by August Li
Janan picked up some of the pebbles that littered the ground and piled them up, three large piles and a few smaller ones. “There’s something… some memory pulling at me. I feel it circling like a jackal, darting into the shadows whenever I try to look at it directly.” Scrunching his face, he swatted the piles and sent the rocks bouncing. “This is so frustrating! Everything is right there, but as soon as I try to close my hand around it, it’s whisked away like smoke on the wind. Why would someone do this to me?”
“I don’t know,” Isra said softly. “I’ve thought a lot about that, but I can’t imagine why someone would want to hurt you.” He reached over to cup Janan’s knee. “We’ll find this person. We’ll find a way to regain what’s been taken from you.”
“That’s the worst part,” Janan said, looking at the gap between the mountain peaks. Something in that direction called to him…. “I don’t know if we should. The person is dangerous, and I don’t want you in danger. Maybe… maybe I should let this go. Forget the man I might’ve been. Be the man I am now.”
Isra shook his head. “But these thoughts torment you.”
It was true. “I worry. I worry I have something to atone for, and I worry I have left something unfinished, something I need to see through. But… is it selfish? I have more than most men, more than I ever thought I’d have. I should be content.”
“I can’t imagine what it must be like,” Isra said, his warm eyes locking on Janan’s. “I think back over my life, and it seems what defines a man is the sum of the stories about him. The things he’s taken part in, the experiences he passes along while sitting by the fire, the tales others tell of him. That’s his place in the world, the parts he plays in all those stories, how he moves in and out of the stories of others and they move in and out of his. Every man deserves that, and I will help you find yours. I want that, to see you smile as you tell me some silly thing you did as a boy, to stand next to you in a place where your life changed.”
Janan put his hand over Isra’s and squeezed, thanking God for him. “This place. This is where my life changed. Our places. And maybe my story begins here, with you, at the point where our two tales became one.” He sighed. “Yet I do want to know how I got here. I want to share it with you. You deserve the chance to turn away if I was an evil man.”
With his free hand, Isra poked the coals and coaxed fresh flames. “No more of that nonsense.”
“But if we go looking, I could drag you into something terrible,” Janan persisted. “Especially now. God, a sorcerer? Why would I be associated with someone like that?”
“Nothing is simple,” Isra reminded him. “Many would think I have no business associating with Flicker, but they see only a part of the story. When we uncover your whole story, we’ll know. Come now. It’s time to eat, and then we need to find these goats before the cats and jackals do.”
Isra made fava bean paste with strips of dried meat, and they spread it on the flat bread and ate it with strong goat cheese. As they drank tea from tin cups, Janan looked again to the north. He stood and walked to the edge of the cliff that looked out over the desert. He felt warmth at his back as Isra joined him.
“What is in that direction?” Janan asked.
“Little,” Isra said. “The land is harsh and dry unless you go west to the wadi. Go north long enough and you’ll reach Cairo.”
“Cairo…. Have you been there?”
“A few times, years ago,” Isra told him.
“There are… ruins….” Janan screwed his eyes shut, willing the colors swirling like a sandstorm in his mind to solidify. “Structures….” He thought about his little piles of pebbles.
Isra chuckled. “You could say that. The Great Pyramids are there. The sphinx.”
“I remember them… the pyramids. Ever since we came into the hills, I’ve felt drawn in that direction.”
“It’s a long journey,” Isra said, “but if you think something’s there, we can make it.”
“I’ll feel terrible if it’s for nothing,” Janan said. “Maybe we should speak to your friend before we do anything rash.”
Isra nodded. “Sure. We can go to the ruins and talk to him tonight.”
“How do we know he’ll be there?”
Isra patted his shoulder. “He is always there when I need him. It’s always been that way.”
WITH THE moon waning, the old Roman fort was darker than the last time, but Janan wasn’t afraid, though if he looked too closely at the idea of seeking help from an arafrit, it seemed surreal. Rather than doubt his sanity, he pushed the implications to the back of his mind.
