Chapter 2 - The Ghost of My Grandfather
The restaurant emptied in a blur of frantic whispers,
and rustling silk,
as the elite of the city were ushered into the cold night.
My manager tried to approach,
his hands shaking,
ready to apologize for my "interruption."
Khalid raised a single hand,
and the manager vanished into the kitchen without a word.
We were alone in the vast,
cavernous dining room,
surrounded by half-eaten lobsters,
and dregs of wine.
"Tell me your name,"
Khalid said,
his voice no longer a command,
but a plea.
"Hannah,"
I replied,
feeling the weight of the gold coin he still held.
"Where did a girl in Queens learn the language of the Ishmaelite Kings?"
I looked at my hands,
worn from carrying heavy trays,
and scrubbing floors.
"My grandfather,"
I said,
"he was a man of shadows and books."
I remembered the smell of his study,
the scent of old parchment,
and dried jasmine.
He would sit me down every night,
under the dim glow of a single lamp,
and make me recite the phonetics of a world that didn't exist on maps.
"They will try to find us,"
he used to say,
his eyes darting to the window.
"They will try to steal the breath from our lungs,"
he warned,
"because our language is the key to their vault."
I never understood what he meant until this moment,
looking at the most powerful man I had ever met,
who was now looking at me with something like fear.
"Your grandfather,"
Khalid whispered,
"was he a man named Elias?"
I froze,
the name hitting me like a physical blow.
"How do you know that?"
Khalid sighed,
sitting down at the table I had just served.
"Elias was the Guardian,"
he explained,
"the man who fled the Great Purge fifty years ago."
"He took the Oral Code with him,"
Khalid continued,
"the only way to unlock the archives beneath the Red Sands."
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow outside.
My grandfather wasn't just a scholar,
he was a fugitive.
"And you,"
Khalid said,
pointing at me,
"are the last living vessel of that Code."
"The hundred thousand dollars is yours,"
he added,
"but that was just a test to find you."
I didn't want the money,
I wanted to run back to my tiny apartment,
and hide under the blankets.
But I knew it was too late,
the words had already been spoken,
and the air had already memorized them.
"Why now?"
I asked,
my voice cracking.
"Because the others have found the entrance,"
Khalid said,
his face darkening.
"And they don't have the key,"
he noted,
"so they are going to use explosives."
"If they blow the seal,"
he warned,
"the history of our people will be lost forever."
"I need you to come with me,"
he said,
standing up and offering his hand.
I looked at the silver tray on the table,
the symbol of my ordinary life.
Then I looked at his hand,
the gateway to a dangerous destiny.
I thought of my grandfather’s smile,
and his promise that words would open doors.
I took a deep breath,
May you like
the cold air filling my lungs,
and I placed my hand in his.
