by Tim Kindberg
She thought to herself: the ones that say a female must stay at home and do the housework; that say a female must defer to a male.
“That will be for you to find out.”
“Then it can stay hidden, for all I care. Where did you get that light? The one you shone on the carpet to free me? I don’t know what it is but perhaps it can help me.”
“You mean the torch. I don’t know that it can help you. It may not be the light itself but a way of looking or searching that the carpet responds to.”
“You think it responds to you?” he smirked.
“When I searched for Ibtissam with the torch the threads retracted, and when I shone it on her shadow and yours, you returned. At least, something like that.”
“I don’t know that I ‘returned’. I found myself in your world. What is happening to me? This is a strange place, not exactly where the enslavers brought us. At least, I don’t think so. For all my education, I see things I’ve never seen or heard of before. Perhaps I travelled, or returned somewhere else. Except that I remember the carpet.”
“In a sense you were travelling but I don’t think it was through space, Akimbe. If you went to sleep for a very long time and everything had changed when you awoke —”
“What do you mean by a ‘very long time’?”
“Were you asleep?”
“How could I know? I feel as though I was awake but in a strange place. Not this place. There was a man who taught me each day … I … I don’t know. It felt real but now it seems like a dream.”
“I know it sounds strange to ask this but are you the same person as when you escaped: the same age — what are you, fourteen? — the same thoughts, memories? Did you look in the mirror?”
“At first I made myself jump but, no, it’s me all right. I look the same as I remember.”
“They might have changed you in ways you can no longer detect,” said Chemchi. “The man who taught you, what was his name?”
“I don’t know. I recall only that he spoke to me for hours about a kind of science. There were symbols on a board. He never spoke of himself, at least, not that I can remember.”
“And what about your life before you were captured?”
Akimbe brightened a little for the first time, almost looking like a boy again instead of someone much older and careworn. “It’s crystal clear in my mind but so different from here that I don’t know where to begin. We lived in a compound. All around were wild animals, some of them dangerous, like lions and snakes. My father taught me everything about them, about how to kill them. When I wasn’t studying I spent my time with my sister, Oyo. You remind me of her a little: you’re both stubborn, with ideas above your station.”
Chemchi coolly ignored him. He didn’t look much like a warrior’s son, changed from the rags she found him in into one of Ali’s robes, which was too big. They would buy some proper clothes later. For all his stupid airs, he was a boy who had lost his whole family, at least that’s what he said. She had had only a mother to lose: no sister and never a father in sight. But then that was her whole family, too, so in a sense it was the same. And Ali was to blame for that.
“Those enslavers, as you call them, had a lot to answer for,” she said.
“‘Had’?” Akimbe held up the bracelet. “You will help me find them: you and Ali.”
Still, she ignored the pure arrogance of this boy, which she almost admired. “Don’t count on Ali for anything, believe me. He’s not what he seems. And don’t forget Ibtissam. She helped me save you, in a way.”
“So you will assist me, then?”
“We’ll do what we can,” she picked up Ibtissam, who was circling her feet. “At least we’ll try to understand what happened to you. But no promises.”
Meanwhile, there was Morchid to deal with. Morchid, to whom she owed something unknown — nothing good, for sure. One thing was certain: Morchid would know that her cat was found and that therefore the debt was due. Maybe he even knew that someone else had turned up, too. He had wanted her to find Ibtissam. In return for what? The next step was to find out more about the chamber. She looked at Akimbe. He was going to be a pain. But at least she would have someone to accompany her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS THEY APPROACHED the recess in the Criée Berbère where the chamber’s hidden entrance lay, a man drew close up to them. He had few teeth and his breath reminded Chemchi of camels.
“What are you doing here, lovelies?” he said. “Is there something in this corner of interest to a pair of fine young citizens such as yourselves? And you,” he nodded at Akimbe, “you’re a strange one, aren’t you, in such clothes.” Chemchi wished she had found Akimbe some clothes that fitted him. It was the pretext they had given Ali for going out, and he had given her some dhirams. But with all the mysteries to solve they had barely given thought actually going to buy some. She had even forgotten to eat breakfast; it was unlike her and her stomach felt empty.
“It’s not really your concern, is it … sir?” Chemchi gave him a look of disdain. She didn’t know who or what he was except that he was trouble. “Leave us alone or I’ll call one of the stallholders over.”
Camel-breath drew even closer. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are,” he looked menacingly at Chemchi, “or what you’re up to.”
“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” She wanted to withdraw from the smell but stood her ground. “Because if you’re not gone from my sight at the count of ten, you’re going to regret it.” She caught the eye of a nearby stallholder and indicated Camel-breath, making a face of disgust.
Camel-breath withdrew. “You’ll be seeing me again, lovelies. But next time when there’s no one else around.”
Entry to the chamber meant slipping into the little recess unnoticed in the crowd. At that moment they were under the stallholder’s gaze, not to mention that Camel-breath may not have gone far. After thanking the stallholder with a sign, Chemchi took Akimbe to buy clothes through a corner opposite to where Camel-breath had left.