Just as he was growing bored, scratching crude pictures into the dust with his walking stick, a loud whoosh made him look up as a fireball fell from the sky and streaked past the old watchtower before coming to a stop in front of the cistern where they sat. The bluish-white flame seemed to burn through reality, opening a curtain so whatever lay beyond could spill out. Magic, Janan supposed. From that cleft, Flicker stepped forward, all the metal decorations he wore molten and glowing, though the light of his eyes and the pulsing swirls on his bare skin outshined them. Janan blinked and shielded his eyes until the glare became bearable, and then he noticed the arafrit was barely dressed, nothing but a gossamer wrap around his hips, golden disks jingling at the edges. Janan couldn’t help the gasp that escaped at Flicker’s beauty. Later, when he had leisure, he would contemplate why God had made something like him, if not to impress mankind with his skill.
Flicker grinned. “So we’re going to Cairo. Huh. That’ll bring back memories for me.”
“You know what I remembered?” Janan asked.
Flicker cocked his head. “What?”
“How did you know we considered going to Cairo?”
“I didn’t.” Flicker twitched his fingers and slid a slab of rock the size of a bench in the city market toward him. He perched on the edge and leaned his slender forearms on one knee. “You must excuse me. I’m a bit tired. Whoever cast this spell on you has gone to great lengths to cover their tracks, and they led me on quite a chase. I followed several false trails and had to avoid more than a few traps before I was able to track the magic to Cairo. I don’t know if we’ll find what we’re looking for there, but it’s a place to start. Something’s there. The flavor of the enchantment is the same.”
“Flavor?” Janan asked.
“Tomato.” Flicker regarded his sharp obsidian nails. “But with a bitter note. Burnt around the edges.”
“Will we be in danger?”
Flicker’s reptilian eyes met Janan’s. “Absolutely. We should leave right away.”
“We’ll need to get the camels,” Isra said. “Gather supplies. That’s not a trip of a day or two, my friend.”
“No, no.” Flicker rolled his shoulders back. “We can’t waste weeks traipsing across the desert.”
“I don’t understand.”
Flicker reached over and traced Isra’s face with his fingertips. Janan struggled to wrestle down the unexpected jealousy. Their relationship was intimate; Flicker knew Isra better than Janan might ever know him, and he was envious, God forgive him.
On some level, they loved each other, and it wasn’t a bond he could understand or be part of.
“I’ll forgive you,” Flicker said with a sweet smile. “What I mean is that I can get us to Cairo. We can go right now. Do you need to tell your brother? Jibril?”
“It’s not that,” Isra said. “It’s hardly unusual for a couple of men to wander off, but—”
“Then it’s settled!” Flicker dropped from his perch and bounced on the balls of his feet. He took Isra’s hand and urged him to stand, and then he reached for Janan. Janan looked around, wondering if a magic carpet would appear from behind the ruins.
Instead, Flicker pulled both him and Isra close and wrapped his arms around them. In a deafening rush, all the oxygen around them seemed to ignite. They stood within a column of flame that became a cyclone. Intense heat compelled sweat to spring from
Janan’s pores, but once his panic subsided, he realized it didn’t harm him; it felt more like lying in the sun at the height of summer. But it was disorienting. He felt like he was hurtling through space at impossible speed, while at the same time, they didn’t seem to move at all as the fire swirled around them. Janan wasn’t sure if there was anything beneath his feet, and he didn’t dare look. He could only cling to Flicker—more aware of his bare body than he wanted to be—and close his eyes against the heat drying them out.
As suddenly as it had started, the firestorm sputtered and died. The three of them stood in a circle of soot, and a wisp of smoke lingered. Janan’s head still spun, and it took him a few moments of stumbling before his surroundings coalesced into more than smudges of light and color. The motion made his stomach lurch, and he was glad for the cool water in the ibex-skin canteen Isra had made him. After a few deep breaths through his nose, he looked up and almost fell over a second time.
