“Understandable,” said Noah. “In the olden days, people confused the two.”
“Ah, but we are in the olden days still,” said Corlyss Swayne, “and always shall be.”
Noah was about to ask what she meant, but he felt she had moved from that to the next thing as she handed him a cup of tea.
“Have a cake while we talk,” said Corlyss Swayne, offering the plate to Noah, who gladly took three.
“Now, I take it you have come about a map,” she said, daintily nibbling the icing from the edge of a vanilla petit four.
“Yes, a map,” he said, feeling like an idiot. He didn’t even know what the map was for and he dreaded the moment when she’d ask. He knew it was coming.
“And what is this map for?” she asked.
“Ah, well, I don’t know for sure,” Noah offered, “but it is the map from Muhabi’s poem.”
At this, Corlyss Swayne’s hand jerked and she nearly dropped her tea. “Sorry,” she said, recovering herself. “You come for the map of Muhabi?”
“Yes,” said Noah. “And you know of it?”
“Mr. Canto-Sagas,” she said, placing her tea and saucer down, “what on Earth do you know about the map of Muhabi?”
At this, Noah had nothing to say. He said, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Corlyss Swayne sat up straight and looked at Noah severely.
“I mean I don’t really know anything about it or even what it is a map to. I just know that it somehow plays a role in my mother’s disappearance. There is something that …” Noah did not feel he had the right or the ability to say anything about the Young Inventors Guild or his suspicions about the connection between whatever his parents were hiding and Komar Romak’s relentless terrorizing. “Something that connects this event to the map.”
“How do you know this?” asked Corlyss Swayne, now picking up her tea again.
Noah looked at her. She seemed relieved somehow, as if something he had said, something among the stupid useless things he had said, made her trust him.
“I…read the poem,” he said, not sure if he should mention Sir Edward. He decided that it would be unfair to bring Sir Edward and Pamina into the whole affair.
“You read it?” she asked, a lovely eyebrow raised only slightly.
“Yes, I read a translation. It was among other poems,” Noah said truthfully, “and it seemed to indicate that the map was connected to something very dangerous, something bad, that has been around for a long time. It seemed to me, and I could be wrong, that this map might lead me to where my mother was taken.” All true, thought Noah, and for Pamina Falk and Sir Edward Romer, no guilt by association.
“I see,” said Corlyss Swayne, now retreating into her thoughts. These ideas and events consumed her for several painfully long moments. Noah waited, impatient but silent.
“It pains me,” she finally said. Noah could detect emotion in her voice. “It pains me that your mother has been brought back to this place.”
“Brought back to this place?” Noah knew his mother had been to Cairo, but she had come of her own accord.
“Yes, it has been a long time since Ariana has been among this,” said Corlyss Swayne.
“You know my mother?” said Noah, only slightly surprised, once again, that yet another person knew Ariana Canto-Sagas.
“I knew Ariana Canto very well, but it has been a long time,” said Corlyss Swayne, “and I fear you have stumbled into a hornet’s nest.”
Noah’s heart began to race. Corlyss Swayne thought he might be right. She seemed to think Noah was on the right track.
Corlyss Swayne leaned forward. She took Noah’s hand into hers. “I shall show you how to find the map,” she said, looking deep into Noah’s eyes, “but with it comes terrible danger.”
“Well, danger easily finds itself at home in my life,” he said.
Corlyss Swayne nodded. Again, Noah saw the sadness in her eyes. “I shall lead you through the back door and point you in the direction of Meluuk El Sagaad. It is a carpet shop. You must ask for the boy, Sabi. Sabi will know how to show you.”
“Boy?” asked Noah.
“Yes,” said Corlyss Swayne.
“But how will he—I mean, how will I…How will he know to do so?” Noah was anxious.
Corlyss Swayne handed Noah a piece of paper. Without looking, Noah put it in his pocket.
Behind the mashrabaya was an archway that led to a back room. Corlyss Swayne led him through hanging scarves and behind a woven carpet that depicted the tree of life. With a huge iron key that hung on a hook, she opened three locks, one above the next. The door creaked, as if it had been a long time since last opened.
