Arabesque

Sarn

"Tomorrow they're going to cut off your head, old man."

Ciris Sarn looked out into the night through the high narrow window of the old man's cell. Three moons hung in the dark sky; Cilíín, a milky crescent, shone brightest, illuminating a feeble, sickly figure draped in threadbare rags. The old man leaned against the wall, seated on a crude stool, the lone piece of furniture in the cramped cell. The intruder jarred him awake.

"It is all I have left to give," the old man said. "They have already taken my hands and feet."

He held out the stumps of his arms, sliding his leg stumps across a floor of sand and pebbles. He moved closer to the bars that separated them.

Sarn felt little remorse. The man was a criminal. Just after dawn, in the cold morning air, he would be taken out to the square and executed. That was the law.

"Did you bring the wine?" the old man asked.

"Yes," Sarn said. "Two bottles."

"Good. Very good."

Sarn retrieved a bottle from the folds of his black juma robes and uncorked it with the same lock-pick he had used to break in.

"Sorry, no glasses tonight," Sarn said, a barely perceptible smile lingering on his lips.

"Do not worry, my friend. I'm sure you will think of something."

Crouching down, Sarn passed the bottle between the bars and pressed it to the old man's lips.

Sarn let him get a small taste before pulling it back.

"Do you have it?" Sarn asked.

The old man nodded.

"Show me."

"Please. I promise. Give me another drink."

Sarn relented, allowing himself to play the game; he tipped the bottle again.

The old man sighed. "A strong red."

"Enough of the mirage. Now tell me," Sarn snapped, grasping the bars.

"You, too, are a fool, then. Did you not look into my eyes and take notice when you first saw me?"

Angered, Sarn nearly let the wine bottle slip from his fingers. "I did not have to come tonight," he said. "Remember that."

Lurching toward the iron bars, the old man rasped, "Look, damn you!"

Sarn had no choice but to continue the morbid charade. Steeling himself, he looked past the old man's haggard, bearded face, filthy hair, disheveled clothes, and sickly pallor. He tried to ignore the stench of piss and shit, putrid breath and brown, rotted teeth.

Sarn focused on the old man's eyes. One of them was false.

As recognition dawned in Sarn's eyes, the old man nodded and cackled. "I knew you would see the truth! Jehal did it for me! Burned it right out, he did!" He paused. Sarn waited. "There wasn't much pain. I'd endured so much already. He did a fine job with the marble, I'd say. They never even guessed it."

"How proud you must have felt," Sarn sneered, but his curiosity was piqued.

The old man squeezed his face between the bars. "Take it out! I'd do it myself, but you know I can't..." He raised the scarred stump of his right arm.

"What the fuck for?"

"You know why," the old man replied. He looked hard at Sarn. "Don't feign ignorance with me; and don't insult me. Jehal hollowed out this glass orb. And that is where you will find it."

Sarn didn't hesitate. He pressed his thumb against the old man's eye socket, and with one quick motion, plucked the marble

out. He dug the hidden object out of the hollow and palmed it.

"Now, give me back my eye," the old man said.

Sarn fitted the marble back into the old man's dank socket, fighting back a wave of revulsion.

He looked down at his prize: a small button with ridges carved in its surface, and five thin strands of what appeared to be hair woven in the buttonholes.

"Do not lose it," the old man warned. "I went to great pains to find this for you."

Knowing full well that it was the key to his freedom, Sarn carefully pocketed the object, then retrieved the second wine bottle from his juma and removed the cork. Sarn would let the old man drink his fill. That, at least, he deserved.

After some minutes, the old man's head nodded into oblivion, both bottles empty at his feet.

Sarn leaned in closer. "When morning comes and you pray to Ala'i for the last time," he whispered to the old man, "remember, father... God is great."