CHAPTER 19

The strange, stiff rug with its mostly gasping and quivering passengers dipped in and out of the landscape. Benzamir thought that his wonderful sleek carpet steered like a cow; later he’d have to take it for a spin all on his own, no encumbrances.

Wahir was the first to relax and enjoy the ride. He soon stopped clinging to the edge of the carpet with one hand and Said’s arm with the other and knelt up, spreading his arms out wide.

He laughed. ‘Look, master. I’m flying!’

‘Yes,’ said Benzamir, ‘yes, you are. Can you feel it? The way your stomach gets left behind when we crest a hill?’

‘I can feel nothing else,’ mumbled Said, who still had his eyes screwed shut.

‘You’re the first people in nearly a thousand years to feel that sensation. You’re moving faster than anyone of your generation, your father’s or your grandfather’s before them.’ He got into a crouch, then stood, balanced on the balls of his feet. ‘Isn’t this just fantastic, Wahir?’

‘Yes, master. This will be a story that will live for ever.’

‘There’s no greater praise, though I’m afraid we’re going to have to stop before Said is ruinously sick.’ He looked thoughtful, faraway, and the carpet coasted to a halt.

Before it came to rest on the stony ground, Benzamir hopped off and ran alongside. He turned and looked back.

‘Are they following us, master?’

‘Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t. We’ve done a day’s march in a matter of minutes.’ He bent down and helped Said to his feet. Said stepped off the rug, fell to his knees and kissed the ground.

‘Boats, barges and now this sorcery. Will my torment never end?’

‘My heart bleeds, Said.’ Benzamir put Alessandra’s arm around his shoulder and his arm around her waist, and led her in a stumbling walk to the top of the hill they’d landed on. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

‘Like I’ve been trampled,’ she said.

‘You might well have been. Anything else broken or injured? Sorry, but I’ve been throwing you around like a sack of flour in the market.’

‘No, just my head.’ She felt the matted blood in her hair and tried picking some of it out. It hurt–her face screwed up in pain, and she desisted. ‘How did we get here?’

‘We flew on my magic carpet.’ It sounded so good that Benzamir said it again. ‘A magic flying carpet.’ He grinned and chuckled to himself.

‘I thought I was dreaming. Then I thought I was dying. When I realized that I was doing neither, I was terrified. What are you?’

Wahir wandered up, the desert soil crunching under his sandals. ‘He is Benzamir Mahmood, the mightiest magician in the land.’

‘Which land?’

‘Any land,’ said Wahir proudly. ‘He is the greatest to have ever lived.’

‘Thank you,’ said Benzamir. ‘I know how it works, but embarrassing me doesn’t do either of us any good.’

‘Oh,’ said Wahir.

‘Besides, I’m much more interested in why Alessandra was following us.’

‘She was?’ Wahir sat down quickly and gazed intently at the Ewer woman. ‘Why would she do that? Will we have to kill her?’

‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about killing her, as I’d only just saved her. It’d seem rather a waste. What do you think, Alessandra?’

She looked at Wahir, then at Benzamir, then down the hill to where Said was kneeling, his forehead touching the ground, hoping that the world would stop spinning. Then she looked further out, to the empty desert, the bright blue sky and the fierce, burning sun.

‘Can I talk my way out of this?’

‘Quite likely. I’m always willing to trade knowledge.’

‘The book I told you about, the one sold by a Kenyan…It was stolen from the emperor himself. The word went out that he wanted it back, but by then it had disappeared into the back streets of Misr. Now there’s a stack of Kenyan gold to the man–or woman–who can find it.’

‘And you thought that I was after the book and the reward. So where do the Ethiopians come in?’

‘When you headed off in a different direction to everyone else, I didn’t know what to think. I chased after you, but that stupid horse dumped me on my head. And thank you for rescuing me.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘The Ethiopians give tribute to the empire. I can only assume the emperor has run out of patience and that they’re here with orders to find the book. The obvious place to start looking for it is at the diggers’ market.’

Benzamir leaned forward and started drawing in the dust with his fingertip. ‘What’s tribute?’

‘You’d know if your people ever had to pay it. Rather than having your country invaded, your population enslaved, your cities sacked, you pay. You pay and pay and pay, and maybe they’ll leave you alone. To be fair, the emperor used to protect us from the Caliphate; they raided us from the sea all the time and made our lives a misery, but they suddenly stopped five years ago. All we do now is pay and get nothing in return.’

