The Grave Robbers of Genghis Khan (23 page)

S
trongly affected by the misery his sister was feeling, John left Philippa alone for the first few hours of the flight up into east Asia.

But the sight of so many smoking volcanoes in Sumatra and the rest of Indonesia — the sky looked like the aftermath of a nuclear war — prompted him to go to the back of the carpet and sit beside his sister and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Looks pretty bad,” he said.

“Hmmm,” she said, stroking Moby’s head. “Pretty bad, yeah.”

“Professor Sturloson says that if we can stop it in time, all this volcanic activity could actually be a good thing. Because it makes the soil very fertile. Like on Vesuvius. Volcanic ash provides all sorts of useful soil nutrients. He says there are parts of the planet where nothing grows very much that might actually benefit from all this extra volcanic activity.”

“Always provided that there’s enough sun getting through to make things grow,” said Philippa.

John glanced over his shoulder. “I think I preferred him wearing that mask,” he said.

“Me, too. I can’t get used to him looking like a girl I know from school.”

“Does he?”

Philippa mentioned a name.

“For Pete’s sake,” said John. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Maybe we should speak to Nimrod,” said Philippa. “And see if we can’t organize him a new face.”

“Nimrod says it’s only polite to wait until we’re asked,” said John. “But as a matter of fact, I already did something to help him out. It’s only something he said he once wished would happen, so I didn’t think Nimrod would mind.”

“What is it?”

“Can’t you guess?”

Philippa thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. I approve. It’s a good idea. I’d have done the same. Anything so as not to have to look at that face and be reminded of —”

“Daisy Bohemio.”

Philippa nodded again.

John grinned. “What were you thinking?” he asked. “Before I sat down.”

“As if you didn’t know,” she said.

“I guess I do,” he said. “But I’d still prefer to hear you say it. I’m not as good as tuning into your thoughts as you are at tuning into mine.”

“It’s telepathy,” said Philippa. “Why not just say it?”

“Because it scares me.” He shrugged. “Besides I feel it, rather than know it, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s the same for me,” said Philippa. “You think I’m better at it, bro, but I’m not. I’m just more in touch with my own feelings than you are. Because I’m a girl, I guess.”

“I thought it was because you’re more intelligent.”

“We both know that’s not true. You have a different kind of intelligence, that’s all.” She shrugged. “Well, since you ask, what I was thinking was this: I was thinking that if I’m dealt the same cards as Charlie, I hope I would have the guts to do what he did.”

“I hope so, too,” said John. “All the same I don’t think you can tell what you’d do in that kind of situation until you have to do something, do you? I mean, everyone aspires to be brave but not everyone can be that self-sacrificing.”

“So what are you saying, bro?”

John shrugged. “I’m just saying that I don’t really know if I could actually be as brave as Charlie, that’s all. And I don’t think you can ever know that until the moment arrives.”

“I think
I
know,” said Philippa.

“Good for you,” said John. “But
I
don’t. Not yet. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Don’t you think that some causes are worth dying for?” asked Philippa.

“Of course I do. But to be really brave I think you also have to be afraid first. And that’s where I am now. You have to be afraid first, otherwise it’s not really brave you’re being; it’s, I don’t know, crazy, I guess. Reckless. Foolhardy.” John smiled. “But look, Phil, this is just talking, right? This
discussion we’re having now, it’s only theoretical, yeah? There’s no real call to be talking about sacrificing your life in a cause, is there?”

Philippa shrugged. “No, I suppose there isn’t. I just wanted to let you know what I think about these things.”

John smiled. “As if I didn’t know,” he said.

Nimrod, too, was deeply impressed by Charlie’s heroic self-sacrifice and had thought about little else since leaving the burial ceremony at Docker River. It was easy to see that the brave aborigine’s death had had a profound effect on the children, too. He watched and heard the twins talking and wondered if perhaps now was the right time to mention to them the very sensitive matter of the Taranushi prophecy and the somewhat barbaric idea that in order to save the world a set of djinn twins would have to be sacrificed.