The market was full of shoppers at mid-day. Mercifully, the sun was dappled by the netting above the souks. The air was warm and full of scents. After pretending to examine some carpets, Chemchi and Akimbe walked as if to go past the passage to another stall, but quickly turned in at the last minute.
Chemchi took the torch from her basket.
“Is this the place? We came through but there’s nothing here except a brick wall!” said Akimbe. In answer, Chemchi shone the torch to reveal the curtains, which yielded as she pushed against it. He gasped.
“So you see it?”
“I see your hand going through the wall!”
She took his hand and pressed it where she had pressed. It yielded for him, too.
Chemchi stood to hide Akimbe from the people passing by, intent on their shopping. They were so close, but no one thought to look to the side. Why would they? It was a non-space, a nowhere. She passed him the torch.
“Go on, try. Press that button.”
Akimbe shone the torch but in vain. He touched the brick wall and shone the torch off and on, frustrated. Then he shrugged and passed it back to her.
“It’s not working.”
She shone it and the curtain reappeared. “You go first. I promise you, it will yield to you. This is what I did when I rescued you. Trust me. I’ll follow immediately. Go on, I can’t stand here all day!”
She watched him flinch as he took a step into the wall and felt the heavy velvet. He stepped back again.
“It’s really there! I can push against it!”
Chemchi pushed him through, shining her torch down to the carpet as quickly as she could.
But the carpet was gone. They stepped onto stone. Inside there was complete silence. Her torch beam cut the darkness as they walked up the passage, towards the candlelight in the chamber ahead of them.
About half-way up, Chemchi felt a familiar tickling at the backs of her ankles.
“Ibtissam! D
id you follow us through the curtains? Or is there another way in?”
Ibtissam ran ahead to the chamber but almost immediately stopped and hissed at something on the floor. As they approached they saw it was at the shadow carpet, lit by the six candles they had left glowing before but which had not noticeably burnt down. Now the carpet was a simple rectangle, like any normal carpet. Chemchi imagined it retracting itself from the passage after they had left, furling its tongue back into itself. Had it lost its appetite for whatever it needed from the souks or was its job there — whatever that was — done? Whatever had happened, she sensed that it had a mind of its own. It had an animal quality.
As before, the carpet was covered with the jumbled patterns made up of many people and creatures who had wandered onto it, who had become shadows with gold-threaded outlines.
Chemchi switched her torch back on and played its beam around the carpet. She could hardly see the beam in the light of the six candles. But where it fell, she could tell the shapes apart distinctly, brought out as they had been before they were shadows, only flattened. It was as though the beam painted them there with colour, back into themselves: rats on top of mice, who were on top of cats, and spiders beneath them. And the larger forms of people also loomed out. But they almost immediately disappeared into the jumble again unless she paid them enough attention. She found that the torchlight and her concentration had to act together. It was almost impossible to tell exactly where the near-invisible beam fell. But when she switched it off, however hard she stared, the effects stopped and the shapes once more were almost impossible to tell apart.
“What do you see?” Akimbe asked, evidently unable to see what she saw.
“I see what you see.” It was half-true. She did not feel like trying to explain what she could not understand herself.
Chemchi picked up Ibtissam and gave her to a reluctant Akimbe to hold.
He reacted disdainfully, “I am not a holder of cats, I am the son of a warrior!”
“Just do it. Please. Son of a warrior. Or was it a king? I don’t want to lose her again.”
She kept the torch pointing in one place and she focussed on some of the creatures there. They began to grow out of the carpet.
“Now do you see anything?”
“Yes. They’re coming out.” Little black wafers were thickening and rippling, colouring.
“They must all be in the world where I was,” said Akimbe.
“What’s happening to them in that other world — are they disappearing in thin air?” She looked at Akimbe as if he should know.
“I simply don’t remember.”
“There might be hundreds here. Thousands. I can’t release them all. It’s tiring.”
“How thin is a shadow?” Akimbe said. “A shadow has no thickness at all. There could be millions. Imagine how many creatures have passed unsuspecting through the chamber. For however many years it’s been here”
“Creatures — and people, like you.”
“Perhaps my family.” His face lit up for a second. “But how unfair. The ones on top have been trapped for the shortest time. The ones below, who have been there for longer, should be freed first.”
“I’m not sure I’m freeing them in that order, though; it may have more to do with whether a part of them catches my attention.”
A few stunned rats and mice started to pull themselves from the shadow carpet. They scurried away into the dark corners of the chamber, past the legs of Chemchi and Akimbe. The first cat de-shadowed. But instead of chasing the smaller creatures, it ran away in a different direction, frightened for its life just like they were. The freed creatures all disappeared into the darkness and didn’t come back. There must be cracks and gaps in the corners. Ibtissam strained in Akimbe’s arms, trying to chase them.
“But no people.” Akimbe was looking glum again. “How did you see me, amongst all these creatures?”
