nd the members of various unfortunate munities

congregated—occasionally felt that we would vanish on these streets； which

twisted　and　turned　without　end　through　an　endless　blackness。　Yet　I　could　still

make　out　certain　street　corners　that　I’d　patiently　passed　in　the　daytime　toting

my satchel； for example； I recognized the walls of Head Tailor’s Street； the

sharp　smell　of　manure—which　for　some　reason　reminded　me　of　cinnamon—

ing　from　the　stable　adjacent　to　Nurullah　Hoja’s　property；　the　fire…ravaged

sites　on　Acrobats　Street　and　the　Falconers　Arcade　that　led　into　the　square　with

the Blind Haji Fountain； and thus I knew we weren’t heading toward the

house of Shekure’s late father at all； but to some other； mysterious

destination。

There　was　no　telling　what　Hasan　would　do　if　angered；　and　I　knew　Black　had

found another place to hide his family from him—and from that devil of a

murderer。　If　I　could’ve　made　out　where　that　place　was；　I　would　tell　you；　now；

and　Hasan　tomorrow　morning—not　out　of　spite；　but　because　I’m　convinced

that　Shekure　will　again　want　to　have　Hasan’s　interest。　But　Black；　intelligent　as

he　was；　no　longer　trusted　me。

We were walking down a dark street behind the slave market when a

motion　of　cries　and　wails　erupted　at　the　far　end　of　the　street。　We　heard

the sounds of a scuffle； and I recognized with fear the clamorous start of a

fight：　the　clash　of　axes；　swords　and　sticks　and　the　bellow　of　bitter　pain。

Black　handed　his　own　large　sword　to　one　of　his　most　trusted　men；　forcibly

took the dagger from Sh