(pages 36-37)
“What are you thinking?” Zechariah asked him.
The priest looked up, revealing eyes almost hidden by bushy eyebrows.
“I’m afraid.”
“That it’s the genuine bowl?”
“Yes, and that we won’t know how to read it," he added, a note of sadness in his voice. The bishop suddenly seemed to have aged. “If we don’t know how to pronounce the verses, nothing will happen and then… what will we say to them?" He extended his arm and pointed at the Mandaeans spread out along the riverbank. That is was a lie? That the magic of the sacred words had stopped working? If the words had lost their magic, then what would they have to believe in? Zechariah gave his back an encouraging rub, but he said nothing, waiting for him to continue. There was a time for everything.
“Yes, and that we won’t know how to read it," he added, a note of sadness in his voice. The bishop suddenly seemed to have aged. “If we don’t know how to pronounce the verses, nothing will happen and then… what will we say to them?" He extended his arm and pointed at the Mandaeans spread out along the riverbank. That is was a lie? That the magic of the sacred words had stopped working? If the words had lost their magic, then what would they have to believe in? Zechariah gave his back an encouraging rub, but he said nothing, waiting for him to continue. There was a time for everything."But if we read it correctly, if it works…” continued Basaam, “If our chant is the right one, what will happen?”
“I’m afraid, Ganzebra. The words we will be pronouncing are the most powerful of all.”
The both men remained crouching by the fire, watching the sinuous dancing flames. Its heat was not enough to warm their souls.
"I'm afraid, too," the old man said finally. “I even fear for my life… I am the weakest of the three.” he explained.
Basaam knew the legends surrounding his alphabet, but he also knew its true magic. It wasn’t that he believed in it. He was absolutely certain of what it capable of doing. When he had first become a priest, the ganzebra had taught him that the Mandaean alphabet was magical and sacred. He had already known this, as did all Mandaeans, but he was later given the knowledge reserved for priests alone, the true power locked inside each of its 24 letters. The “a” was Perfection, the Beginning and End of all things; the “b”, the Great Father; the “g” represented Gabriel, the Messenger... They would possess the power, because they were reality, and because they were capable of creating it. Repeating them over and over again multiplied their power, this power that had the ability to create, but also to destroy. When men combined the letters and pronounced them, they appropriated their power and the consequences could be unpredictable.
“Such power…” sighed Basaam in a murmur."
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