Not that he believed in the Taranushi prophecy — at least the part about sacrificing a pair of djinn twins; but it could hardly be denied that there were certain aspects of John and Philippa’s existence that seemed to fulfill what Taranushi had said about two djinn who were twin brother and sister and true children of the lamp, and how only they could become true partners on a quest to save the world from inflammable darkness and destruction.

At first, Nimrod had concluded that it was best not to mention the prophecy to the twins at all, reasoning that no one would ever care to be told that the planet’s future survival might depend on his or her death.

But after Alexandra’s mention of these uncomfortable things in Kandahar, Nimrod had been expecting John and
Philippa to bring the matter up with him themselves. And when neither twin had spoken to Nimrod about the subject, it was another day or so before he realized that it was always thus with Alexandra: No one ever remembered the predictions she made for them.

That was her curse. Never to be believed.

Now he was of the opinion that he
should
tell them about the prophecy — after all, knowledge is potentially, at least, a kind of power, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed — but he’d been awaiting the right opportunity to do so. And overhearing their conversation about Charlie’s sacrifice prompted Nimrod to think that the twins were now in the right frame of mind to talk about these things.

He would have preferred to discuss the subject with John and Philippa on his own, without Groanin and the professor and Axel hearing everything that was said. Groanin was certain to say something unhelpful. For a while, Nimrod contemplated landing somewhere and finding a quiet spot where he could talk to the twins on his own; but the sight of so many ash plumes in the air above Indonesia had persuaded him that there was no time for such diplomacies and that they must get to Mongolia as quickly as possible.

And finally, he just called the twins over and told them the unvarnished truth about what Taranushi, the first great djinn, had prophesied.

To Nimrod’s surprise, Philippa actually looked relieved.

“So that’s what I’ve been trying to remember,” she said. “Ever since Kandahar. It’s been nagging me for days.”

“You forgot about it because people always forget the predictions that Alexandra makes,” explained Nimrod.

Philippa nodded. “I guess that’s why I also forgot about those books you underlined in the Rakshasas Library,” she said.

“You saw those, did you?” Nimrod nodded. “Yes, well, it’s all the same subject, so you would have forgotten that, too, yes. Undoubtedly. But I wonder why you didn’t mention it to me then. Before Kandahar.”

Philippa shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if we could trust you,” she said.

“We’re still not sure,” added John. “Why are you telling us now?”

“Look,” said Nimrod. “It’s not something that I believe myself. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” murmured John.

“But I just thought you ought to know.”

The twins said nothing.

“I certainly hope you don’t think that I’d ever contemplate something like that,” added Nimrod. “I mean, that sort of thing — human sacrifice — it’s nothing more than primitive superstition. The Incas practiced mountaintop child sacrifice for centuries, but no gods were ever placated, no crops grew as a result, nor any rain fell. It’s nonsense, of course.”

“But suppose it wasn’t just a primitive superstition,” said John. “Suppose it was true. What would you do then?”

“Why suppose it when it couldn’t ever be true?” asked Nimrod.

“Suppose it was,” insisted John. “Suppose there was no other way to save the world but to sacrifice me and Phil. What would you do then?”

Nimrod shook his head. “No one intelligent could ever believe that by killing someone, someone else could be saved. Least of all me.”

“That’s not answering,” said John. “That’s not answering at all.”

“I’m sorry you think that, John,” said Nimrod. “Very sorry indeed.”

“We don’t know what to think,” said Philippa. “That’s just the point.”

“Perhaps if you’d been straight with us from the very beginning, things might be different,” said John. “But you only told us half of the Taranushi prophecy. You left out the most crucial part. The part that affects us.”

Groanin scowled at the twins. “I never thought I’d see the day when you two kids fell out with your uncle Nimrod,” he said. “I say, I never thought I’d hear the day when you stopped trusting him. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. After all he’s done for you.” He looked at Nimrod and shook his head. “If you ask me, that’s the trouble with kids today. All they think about is themselves.”

“With all due respect,” said Philippa, “child sacrifice concerns us in a way that it doesn’t concern any of you.”

Groanin uttered a loud sigh.

“After all we’ve been through,” he said. “The four of us. After all the adventures we’ve had and the dangers we’ve faced. Together, mind. Together. Through thick and thin.

