The Sign of the Scorpion Page 13

  It feels like we’re on a distant galaxy or the set of a science fiction movie.

  “This is the great cave I was telling you about,” said Tariq. “I know how to get out from here.”

  “That’s great,” said Zahra. “I was beginning to think we’d never find our way out.”

  “It’s so beautiful and peaceful here,” said Zaid. “It makes me think of the Companions of the Cave story in the Qur’an. The youths and their dog must have slept in a cave just like this one.”

  “They’re also known as the Sleepers of Ephesus,” said Adam. “Imagine waking up after such a long time and finding a different world.”

  From the great cave, Tariq led them on a straight course until they saw the unmistakable shine of daylight ahead. Excited now, they ran out of the opening. They emerged onto a rocky tract with towering gray hills and slanting rays of sunlight streaming from above.

  Tariq laughed joyfully. “Welcome to the Dukhan Hills.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad we escaped from the dungeon,” cried Zahra.

  Chapter Seventeen:

  The Woman in White

  Despite having to walk back to the castle after their arduous trek through the dungeon and caves, the teenagers were jubilant. They had found an escape route from the dark bowels of the castle. It gave them a sense of satisfaction to think they had outwitted their unknown enemy and emerged the victors of that skirmish.

  “Let’s not tell anyone about our discovery,” said Tariq. “Let whoever locked us in wonder how we escaped.”

  He kept them entertained with local Khaldunian legends of the Nawaf Desert as they trudged back to the castle.

  “I’d like to see the desert,” said Adam. “Especially the spot where Rashid fell.”

  The others endorsed the idea and Tariq agreed to take them there the following afternoon.

  “We’ll take the horses,” he said. “It will be good practice for you.”

  They returned to the castle via the gate in the paddock. The first person they saw was Hatem. The head groom looked startled to see them. I wonder if he had a hand in locking us in the dungeon? Layla waved cheekily at him for good measure and he inclined his head as they passed by. When they entered the inner courtyard and checked the door of the dungeon, they found it open.

  “What a mean trick,” said Tariq. “Whoever locked it has opened it now.”

  “Well, we have the last laugh,” said Zaid. “If they wanted to frighten us, they failed.”

  After a refreshing bath, Layla donned a floral aqua dress with a matching scarf and followed the others down to dinner. As they ate, she was surprised to hear Ghazala speaking in a hoarse voice. The older woman was wearing dark colors which only emphasized the peaky look of her face, the red tip of her nose, and the feverish brightness of her eyes.

  “Whatever happened to your voice, Ghazzy?” asked Suha.

  “It’s the air conditioning,” Ghazala croaked. “It’s given me a cold.”

  Had she lost her voice because of the air conditioning or had she lost it from screaming last night? Could she be the Woman in White?

  Layla voiced her suspicion to the others later when they met up in Zahra’s suite.

  “It could be any of the women, except for Jumana, Suha and Hala,” said Zaid. “That leaves Auntie Ghazala, Mrs. Haddad, the female servants or some unknown woman from Khaldun.”

  Adam said, “I can’t see Auntie Ghazala doing it and I don’t see why Mrs. Haddad would do it either. It must be one of the servants or a woman from Khaldun.”

  “It could even be our maid, Nura,” said Layla. “She’s certainly been acting suspicious, talking of evil and staring at the tower.”

  “What if the ghoul plans to come back tonight?” said Zahra. “We could lay in wait for her and be right there on the spot to catch her.”

  “I like that idea,” said Adam. “It might be a waste of time if she doesn’t show up but I’m willing to take that chance.”

  “It’s fine with me,” said Zaid.

  “Me too,” said Layla.

  “Since she shows up around midnight, let’s set our clocks to wake at eleven forty,” said Adam. “We should be hiding in the grove before twelve strikes.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink,” said Layla.