Towering above them, the pyramids of Giza stood dark against a cobalt sky shimmering with stars. Isra must’ve realized how far they’d come at the same time, because he clasped Janan’s hand and whispered, “Glory to God!”
Flicker snorted theatrically.
“Sorry,” Isra said. His mouth hung slightly open as he turned to look at Flicker, but Isra couldn’t seem to find his words.
Janan knew how he felt. He looked up and up, awed as much by the way the city moved and sparkled while the ancient tombs stood in a bubble of dark and quiet, frozen in time, as by the monumental journey they’d made in no more than a few minutes.
“I’d forgotten how impressive they are,” Isra said. “How… big. They impart a sense of majesty, don’t they?”
“They’ve always made me feel… patriotic,” Janan said, certain of the emotion if not anything more specific. “Proud to be an Egyptian, proud that this land has been great for so long and played so many important parts in history.”
“Does that mean your memories are returning?” Flicker asked. Against the deep blue of the sky, the contrast of his burning orange eyes was stark.
Janan looked at the pyramids again and familiarity washed over him. “I think I’ve stood here many times, contemplating the past. The future.” He turned toward the bright lights of Cairo, pointing. “This road is al-Haram. I… know this place. Could we walk farther into the city? Toward the river?”
Isra put a hand on his shoulder, and Janan leaned into the touch as the images in his head threatened to pick him up and toss him into the sky as surely as Flicker’s whirlwind. “I don’t see why not, though we aren’t likely to encounter anyone. It must be”—he looked at the reddish half-moon above the largest pyramid—“almost midnight.”
“This city is alive,” Flicker said. “It always has been. We can find places where people are eating and drinking. Dancing. Affected by things they don’t even know are there.”
Janan shook his head as images bombarded him so hard and fast he squeezed his eyes shut. “No. We’re not going to that part of the city. We need to stay on this road. I need… I have to….”
“What?” Isra cupped his cheek, and the solid touch, the reassurance of his presence and that Janan wasn’t alone, made the chaos in his head more bearable. It would be all right. After all, they had a djinn, just like heroes from a storybook! Janan cackled at the absurdity of it all. Isra flinched and again asked, “What is it?”
Flicker, once again in his elegant black clothing, crossed his arms over his chest, looking bored. “I am willing to help, but please do remember I’m no one’s to command. It isn’t that kind of story.”
Janan turned to him, suddenly realizing: “That’s how it’s supposed to work, isn’t it? You serve someone until you grant their wishes.”
“Your kind does like to imagine everything else in the world exists to serve you,” Flicker noted. “My kind, however, is difficult to subjugate. Difficult and dangerous. You see, we don’t like it any more than you would.”
Janan’s face heated. Mankind was arrogant. Stubborn and arrogant. That had bothered him. Human shortsightedness…. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’ll forgive you. You’re very confused.” The arafrit’s tone was condescending, but Janan couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it—or that it wasn’t true. “So, we will walk along this road. Then what will we do?”
“I don’t know,” Janan admitted.
“We’ll walk along this road,” Isra said, cheerily but inviting no argument. “Perhaps something will come to us. Or is there somewhere else we need to be?”
Flicker pulled the tail of his shemagh over the lower half of his face and tucked it into his turban. “Is there ever?”
As they walked, Janan was accosted by the peculiar contradiction of coming home while at the same time venturing into a strange and hostile place. Though he felt sure he’d seen many of the trees and buildings before, he was acutely aware of not being in the desert, of being surrounded by things when he’d become accustomed to open space.
If he had lived here, could he do it again? Did he even want to?
The farther they walked, the more he wondered—could he acclimate himself to this life of people living crowded together, always with somewhere to be? Always rushing even while they staggered beneath the weight of their obligations? Parts of the city were beautiful, certainly; it contained fine examples from dozens of cultures and across centuries. But garbage piled up in the poorer sections. Hordes of dogs prowled for scraps and carcasses. Among them, men, women, and children starved in the streets and huddled in alleyways with nowhere else to go. If not for Isra—and Flicker—Janan might be among them.