‘We have other words for it,’ said Benzamir, ‘but I understand now. This book that the emperor is so desperate to get–had you ever seen anything like it before?’

‘No,’ said Alessandra, ‘never. I brokered one of the deals, but it couldn’t be over fast enough for me. User machines are just things, but this was alive in a way that scared me. It was sold, I took my fee, and the buyer sold it on the next day for a fat profit. That was the last I saw of it, though I heard of it moving through the diggers and booksellers, back and forth, selling each time for ever-increasing amounts of money. A king’s ransom by the end. Then it went quiet.’ She turned slightly and took another look at Benzamir. ‘Are you really a magician?’

‘Really? No. Does anyone believe me when I deny it? No. It’s easier to answer yes.’ He looked at Wahir’s expectant face, then took off the metal skullcap, which was becoming uncomfortably warm. He rolled it around in his hands and continued almost at a whisper. ‘If I wanted to, I could destroy the emperor, reduce his palace to dust and scatter his armies to the four winds. But it’s always been easier to destroy than to build.’

‘You could do all that?’ asked Wahir.

‘Yes.’ Benzamir got up and walked away, and stared out into the eastern desert, towards the invisible mountains he might have called home.

Hesitantly Alessandra joined him. ‘You don’t look like that kind of man.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you boasting?’

‘No,’ said Benzamir. ‘We need to find some shade, or we’re all going to fry to a crisp, godlike powers or not. We need to clean your head up too. Come on, let’s get back to the carpet.’

As he stalked away back to where Wahir was waiting, Alessandra called after him. ‘I’ve made you angry. I’m sorry.’

‘No,’ he said without turning, ‘not angry. Sad. Every time someone finds out who I am and what I can do, they stop being my friend and start being my follower. I just didn’t expect that.’

         

They found shade in the shadow of a cliff wall after a short flight over the desert, past the point where the surface was merely stony and into the endless sand sea. There was a spring that trickled water down the rock and collected in a cool, dark chasm before it vanished in the blinding heat of the day.

Benzamir summoned another bright cylinder, but this time he pointed up into the sky to show where it came from. They followed where his finger led, and high up in the deep blue zenith a line of light was being drawn. Where the light faded, a tail of smoke appeared before being blown ragged by the wind. Then even the light went out.

The object plummeted to the ground a decent distance away, smacking into the ground in a high-thrown shower of sand. Benzamir went out to collect its contents.

After he’d brought back a single slim case, he said to Alessandra: ‘You’ll need to come out into the light where I can see what I’m doing.’

‘What are you going to do to me?’ she asked.

‘Stop you from dying. For today at least.’

She sat on a ledge of sandstone and looked fearfully at the case Benzamir opened. ‘What is that symbol? The red diamond?’

‘Traditional to my people. It means medicine.’ He was building a machine out of separate parts, twisting and pushing them until they clicked. ‘Tilt your head over away from me.’

She complied, trembling. He pressed the machine to her neck and she felt a sharp scratch.

Firstly, ‘Ah! What was that?’ Then, ‘I feel strange.’ Finally, ‘I…Benzamir?’

Alessandra leaned back, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

Benzamir put the gas gun back on the lid of the case, picked up a pair of long-handled scissors and started cutting the hair away from her wound. He worked quickly, cleaning the blood off in thin red rivers that stained the surrounding stone and applying a thin square of wet material straight from a sealed can. Then he reloaded the gas gun and shot her again in the neck. He moved her back into the shade and left her to sleep off the anaesthetic.

‘Master?’ asked Said. ‘What are you going to do with her now?’

‘I don’t know. What did you have in mind?’ Benzamir filled his water skin from the spring and upturned it over his head.

‘She knows of your powers. What’s to stop her from talking?’

‘Nothing, I suppose. Gratitude?’

‘Everyone has their price, master,’ said Said. ‘She used to be a slave. She knows that money will keep her free.’

Benzamir was silent in thought. When he looked up again, he asked, ‘Where’s Wahir?’

‘Exploring. The king who sent you wants you to find your enemies. Already some of the Ethiopian soldiers have seen your flying carpet, and your–you know…’ He pointed his finger, except that when Said did it, nothing blew up. ‘There have been two of your wondrous deliveries from the heavens. Now you’ve healed this Ewer woman with your magic, and master, it’s dangerous.’

Benzamir put his hands to his face and slid them slowly down to his chin. ‘I know. It’s all very different to what I imagined. I thought I’d wander around, pick up clues, find the traitors and take them back. It’s a lot more complicated than that, Said.’