Chemchi pointed to a spot near a corner. “You were there, I think, although the carpet’s shape has changed so it’s difficult to say. Somehow you jumped out at me amongst all the others.”
“Perhaps I’m special, like you, perhaps I have a power too. And the carpet knows it. It’s quite beautiful, with those glinting threads running through it. How many hands must it have taken to weave it, and whose hands?”
“Doesn’t it weave itself? Morchid seemed to know something about it.”
“Morchid? Who is that?”
“Never mind about him for now. We should take a closer look at whatever else is here. Let’s just leave this for now.” Her head was spinning from the concentration.
“Are you all right?” Akimbe asked .
“Oh, now you care about someone like me of low station, do you? How gracious of you, my prince.” Chemchi hadn’t thought of herself before as a sarcastic person. But now she realised she was frequently sharp with Ali. It was his own fault, she told herself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE CHAMBER GREW quickly dark away from the candlesticks. Chemchi had her torch to cast into the shadows, and Akimbe found a small candle which he held with his hand cupped around the flame.
All the furniture stood around eerily as it had before. They looked particularly at the sideboard where the bracelet had dropped to the ground. Akimbe let Ibtissam free to hunt in the corners and Chemchi gave him a leg-up so that he could climb again on the sideboard and examine the higher shelves while she looked in the cupboard below. Nothing.
Akimbe walked from one part of the chamber to another with his candle, opening a book here, lifting a cup there, apparently picking the next spot at random.
Chemchi watched him. “What is it about boys and men when it comes to looking for things?” She was thinking especially of Ali storming around the riad when he lost something. “You’ll never get anywhere like that,” she told Akimbe. “Searching is a science. Or do I mean an art? Anyway, you have to think about it.” Where did she get these words from? From the films she watched, and the TV. And yet they were her words, too.
“I am thinking about it. I’m looking here and I’m looking there. Soon I’ll have looked everywhere.”
“And how will you know when you’ve looked everywhere? This place is big and full of … stuff.” The furniture stood around apparently randomly, casting shadows everywhere.
“Why, I’ll remember everywhere I’ve been and stop when I’ve visited all the parts of the chamber.”
“You’ll forget exactly where you’ve been. You — we — need to have a system. We’ll search around the walls first, then we’ll divide the interior into sections and search each of those.”
He looked down his nose at her. “You are so boring, Chemchi. My way is more fun.”
“Fun?” Chemchi, to her surprise, was a little hurt. But she didn’t let him see it. Saying things she thought out loud to someone else was rather strange. She had spent too long by herself, or rather in front of the screen, spending her free time with all the characters who lived there. “Boring or not, it’s what I’m going to do. You do what you want. But you won’t find anything that way, except by serendipity.” Goodness, where did that word come from? One of the films. But which?
“What’s wrong with seren… seren…”
“Dipity.”
“Stop acting like my sister. What are we looking for, anyway?”
“I don’t know. We’ll know it when we see it.”
“But what if I don’t notice the thing I’d know if I saw it — because I didn’t see it?”
Chemchi couldn’t help smiling. They both seemed to be grasping at some relief after the weirdness of the carpet. “Good point, Akimbe.” She thought of an American politician she had heard translated on television. “Unknown unknowns, unseen unseens. I don’t have an answer, to be honest. We just have to open our minds.” Ugh — wasn’t that what Ali had said? “And hope something interesting grabs our attention when we look its way. Plus I have this torch.”
“That light. It pulls things back from the other
world. Plus it makes visible what was invisible before. But only for you.”
“Yes they are two different things but they’re both a kind of uncovering, I suppose. I can do it, but only with the torch — any torch. But it doesn’t work for other people. AT least I don’t think so. It’s something about me.”
“It’s a talent. Something you were born with.”
“Or a curse.”
“If you say so. Anyway, you don’t need to know what we’re looking for, because you can see anything - everything?”
“I don’t know what ‘everything’ means, Akimbe. I see only what I see. I can’t know everything.”
Chemchi proceeded around the walls of the chamber, searching each nook and cranny for clues.
After a while they sat together on a low bench and watched the carpet, as though it would somehow reveal whatever it was they needed to know. Ibtissam sat nearby and contented herself with the occasional hiss as the threads glinted in the shifting light.
“You’re sitting next to me,” she said.
“Believe me, I wouldn’t if there was another seat.”
She flashed the torch across the carpet.
“Are there many others you can see there?” asked Akimbe.
She didn’t answer. She felt some guilt. Many other people were still trapped there, but the thought of releasing them all was exhausting. And she wasn’t sure she liked the look of some of them: many were rough-looking characters. There was no reason to believe they were as harmless as Akimbe had turned out to be. The question of what to do with this power of hers would require some thought.
Then something changed in the chamber.
Chemchi and Akimbe looked at one another.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Chemchi said.
“That suddenly it feels different in here?”
“Yes, it’s colder.”
“I’m beginning to think those creatures had the right idea, not wanting to hang around, I mean.”
“Those candles weren’t flickering that much before, were they?”
