“Stop,” she called out. “I have to find the opening first or you’ll break my neck.” She was as light as a child.
She felt around the ceiling with her hands. “Avi, say something so I can find you.”
Avi began to sing a lullaby. “Dandini dandini dastana. The cows are loose in the vegetable garden.”
“To the right,” she directed Kamil. “Back a little.”
Kamil pushed bricks aside with his feet and moved sideways.
Avi kept singing. “O gardener, drive them away, so they don’t eat the cabbage.”
“Here it is. I found it.” Kamil could hear the tears in her voice. “Lift me up now.”
He put his hand under her foot and hoisted her above his head. She bounced twice in his hands, then was gone. He could hear her breath laboring as she pulled herself up through the shaft.
“I’m in.” Her voice sounded distant. “How will you get up? I can’t reach down that far.”
Kamil had already started stacking bricks. “I’m making a platform.” The haphazard edifice Avi had clambered up had collapsed, and Kamil had kicked most of the remaining bricks out of the way to make room while he hoisted Elif into the shaft. The opening was little more than an arm’s length above his head, but he needed a stable base to reach it. He marveled at Avi’s agility. The boy must have thought himself up into the shaft.
As Kamil fumbled around the floor for more bricks, he sang a few lines of the operetta, but soon stopped. Building in the dark required all his concentration. Before long, he was out of bricks. When he tried to climb the platform, the loose bricks shifted beneath his weight and came apart. He stood for a moment, sweat cooling on his bare chest, wondering how to stabilize the platform. Then he took off his shoes, socks, and trousers, and tucked the Proof of God into the front of his linen drawers. He wrapped the trouser legs tightly around the pile of bricks, but there wasn’t enough material to tie the truss in place. Frustrated, he tried again to climb, barefoot this time, his toes seeking crevices among the bricks, but then one tilted under his weight and Kamil toppled backward. He cursed as he landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle.
He had a sudden idea. “Elif, throw me your sash.”
After a few moments, a length of soft material brushed his face. He pulled it down and measured it with his hands. As he had hoped, it was a single piece of silk, more than long enough. When he had secured the sides of the platform with the sash, he climbed up and, head bowed beneath the ceiling, scraped his fingers across it until he found the opening. He put his head inside and stood up straight. The shaft ended just below his shoulders.
He slid his fingers over the walls of the shaft until they encountered some broken brickwork, hooked his fingers into the gaps, then hoisted himself up. He swung his legs up, wedging them against the opposite wall. Back braced against one side, feet against the other, he worked his way up the shaft crabwise. He was sweating profusely and his fingers started to slip. He tried not to think about falling.
Elif’s hands touched his shoulders. “Almost there. Here’s the ledge. Can you follow my hand?”
Kamil pulled himself onto the ledge. He lay there for a moment, waiting for the spasms in his muscles to lessen. The skin on his back was shredded and throbbed with pain. He sat up.
“Watch your head,” Elif warned. “It’s high enough to walk, but only if you crouch.”
In the cramped space, he felt Elif’s hand brush against his naked leg and then the Proof of God. He heard her small cry of surprise, followed by soft laughter.
“What’s so funny, Elif Hanoum?” Avi’s voice came from the darkness ahead.
“You’ll see later, Avi. Why don’t you show us the way out?”
28
Ismail Hodja couldn’t hide his excitement when Kamil placed the flat, featureless lead container on the table before him. Kamil moved stiffly, hindered by the bandages on his back and arms. He had decided it would be a waste of time to chase after Amida when they knew he was meeting the Frankish dealer tonight in Galata. Amida was only sugar water to attract the bee. Besides, Kamil had to find out what it was that so many people were hell-bent on stealing.
Beside him, Elif was draped in one of Karanfil’s charshaf cloaks. Kamil had been reluctant to bring her along to Ismail Hodja’s office, but she insisted she had earned the right to be present when the container was opened. Karanfil had bathed Avi, who was almost unrecognizable under a coating of dirt and brick dust, then bandaged his hands and put him to bed.
Elif let the veil fall to her shoulders. Kamil noticed her hair was still dark with moisture from bathing. They sat expectantly on the divan, watching Ismail Hodja as he ran his fingers carefully over the container, examining it from all sides.
“This is the only damage.” He pointed to a dent on the top. “That’s remarkable, considering how old it is.”
“That mark was left by the tip of a knife aiming for my heart,” Kamil explained. “I had the box in my jacket pocket. It saved my life.”
“Did it now?” Ismail Hodja smiled benignly at Kamil. “Well, then, we already have proof of its miraculous powers.”
Kamil let himself believe, just this once, in the miracle of coincidence.
“You said it had an outer casing, a silver reliquary. That must have protected it. Did you find that too?” he asked Kamil.
“We’re still looking for it. Malik said it was important to prove the validity of the document.”
“Any proof of its credibility would be useful. But no matter. I’ll be able to tell something about it from the paper and ink and other signs, but above all from what’s written on it.”
Jemal refreshed their tea and then stood by the door, his powerful arms crossed, watching his master.
“Jemal, are all the windows closed? If this is as ancient as they say it is, the slightest breath of air might prove harmful. Indeed, we’re taking a risk by opening it at all. You said Malik had taken the papers out to examine them?”
“He wanted to copy them in case the originals didn’t survive.”
“It’s a terrible dilemma.” Ismail Hodja’s hands hovered over the box.
Jemal finished checking the windows. “All shut.”
Where Yakup was companionable, Kamil thought, Jemal was taci-turn, yet there was a bond between Ismail Hodja and his servant. Jemal sometimes seemed to know what Ismail Hodja meant even before he spoke, and Kamil had noticed how protective he was of the old sheikh.
Ismail Hodja took out a thin blade and inserted it into a nearly invisible seam at the side of the container, twisting slightly. Then he gently prodded and pulled until the lid slid lengthwise along a track. When the container was open, he sat for a long moment and simply stared at the contents.
Kamil sensed that everyone in the room was holding their breath.
Finally, Ismail Hodja shook himself and seemed to return from a distant place.
“You have no idea how much it means to me to be allowed to see this.”
He took a piece of writing paper and slid it slowly and carefully into the side of the container underneath the document, then lifted it and placed it on the table.
Kamil and Elif cautiously approached. On the paper was a short stack of irregular brown parchment pages covered in writing, their edges black as if they were slowly combusting.
Ismail Hodja examined the papers, careful not to touch them. “There appear to be twelve pages. Would you be willing to leave them with me? I can read them and then tell you what they contain.”
No one spoke.
“If you like I can try to translate them now, but it won’t be exact, you understand.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Kamil said politely. “We’re all curious.” He was also worried about leaving the Proof of God unguarded. He wanted no harm to come to Ismail Hodja.
“Very well. Give me a few moments.”
They moved back to their seats and waited, watching the scholar’s bearded face hovering above the ancient text. He got up several times to consult a book, then sat again and continued to read, using a clean piece of paper to lift each page slowly and carefully so he could read the one beneath.