Arafa and his family moved, by night, from the basement in Rifaa to the gang headquarters to the right of the mansion. This was the overseer’s order; he could not be disobeyed. They found themselves in a house that was more like a dream. They walked around the rich garden, the elegant halls and terrace, the bedrooms, sitting rooms and dining room on the second floor and the roof, whose every wall and corner was crowded with chicken coops, rabbit cages and dovecotes. For the first time they wore beautiful clothes and breathed sweet air, sniffing all the beautiful smells.
“It’s a miniaturized mansion,” said Arafa. “Only without secrets.”
“What about your magic?” asked Hanash. “Doesn’t that count as a secret?”
“No one even dreams of places like this,” said Awatif, wide-eyed.
The three looked and smelled different—even their complexions were better. But no sooner had they settled in than a group of men and women visited them; the first said he was the gatekeeper, the second the cook, the third the gardener and the fourth the poultry manager. The rest were house servants.
Arafa was amazed. “Who told you to come here?”
“His excellency the overseer,” said the gatekeeper, speaking for the rest.
Shortly afterward, Arafa was summoned to meet the overseer. Qadri spoke first, once they were seated side by side in an alcove off the reception hall. “We will meet often, Arafa. I hope I didn’t trouble you by calling you here.”
Actually, he was very troubled by the meeting, the place and the man, but he smiled. “I’m happy to see you,” he said.
“Your magic has made us all happy. Do you like the house?”
“It’s more than a dream,” said Arafa shyly. “Especially the dreams of poor people like us. Today all kinds of servants reported to us!”
“They are my people,” said the overseer, gazing steadily into his face. “I sent them to you, to serve and protect you.”
“Protect me!”
Qadri laughed. “Yes. Don’t you know that your moving here is the talk of the whole alley? They’re saying among themselves, ‘He’s the one who made the magic bottles.’ The gangsters’ families want revenge, as you know, and everyone else is dying of envy. What with all that, you’re surrounded by danger. My advice to you is not to trust anyone—or to go out alone, or too far from your house!”
Arafa frowned. What was he but a prisoner encircled by anger and hatred?
“Don’t be afraid, though. My men will be all around you. Enjoy the life you want, in your house or here in mine. What do you have to lose except the desert and the slums? Don’t forget that the people of our alley say that Saadallah was killed by the same weapon that killed Agag, and that the murderer who got into Saadallah’s house used the same means to get into the mansion before that. That the same person killed Agag, Saadallah and Gabalawi, and that the person is Arafa the magician.”
“This is a curse on my head!” cried Arafa convulsively.
“You don’t have to worry, as long as you’re under my protection, with my servants around you.”
You bastard, you’ve thrown me into a prison. The only reason I wanted magic was to get rid of people like you, not to serve you. Now the people I loved and wanted to save detest me, and one of them might kill me.
“Distribute the gangsters’ shares in the estate among the people, and they’ll be happy with both of us!”
Qadri laughed scornfully. “So why get rid of the gangsters?” he asked. He fixed Arafa with a cold stare. “You’re looking for a way to please them? Forget that. Get used to other people hating you, as I have, and don’t forget that your real safety is my being pleased with you.”
“I was and still am your servant,” he said hopelessly.
The overseer looked up at the ceiling as if contemplating its embellishments, then looked down again. “I hope that enjoying your new life doesn’t take you away from your magic.”
Arafa nodded.
“And that you make as many magic bottles as you can!”
“You don’t need more than we have now,” said Arafa cautiously.
Qadri masked his irritation with a smile. “Wouldn’t it be wisest to have plenty of them on hand?”
He did not reply. He was filled with despair. Had his turn come this quickly? he wondered. Suddenly he spoke. “Your excellency, if my staying here is a problem for you, let me go away and not come back.”
“What did you say?” asked the man, looking confused.
Arafa stared at him candidly. “I know that my life is subject to your need for me.”
“Don’t think I take your intelligence lightly,” said Qadri with a mirthless laugh. “And I admit that you’re thinking soundly. But how can you think that my need for you ends with bottles? Isn’t your magic capable of other things?”
But Arafa resumed his statement, somewhat sternly. “Your men are the ones who went around revealing the secret of the services I’ve done for you, I’m sure of that. But you also have to remember that you need me to live.”
The overseer frowned menacingly, but Arafa went on uninterrupted. “You have no gangsters now. The only power you have is from those bottles, and you have too few of them to make any difference. If I died today, you’d follow me either tomorrow or the next day.”
The overseer leaned toward him like a beast of prey, then suddenly snatched his neck in his hands, squeezing it until his body shook. Then he abruptly released his hold and sat back, with a smile of loathing. “Look what your impudent tongue made me do! We have no reason to quarrel. We can enjoy victory and live in peace.”
Arafa was breathing heavily to recover from the shock, while the other man continued to speak. “Don’t be afraid that I will take your life. I will protect it like my own. Enjoy the world, and don’t forget your magic, whose blossoms we pick together. And know that if either of us betrays the other, he betrays himself.”
Awatif and Hanash frowned as Arafa repeated the conversation for them in the new house. It seemed that all three of them lacked true safety in this new life. But they forgot the reasons for their unease at supper around a wonderful table covered with the most delicious foods and mellow old wine. For the first time Arafa’s voice was raised in laughter, and Hanash’s torso shook with mirth. They lived their lives as circumstances required. They worked together in a room behind the hall they had prepared for magic. Arafa diligently inscribed the symbols they had agreed upon in a notebook only the two of them knew about. Once, while they were working, Hanash told him, “What prisoners we are!”
“Lower your voice,” Arafa cautioned him. “The walls have ears.”
Hanash looked hatefully over at the door, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Isn’t it possible for you to make a new weapon, without his knowing, so that we could get rid of him?”
“We wouldn’t be able to test it secretly, with all these servants,” said Arafa crossly. “He knows everything that goes on with us. And if we get rid of him, the alley people who want our blood will get us before we could defend ourselves from them.”
“So why are you so hard at work?”
“Because work is all I have,” Arafa sighed.
Late in the afternoon, he would go to the house of the overseer, who sat him down and gave him drinks, and come home at night to find that Hanash had prepared a little hashish for him in the garden or the room with wooden screens, and they would smoke it together. Arafa had never been a hashish smoker, but he was carried along by the current, and he was worn down by boredom. Even Awatif began to learn these things. They all needed to forget their boredom, fear, desperation and depressed feelings of guilt, along with the high hopes of the past. Despite all this, the men had work, though Awatif had none. She ate until she felt sick, and slept until she was tired of lying down; she spent long hours in the garden, enjoying all its beauties, remembering that she was now pampered with the life Adham had longed for. It was boring! How could anyone want it badly enough to grieve over it? Perhaps it would be very nice if it were not a prison; not surrounded by enemies and hatred. But it would remain a prison, encircled by loathing, with no escape but the hashish pipe. Once, Arafa was late coming back from the overseer’s house, and she decided to wait for him in the garden. Night advanced like a caravan led by its camel driver, the moon. She listened to the melody of the branches and the croaking of frogs. She heard the sound of the gate opening, and got up to greet him, but the rustle of clothing from the direction of the basement caught her ear. From where she stood, she saw the figure of a servant girl in the moonlight, heading toward the gate, unaware of Awatif. Arafa came staggering in. The servant turned to the wall leading out from the terrace, and he followed her, and Awatif saw them come together, hidden from the moonlight by the shadow of the wall.