Hammer of Witches (32 page)

The girl shook her head and hugged her spiny rock tighter. “I can’t, Bal! I’m a genie, and genies can’t be Storytellers! I can’t even grant wishes!”

“Exactly! You’re a
half-genie,
which makes you half-human! Arabuko said any human can be a Storyteller, so you should be able to summon a golem!” Sure, he also said it would take training and work, but I had to hope Jinni could figure it out.

My own golem lumbered forward and cuffed the karkadann on the ear with one of its clay fists. Doing my best to hang on as he pirouetted around the beast, I shouted, “You already know the story of the golem, Jinni! Now just figure out what it’s about!”

Jinniyah sobbed back, “Why does it have to be about anything?”

Catalina’s golem rammed headfirst into the karkadann’s front legs, sending it hurtling off course. The karkadann tumbled across the room and lay there, stunned. Catalina hung onto the back of the golem’s neck and called up to Jinni, “You can do it, Jinniyah! Please try, at least!”

I said, “I’ll help you, Jinni! It’s a story about a protector. The golem and its master share a bond, like me and Diego! Or like God and the Jews!”

If anything that made Jinni despair even more. “Oh, Bal. What do I know about Jews?”

On the back of my golem, I wiped my face with one hand. “Forget the Jews. The bond the golem has with its master is the same bond you have with your god. That’s the truth of the golem. That’s why you have to write ‘truth’ to make the golem come alive.
Ameth
 —”

Catalina’s golem cut in front of me. “No, don’t listen to him, Jinniyah! The story is about life and death! You write
ameth
to make it live, because the Word is life. But to make it die, all you need to do is take away the A, remember?
Ameth:
life.
Meth:
death. That’s the truth of it: the truth that life and death are only a letter away from one another. And that’s why the golem is made of clay: ‘Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, clay to clay,’ and so on?”

Typical Catalina. Of course she had to read the story in the most depressing way possible. “Not every story is about death, you know!” I shouted over to her.

“This one is!” Catalina retorted. By now the stunned karkadann had managed to get itself on its feet, and it shook its head again as if to clear it. Before long it would charge at our golems again, and this time I wasn’t sure if our clay monsters would survive the attack.

Maybe Catalina’s right. Life and death
are
only a letter apart.

And it hit me. “Jinni!” I shouted as my golem knelt below her. “Listen — we’re both right! The story is about life and death —
and
it’s about protection! The golem protects the Jews
because
they have the power of life and death over him. The Jews created him, and they can destroy him just as fast. With nothing more than a word, Jinni! Remember what you said to me back in the forest? About genies and Allah?”

Jinniyah turned slowly from her stalactite. “When you create something out of nothing, you’re allowed to destroy it
when you want to! Oh, Bal, you’re right! It’s the same! Me and the golem . . . We’re the same! It’s the same story!”

A beam of light shot out of the rock near Jinniyah’s head. Then two more light shafts blazed out from under the two golems.

“What’s going on?” I said.

Catalina pointed at the ground. “Infante, look!”

What I saw filled me with terror. Our golems were melting into pools of clay.

For once I didn’t need to think. I made a mad leap off my melting golem and shouted, “Catalina! Run!”

We sprinted across cave, as the three lights surged down the floor toward a point in the center of the room. When the beams met they exploded into a blinding white flame. Shielding my eyes, I pushed Catalina behind a stalagmite.

Catalina gasped for breath. “Infante . . . you . . . listened to me. About the story.”

“I know. I’m as shocked as you are.”

The ground shook. Catalina peeked around the stalagmite, and her mouth fell open.

In the middle of the cave the puddles of clay that our golems had melted into combined into one large pool. The pool began to thicken and grow, first into a mound and then into a mountain of clay maybe fifty feet tall. Arms grew out of the mountain, and legs, and finally a head. It was a golem — a new, enormous golem.

“Did Jinni do that?” I asked, amazed.

Catalina answered, “I think all of us did.”