  Just before twelve, the teenagers took their positions in the grove, squatting behind the thick undergrowth and hoping they would not have long to wait. A crescent moon with glowing corona hung like a centerpiece from a sky festooned with a smattering of stars. The chirping of cicadas and the far-off howl of a jackal were the only sounds to be heard. The shadows of the trees swathed them in a safe cloak of darkness and the muggy night air was like warm breath on their cheeks.

  “Let’s hope we’re in luck tonight,” Zaid murmured. “I really hated getting out of bed.”

  “You can say that again,” said Layla. Contrary to her declaration of not being able to sleep a wink, she had fallen asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. She had credited their foray into the dungeon for her tiredness. Her eyes still felt a bit gritty though the night air had dispelled most of her grogginess.

  Layla shifted position, only to freeze when the sound of rustling foliage and the shuffling of feet came to their ears. They peeked through the undergrowth as someone emerged from the trees. But it was not the Woman in White. It was the Cloaked Man again. He was coming from the back of the grove and heading towards the inner courtyard. The darkness coupled with his voluminous dark cloak made it difficult to identify him.

  At a silent signal from Adam, they began to follow the cloaked figure. Through the trees and towards the arcade they kept him within sight until he came to the inner courtyard. Taking cover under an olive tree, they watched as he crossed the courtyard and headed to the servant quarters. He opened one of the doors with a key and stepped inside. As he turned in their direction to lock the door, the light of the lantern fell upon his scarred face.

  “Hatem,” Zahra breathed out. “He’s the Cloaked Man.”

  Above the murmur of the water fountain, they heard mewing and watched as Bilqis came slinking across the courtyard. The gleam from a lantern reflected off her eyes, turning them into glowing balls of fire. She came to a stop, her head up as she sniffed the air. She began to stalk towards one of the terra cotta urns. A small jerboa darted out from behind it and ran for dear life towards the orchard. With a ferocious snarl, Bilqis dashed after it, a silver-white streak of quivering fur. A figure at the back of the courtyard gave a muffled shriek as jerboa and cat ran past.

  “The Woman in White,” Layla exclaimed. “There she is.”

  “Come on, after her,” said Adam.

  As they ran towards her, the Woman in White turned her head and saw them. Picking up her gown, she took to her heels and raced towards the orchard. They pelted down the courtyard after her. She was almost at the edge of the dark wall of trees. The next moment, she stumbled and went sprawling to the ground.

  “We’ve got her,” Layla cried. Even as she spoke, the Woman in White scrambled to her feet and disappeared into the trees. One moment she was there and the next she was gone. After several minutes of searching, there was no sign of her.

  “She must have taken off her white clothes, so she could hide in the darkness,” said Zaid. “We’d better go back. We can’t outwait her.”

  “We were so close to getting her,” Zahra lamented. “Just a few more seconds and we would have caught her.”

  Bitterly disappointed, they conceded defeat and returned to bed.

  Alone with Tariq at breakfast the next morning, they took turns telling him in hushed tones of their adventure last night. Jumana entered and Layla noticed at once that the older woman was walking with a slight limp. An image of the Woman in White tripping on the ground last night came to her mind. But no, Jumana could not be the Woman in White. Th
e fake ghoul had been around before Jumana came on the scene. All the same, it seemed suspicious that she should be limping after the Woman in White fell last night.

  Chapter Eighteen:

  In the Nawaf Desert

  For their trip to the Nawaf Desert that afternoon, they wore comfortable riding gear and each of them carried a water bottle. Besides their safety helmets, they also wore dark sunglasses. Tariq had requested a picnic from the kitchen. It had come packed in a huge knapsack. At the paddock, they found Raj waiting with their horses and Hatem tending to a horse nearby.

  The head groom’s gaze swept over them, lingering on their water bottles and the knapsack Tariq was hitching to the saddle. I wonder what Hatem is up to, creeping about in the night. I can see him being Al-Aqrab’s accomplice with his watchful eyes.

