KoC: The Task Begins in Earnest

Suppressing the cough rising in his throat, Kaif stood behind the Teacher, staring inertly at the motionless cellar door. The bowels of Kerak were dusty with age and disuse, and their feet had stirred the powdery dirt into the air. The passage was narrow and dark, its ceiling so low that Kaif had to keep his head down to avoid colliding with any jutting masonry. Like the shrewd Greek soldiers before the gates of Troy, the Teacher and he were waiting for their Trojan Horse to open the door. The only difference was that their horse was a flesh-and-blood woman.

The Teacher made use of his waiting time patiently, standing still, upright and composed, unlike Kaif, who had leaned on the stone wall, fidgeting uncomfortably. Being the younger and more inexperienced of the two, had prepared himself for what he thought would be a difficult and taxing mission. Now, deprived of action for the better part of the hour, he felt his blood boil.

“How much longer?” asked Kaif, clearing his throat.

“Shh!” The Teacher leaned against the ancient, brittle wood of the door. It hardly needed to be opened, thought Kaif. The Teacher’s weight alone was enough to cause it to buckle inwards.

The older man leaned away. “She is coming,” he informed Kaif, without looking at him.

About time, Kaif almost said, but he knew that it wasn’t al-Zarqa who was late. The Teacher, always a vigilant and careful man, had insisted on their early arrival. Kaif, being merely the manpower for the mission, was in no capacity to protest.

Kaif edged forward, keeping one hand on the rough hewn wall. The door opened partway, scraping the uneven dirt floor. The light of a torch cast a yellow glow on the wall, and Kaif was able to see, for the first time, that Kerak was founded upon little more than dry earth and rocks. He noted the fragile components carefully. The Sultan would want to hear of this later.

“Assalamu Alilkum Wa Rahmatulah Wa Barakatuh,” came al-Zarqa’s soft voice, beyond the door.

The Teacher was quick to respond. “Wa’Alaikumus Salam. Saniyah, my good child, you have served us well thus far. Allah bestows his mercy on those who serve him best.”

In the dark, Kaif rolled his eyes. The Teacher had a long winded way of improving his disciples’ morale. He hoped it wouldn’t take any longer.

He looked at Saniyah, whose pretty eyes were rapt in the Teacher’s presence. The two of them were the very images of piety and dedication to their divine purpose. She pushed the door open wider and allowed them in.

Kaif breathed the stale air deeply. His task had begun in earnest.