The Bones of the Old Ones (Dabir and Asim) by Howard Andrew Jones

then let him come with us.”
    The governor considered this briefly, then nodded. “Let it be done. Make arrangements, Captain.”
    Tarif bowed. “We will see whether magic can stop a spear thrust.” He bowed again and departed.
    I smiled to myself, for I liked Tarif’s sentiment well.
    The hakim had been waiting at the edge of the conversation for a short while, and was staring down at the wooden soldier with great fascination.
    “How is the woman, Ari?”
    “She seems well enough.” Ari sounded years younger than his white beard would have suggested. “She is weak, and sleepy. Rest would be good.”
    “What is wrong with her?” the governor asked.
    “I cannot say, for certain. She is cold, and will not rouse from sleep. Your guard said she has suffered a fit. Is she prone to this?”
    The governor looked to Dabir.
    “We do not know her well,” Dabir explained. “But she has undergone great trials, and may have experienced privation.”
    I thought to mention it wasn’t privation, but a greater blast of whatever had almost frozen me, then realized that Dabir deliberately avoided further discussion of sorcerous doings, though I knew not why. Thus I stayed quiet.
    “That might explain it.” The hakim did not sound completely convinced. “If she is in your care, you must do better. She must be dressed more warmly in weather like this. She’s chilled. I would see that she rests in a warm bed. When she wakes, give her a light meal. Broth. Tea. Durriyah will stay with her until she rises,” he added with a look to his attendant.
    “Thank you, Ari,” the governor said.
    The hakim bowed to the governor, nodded to his female assistant, kneeling beside Najya on the dais, and left the room. One of the guards closed the door behind them.
    The governor turned to Dabir as the thunk of the door’s closing echoed through the chamber. “I will house the woman in the palace this night, and tomorrow you may be on your way. I cannot say that I envy your travel through the snow.”
    “Sometimes one chooses the journey,” Dabir said, “and sometimes the journey chooses him. If I may, Governor—I would like to study that spear in a room with better light.”
    “Of course.”
    As my friend moved to claim the weapon, I could hold comment no longer. “Dabir, that spear leveled the girl and set me to shivering. I don’t know that anyone should touch it.”
    “Let us be sure, then,” said Dabir.
    He approached without hesitation and, over my objection, brushed fingers against the thing gently, once, twice, then grasped it solidly.
    “Interesting,” he said.
    The governor waited for explanation, but I think it was my dumbstruck surprise that evoked Dabir’s response.
    “If the spear alone caused your reaction, some poor slave would have been frozen flat while hanging or cleaning the thing years ago. We would have heard of it.”
    The governor stepped forward to lay hand on the weapon himself. “Now that I look closely at this spear, there is something disquieting about it.”
    “I doubt it is dangerous unless Najya is touching it, or if someone is touching both Najya and the spear,” Dabir went on.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “That,” Dabir said, “is one of any number of questions for which I have no answer at present.” He bowed his head to the governor. “With your leave, Excellency, there is much to do.”
    The governor asked us to sup with him that night before ordering one of the soldiers to remove the spear and carry it to a room in the east wing where Dabir would be working. Slaves arrived with a litter for Najya and I had a final glimpse of her being lifted carefully onto it before Dabir and I strode into the hallway. I bethought then of all that the lady had endured, and hoped for her sake that we might soon deliver her from her troubles.
    Dabir set up in a first-floor room with two ample windows viewing the courtyard, which meant it was bright as well as cold. He questioned me at length about all I’d