Chapter Text
There was something about that night which made my hackles rise. The sun had been as bright as ever in the sky, but as soon as it had touched the horizon a great shadow seemed to fall across the world in an instant. I raised my eyes to the western sky and saw nothing but the deepening purple of twilight; the sun was already gone, swallowed by the night. The days are growing shorter already, I told myself, though I knew that it could not explain what I had seen. My mule brayed nervously, but I urged her on through the darkening plains.
It was then that I saw the city, shining in the ghostly light of the crescent moon. Harran’s walls rose from the fields, curving and graceful, and though only a sliver of moonlight was present, the pale stones of the city seemed to magnify and reflect every beam. My mule had frozen, but I did not goad it on; I simply sat still in shivering awe. At last I had reached Harran, city of sorcerers and sages, the last place in the Dar al-Islam where the old faith had never died. Thabit did not do it justice in his descriptions, I thought, though perhaps he had his reasons for not speaking of this place.
I noticed then that the world around me was unnaturally quiet, although I could not remember when sound had stopped. In the silence I felt that I could almost hear the old man’s dry voice whispering in my ear: You were never the most learned of my pupils, al-Basri, but you were always the most curious, the most willing to delve into the dark places. Soon I will be gone, and when I am gone there will be nothing left for you in Baghdad. If you thirst for secrets worthy of study, then you must head to Harran, and find the truth I proved myself unworthy of so many years ago.
I had stayed with him until the very end, as he gave his last predictions and crafted charms of good fortune for my journey. When at last we disciples gathered at his bedside, he grasped my arm with withered fingers and begged me to stay after all the others had left. From beneath his robes he produced a scroll case and pressed into my palms. “For… Qarnas.” He coughed. “Give it to him when you reach Harran. Tell him that I’m sorry, that I should have stayed…”
Those were the last words I ever heard from him. I kept the scroll close through the next few months, as I sold my property and my precious few valuables to prepare for my journey, but never once did I open it. I carried it with me, tucked in amongst my bags of books, as I had made my plodding way along the Euphrates over the last seven days. Now that I had reached the threshold of my destination, my mule was refusing to carry me further.
All of a sudden I felt tired, bone-achingly tired. Just the rigours of the road. I’ll be able to sleep when I reach the university. And yet that thought gave me no comfort. Even though I felt exhaustion dragging down my eyelids, the mere thought of sleeping filled me with a primal dread I could not comprehend. My mule brayed and tried to turn back. Perhaps the beast is right. Animals often show a wisdom that proud men lack. I instantly felt ashamed of this thought. I have come this far to fulfill Thabit’s last wish. I will not let a frightened creature stop me now. I dismounted and pulled my mule forward.
I felt oddly light and formless, as though I was moving in a dream. The stars in the heavens above seemed to be guiding me onward, pulling me towards the gates of that dreadful city. Half-conscious, I stumbled across a bridge over a broad, shining canal that encircled the city and found myself at the gate.
There was a lantern shining in the guard tower, and a face poked out to look down at me. “No entry this time of night”, the guard shouted in uncouth, accented Arabic, his finger pointing to the west. “You’ll find an inn a few miles that way”.
The sense of strange, oppressive exhaustion was weighing me down, and when I finally managed to speak it was almost a cry for help. “Please, I’m too tired to go on. Tell them that Thabit ibn Qurra, the great scholar, sent me here with a letter for the university”.
After a moment of silence, the guard ducked back in through the window. I heard a short, muffled conversation in Syriac before the guard’s head re-emerges. “Wait here!” he commanded before dashing off.
My vision grew hazy, so I leaned against the mule for support, raising my clouded eyes to the heavens. I could dimly see the stars and planets I had spent so many long hours studying. I looked upon the thin bow of the waxing moon, and scanned the starry expanse to realize that it was regarding dark and accursed Saturn. An ill omen. I was jolted from the edge of sleep by the sound of the gates creaking open. The guard had returned, and not alone. Walking beside him was a black-robed man, tall but bent with age. He wore his grey hair and beard long and unbound, swinging past his waist, and the starlight glinted in his eyes far brighter than it should have. He would have reminded me of Thabit, had he not regarded me with an unimpressed sneer.
“Well? What does that wretch have to say to us?”
“What?” I murmured, my head still foggy with dreams.
“Thabit, you idiot. I was told you bore a letter from him to our university.”
“The great scholar is dead, sir. I have brought you his last message.” I fished around in my robe for the scroll case, pulling it out with as much flourish as I could muster. The tall man flicked it open and began to read. In the low light I could just make out the disdain on his face give way to puzzlement, and then finally understanding. Without warning, he grabbed me by my chin and looked directly into my eyes. If I had been in my right mind I would have shoved him away, but in my mental haze I felt paralyzed. He studied me for a second before raising his eyes to the stars above and nodding.