‘It’s like ripples, master.’

‘Ripples?’

‘Yes, a stone in a pool. The movement spreads outwards until all the surface is disturbed.’

After a while Benzamir said: ‘You know, you can be quite wise at times.’

‘Thank you, master. You have two choices. Stop making waves, or—’

‘Go faster, so that the waves will always be behind me.’

‘Yes.’

‘We need to find Wahir before he breaks his neck. I’ll take the carpet and have a look. Will you stay here with Alessandra?’

‘I’d rather not, master.’ Said looked away.

‘She’s unconscious. She can’t try and seduce you.’ Benzamir punched him on the arm. ‘It’s all right to like her. She is very pretty.’

Said folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. ‘She’s an infidel woman.’

‘And plenty of those never found their way into a harem, did they?’ Benzamir started for the carpet, still basking in the sun.

‘She could still ruin everything for you.’

‘Not if we run fast enough.’ Benzamir dug out the skullcap and slipped it on. The carpet rose into the air, turned lazily and met him halfway. He stepped on and sat cross-legged, just like he’d seen in the picture books. He ought to have a turban; instead, he wound his headscarf around his face until only a slit remained for his eyes.

The front of the carpet dipped as if bowing, then steadily accelerated until Benzamir’s kaftan was snapping and cracking behind him. Loose sand billowed up in his wake, two perfect spirals that arced upwards and fell back with balletic grace.

He turned, hard and tight. To his left, the desert. To his right, the sky. Straight ahead, the horizon running in a line up to down. Then he came back, gaining height, rising up the rocks like an eagle in an updraught.

Wahir was on top of the plateau, poking around inside a ruin, a black arched back with ribbing extending down into the dust.

‘Master, what is this? It looks like some great beast.’

‘It’s difficult to tell.’ Benzamir uncrossed his legs and found the ground. He patted one of the ribs, still upright but carved and worn by sand and time. He walked underneath it, and along the spine, picking his way over the half-buried debris until he was outside again. Diggers had been here before them. Only the ribs remained. ‘It’s an aeroplane,’ he said.

‘A what?’

‘A flying machine. These struts are some sort of composite, carbon tubes and resin. It used to have a skin, and wings, though they seem to have fallen off. There were seats, rows of them, all the way down. People travelled from city to city in them.’

‘Is it a User machine?’ Wahir got down on his hands and knees and scraped away some dirt near Benzamir’s feet. ‘Will there be anything working still?’

Benzamir got down beside Wahir, though he didn’t attempt to dig. ‘Listen. Seeing things like this, and your reaction to them. It worries me.’

‘Why, master?’ Wahir sifted dust and wind-worn grit through his fingers.

‘Because it doesn’t inspire you. You don’t look on this and wonder how you could make it for yourself. You just wonder at the power and foolishness of the Users, see what there is to scavenge and walk away, shaking your head.’ He saw Wahir’s reaction and quickly added: ‘It’s not just you. It’s everyone. Anything the Users left behind is impossible for you to recreate. So no one tries. Someone should be trying.’

‘Master, I know your ways are different to ours—’

‘It’s like Selah. He finds it easier to get his steel from the diggers, and in a generation there’ll be not a single man who remembers how to make it for himself. It’ll be lost. Not for ever, but lost all the same.’

Wahir stopped scooping and sieving. ‘What’s wrong, master?’

Benzamir unwrapped his headscarf and let the end dangle in the dirt. He gave a sad little smile. ‘You see, Wahir, this is what temptation is like. You know the story of Eden, the apple, what it represents? The traitors: they fell. They gave in, for all the best motives, for all the wrong reasons. Me? I can feel it too. The push, the voice telling me that it’s right to eat.’

‘When you talk like this, I don’t understand. Is it because I’m too young?’

‘No. It’s because I’m always trying to hide the truth from you.’ Benzamir sighed and slapped the carbon fibre support with his hand. It shivered for a moment. ‘I’m trying to save you from this, from all the works of the Users. And suddenly I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do any more.’

He got up abruptly, and the flying carpet glided over towards them.

‘I trust you,’ said Wahir, ‘whatever it is you have to decide.’

‘Thank you,’ said Benzamir, kicking up dust with his sandals. ‘I hope I won’t let you down.’

‘Master, where are we going now?’

‘Something that Said and me were talking about–how the faster we go, the less chance there is of getting caught. So: the Kenyan emperor wants his User book back. I’m rather interested in having a look at it myself. Let’s go and find it before he does.’