The karkadann saw the new golem and snuffed with disdain. It roared, reared up, and stampeded with all its might at the golem’s massive leg.

A smash rang through the cavern as the karkadann’s horn shattered against the golem’s foot. With one giant hand the golem scooped up the de-horned unicorn. The golem considered the karkadann for a moment before lobbing it across the cave. It smashed against the cave’s back wall and shattered into a million tinkling pieces.

It took a second for my mind to accept what had happened. It was over. The karkadann was gone.

“I release you from my service,” I said to the golem. The clay beast turned slowly to look down on Jinni and Catalina.

Catalina said, “Maybe since we all created it together, we all have to send it away at once. I release you, golem.”

Jinniyah soared down from her stalactite and flew in front of the golem’s face. “Thanks, golem! You can go home now.” The golem’s angry clay mouth turned up into a smile as he disappeared from sight.

“Bal, I did it!” Jinni exclaimed. “Did you see? I helped you summon that golem!”

“That’s great, Jinni. Now come on. Let’s go before Amir summons something else.” I felt for the dagger Rodrigo Sanchez had given me and started running across the cave.

“Slow down!” Jinni said, starting to follow me. Before she could reach me, a boulder the size of the karkadann’s head slammed down between us.

“Jinni!” I screamed.

“Don’t worry!” she exclaimed from behind the boulder. “I’m all right!”

Catalina ran over to her and cried, “We have to go! The cave is collapsing!”

I whirled around. Through the light of Jinni’s hair I could see the thin fracture that the karkadann had made when it hit the wall earlier. The fracture had widened and was currently snaking up the rock face. The floor trembled beneath me. I had a feeling that even if I did succeed in bringing my father out to Caonabó and Anacaona, they wouldn’t be happy that I’d pretty much destroyed their holy place. I hoped the main part that the shamans used survived our fight with the karkadann.

“Watch out!” Catalina cried, looking up with horror at the ceiling of the cave.

I threw myself out of the path of a stalactite that fell and crashed before my feet. The fissure in the wall was growing faster and faster, zigzagging up the cave wall to the ceiling. The rocky spines that dotted the top of the cave shivered and rained down on us from above. I dodged the spears of rock as they plunged down in front of me and dived into the scar in the rock wall.

I heard Jinniyah scream,
“Bal!”
as an elephant-sized boulder fell between us, blocking the entrance to the tunnel. I could hear more falling rocks rumbling beyond the boulder, but I could no longer hear Catalina or Jinni.

“Jinni!” I called, banging on the boulder with a fist. “Jinni! Catalina! Can you hear me?” There was nothing. “You two get out of there,” I called, probably to no one. I held my knife tighter and said, “I’ll try to find another way out.”

I swallowed and walked down the rocky passageway, in the direction Jinni said would lead to my father.

I let my fingers trail
along the walls of the tunnel as I made my way through. They were damp and cool. A chill breeze blew through the passage, carrying sea spray. There was a river nearby, or a waterfall. I could hear its roar.

The tunnel emptied me into a circular room crowned with spiny thorns. Dusty afternoon light filtered in from a stony window and wrapped itself around the stalagmites, shaping them.

A flapping sound. My head shot up.

Not far from me the hameh circled above a stooped figure partially hidden by the shadow of a tower of stone. The figure wore a black cloak with gold embroidered edges, which was held in place by a silver brooch. Underneath that cloak the man wore a long silk robe, with buttons leading down from a high collar to a silver belt. The hameh settled on the man’s shoulder, let out a mild squawk, and ruffled its feathers to shake away the dampness of the cave.

I wet my lips. Amir al-Katib. Not a legend. A man. The cloaked man bent in shadows before me.

I had come here to talk, but what was I supposed to say? “I’m Baltasar Infante, your son. Please stop trying to kill me”? He could run me through before I could get out a word. My eyes flicked up at the hameh. There was that bird to deal with too. My shoulder spasmed at the thought. I could summon the sleeping princess, have her tie al-Katib to one of the spiny rocks. And I could take down the hameh with some flying creature. A rukh, maybe. Or Catalina’s Furies. Or —

A deep voice cut through my thoughts. “Welcome.”

