I pretended not to understand, but she gazed into my eyes with the look of one who knows everything. So I confessed, “I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t in love with you. You know that better than anyone.”
“Is the beloved destined to die by the lover’s hand?”
“Yes, indeed!”
“By what law?”
“By the law of fear.”
“To which fear do you refer?”
“The fear of confusion.”
“Confusion?”
“No, the fear of anxiety.”
“What foul talk!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Don’t you know that love is the only treasure we don’t forfeit even if we reward it with a calamity?”
“I know that love is a treasure. I know that love is the most precious treasure, but solitude inevitably risks death to defend herself, because she too is love, love of a unique variety.”
“Rubbish!”
“Are you a jinni?” I asked.
“Are you human?” she countered.
“Yes, indeed.”
“You’re lying!”
“I don’t understand.”
“I meant to say that in the heart of each person is a creature spawned by the jinn and that in the body of each jinni is a creature spawned by men.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m from a country where there is no distinction between men and jinn.”
“Is it the country of longing?”
“You’re right. It is the country of longing, from which you also came, before you went into exile.”
“I will devote three out of every four of my days to my lady if you tell me the truth about the country of longing I knew before I entered forgetfulness.”
“I don’t want your days in payment for the deal. Give me your heart.”
“For the sake of knowledge I will not withhold even my heart.”
“I know you yearn to hear news of your fatherland, since you desire a father.”
“Have you been granted news of the father too?”
“Nothing is hidden from a messenger.”
“A messenger?”
“A messenger of destiny, I come to your lands from the distant country of Asaho to share your kingdom and bedchamber and to sing the glories of the eternal father.”
“Bravo! Bravo!”
“I will bear you offspring that will perpetuate the clan of the original homeland to leave a trace and to fulfill a pledge I have made.”
Then she raised her voice in a song of longing that made me forget who I was. When I regained my senses, I heard her complete the prophecy: “From today forward, your offspring will be the progeny of Targa, and tongues will constantly speak of them, because they are, of all the clans, a clan with a secret. Their true name will remain a talisman among people, as the law decreed. All the same, they are a wretched clan, for their destiny is exile. So, beware!”
2 Midday
AT FIRST I SHARED my bedroom with Tin Hinan, because I considered this cunning creature my spouse. Once the people made me priest of the temple, the goddess Tanit visited me, while I was between sleeping and waking, and asked me to bring my spouse into the shrine to keep me company there too. I did that, although I obeyed out of respect for the gods’ secrets and not out of any conviction about the true nature of women. All the same, I soon discovered the wisdom of this advice. In fact the shejinni’s voice, which had once shaken the people’s souls, was now able to awaken a similar response in the souls of the gods. From the first day she sang of eternal longing inside my old temple, which I had constructed on the mountainside as a home for myself, the world has not ceased to resound with her heavenly hymn. It was the first psalm heard by the walls of a desert temple. Apparently the supplication pleased the heavens, for the lords of the spirit world courted her and selected her from among all the people to bear the burden of prophecy. Thus her dreams became revelations that were never tardy or false. Some scholars say that Targa’s emblem, which the engineers placed on the corners of the walls to serve as a symbol for that magnificent oasis, was actually a revelation from the principal goddess Tanit, who confided it to her beloved temple priestess Tin Hinan, who in turn revealed it to the earth’s master builders. My vassals told me that there was a symbolic meaning to the triangular emblem. The first angle represented virility and the second femininity. The reference of the third angle had been lost, but the quest for it excited a lengthy debate during the course of which some people pointed out its supremacy and discussed its power, even though it was shielded and concealed from sight. At the same time, another team attributed the lost reference in the figure to reality itself, for reality is nothing more or less than a sign. The third faction was more daring and made it quite clear they believed that the third corner of the emblem represented the goddess Tanit, because she had decreed that the body of the earth would not stand upright unless there was within it some aspect of her character. Evidence was provided by the extraordinary care the engineers took in designing the emblem and in drawing it on every structure, for it became a symbol of the entire desert tribe. They first placed it on my old house, which they insisted on using as a temple for the religion of longing when they summoned me to be a priest for the shrine. They used my yearning for my father to justify their request with the same enthusiasm with which they summoned Tin Hinan to join me and become the priestess, citing her passion for songs of longing. This was even before I revealed to people the desert goddess’ advice, which she gave me during a visit when I was between sleep and wakefulness.
The day they decided to fetter me with political leadership as well as the priesthood I was terrified by the burden, but they flocked to me and told me in unison, “We have selected you to govern us, because we would be wrong to trust a man who has not suffered. For similar reasons, we have chosen you to serve as guardian over our temple, because we are certain that our worldly affairs will not prosper unless someone with access to dream visions takes charge. There is nothing to be gained from a ruler who does not unite pain and prophecy in his heart.”
Astonished by the clarity of their insight, I asked, “Who are you?”
They replied in the ancient language of riddles, “We are a community which prefers to speak of the shadow when referring to the shadow’s original and which gestures toward the shadow when speaking of the original.” This made me sure that they were a group of that small band that roams the desert and that some call “Kel Iba,” which in Tuareg means “people of the spirit” or “spirits.” Others refer to them as “people of the spirit world.” Then the vassals went all out in construction projects, drawing on the assistance of the throngs of people who by that time had gathered in the oasis. The first project they put in place was the incorporation of my old house, which had been turned into a temple on the advice of their priests, into my new house. The sanctuary occupied the place of the heart in the structure. They named the central part, which was crowned with the emblem of the goddess, “House of the Spirit,” because of the way it was conjoined with the newer house, which they called the “Sublime Gate,” because it rested on the flank of a knoll overlooking the growing oasis.
The sages were not satisfied, however. They gazed at the sky, admiring its handsome light. They searched everywhere and excavated the earth, working tirelessly to extract a mineral the color of light. This they named “lime.” They set right to work using it to whitewash the walls of the temple, turning it white, since they judged the color of daylight auspicious and wished to show respect for Ragh’s immortal gift. After that, they came to me and wrested me from my seclusion in the cave of the ancestors. They were singing charms of longing as sacred chants. They took me by the hand and led me to the lofty edifice, which the white stucco rendered even more majestic, imposing, and grand. There they surprised me with melancholy songs and caught me off-guard. Three of the fiercest of the team of sages pounced on me. One wrapped his arms around me. A second man fit a leather mask over my face, and the third chanted the charm in my ear: “You are the scion of the lord of lords, Ragh, who deserted you one day, for he only deserts the creature he loves. Thus you became, from that day forward, eternally, Anubi. Had it not been for your exile, we would never have appointed you sovereign of the lower world and we would not have dared to make you deputy, or caliph, over the earth for the lord of lords.” So the mask of Anubi, following this secret ceremony, became an amulet I used to conceal my face whenever I entered the temple, either to be alone, to ponder a concern of mine or of the people’s, or to beseech the spirit world to inspire me with a prophecy.