  Tariq had warned them it was going to be quite a ride to the desert. Layla was prepared for the brisk pace they set off at. Ayah’s body was comfortable and familiar now. As Layla spurred the mare into a canter, she felt a warm rush of affection for the docile animal. The sun was strong and fierce, but a refreshing breeze whipped at their faces and tore at their clothes. After several miles of riding, Layla knew they had left the oasis behind as the terrain began to look gray and desolate. By the time they reached the desert, Layla’s back was plastered with sweat and her mouth dry from the heat. They paused for a few minutes to swig at their water bottles and rest the horses before setting off again.

  The Nawaf Desert stretched for miles before them, a barren sea of unrelenting sand and dancing mirages. High above, a pack of vultures circled in the air, on the lookout for carcasses to scavenge upon. From what Tariq had told them, Layla knew the desert was considered to be as unpredictable as a frivolous child. The Bedouins had been the foremost in promoting tales of strange happenings. It had given the desert an aura of mystique. She clutched at Ayah’s reins as an angry gust of wind kicked up sand around them. Tariq had told them the summer shamal which caused sandstorms had ended in early July. But a stray one could head our way, couldn’t it?

  “What’s that funnel-like formation going up in the air, Tariq?” asked Adam.

  “Oh, it’s just a dust devil. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I don’t trust anything that’s named after the devil,” said Layla, eyeing the sandy funnel with wary eyes.

  Tariq slowed down as they approached a section of moistened sand.

  “It’s a camel wallow,” he told them. “Camels come and thrash around in the sand, making it watery and loose enough to get stuck in. We’ve got to go around it.” Skirting around the camel wallow, Layla patted Ayah’s back as they gained solid ground again.

  The curved shapes of sand dunes appeared on the horizon.

  “We’re coming close to the Dunes of the Devil,” said Tariq.

  “What, they’re named after the devil too?” asked Layla.

  Tariq laughed. “I’m afraid so. Ta’al. Come, you’ll soon see why the Bedouins gave them such a nickname.”

  They set off at a slow gallop until the Dunes of the Devil rose in curvy crests before them, rippling formations of mountainous sand that filled them with awe. They were still some distance away when they heard a strange but melodic booming, whistling sound. As they approached the base of the dunes and reined in their horses, the sound became louder.

  “Where’s that noise coming from?” Zahra’s head swiveled around.

  “From the sand dunes,” Zaid exclaimed. “They’re singing sand dunes. I remember reading there were some in the Nawaf Desert.”

  “Wow, the dunes actually make that sound?” asked Adam.

  “Yes,” said Tariq. “Before modern physics explained the reason for this phenomenon— that the sounds were actually caused by the friction of the sand grains—the Bedouins believed evil jinns lived in them. That’s why they called them the Dunes of the Devil.”

  “It’s a fitting name,” said Adam. “Anyone hearing such a racket for the first time would think it the work of the devil himself.”

  They stood for a few minutes listening to the song of the dunes before setting off again. The sand shifted around them, as if prodded by unseen fingers. Tariq halted again for them to drink more water and rest the horses.

  Zaid, who had turned to look towards the dunes, said, “There’s a man on horseback by the dunes. I think he’s watching us.”

  The others turned around and saw the man sitting motionless on his horse, looking in their direction. He must have realized they were watching him for he turned and disappeared behind one of the dunes.

  “I hope he’s not one of Al-Aqrab’s accomplices come to finish us off,” said Zahra.

  “He looks like a nomad herdsman,” said Tariq. “As long as he keeps his distance, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  They resumed their journey and the solid outline of a range began to dominate the horizon.

  “That’s the Gurian Plateau,” said Tariq. “We’re approaching Gurian Valley.”

  The ground began to dip downwards. The sea of sand gave way to green tracts of vegetation, revealing a well-worn pathway that wound downwards into the valley. Layla braced back in the saddle, digging her heels in the stirrup as they continued slowly down the slope.

  Gurian Valley was spread out in green splendor before them, a hidden jewel in a harsh landscape. Fed by rain water from the plateau, it was abundant with gnarled juniper trees, acacias, and barberry shrubs. In the center stood a small lake ringed by wild grass and reeds. At their arrival, a flock of birds flew off with startled screeches.