“Good luck to you, Noah Canto-Sagas,” said Corlyss Swayne. She kissed him gently on each cheek, as was customary in this part of the world.
“I think I will need that luck,” said Noah, adjusting the strap of his leather satchel.
“You will, I am afraid, habibi,” she said. “I will tell you something you must remember always.” She held Noah by the shoulders and looked both determined and concerned.
“What?” he asked, not sure what she meant.
“Never forget—the force of the devil is never by half. Twice is the force of the devil.”
With that, Corlyss Swayne left Noah standing alone in the dim, dust-filled stairwell. Noah knew where to go. Without hesitation, he now hurried down the dark stairwell, his mind on one thing—the boy named Sabi. Not once did Noah think of his friends and brothers in black waiting for him on the landing outside Corlyss Swayne’s front door.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE MAP AND THE KEY
OR
THE BOY IN THE GAME
The narrow doorway was brimming with goods, as was true of most shops in the Khan. Rolls of carpets were leaning against each other like the ghosts of fallen trees. There was thick dust everywhere—on the ground, in the corners, and on the broken-hinged shutters. Noah had to step over a roll that lay across the threshold. He had to bend to avoid another leaning into the doorway. Inside the shop, it was dim, with a candle burning on an old desk. Noah worried silently about the many things that could burn if the candle fell over.
Noah cleared his throat. “Hello?” he said in a soft voice. “Sabi?” No one answered. He was ready to call louder when he heard a shuffling. He could see little wafts of dust coming from behind a row of carpets, headed in his direction.
Sabi came out from behind the carpets. He was smaller than Noah expected. And younger, too. This little boy could not be much older than Lucy, though perhaps he was just small for his age.
“Massa il xiir,” said Noah in greeting. “Sabi?”
“Ahlan w’sahlan,” said Sabi in a very soft voice. “It is you who have come?”
“Yes, it is me,” said Noah. “Do you have the guide? The map? El kharita? El karimet?
Sabi tilted his head, concern apparent on his face.
“Corlyss Swayne said you might know,” said Noah, offering the boy the paper with her name. The boy took it but looked at it as if he didn’t know what it was for. It struck Noah that he might not know how to read. He looked at the paper.
“It is her name,” said Noah, pointing to the letters. Next to her name was a small drawing. From upside-down, it looked something like a three-leaf clover.
Sabi nodded and held out his arm. Noah reached out, expecting something to be put into his hand. Sabi just held out his arm.
Noah shook his hand, but when he let go, the boy just left his arm in mid air.
“Are you going to give it to me?” asked Noah.
“I am giving it to you, rayiis,” said Sabi, his arm still outstretched.
Noah looked down and saw that the little boy had a drawing on his arm, just visible under the cuff of his shirt. Pulling back the sleeve, Noah could see that the ink went above his skinny little elbow. Noah lifted the loose, tattered sleeve. The drawings went up to the boy’s shoulder, too. The lines and markings made an ornate design.
> Then Noah realized what he was seeing. This was a map, almost hidden in the design. Noah looked closely at Sabi’s arm. There was something written around the design. Noah’s heart sank. A map drawn on a boy could not be the map of Muhabi. Perhaps it was some game the boy was playing because he did not understand the request.
“I am looking for the map,” he said again. “The map of Muhabi.”
Sabi nodded, his arm still extended.
“This is the map? This is the guide, the poet’s treasured map?” Noah asked, rather shocked and confused. “Someone drew this upon you? You’re a little boy. What if it came off in water or from sweat?” Noah immediately wondered how often, or if ever, the boy bathed.
“It does not come off, rayiis, unless someone takes my arm.”
And then real shock hit Noah. This wasn’t a drawing. The little boy was covered in tattoos. Noah rubbed the edge of it. Yes, it was real—ink and a needle digging into every inch of his tiny body. Getting them must have been excruciating.
“Who…who did this to you?” Noah asked.
