Chapter 18
‘From the Silence to the Lions, greetings,’ Sarim translated, for the third time since the message had arrived.
‘Cut the niceties,’ Layth growled. Haydar, who had been summoned to give his scientist’s opinion on the message, saw his Shaykh’s green eyes smouldering in the torchlight. He had never seen Layth looking so angry.
‘My apologies, Shaykh Layth . . . ’ Sarim said.
‘Just get on with it!’ Layth’s yell rang through the tunnels.
‘We know nothing of the, er, provenances of black and yellow and white,’ Sarim continued, his thin scholar’s voice shaking. ‘All we know is that the red one will reach you from us on the feast-day of your Baphomet, Muhammad, that is, peace and blessings upon him – ’
‘And damnation on these Nazarenes for corrupting his glorious name,’ Layth spat.
