She stopped crooning and moaned an ancient melody. Her thread escaped from the eye of her needle, which she attempted to rethread, struggling for a long time. Then in an anxious and desperate motion, she thrust it toward her companion. At that moment he saw her. At that instant he saw her shadow as if he were seeing her for the first time. At that moment he saw his thousandfold beloved. At that moment a feverish ecstasy possessed him, and he perceived in an exalted flash — like sparks of illumination or a glowing ember of prophecy — that he had been created solely to become the mate of the thousandfold beloved and that the only reason she had been born was to become his. He also perceived that neither the desert’s laws nor the heavens’ fates could alter this situation and separate two creatures who had from the beginning, from before they were born, been a single being in two bodies.
3
He told her, once they were alone, that he had failed to acquire the treasure and that all they could do was flee. She replied in a tone unaffected by girlish shyness, “Do what you will.” He lifted her to his shoulders and carried her through the dark alleys once the oasis slumbered. He took the route beside the wall on the eastern side, avoiding the guards of the western and southern gates. He entered the fields and constructed a ladder from palm trunks. He probably would have succeeded had he not been denounced by the eerie scarecrow about whose conduct the oasis people recount legendary tales.
Today he realized that it had certainly never been a scarecrow. It was, rather, an unruly type of jinni wrapped in a scarecrow’s rags, for he heard a suppressed snicker the moment he finished preparing the trunks and was ready to take flight. This became a hideous chortle that rattled in the chest, sounding like repulsive keening — fit for the spawn of the Spirit World. The insane guffaw did not last long, however, because a commotion followed on its heels, swallowing every other sound. This was a mixture of human clamor, the cries of herdsmen, the chattering of the populace, and a disagreeable shriek like the braying of a donkey. The commotion did not merely cause the walls to vibrate but shook the entire oasis. His terror at what he heard lasted until the guards surprised him and grabbed hold of him.
He did not grasp what happened next.
He remembered only that he broke free before they had conveyed the couple to the first alley. He bolted to the walls, reached the shadows, and then the gloom of the alleyways swallowed him.
When he slipped into her house some nights later, he heard from her lips the same charm: “Do what you will.”
He came to her after losing a sense of whether it was day or night. His struggle with mankind had left him dizzy; his quarrel with the fates had gotten the best of him, and fever, thirst, and fasting had exhausted him.
He came, but not the way he always had before. He did not bat an eyelid. His body did not feel feverish. There was no crazed look in his eye. He came like a ghost, crowding into the corner like any stranger. With eyes that did not even recognize her, he gazed at her by the light of the fire burning in the hearth. Was this a desperate person’s submission, the tranquility of a recluse, or the determination of a hero anticipating his final battle?
He said in a barely audible voice, “I’ve come for the last time.”
She replied in the same whisper, “I knew you would.”
“But I’ll never come again.”
She did not respond.
“Will you come with me?”
“I’ve always come with you. I’ve always been with you.”
“If I don’t take you today, the skin merchant will take you tomorrow.”
“I know. He has made preparations to take me even faster than you think.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
A gleam sparkled in his eye — a strange gleam. Was it a spark of inspiration? A flash of prophecy? The omen of an earthquake? This flash glowed with a sign unfamiliar to mankind. For this reason it would have struck terror into the hearts of even the jinn.
The gleam vanished, however. Immense submission returned to pulse through his eyes.
He whispered, “I haven’t wanted to do anything you don’t agree to.”
“I know.”
“The skin dealer won’t take you if you come.”
“I know.”
“No one will ever take you.”
“I know.”
“Your guardian, the leader, and the guards won’t bring you back.”
“I know.”
“Neither mankind nor the jinn will acquire you.”
“I know.”
“We’ll again become the single being we once were.”
Before she could murmur her “I know,” he left his corner quietly, and the look in his eyes blended submission, nobility, affliction, and certainty. He stood over her and removed the scarf from her head. He caressed the plaits of her hair with a cold, steady hand, which seemed an iron rod, not the palm of a thousandfold lover. He knelt down and with his other hand fondled her swelling breast, which tilted up, taut, like a bow. This hand was cold as well, but steady. Then he took her head with both hands and gazed into her eyes with the same stern look combining submission, nobility, affliction, and certainty. He stroked her entrancing neck and her right earlobe before his fingers slipped forward to close her eyelids. He trembled with a sudden shiver, but this passed, because his hands moved to her neck and clamped round her throat with an insane, eternal, iron grip.
She did not shudder or emit any death rattle. She did not experience the pains of a final death agony, because the two hands the commoners had likened to a jinni’s the day they seized him were better suited to achieving this objective than a sword thrust or a dagger blow.
4
This time he did not flee.
This time he did not have recourse to flight, because he saw no reason to flee. He had fled on the previous occasions not to escape punishment, not to enjoy freedom, but because he wanted to return, to seize an opportune moment to win his thousandfold beloved. Today, after he had realized his dream and gained the bride of eternity for eternity, his reason for struggling had been eliminated and his reasons for fleeing had vanished. So he walked on his own two feet to the guards and asked them to fetter his hands.
They shut him up in a dark place for days before they finally led him to the interrogation.
In the temple plaza, the citizens had gathered. On a hill beside the temple’s sanctuary, the chief merchant sat on a leather mat. Around him hovered nobles, guards, and vassals.
They brought him to a halt in front of the twin-veiled man, who began the interrogation. The wily fellow gazed at the setting sun and looked up as if searching the naked heavens for inspiration or a prophecy. He asked with a coolness inappropriate for the hideousness of the alleged crime, “Tell us first of all what you did to the girl.”
He looked around the area and saw that the alleys continued to spew forth bands of curiosity seekers as the crowds grew more congested. He replied just as coolly, “I did what I had been destined to do. I mean to say that I merely undertook to recoup what I lost one day.”
“Wretch, what did you lose one day?”
“I lost the creature my master refers to as ‘the girl.’”
“What are you saying?”
“I retrieved her from your hands. I retrieved her so that no eye could fall upon her. I hid her so she would remain out of sight. I took her from your hands by force; for this reason I understand my master’s anger, since people can’t bear defeat. People never forgive a victor his victory, even if they realize they will acquire something from his triumph.”
The man with two veils wagged a finger at him. “Watch out! We haven’t come to listen to you discuss what people can and can’t bear. We’ve come to hear you answer a question. So, again: beware!”