The little boy shook his head in horror, as if Noah had asked something poisonous and deadly. Perhaps he had, thought Noah, before his mind snapped back to the reason he was there.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” said Noah. “May I see it all, the whole picture?”
The boy took Noah’s hand and pulled him through the tight maze of carpets into a tiny, filthy, dank room that contained little but a dirty blanket on the floor, a small pile of rags, and a partially eaten piece of molding bread on the floor.
Noah looked around, trying to keep the disgust from showing on his face. Then his eyes stopped on what he first thought was a small pile of cloth. Looking closer, he realized it was some kind of doll, formed from old rags. Made of simple knots, it had only strands of rags as arms and legs, but it was a doll.
The boy had tried to make something of comfort for himself. Sabi turned to Noah, raising his arms in the air. Gently, Noah lifted the shirt from the boy’s arms and over his head. The boy shivered even though the thin shirt could not have offered much warmth. Sabi spread his arms up and wide. Thoughts of this wretched room disappeared. Noah could not believe what he saw.
The boy’s entire body was a map. His belly, his thighs, his neck, the delicate backs of his knees—all were covered in the most intricate drawings. There were towns and valleys and great swaths of desert. Even in the desert, there were markings that showed paths and markings.
Noah pointed to something written under the boy’s left arm. The letters led around to his back. It seemed to be in the middle of the Sahara, but something was there. Noah saw tiny trees and a red “X.” “What is this?” he asked.
Sabi looked down at his feet. Noah thought the little boy was going to cry. Noah knew he would get nowhere. Sabi didn’t know what the “X” meant. “‘The Map shall not know the secret held’ was what the poem said. Noah had to bring Sabi to someone who could read this map. He would bring Sabi to Mr. Bell. He gave the worried child a pat on the shoulder and smiled.
“Don’t worry,” Noah said, helping the boy to get his shirt back on. “I’ll take you somewhere safe. We can get something to eat and something warmer to wear.”
Sabi seemed confused. He was even more confused when Noah put an arm around him. Noah could feel his little shoulders tense. But when Noah rubbed those little shoulders and held him close, the boy leaned into Noah’s hug. Is it his first hug? thought Noah.
“Ready for an adventure?” he asked. Sabi did not answer but reached down for his rag doll and then slowly reached his other hand into Noah’s. Noah gave him a gentle squeeze and, leading the way through the carpets, ran through plans of how he would find his friends and the brothers and get Sabi back to the castle.
A noise made Noah stop. Shadows moved in the front of the shop. Noah could hear muffled voices, but could not understand what was being said. He looked back at Sabi, who was burying his face in Noah’s shirt. They could just be customers, thought Noah, or they could be coming after me. The two boys did not move. Noah did not have to tell little Sabi to be quiet. Noah could hear two distinct voices.
“Is there another door?” Noah whispered.
Sabi nodded. “Al atuul.”
“Straight ahead?” asked Noah
“Between sufuuf,” said Sabi.
“Sufuuf?” asked Noah
“The rows,” said Sabi, drawing a line in the air.
“Al atuul, then between the sufuuf,” said Noah. The two boys moved towards the back of the shop but quickly slipped between some rolled-up carpets. It was just in time because Noah felt the jostling of the carpets as the men pushed their way through.
Sabi got down into a crawl and Noah followed through a small opening that led to a square of old wood leaning against a wall. Sabi moved this aside and the two boys crawled through the hole. Noah could barely turn around but did, thus managing to replace the wood in front of the hole before they crawled away.
They came out on the side of a main thoroughfare, immediately blended in with the crowds, and hurried through the people to get as far away from the carpet shop as they could.
“You see!” the boy cried. They were standing in front of Katuum EtHabib, the shop of the book lovers, Sir Edward’s shop.
Noah was impressed with Sabi’s ability to get around the Khan. He quickly made sure no one was following them and pulled Sabi into Sir Edward’s shop.
“Sir Edward!” Noah called in a loud whisper. Even in the din of the Khan, voices could be heard.
