I'm so sorry for the long delay. This is starting up in Kizzy's PoV, if you've forgotten and/or are too lazy to check back a chapter.
S.I spent a few good minutes getting my knife out of the wall. The walls here are of such spongy make; I'm not used to having to put in effort to getting my knives out of walls. They just kiss the wood of most buildings, and bricks are just too simple to be difficult. I never did trust a place with difficult walls.
I am not sure why we have not been allowed to go. Not that we couldn't if we wanted to, but the sultana would rather we stay. All of us! Not just Schneewittchen and I, who are the only two she ever summons anymore. Jorge-Carmen-Hugo were only truly appreciated by the sultan, but he lost interest since his mother told him of the wonders of Schneewittchen's new personality.
The Angel of Death.
What sick sort of person is she? The sultana, I mean. Schneewittchen is a sweet girl, she'd never hurt a soul. She does hate bugs, though.
I am horrified that the sultana is amused by the thought of an angel of darkness, of death. I certainly understand her fixation; I am no saint when it comes to things like this, but I do not need to see 'amusing deaths' in order to satisfy me. I only need to throw, or to move— how is such a woman tolerated as the ultimate power here?
They call her goddess of the universe, queen of everything, and she cannot even control her own urges. Sick, sick urges.
I am so ashamed of these Persians, that they permit her to lord over them. I wonder if the sultan would rule better on his own, or if has been so tainted by his mother that he would want the same things.
I find it strange to feel pity for Erik, but how I imagine his mind to be I cannot put into words. The pain he must suffer! To be a genius locked in a world by things out of his control. And for him to be so utterly hopeless, as he doubtlessly is— I would surely have killed myself, were I him.
Is his fate the one Schneewittchen is likely to face?
I know she is no genius, but what she lacks in brains she makes up for in innocence. Erik is no trusting innocent. But Schneewittchen? No, she is truly an innocent. In every way.
And the sultana is ruining her beautiful innocence, and how I hate her for that! I think I would rather kill Schneewittchen than let her go to waste. I like to think she is a beautiful princess; that's why I call her Schneewittchen. Snow White— a beautiful girl with such innocence it astounds me to this day. I used to ask Vlastik, my cousin, what strange person wrote the story and made the damsel so unrealistic? I did not know Schneewittchen then; now I know Snow White is not unrealistic at all.
Schneewittchen is Snow White, the beautiful princess.
And a beautiful princess who knows the true ways of the world is no princess at all.
---
The sultana summoned Moses and I to her private chamber one day, at a time when Schneewittchen was usually with her. The two of us talked in Arabic to each other about nothing in particular when a girl from the harem discreetly beckoned us to the edge of a building. We went to her, and I can safely say we were both quite confused.
She then proceeded to tell us in a very rational voice that the sultana was planning on giving one of the harem girls to "the living corpse" and that we ought to tell him to make it easier for her and not make her die.
I asked her what her name was, but she did not tell me.
Instead she disappeared into the harem and Moses and I hurried to the sultana.
We were almost at her door when someone stepped out from a niche and I found myself looking down the barrel of a pistol.
"Hello, Jack."
Moses said the only thing he could in English— 'hello'— and then squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, and Jack White ushered the two of us into the niche, where he pushed on a section of the wall. The wall slid back and revealed a narrow passageway, and he pushed me in.
A shot rang out and I screamed as Moses collapsed against the wall, blood seeping from his shoulder. And then Jack followed me into the passageway and shut us into the darkness. He pushed the barrel of the gun into the back of my neck and forced me forward.
"Scream and you're dead, and so's Bazzi," he said. And I smelled alcohol on his breath, but I wasn't surprised. Jack was a fool in love, and whenever he was a fool he was drinking.
"So what now, Jack?" I said. "Are you going to shoot me? Schneewittchen?"
"Shoot the only thing that makes me feel loved? Are you mad?" Jack gave a laugh, and I wanted to say that he was the one who was mad, not me. "No, it is him that I am going to shoot, Ferko. That man— no, that corpse who is stealing her from me."
He babbled on about Erik, switching between English and German and Arabic and Persian as quickly as we took steps in unison. I was so frightened; I can truthfully say I felt safer with Erik looming over me, his fingers biting into me. Angry as Erik was then, he was sane. And he had some degree of control.
But Jack was an animal, pushing me down passageways. I hated the whole thing! I couldn't see an inch, and all I could hear were our footsteps and Jack's heavy breathing. Jack didn't even warn me before I walked into a wall.