“So this is his idea of an apology, eh? One last act of repentance for his failure… Well, I won’t complain.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, and his expression became almost grandfatherly. “My name is Qarnas ibn Quzah”, he said in a gentler voice. “And your name, judging from this letter, is Bashir ibn Jawad al-Basri. Am I to understand that you have been sent here to study astrology?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I am sorry for my outburst. Thabit parted with us on bad terms, so I was expecting a message of mockery.” My eyes were drifting closed, but I managed a weak nod. Qarnas chuckled. “You must be exhausted. Our fair city can have that effect on newcomers. Come, I will take you to the university. I’m sure we’ll find a place for you.”
My mind was flooded with relief at the thought of sinking into a bed, even if it would only be a meagre student’s cot, but there was still a voice in the back of my head telling me that this weariness was not natural. For a brief moment I felt that the last shreds of myself were fighting against the alien tide of darkness, telling me that whatever had taken hold of my body should be feared. Sleep will give you no comfort in this place, screamed my subconscious, but it was growing fainter. I gave in to the surging dark, and my fears were all snuffed out in an instant. I could think of nothing but sinking into slumber, and followed Qarnas as he guided me through the gate.
The city around me was bathed in bright moonlight, despite the moon being barely a crescent, and the silvery glow seemed to make the buildings around me insubstantial. It was like I was already in a dream, and the only true thing was the star-strewn sky above. My mule was led away from me at some point, although I do not know when; everything was a blur. One moment I was being led towards the huge minaret that dominated the centre of the city, the next I was walking down a long hallway, and then finally I found myself alone in a small bedroom. I blearily looked around, but could find no sign of Qarnas anywhere. The room was frugal, but no less than I had come to expect of student’s quarters, and I was just about to collapse into the bed when I noticed a shape on the windowsill. A cat? A bird?
No. As I took a step towards the window, I realized that the shape on the sill was a small statue made of clay. I felt a reflexive disgust in the pit of my stomach. An idol. Are they mocking me, or attacking my faith? Do they think that if I am surrounded by their heathenry I will come to accept it? All at once the lurid rumours about this city rushed back to my mind, of Harranians sacrificing children to the spirits of the stars or summoning the demons of the sky. I raised my hand to smash the unholy thing, but one thought held me back. What would Thabit think of this? I knew him to be an infidel, but he was the wisest man I ever met. He told me that I would need to be curious if I wished to be an astrologer like him, that I would have to delve into the darkness. If all I feel for this place is hatred, I will never learn. Cautiously, I knelt down to inspect the figure.
The idol was simple but well-crafted, clad in a rough clay robe of which every fold was visible. It had the proportions of a child, with a large head and short limbs, but its pose was anything but childlike. In its right hand it held a dagger with a twisted blade, while in its left it gripped a fresh severed head by the hair. Its face was covered by a placid mask, blank except for six eye holes behind which only darkness could be seen. At the base of the mask I could barely make out a small, fanged mouth. My eyes were drawn upward to the crescent moon in the sky, which had settled above the idol’s head like a pair of horns…
The world was washed away beneath the tides of that silver light. Room, window, and city all faded, until I was left with nothing but the void, the idol, and the starry heavens above. The statue had grown; it now stood as tall as a young boy, and its clay form had softened and transformed into grey flesh. Something else had changed as well, but I did not notice what until too late. The figure took my chin in its small left hand, and drew its masked face close to mine to look me in the eyes. I looked beneath the holes of its mask and saw nothing but an abyss of stars. Then I felt a cold slash of pain in my neck, and realized that the change I had not noticed was the emptiness in the creature’s left hand.
My body fell into the blackness below, while my head was held level with the idol’s star-filled eyes. Its little fanged mouth was grinning with childish glee. “Much of what you were must be left behind if you are to take the road ahead.” it said in deep, solemn tones that did not match its body. I tried to respond, but found I had no lungs with which to speak. “But more will be gained if you can seize it. The Darkened Heavens have a plan for you. Will you be worthy of it?”
The idol turned to face the horned moon and held my head aloft. All around me the wheeling stars spelled out hymns in a language I do not know. The Moon was in the Mansion of Al-Sharatain, the hour of beginnings, but it was conjunct with cruel Saturn, and I knew that this was a dark sign for days to come. I stared at Saturn, highest and coldest of the planets, and I felt myself ascending into the frigid firmament. Its light shone brightly for a moment before a shadow crossed the heavens, a monstrous shape borne on the wings of a crow, clad in black robes and bearing a scythe. Those dark wings unfurled until their shadow blotted out the stars, and all that was left was the shining crescent ahead. It was growing closer. I felt my mind crack beneath its weight, and the cracks were flooded with its ancient song…
I woke up to the song of the muezzin and sunlight streaming down on me, curled in the fetal position beneath the window. The omens I had seen in my dreams were already melting away, leaving behind a sense of disquiet and the knowledge that something was lurking in Harran, something my mind could not yet fathom. Was this what Thabit had sent me to find, the dark truth he had alluded to? I must tread carefully here. I can’t let my thirst for knowledge shake my faith…. Afraid of what I might see, I raised my head to peer over the windowsill.
The idol was gone. Perhaps it had never existed in the first place, and I had simply conjured it up from my fevered imagination. But I felt a cold ache in my throat, and when I raised my fingers to my neck I thought I could feel a faint, unfamiliar scar.