building to a crescendo: the drums beating hard, the flutes insistent, the voices ecstatic.
Ashe caught sight of the Baba Sheykh. He stood tall against the sky, his back turned, his arms outstretched, greeting the sun.
In the valley behind them, all was suddenly quiet, as specially selected men from the Mamusi, Qa’idi and Tirk tribes raised their swords before the eyes of the beast. The sun hid behind a cloud.
A cry pierced the calm. ‘From the earthly Lalish to the heavenly Lalish. From the world of men to the abode of the angels!’
The sun’s rays suddenly enveloped the body of the sheykh as he crossed his arms over his heart. Then, greeting the Peacock Angel at the second of sacrifice, he hurled himself into the whiteness of the Zemzem stream to be borne swiftly into the mountains.
‘Hey Toby, I gotta talk to the Baba Sheykh!’
Ashe turned to the sweating Beck, footwear dangling by laces from his raised arms.
‘Look man, I took my fuckin’ shoes off!’
‘Yes, Beck. But you left your socks on.’