"Left," he said, and he reached over my shoulder and pushed and the wall opened.
The door led outside, and Jack pushed me onto the rocky ground, his gun pointed at my heart. I had one of my hands keeping me from being flat on the ground, and the other right near my metal knife. It had stopped bullets before.
If I had anything to say about it, it would stop them again.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Schneewittchen
The sultana made me sit on a cushion at her feet, and she stroked my hair. There was a pretty cat next to me, and I pet the cat. It wore a very pretty collar, and it was covered with colorful jewels. The sultana was smoking a pipe. I think Kizzy said it was called hashish.
The sultana's room is very beautiful. There is red and silk everywhere. There is no white except for me and my hair and my dress and the sultana's teeth. She smiles a lot, but she has an evil smile.
She is a very evil woman.
The sultana was talking to Erik and me in Arabic about plans for executions. I was blocking it out as best I could. I think Carmen is better at blocking things out than me.
Erik was saying something rude when we all started at a gunshot and a scream. The cat streaked away from me and Erik disappeared out of the door. The sultana followed at a leisurely pace and I ran past her.
I saw Erik in a niche speaking to Moses Bazzi. Moses was shot! I had to stuff my hand against my mouth to keep from screaming or retching. There was blood on his shoulder and his hand and he had a bullet in his shoulder and the sultana looked almost amused.
"Who?" I asked Moses. He stared at me.
"Jack White. He's got Kizzy and a gun." He pointed at the wall and Erik disappeared through it. I slipped through before it closed, being closest to it. The sultana was angry, but I had to stop Jack. Kizzy— Kizzy is more important than he is!
People think I am like a ghost, but Erik is more of a ghost than me. You can't see him unless he wants you to. Or hear him. He is a real live ghost.
I walked into him after a minute. He pushed open the wall and I blinked. We were outside, somehow. Jack White was standing over Kizzy, and I wanted to stop him. Moses said he had a gun.
Erik moved outside but shut the wall before I could get out. I looked out of a peephole but I could only see Erik's back.
"On a shooting spree, are we?" Erik said. His voice is so beautiful! I want to faint at it when I hear him speak.
"You corpse! You thief! What have you done with Schneewittchen?" Jack was angry.
"Nothing at all, my dear Englishman. Merely teaching her how to be an angel."
"I'll kill you!" Jack said.
I had to say no. I screamed it. And the others were very quiet. I begged Jack not to kill him or hurt him. Or Kizzy. He didn't say anything. I said please and I heard a little tick and then someone choking. I banged on the wall and Kizzy screamed and then I fainted again.
---
I woke up in my room with Kizzy over me. She smiled when I did and told me that she was okay, and that Erik was okay. She didn't say anything about Jack White. I didn't ask either.
I asked her what the date was. She told me it was 2 February 1863.
Carmen is stretching on her bed. Has it been that long? Time is so strange here. The days are all the same. I tried to count but I can't count very high and keep track. I got lost at forty-two, I think.
I don't know how they count the days here. Moses says it is 23 Rabial-awwal 1300 A.H. but I don't know what he means. He says A.H. is after hijra but I don't know what the hijra is. I think it is important to Moslems. But I have no religion. I only know a little about the Son of God. Jesus, I mean. He is a prophet for Moslems, and not God's son. I don't know if he is anything for the Semites.
I think people think Jesus died for our sins. I don't understand why he would do that. I wouldn't die for everyone's sins. Just the sins of the people who don't deserve to die. Maybe Jesus didn't want anyone to die. He must have been a very good man. I would have liked to know him, I think.
But I don't know how Mary could have been a virgin mother. I don't know anything about being a mother. But you can't have a child magically! I've never seen such magic.
Moses does magic but not like God does. He doesn't make people worship him. He needs Kizzy to do that— he makes magic and she wages war. That's something God can do, but Moses can't do everything God does. We had to cross the Reed Sea on a boat— Moses said it was too much water to open up for a long time.
I would have liked to walk next to the fishes.
---
The day after Jack shot Moses we went out of the court to the edge of the town to put a little box on top of a mound of sand. Kizzy held my hand because Moses wasn't there. He was being checked on by the French doctor at the court.
Kizzy took me away from where she left the box, and I did not look back. We were walking east, and the sun was setting to our backs. It burned my eyes— I was wearing my robes again. No one knows my name anymore.
And no one told me what was in the box, but I know it was Jack. I think it's awful that all of Jack fit in that little box. Jack was my whole life for more than half of it. He taught me Arabic, and how to be beautiful.
I want to know how he died.