The voice’s owner lifted his head. Hameh wings masked his face except for his long graying beard. The angle of his body revealed his exhaustion. Summoning so many creatures had drained him. I could see his hands, lit by the invading afternoon light. They were dark hands, Moorish hands. Hands that murdered Spanish soldiers not much older than myself. And yet they were old hands, wrinkled hands, hands bent with arthritis. In the legends al-Katib had always been a man of perpetual youth. Only now I remembered he was an old man, old as Diego or even older.

Seeing me, the hameh flapped above its master and gave a violent shriek, announcing its attack. It was about to dive at me when the old man — the legend — said, “No. Wait.”

The hameh obeyed. Narrowing its yellow eyes, it landed on a nearby stalagmite and bristled.

“Come,” al-Katib said to me. “Step out from the shadows so I can see you.”

I held back. That was an Andalusian accent. My accent. I had assumed a man with the name of al-Katib would speak with the lilt of a Moroccan or an Arab. In my mind I scolded myself for the thought. Of course this man spoke like I did. He had grown up in Palos, after all. Like I did.

“Come. I wish to look upon the face of my assassin.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I felt rooted to the spot, full of so many different emotions I couldn’t think what to do next.

Al-Katib made the decision for me. “I understand. You will not step out of the shadows so that I, a man nearly blind from age, can see you. I had not thought one with the power to destroy the world would be so petty. Very well, so be it.” The man planted his feet firmly in the ground. “You will soon see what a half-blind man can do.”

The man stomped forward, making a furious motion with his hands, and the word
M
ANTÍCORA
 — manticore — bled through the air before them. A vicious leonine beast with the spiny, whipping tail of a dragon began to materialize in the cave in front of the letters.

I barely noticed it. At that moment all I could focus on were those wrinkled Moorish hands.

They were trembling.

Al-Katib fell forward and caught himself. He was weak. He could die. “No.” I threw my hand forward. “Titivillus —!”

A shocked expression formed on al-Katib’s face as the black imp Titivillus crashed through the atmosphere. The inky creature rocketed past the summoned lion and attached himself to the letters that read
M
ANTÍCORA
. Titivillus bared his sharp claws and plucked the letters out of the air, folded them together, and tossed each one back into place. Now the
M
ANTÍCORA
read
R
OMÁNTICA
. Immediately the manticore’s snapping mouth went soft. Docile as a kitten, the beast romped over to the shocked al-Katib, licked the man’s face, and rubbed up against his side. Al-Katib let out a disbelieving laugh. “I release you from my service,” he said, and the manticore disappeared.

“I release you, Titivillus,” I said, and the imp faded into nothing. His near-voiceless cackle followed, melting into silence.

Al-Katib touched his cheekbone where the manticore had licked him. “That was clever.” His voice was soft but resonant. “Titivillus, hmm? I haven’t seen that one in — heh — quite some time.”

I took a few small steps toward him. “Sir, I —”

“So! Titivillus. I wonder. Have I been defeated by a monk? Or a diligent scribe, scratching away at his papers, making ink stains on his wrists between wizards’ duels?”

No trace of malice lined his voice. No, no emotion at all. “Well? To whom do I owe this pleasure?”

I glanced down at my reflection in my knife.
He looks like me. Same pointed nose, same dusky skin. Same slanted smile. Diego always said I looked like my father. He was right.

“I’m Baltasar,” I said to my reflection. “Baltasar Infante.”

The old man eyeballed me. Laughed. “Impossible. Baltasar Infante is in Spain with his aunt and uncle.”

I stepped farther into the light so al-Katib could see me. “No. He’s here. I’m here.”

There were tears in my voice, though I didn’t know where they came from. The man reached back to steady himself on a stalagmite. “It is a trick. A spell. You are an ifrit. A djinn in disguise. You . . .”