“Noah?” came a voice muffled by the stacks of books. Sir Edward’s head was barely visible as he emerged from behind his stacks. “So you’ve come anyway. So nice.”
“Anyway?” Noah asked, putting his arm around Sabi’s shoulder as the boy nestled against him.
“Well, I had assumed you would have just taken the notes.” Sir Edward smiled down at Sabi who was, by then, hiding behind Noah. Sir Edward reached over a pile of rather large books and brought forth a lovely cream cake with apricot jam. He handed it to Sabi, who seemed unable to believe his eyes. The little boy looked up at Noah, who smiled back and nodded. Sabi held it, looking at it as if it were the greatest treasure in the world.
“Eat it, Sabi,” Noah said.
Sabi opened his mouth as wide as it would go and then took the tiniest bite possible from the side of the cake. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull in ecstasy.
“I don’t think Sabi has ever tasted anything that delicious,” said Noah. “Or even mildly delicious.”
“Why are you calling him ‘Sabi’?” asked Sir Edward. “What is his name?”
“That is his name,” said Noah, watching a little boy in bliss.
“But that isn’t a name,” said Sir Edward. “It just means ‘boy.’”
“It does?” Noah’s heart did a flip. “It’s the only name I was given.”
“Ismak eh?” asked Sir Edward. Perhaps asking the boy’s name in Arabic might help find out what his real name was.
“Ismi Sabi,” said the little boy, who had not taken his eyes off the slowly disappearing cake.
Sir Edward and Noah looked at each other. So that was the only name Sabi had. Then, like a slow echo, Noah remembered what Sir Edward had said when they arrived.
“What did you mean that I came ‘anyway’?” asked Noah.
“Only that you came after I sent the information,” said Sir Edward.
“What information?” Noah felt a rise of fear. The hair on the back of Noah’s neck stood up. “Sent it with whom? How did you send word?”
“With the odd fellow in the black robe,” said Sir Edward.
“One of the brothers in black?” asked Noah, the hair on his neck relaxed. “Was he with two of my friends?”
“No, just him,” said Sir Edward. “It was the thin man with the crooked mustache. He said that you would be asking for him to bring the translation back to the ship.”
“What ship?” Up went Noah’s nec
k hair again. He pulled Sabi close.
“You aren’t staying on a ship?” Sir Edward’s face fell.
“No, sir, we are not.” Noah felt his throat tighten.
“Well, we should ask that man what he meant,” suggested Sir Edward.
“Ask him?” Noah was confused.
“Yes, we can ask him,” Sir Edward pointed across the road into the crowd. “He’s heading this way right now.”
Noah grabbed Sabi’s hand and ran.
“Wait, Master Canto-Sagas!” Sir Edward called out, not realizing the danger that was coming. “I must tell you something! There’s something I fear you don’t understand!”
But Noah and the little map boy were already lost in the crowd.
Faye felt like screaming. They had been waiting for two hours on those stairs when an impossibly idiotic brother in black came back to say that Noah had left via a back door. His footprints, said the brother, were in the dust. That made her want to throttle Noah. He had left them sitting there, worried and waiting all this time, and went out the back door? He didn’t think to tell them?
Faye brushed away the disloyal tears that fell despite her demand that they stay put. Jasper took her tear-moistened hand.
“I’m worried, too, Faye,” he said, helping her up from the cold stairwell. They followed the brother in black down into the throngs of people. Noah could be anywhere, and no one was with him to keep him safe.
Faye looked around as they ran down one alley, then another. It was the middle of the night but the place was alive with people. How would they ever find Noah? she thought.
She and Jasper stopped to catch a breath. They looked around, hoping to catch Noah’s face in the crowd.
“Look!” Jasper was pointing.
She saw it, too. They were nearly standing right outside.
“Katuum EtHabib.” Faye felt a small tinge of relief as they entered the shop. It was something familiar in a sea of strange. “Sir Edward?”
The Strange Round Bird: Or the Poet, the King, and the Mysterious Men in Black Page 20
