Chapter 13
‘I seek refuge with God,’ Haydar said through clenched teeth, looking from the lumpy mess in the mortar to the youth’s equally lumpen features, ‘from worthless work. Pulverize, boy! Pulverize! You’re not making porridge . . . ’
‘Please, sir,’ Dirgham said, ‘what does “pulverize” mean?’
Haydar rolled his eyes and aimed a silent prayer through the rock ceiling of the underground chamber. He snatched the pestle from the boy’s meaty hand.
‘Here I am,’ he said, methodically pummelling the moistened willow ashes, ‘at the cutting edge of science, the meeting-place of the technologies of the East and the North, and they give me you for an assistant.’
‘But, sir, Shaykh Layth said you needed help, sir, so we can make the Remedy quicker.’
‘Yes, help, not hindrance . . . Look, you mus