  “Those are white-collared kingfishers,” said Tariq. “This lake is a popular watering hole for humans, birds, and beasts alike.”

  Following him, they led the horses to the lake and let them drink of the water. After the animals had drunk their fill, they were hitched to the juniper trees, where they contented themselves by cropping at the leaves within reach. On foot, the teenagers made their way up the rocky plateau, until they reached the rock-strewn top. The land leveled out in front of them for several yards before dipping down into the Gurian Ravine with a stomach-churning drop. Mindful of what had befallen Tariq’s uncle, they were careful not to go any further. Layla clung to a huge boulder as she stared in awe at the rugged beauty of the mist-enshrouded ranges. She felt as insignificant as a speck of dirt in comparison to their gargantuan proportions.

  “Uncle Rashid fell from somewhere along this point,” said Tariq. “They couldn’t pinpoint the exact location.”

  They stood in somber silence for a few minutes. Afterwards, they returned to the valley and began their picnic under the shade of an acacia tree. In the knapsack were shawarma beef sandwiches and lamb kibbeh patties. For dessert, there was fruit cake and fresh slices of pineapple. To quench their thirst were bottles of water and mango juice.

  Layla noticed Tariq had a pouch slung around his neck. She stared at it, wondering what it held. Her brother must have had the same thought for he asked, “What’s in that pouch, Tariq? Anything special?”

  “Let me show you.” Opening the pouch, he pulled out two sheathed knives. “These are for protection. No one comes to the desert without a rifle or hunting knives. You never know when you might run into a hostile animal.”

  They sat in a circle as they ate, shaded from the full heat of the sun.

  “Rashid looked a lot like Faisal, didn’t he, Tariq?” asked Layla, as she munched on her sandwich. “I came across his portrait in the gallery when I was exploring the third floor.”

  “Na’am. Yes, they shared a certain resemblance though they were different in temperament. Uncle Rashid was patient and level-headed while Faisal…well, you know how he is.”

  “Has Faisal always been like that?” asked Layla.

  “No, he used to be a lot more pleasant. After he and his wife separated, he turned into this moody, malicious person.”

  “
He was married?” Zahra’s eyes opened wide.

  “Yes, two years ago. He and Naeema were together for only six months before they went their separate ways. Faisal acts like it never happened and hates anyone bringing it up. Grandfather was hoping Faisal and Naeema would get back together since they haven’t divorced but that doesn’t seem likely. They were happy at the beginning, but no one knows what went wrong.”

  After they had eaten, they packed the remains of their picnic into the knapsack. They were washing their hands in the lake when Zahra reached out among the stones at the shallow end and fished out something from the water.

  “Look what I found,” she said.

  They stared at the object in her hand. It was a wristwatch, waterlogged and a bit rusty from its sojourn in the lake.

  “Let me see it,” said Tariq.

  He took it from Zahra and examined it. Then he looked at them with pain-filled eyes. “It was Uncle Rashid’s watch.”

  Chapter Nineteen:

  Jumana’s Secret

  “Really?” said Layla.

  “Yes, I had it custom-made for him last Eid. Look.” He pointed to a tiny inscription in the back. It read, To Uncle Rashid, from Tariq.

  “I wonder how it got into the lake,” said Adam.

  “I don’t know,” said Tariq. “But I’m convinced more than ever that Uncle Rashid was murdered.”

  The next morning, after breakfast and a short swim, the teenagers decided to stake out the castle again. This time, Adam opted for the stables, Zaid the forecourt, Zahra inside the castle and Layla the inner courtyard. They arranged to meet in Zaid’s suite before lunch to compare notes again. In the courtyard, Layla slouched down on a wicker chair under one of the olive trees, concealed behind a giant urn of flowers. The day was steamy and humid, the heat seeming to drain all the energy from her body. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay outside for long.