One for all, and all for one. After all that, you still have the nerve to ask him what he would do if the world and the good of mankind depended on you two being sacrificed.”

“If I might say something,” said the professor.

“Please do,” said Nimrod.

The professor looked at John and then at Philippa.

“Forget what your uncle might or might not do in these peculiar circumstances. If this prophecy was indeed true — although that seems highly unlikely to me — then what would
you
do? What would
you
do?”

John looked at Philippa, who shrugged back at him.

“Aye,” said Groanin. “I thought not. You’ve no idea what you would do. You expect your uncle to have all the answers when you’ve none of the answers yourselves.”

“No, she’s right, Groanin,” said Nimrod. “They’re both right. I should have told them everything from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked John.

“It’s not the sort of thing that’s easy to say,” said Nimrod. “Besides, it’s not like I know much more than you about all this. You might think I do, but I don’t. It’s my manner. It looks omniscient, but it isn’t really.”

The carpet turned slowly in the air and started to head back toward the coast of Sumatra. At the same time, they started to descend through the air.

“What are you doing?” asked Philippa.

“Landing,” said Nimrod.

“Landing?”
“I think it’s best that I let you both off,” said Nimrod. “I’ll cut off a piece of the carpet, show you how to control it, and then you can both fly back home to New York. Shouldn’t take you more than a day or two at most.”

“Perhaps I could cut this one for you, sir,” offered Groanin. “Hmm?”

“My dad was a carpet fitter all his life,” declared Groanin. “In Burnley. For sentimental reasons, I keep his carpet knife in my suitcase alongside a picture of the queen. Sometimes, I just get it out and hold it. It’s amazing but I can always think of the smell of a new carpet when I hold that knife. Perhaps I could cut this carpet for you, sir.”

“Yes, Groanin,” said Nimrod. “Why not? Thank you, old fellow.”

“What about you?” John asked his uncle. “Where will you go?”

“We’ll keep on going to Mongolia,” said Nimrod. “And just hope that we can find the grave of Genghis Khan from the description of the site you gave me, John.”

“And if you don’t find it?”

Nimrod kept the carpet headed for the ground and didn’t answer.

They landed on a long, deserted beach that was covered with a thin layer of volcanic ash, as was the vegetation that lay behind it. But this was hardly the thing that impressed them the most. Almost immediately, Axel found a dead gray bird with a large, curving beak, and then another. Axel handed one of the dead birds to the professor.

“
Buceros bicornis
,” said Axel. “The great hornbill.”

The professor nodded. “Looks like it,” he said. “Poor thing.”

“I thought hornbills were black and white,” said John. “With a yellow beak.”

“They are,” said Axel, and blew off a thin layer of gray dust to reveal the dead bird’s true coloring.

“What happened?” asked Philippa.

“It’s a bit hard to say, little sister, without performing an autopsy,” said Axel. “Either it flew through an ash cloud and suffocated” — he looked around at the flora and fauna. Even the berries on the bushes were covered with ash — “or perhaps they ate some of these berries that are covered in ash.” He rubbed his stubbly chin and sighed unhappily. “Such a waste of beautiful birds.”

“Not just birds,” said Groanin. “Look.”

He pointed at the bushes under which there lay a large animal, half concealed in the gray undergrowth, breathing loudly but erratically, as if it was in some distress.

It was a tiger.

Groanin did not approach the stricken beast himself; he had good reason to feel nervous about these big cats because, several years before, he had been attacked by a tiger.

“My goodness,” said Axel. “It’s a
Panthera tigris sondaica.
A Javan tiger.”

Except that it was more like a black-and-white photograph of a tiger, for it, too, was covered in a thin layer of ash. Its beautiful, yellow-striped coat was now the color of a dirty fireplace and its previously pink tongue, which lolled out of
the big cat’s mouth, was like an old strip of overcooked bacon. The tiger’s eyes were glazed and milky and it was too tired or too sick to flick away the many flies that buzzed about its head.

“I thought they were extinct,” said Axel as something rattled in the big cat’s throat and the animal appeared to breathe its last.