give me brothers?’
Razia raised the hand with the dagger to her mouth and bit her knuckles, the long dazzling blade with the verses of the Quran etched on to it jutting from her fist. She stepped away from him, the eyes ringed with white lashes wide with surprise, the head lowered as she seemed to recover and, with a fixed empty smile, said, ‘The fate of the mosque does concern me. It concerns me as a Muslim. Angels sent by Allah Himself built that mosque …’
Leila tightened her grip on Qes as Timur struck the old woman hard on the face, knocking her to the ground, the elegant dagger rattling to the other end of the hall. ‘I am sick of all this,’ Timur said and he bent down and grabbed hold of the thousand-bead rosary and tore it to pieces, sending the little black spheres flying in all directions. Some of them even slipped under the door to the new wife’s rooms. He straightened and turned to his men.
‘What are you still doing here? Didn’t you hear my orders?’
‘Call them back, in the name of Allah,’ Razia pleaded as she wept on the floor.
He stood above her with his loud breathing and then walked over to the dagger. He picked it up, went to the door behind which the birth had just taken place and kicked it open with his foot. Screams and cries went up in the room, the sounds of panic. Leila attempted to stop Qes but he stayed her gently and went down the staircase at great speed, she following a few steps behind.
‘For the last time, don’t do that to the mosque,’ Razia was saying wretchedly, scrabbling around for her rosary beads with her fingers, as Qes and Leila went past her. They heard Timur give a great enraged shout and then an immense silence descended on the world.
Leila and Qes entered the room and saw that the new mother, with her hands red and an expression of crazed hatred on her face, was standing above Timur, who lay on the floor, his mouth still open from that shout. The woman stepped back as he pulled the dagger out of his breast and, the instinct for force still undamaged within the confused and dying mind, stabbed his own stomach with it, once, twice, driving the blade most of the way in each time as the blood welled out of his mouth through gritted teeth. He plunged it blindly into his thigh and groin, and into his face below the right eye, and lastly into the house itself, stabbing the granite floor beside him. Against the walls stood the motionless servant girls, and the midwife clutching the minutes-old human being. She came forward and handed the baby to its mother.
Timur’s blood roamed the floor. Razia, having finally gathered the remains of her rosary from the hall, entered and slowly began to pick the beads off the bedroom floor, each new one bringing her deeper into the room, and closer to Timur’s body. Many of them she collected out of his blood. One lay near his hand – the hand that held the dagger embedded up to the hilt in the stone floor. Only then did she seem to see him.
B rushing against the stationary animals in the darkness, Qes and Leila crossed the room and went out into the night. They stood looking at the sky, taking the galaxies on to their faces, the tide of scents from night flowers. But a minute later he brought her back to the room and switched on the lights. He opened all the windows one by one and began to move the animals so that they faced the door to the outside. When she understood, she lifted the glass dome off the emerald butterflies and carried them to a windowsill. He climbed on to the shoulders of the tiger and raised his hand to unhook the opening of the cage in which a paradise flycatcher sat, bound to its swing with thin wire. He moved towards the tiger’s haunches and opened the cage of the blossom-headed parakeet. Without touching the ground he stepped on to the table and then on to the back of the lioness and on to the blue antelope, opening all the cages suspended from the ceiling that was painted like a garden.
Razia raised the hand with the dagger to her mouth and bit her knuckles, the long dazzling blade with the verses of the Quran etched on to it jutting from her fist. She stepped away from him, the eyes ringed with white lashes wide with surprise, the head lowered as she seemed to recover and, with a fixed empty smile, said, ‘The fate of the mosque does concern me. It concerns me as a Muslim. Angels sent by Allah Himself built that mosque …’
Leila tightened her grip on Qes as Timur struck the old woman hard on the face, knocking her to the ground, the elegant dagger rattling to the other end of the hall. ‘I am sick of all this,’ Timur said and he bent down and grabbed hold of the thousand-bead rosary and tore it to pieces, sending the little black spheres flying in all directions. Some of them even slipped under the door to the new wife’s rooms. He straightened and turned to his men.
‘What are you still doing here? Didn’t you hear my orders?’
‘Call them back, in the name of Allah,’ Razia pleaded as she wept on the floor.
He stood above her with his loud breathing and then walked over to the dagger. He picked it up, went to the door behind which the birth had just taken place and kicked it open with his foot. Screams and cries went up in the room, the sounds of panic. Leila attempted to stop Qes but he stayed her gently and went down the staircase at great speed, she following a few steps behind.
‘For the last time, don’t do that to the mosque,’ Razia was saying wretchedly, scrabbling around for her rosary beads with her fingers, as Qes and Leila went past her. They heard Timur give a great enraged shout and then an immense silence descended on the world.
Leila and Qes entered the room and saw that the new mother, with her hands red and an expression of crazed hatred on her face, was standing above Timur, who lay on the floor, his mouth still open from that shout. The woman stepped back as he pulled the dagger out of his breast and, the instinct for force still undamaged within the confused and dying mind, stabbed his own stomach with it, once, twice, driving the blade most of the way in each time as the blood welled out of his mouth through gritted teeth. He plunged it blindly into his thigh and groin, and into his face below the right eye, and lastly into the house itself, stabbing the granite floor beside him. Against the walls stood the motionless servant girls, and the midwife clutching the minutes-old human being. She came forward and handed the baby to its mother.
Timur’s blood roamed the floor. Razia, having finally gathered the remains of her rosary from the hall, entered and slowly began to pick the beads off the bedroom floor, each new one bringing her deeper into the room, and closer to Timur’s body. Many of them she collected out of his blood. One lay near his hand – the hand that held the dagger embedded up to the hilt in the stone floor. Only then did she seem to see him.
B rushing against the stationary animals in the darkness, Qes and Leila crossed the room and went out into the night. They stood looking at the sky, taking the galaxies on to their faces, the tide of scents from night flowers. But a minute later he brought her back to the room and switched on the lights. He opened all the windows one by one and began to move the animals so that they faced the door to the outside. When she understood, she lifted the glass dome off the emerald butterflies and carried them to a windowsill. He climbed on to the shoulders of the tiger and raised his hand to unhook the opening of the cage in which a paradise flycatcher sat, bound to its swing with thin wire. He moved towards the tiger’s haunches and opened the cage of the blossom-headed parakeet. Without touching the ground he stepped on to the table and then on to the back of the lioness and on to the blue antelope, opening all the cages suspended from the ceiling that was painted like a garden.
Similar Books
