The Codex Lacrimae: The Book of Tears

Chapter 34: The Return of Palomides

When Khalil and Ibn-Khaldun returned to the Krak des Chevaliers at the head of the company of wounded Hospitallers, they veered left upon entering the main gate. The old man slid off his stallion without injury, but also in a much slower manner than his son-in-law, who had already dismounted and reached upward to assist his exhausted elder.

The stairwell Ibn-Khaldun chose to reenter the castle was an obscure one, known only to a few people in the fortress, with one branch sloping steeply downward into an inclined tunnel that would take them into the sub-basement chambers under the crusaders' mountain.

The Muslim scholar pulled his cloak tighter around him and chose the upper hallway, which was infrequently marked by broad steps. He made sure that the strap of the satchel containing the Codex Lacrimae was secure, and then moved slowly forward. Earlier, in the chapel, he'd promised Aurelius to keep hold of the Dark Book. As he reflected on the tome and on Mimir's words about it, Ibn Khaldun sincerely hoped that the 'nine hundred years' of safe-guarding the damned book had been hyperbole on Mimir's part; he already felt too old for the actions of the last few days.

"Father, you're breathing heavily," Khalil observed. "Do you want to wait here while I go ahead?"

Ibn-Khaldun snorted, but did halt for a moment to rest. "Of course, I'd like to wait here, Khalil. I'd also like to sit down to dinner with you all, tell each other stories about our adventures, then retire to my chambers for a week's rest and chat with a very much alive Thaqib." He glowered at the young shaykh. "However, none of those things are going to happen."

"You look exhausted and should rest, Father," Khalil persisted, a long familiarity with Ibn-Khaldun's moods allowing him to ignore the grumpy tone. "I know the way through the castle."

"Khalil, enough," Ibn-Khaldun waved impatiently forward and began walking. "I get routinely stopped by the more prejudiced of these franj, and I've lived and worked here for forty years."

"Yes, but I've got charm, Master Khajen," Khalil grinned. "If you're having problems with the personnel here after forty years, I'd have to say it's because you're always so cranky. Me? I'm a people person, I like to please those who follow me, and those who—"

"By the Prophet, you've reminded me what I did notmiss when I was traveling for six months," Ibn-Khaldun snapped. "Is there nothing you take seriously?"

"Fatima's anger," Khalil replied with a shrug. "I take that seriously. I'd fight against impossible odds all day and into the night to avoid her anger. If you have a heart attack from exhaustion after just getting back, she'll never let me hear the end of it. She won't kill me, because that would take away all the chances to—"

"Khalil, enough!" The old man raised a cautionary finger, then swiped it downward, a sign that this argument was over. "You're not going into the upper chambers without me. The entire castle's at battle-ready. You'd be feathered with more arrows than a porcupine before you give an explanation." He resumed his stride up some broad-flagged stairs, muttering, "Stuck full with porcupine spines—probably the only time I'd see you with any kind of quill in your life, and even then, you'd still get it wrong."

Khalil laughed. "Hei, was that a joke?"

"Keep moving, Khalil. We need to get to the old hospital ward."

"Why?"

The old man said nothing, and they walked a few more paces in silence, approaching the main courtyard level of the castle.

"Fine,"Khalil continued, "then, will you at least tell me why you had us leave Saladin's men? I love you, Father, but I do have my own tribe to look after, you know."