Heaven

What Happened

A week after the festival, I woke up late at night. For a few seconds I wasn’t sure what had woken me up—there’s always a reason—and then I heard a loud bump from somewhere else in the house. There was some shuffling, followed by another bump and then a crash. 

I looked around to see if anyone else had woken up, but Jakob and the others were still asleep. After a few seconds’ hesitation, I decided to investigate. 

The noise could have come from anywhere, and the layout of the house made it difficult to examine all the possibilities with any speed. As was typical of Moslem houses, the hallways were winding so that every doorway opened to a wall—as a result, you could never see what lie ahead along the path that you were following, making this type of midnight investigation very difficult. 

I had luck, though: I entered the central garden just as a fluttering, black cloak disappeared toward the front door. I heard the door open and shut—then silence. Instinctively I ran to the front door and out into the street, but there was nothing there. No person or sign of disturbance. There was barely even any light, except for what shone from the moon, because there were no lamps on our stretch of the street. Whoever was just inside our house had gotten away; any hope that there might be of finding a person wearing black in the dark must be discarded when the person has even the smallest of head starts. 

What were they after? Did they steal something? Were they trying to hurt someone? Abualjafna was rich and influential; he’d certainly make a good target for any brigand. I took some time to survey several rooms to see if anything was amiss. The garden was in perfect order, the kitchen was fine. Nothing seemed to be missing from the hallways, which were lined with tapestries and dotted with vases. The intruder couldn’t have been making such a racket in a bedroom, I reasoned, or whoever was sleeping there would have woken up. I passed by the workroom, and there I saw it: glimmering devilishly in the moonlight, a heap of tile shards on the floor. A cloud of dust surrounded the tile fragments, which lay like a corpse. 

Not long before, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between these destroyed tiles and pieces that were properly cut, but now it brought me to my wits’ end. A few days’ work had been destroyed. And it seemed to be my work alone; the intruder had not touched anything else. 

I had gotten over having so much trouble with my tilework—and then this happened. Now I was really behind. I’d never advance to Jakob’s position at this rate. I’d never make it out of the Azara. 

But they’d have to believe me? It was possible that I cut every tile wrong when I was just a beginner, but it was inconceivable that I’d smash all my own work in the middle of the night.

I went to wake up Jakob.

“Huh?” he said, barely alert.

“Something’s happened.”

“What is it?”

“There was someone here. I heard a noise and it woke me up.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“I went down and saw someone run out the front door.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Is anything gone? Did they hurt someone?”

“I just checked and everything is okay except—you’re never going to believe this—the tiles are smashed, completely destroyed.”

He rubbed his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t believe it.”

“Seriously. They didn’t touch anything else, but my tilework is lying in a pile on the ground. It’s horrible.”

He made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan to indicate that he was deciding what to do, weighing the value and consequences of every course of action. “It can wait till morning, can’t it?” he said. “Just go back to sleep.”

I had wished it was a nightmare, but when we entered the workroom in the morning my work was every bit as pulverized as it’d been at night. 

“Oh my—”

“What the—”

“How—”

The others seemed upset over the broken tile, but only in a detached way—it was no skin off their backs, after all. I was the one who had to face the consequences, even though it was no fault of my own. I explained what had happened the previous night—how I woke up, about the intruder, the broken tiles.

“I can’t believe this,” I said. “Who would do this?”

“Nobody,” said Jakob. “I can’t believe it either.”

“First thing’s first: cleanup,” said the foreman. I was reluctant to clean up the mess—the proof of my innocence. Without it, I might as well have not done any work at all for several days. But I had no choice. I cleaned the mess alone as the others resumed their normal tasks. 

As I was cleaning, Abualjafna arrived. “What’s going on?” he said.

“Abualjafna!” I said. “Someone broke in last night.” Once again I recounted my story. He exchanged looks with the foreman. “Well, Aragad,” he said. “Finish cleaning up and get back to work. You’ll have to work doubly fast today—we can’t afford to stay behind schedule. When the bottom of the chain lags, everything else trails with it. And unfortunately in our position we cannot afford to lag too long, else the caliph will do something about it.” The words sounded threatening, but his expression was difficult to read. 

He signaled to the foreman. “A word,” he said, and the two of them left the room.

“So,” said Jakob. “Tell me the truth. What really happened last night?”

“What  do you mean?” I said. “I told you. I even woke you up right when it happened.”

“I’m just having trouble believing this,” he said. “Why would someone break into the house in the middle of the night just to destroy your work. Not to steal anything, not to harm anyone, just to destroy your work. It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “But you have to believe me.”

“I want to believe you. But this is just unthinkable. And your shenanigans are starting to make us all look bad. We all want to get out of here, you know.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just do your work like everyone else, okay? I know you don’t like cutting tiles, I know you think you’re better than the task, I know you’re a painter and this and that. But you don’t see anyone else here complaining or messing up or sabotaging their own work to try and get out of it, do you?”

“You think I did this?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who would.”

No more words would come out. I was sure my face was red—maybe even my eyes. I thought Jakob was my friend. We’d spent so much time together, and I thought we knew each other well. I’d only ever been honest with him. We talked about things that I didn’t talk about with anyone else—in fact, I barely talked to anyone else. We were both on the same mission. Why wouldn’t he believe me?

I couldn’t do anything else but finish cleaning up and get to work. With everyone against me—even God, it seemed—I’d have to work especially hard to succeed. But I would do it. I’d do it for Ania.