The Bones of the Old Ones (Dabir and Asim) Read Free Page A

upon him.” Her head rose minutely, but proudly, and with good reason, for the general had been well-known in his day as a brave defender of the eastern border. “As to those who follow me…” Her lovely brow furrowed. “Their leader is Koury, and he commands powerful men.”
    “Is he, also, from Isfahan?”
    Najya shook her head. “I do not think so. I had never seen him before, or the one he called Gazi. The speech and manner of both are strange.”
    “Gazi,” Dabir repeated, and I knew from his more serious tone that the name meant something to him. “What do Gazi and Koury look like?”
    Najya thought for a moment. “Koury is tall with light eyes. His hair is graying, and he has a noble manner. Gazi is…” Her lips pursed beneath her veil. “He is a dreadful man. He is short and broad but swift. He smiles often but it is not a pleasant sight.” She, too, had deduced that Dabir recognized the names. “Have you heard of them?”
    “They sound familiar,” Dabir admitted. “Why did they take you from Isfahan?”
    “I think they wanted me to find something, but I know not what. Or why.”
    “To find something?” Dabir asked, puzzled.
    “That is what they were talking of when I came around. They thought I knew where something was.” Here she paused, as if uncertain how to proceed.
    Dabir glanced over to me before encouraging her to continue. “Perhaps it would be best if you tell us what you remember. Start with the kidnapping.”
    Najya breathed deeply. I sensed that she gathered not her memories, but her courage. “My husband and I were walking to the central square in the evening,” she said tightly. “We heard footsteps behind us, and then a demand that I come.”
    “Who demanded?” Dabir asked.
    “The man I learned later was Gazi. My husband drew his sword and fought them, but they…” Her voice trailed off and she did not speak for a time. When she spoke again her tone was low and dull. “He was killed.”
    It sounded as though there was more to be learned about the battle, but Dabir did not ask further. “I am sorry for your loss,” he told her.
    I usually remained silent when Dabir questioned folk for information, but a comment from me seemed appropriate this time. “As am I.”
    She glanced only briefly at me, then bowed her head slightly to us in acknowledgment. “Gazi fought as no warrior I have ever seen,” she added.
    This in itself was an unusual observation from a woman, and the look I traded with Dabir did not go unnoticed by her. “I have seen many bouts,” she explained defensively. “My husband was an officer, my father a general.”
    Dabir nodded. “Go on.”
    “I tried to run, but Koury’s men were too fast. Too strong. They covered my eyes and forced a drink upon me. A sour drink. I did not swallow but it burned my mouth and I grew weak. The world spun for a long while.” She shook her head, troubled. “I really only have a few vague memories from then until I arrived here.”
    I could well believe that she was the daughter of a military man, owing to the clarity and precision of her account.
    “What happened when you arrived in Mosul?” Dabir asked.
    Her look was sharp. “You mistake me. I do not remember entering the city. Suddenly I was upright and conscious in the street. Koury was there, talking with me—as though he had been speaking for a while and I should know exactly what he meant.”
    “What was he saying?”
    Again Najya shook her head. “There was some talk of finding a bone. I pretended I understood him, and when we neared the palace, I fled into the crowd.”
    “A bone?” Buthanyna repeated, incredulous.
    No one acknowledged her; it was not her place to speak, and she seemed to realize her etiquette breach because she shrank lower, as if to disappear.
    “And that was when you found Rami,” Dabir prompted.
    “Yes.”
    “How long ago was this?”
    “No more than an hour. Less, I think. Your boy was very brave,” she added. “He led