Free The Shadows of Ghadames by Joelle Stolz

is a mystery who put them there. Aïshatou sometimes goes there at daybreak and stretches out on the stones. She says they tell her secrets about the future. The Iforhas' blacksmiths have the same abilities as her. They know the language of the stones and formulas for curing people. Andthey respect Aïshatou as one of their own. If she asks them to take you to a safe place, they won't betray you.”
    He sighs. “When will we have to leave?”
    “That depends on the moon. It could be tomorrow night.”
    “So this will be our last lesson.”
    With a heavy heart, I pick up the board propped against the wall and sit down next to him. We work nonstop, until the little room becomes dark and our eyes are so tired the lines blur. Then my teacher stands up and stretches his fingers. Mine are numb from so much writing. But we've gone through the entire alphabet.
    “You've made enormous progress in a very short period of time. It's a shame we have to stop now. I hope you won't let your mind lie fallow.”
    I am reminded of a family garden in the palm grove, left abandoned by the two brothers who owned it, because they did not get along anymore. Dry grass covers the land, the dates disintegrate into dust, the lower branches of the fruit trees droop to the ground. Even the birds have stopped singing. Is that what my poor brain will look like soon?
    But I don't dare tell him about my fears, or mention the pit that haunts my dreams and that I am terrified of falling into. I say the first thing that comes to mind, just so I can stay with him a bit longer:
    “Abdelkarim, does your family own much land in the palm grove?”
    “They used to, but now I don't know. I am not very interested in agriculture. Does your father own much land?”
    I shake my head. “Just enough to give us some fruit. My father prefers to put his money into his business, with associates whom he trusts in Kano and Istanbul. He says trade brings in more money. And also …”
    I feel embarrassed.
    “And also?” Abdelkarim prompts. “My father doesn't like the idea of owning slaves. Here, if you own a lot of land, you have to have slaves, for farming, for repairing the irrigation ditches which bring the springwater into the gardens, for picking up fertilizer, for performing all those tasks that the people of Ghadames consider beneath their dignity.”
    Abdelkarim seems surprised. “So your father doesn't own slaves, unlike all the great families here?”
    “No, he doesn't. Even my mother couldn't make him change his mind.” I feel I should explain. “He has often told us how he resolved never to own slaves during his first trip across the Sahara with his uncle. They found two skeletons at the edge of the road, whitened by the sun, two women whose hands were tied with rope. You could still see their earrings and their dresses in tatters. They must have been very young when they died because their teeth were in perfect condition, absolutely intact.
    “My father was horrified. As a child he had become accustomed to seeing slaves in the streets and the gardens of Ghadames. But now, for the first time, he realized what it was like to be torn away from one's family, thrown on the roads, and taken to unknown lands with no hope of returning.He vowed to himself never to be the cause of such misfortune and he has kept his word. He has never bought or sold a human being.”
    Abdelkarim looks at me pensively. “You admire your father a lot.”
    “Oh, yes! He has ideas that my uncles don't have. He is always interested in new things. And he talks to me as though I were a grown-up.”
    Abdelkarim smiles. “But you'll soon be a grown-up.” Then his gaze darkens. “I wish I could meet your father. It's a pity I have to leave.”
    The following day, they give me the task of bringing Abdelkarim a large, neatly folded piece of black cloth.
    “This is an armor that will protect you from your enemies,” I say solemnly.
    Abdelkarim looks at me, frowning. Is he already angry?