Servant of the Bones

" 'Return this thing to the Hebrews for it is their magic and only they can put it deep into Hell where it belongs. The Servant of the Bones no longer heeds his Master. Old vows no longer bind him. Old charms no longer banish him. Once summoned, he destroys all that he sees. Only the Hebrews know the meaning of this thing. Only the Hebrews can harness its fury. Give it freely to them.' "

Again I smiled. I couldn't help it. I think I closed my eyes with relief, and then opened them, looking at the old man who looked only at the vellum.

But have I truly come on my own? I didn't dare believe it yet. No, There could be some secret to snare me, some trap in which Esther's death was merely the bait.

The old man sat with the scroll open, staring down at it. He said no more.

Gregory broke the silence.

"Then why haven't you destroyed it!" He was so excited he could scarcely stand there at attention. "What else does it say! What is this language!"

The old man looked up at him and then at me, and then back at the scroll.

"Listen to what I read now," said the old man, "because I will translate it for you only once:

" 'Woe unto him who destroys these bones, for if it can be don

Dramatically, he looked up at his grandson, who evinced on fascination.

Gregory did everything but rub his hands together in greed.

The old man spoke again, slowly.

"My father took it because he felt that he must take it. And once you come to me and you ask for it. Well, it is almost yours." The younger man seemed delirious suddenly, or possessed of a divine joy.

"Oh, Rebbe, this is too marvelous, too wondrous," said Gregory

"But how could she have known, my poor Esther?"

"That's for you to discover," said the old man coldly. "For I cannot possibly know. Never have I called it forth, this spirit, nor would my father. Nor would the Moslem who gave it over into my father's hands."

"Give me the scroll. I'll take it now."

"No."

"Grandfather, I want it! Look, the checks are there!" "And tomorrow the money will be in the bank, will it not? Tomorrow, when the sums are transferred, when the transaction is finished-"

"Grandfather, let me have it now!"

"Tomorrow, then you come to me, and you take it, and it's yours. And you will be the Master of the Servant of the Bones."

"You stubborn, impossible old man. You know these checks are good. Give it to me!"

"Oh, you are so anxious!" said the elder.

He looked at me. I could have sworn he would have shared a smile with me had I invited him to do it, but I didn't.

Then he looked again at his grandson, who was in a paroxysm of frustration, staring at the golden casket at his feet, not daring to touch it, but wanting it so much he groaned.

"Why did you kill her?" the old man said. "What?" "Why did you have your daughter killed? I want to know. I should have made that my price!" "Oh, you're a fool, all of you are fools, belligerent and superstitious, the idiots of your god!" The old man was outraged. "Your temples, Gregory, are the houses of the deceived and the damned," he said. "But let's have no more invectives. We know each other. Tomorrow night, when my bankers tell me that your money is in our hands, you come and you take this thing away. And keep the secret. Keep the vow. Tell no one that you are . . . that you were . . ? my grandson."

Gregory smiled, shrugged, opened his hands in a gesture of acceptance. He turned to go, never so much as glancing in the direction of where I stood.

He stopped before the door and looked back at his grandfather.

"Tell my brother Nathan for me that I thank him that he called me with his condolences."

"He didn't do this!" cried the Rebbe.

"Oh, yes, he did. He called me and spoke to me, and tried to comfort me in my loss, and to comfort my wife."

"He has no traffic with you and your kind!"

"And I don't tell you this, Rebbe, to bring your anger down on him, no, not for that reason, but just so that you know that my brother Nathan loved me enough to call me and to tell me he was sorry that the girl was dead."

Gregory opened the door. The cold of the night waited uneasily. "Stay away from your brother!" The old man rose, his fists on the desk.

"Save your words!" said Gregory. "Save them for your flock. My church preaches love."

"Your brother walks with God," said the old man, but his voice was frail now. He was weary. He was spent.

He chanced a glance at me. I caught and held his eye. "Don't try to cheat me, Rebbe," said Gregory as the cold air moved into the room past him. "If I don't find this thing here tomorrow night as promised, I'll stand on your doorstep with the cameras. I'll print the stories of my childhood among the Hasidim in my next book."

"Mock me if it pleases you, Gregory," said the old man, drawing himself up. "But the bargain's done, and the Servant of the Bones will be here for you tomorrow. And you will take this thing from me. You who are evil. You who do evil. You who walk with the Devil. Your church walks with the Devil. The Minders are of the Devil. Welcome to this demon and its ilk. Get out of my house."

"All right, my teacher," said Gregory, "my Abraham." He opened the door wide and stepped through it, leaning back into the room so that the light clearly revealed his smiling face.

"My Patriarch, my Moses! You give my love to my brother. Shall I give your condolences to my grieving wife?" He stepped back, slamming the door after him.

There was faint vibration of glass and metal things quivering.

I stayed where I was.

We looked at one another, I and the old man, across the dusty little room, I stepped partway from behind the bookcase and the old man remained fixed behind his desk.

The old man trembled.

Go back into the bones, Spirit. I never called you. I don't speak to you, except to send you away from me.

"Why?" I pleaded. I spoke the old Hebrew knowing he would know it. "Why do you so despise me, old one? What have I done? I don't speak now of the spirit that destroys the magicians, I speak of myself, me, Azriel! What did I do?"

He was astonished and shaken. I stood before his desk; I wore clothes like his clothes, and I looked down and I saw that my foot had almost touched the casket, and how small it looked, and the smell of boiling water rose in my nostrils.