In the desert, if he was thirsty, he made his way to a water source. He already knew how to locate over a dozen of them near their camp, and Isra told of knowing of hundreds. If he was hungry, he could hunt, fish, milk a sheep or a goat, maybe kill one. Since he’d learned the ways of the nomads, he no longer worried about going hungry. It was a life that granted freedom and, maybe even better, time. Making a living didn’t cost a man’s every waking moment. One could find a place in the hills with a view and watch the day’s progress from dawn to sunset. One could ruminate on the meaning of life and God and fate and love and feel nothing had been wasted.
“You’re quiet,” Isra said.
Janan looked at the buildings around them, the chaotic tangle of roads. “This world feels unfamiliar to me now. Everything about a life like this feels…. It’s difficult to understand why someone would choose it.”
“Many mortals feel a compulsion to amass items they find beautiful or valuable,” Flicker said.
“I would think that’s something you can relate to,” Janan said.
“Few things have real value.” Flicker shook his head and his ornaments clinked. “Or real beauty. Besides, your lives are so short. What could possibly be the point to toil in misery for some items that you own for the blink of an eye before perishing?”
“Love of wealth takes away from the love of God,” Isra said.
“Oh come,” Flicker teased, “you love the wealth you own as much as any man.”
“And you love an argument if you can start one.” Isra smiled gently. “This time I’ll oblige you, just a little. I love the sunrise in the desert, the way I can look in any direction and know I could walk for days without seeing another person. I love seeing the acacias in bloom and the wild figs ripe. I love the smell of the land after the rain. But I cannot lay claim to them and I wouldn’t want to. God allows me to pass through these places, places with the names of my fathers and stories about the people who walked there before me, and that’s a privilege. But I don’t want to cleave to it and remain in this world when it’s time to move on. When God calls me home, I’ll go gladly and without regret. I’ll be content that the next generation will pass by my places, maybe hear a story about me.”
Janan noticed that Flicker looked enamored as Isra spoke. The arafrit’s eyes were wide and wet. “This is why I am happ
y to be your companion, Isra al-Grayjaab.”
“You are a poet,” Janan agreed.
Flicker snorted. “A poet finds complicated ways to say simple things. My good friend is something much rarer—an honest man content with his life. You know, it doesn’t surprise me that you can see what is hidden from most mortals, Isra.”
Isra stopped walking and turned to face Flicker, not annoyed but maybe surprised. “Why would you say that?”
“That I’m not surprised? Because I’m not. It’s a simple statement of fact.”
“You know what I’m asking,” Isra persisted.
Flicker waved his hand in front of his face like he was chasing off some flies, though it was night and there weren’t any. “Most mortals have a sort of… veil over their eyes. It protects them from things that burn too brightly for them to bear. It doesn’t surprise me that you manage without such a veil. That’s all.”
“No, it isn’t,” Isra said. “I wish you’d say what you mean… all of it.”
“Oh-ho, and I’m accused of being confrontational?”
The rising sun washed the city in grainy beige and gray. It was a soft light, like a worn blanket, and it wrapped around the rough edges of one of the oldest parts of Cairo, giving Janan the sense of a childhood memory, safe and optimistic. He let his attention stray from Isra and Flicker’s good-natured bickering. They’d been walking for hours, and the conversation had occupied his attention. He enjoyed having his mind and his beliefs challenged. He’d barely even noticed crossing the river. But now, in the dawn light, the building in front of them made him stop and stare.
The minarets and domes of the fortress were impressive, as were the long pergola beneath a series of arches and the emerald lawn in front of it all. Janan loved his country, and this castle, with its spires reaching toward heaven, reminded him how much he had to take pride in, but unlike the pyramids, this place felt… almost personal.
