Season of the Sandstorms - Mary Pope Osborne [9]
The sandstorm blasted over Jack, sounding like the hoofbeats of a hundred galloping camels. Jack’s eyes burned. He felt as if he were suffocating.
Slowly the thundering softened to a low rumbling. The rumbling faded to a moaning. The wind died down. The hot desert grew still and silent.
Coughing, Jack rolled over and sat up. He had sand in his mouth, sand in his ears, and sand in his nose. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his stinging eyes. But rubbing only made them worse.
Blinking, Jack clutched the box and looked around for the others. The air was thick with dust. He had completely lost his sense of direction.
“Jack! Jack!” He heard Annie shouting.
Jack clutched the small wooden box and stood up. His legs were so wobbly, he fell over. “Annie!” he croaked.
“Jack!” she called through the dust. “Where are you?”
“Here!” he said.
“Where?”
“Here!”
“There you are!” said Annie, stumbling out of the haze. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” croaked Jack. “Are you?”
“Yes! I ran after you,” said Annie. Her voice was hoarse, too.
“I had to save the box,” said Jack. “Where’s Mamoon?”
“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I don’t think he saw us chase after the box.”
“Mamoon!” they shouted together. “Mamoon!”
There was no answer.
Peering through the sandy haze, Jack heard thumping sounds. He and Annie turned around. Their two camels were trotting toward them.
“Cutie!” cried Annie. “Beauty!”
Jack and Annie stumbled to their camels and grabbed their reins.
“Thank you for finding us!” said Annie.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Jack, patting Beauty.
“Mamoon!” Annie called. “Mamoon!”
“He must have gone in the wrong direction to look for us,” said Jack.
“If we don’t find him, how will we get to Baghdad? And what will we do with his treasure?” asked Annie.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. He held up the wooden box.
“Look, the top’s broken,” said Annie. She pointed to a long crack running down the lid of the box.
“I hope the treasure wasn’t hurt,” said Jack.
“Maybe we should check and see,” said Annie.
Jack took a deep breath. He still thought Mamoon might not want them to look inside the box. But his curiosity got the best of him. “Okay,” he said. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to make sure it’s all right.”
Jack pried apart the two pieces of wood and lifted them off. Inside the box was a book.
“A book?” said Jack, surprised. He’d expected gold or jewels. He carefully lifted the book out of the box. It had a plain leather cover with no title on it.
“It doesn’t look like a precious treasure,” said Annie.
“Maybe the writing inside is the treasure,” said Jack.
Jack gently opened the book. Inside were pages of thick yellow paper. The pages were bound with stitching and covered with writing on both sides. The first page said:
THE WRITINGS OF ARISTOTLE
“Who is Ar-is-totle?” said Annie, sounding out the name.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I’ll look him up in our research book.” He unhooked his bag from the saddle horn. Sand covered the books inside. He pulled out their research book and brushed it off. Then he looked up Aristotle in the index. “Good. He’s here,” Jack said. He turned to the right page and read:
Aristotle (say AIR-is-TAH-tul) lived in ancient Greece over 2,300 years ago. He is known as one of the greatest philosophers of all time. The word philosopher means “lover of wisdom.” Aristotle’s works were introduced to the Western world by the Arabs in the Middle Ages.
“So Aristotle was a great lover of wisdom,” said Annie.
“I guess so,” said Jack. “But I wonder why this book is such a treasure.”
“Wait a minute,” said Annie. “Doesn’t Merlin’s note tell us that we have to help the caliph of Baghdad spread wisdom to the world?”
Jack caught his breath. “Yeah,” he said. “And if this is a book of Aristotle’s writings, it must be full of wisdom…. We have to get this book to the caliph—that’s our mission for Merlin!”
“We better get going!