Excerpt: Submission

Raid looked beyond the towering fur blades up towards the dark starless sky. He could barely see the moon, behind several ominous layers of clouds. There was a wind blowing but Raid could not feel it. He knew only because the tips of the fur blades far above him were swaying gently in the breeze.

Raid lay quietly on the ground, hidden by some shorter fur blades, ones that only reached knee-height. There was a slight gap between the blades so he could spy on the housing estate beyond the patch of fur blades he was in. Fur blade patches had started becoming an increasing rarity in the Town, as more and more tradesmen and civil servants moved in and demand increased for better housing. This particular housing estate was fairly new, having had its residents move in only just some months back. Raid had observed these newcomers moving in and had noticed their substantial wealth reflected in their belongings. And so he had hatched a plan, a plan that would, if all went well, provide him and little Khai with enough provisions until at least next Ramadan.

Tonight, he had sneaked out of their hut after Khai had gone to sleep, and sneaked at what he considered a stealthy pace to this patch of fur blades.
The housing estate was not fenced but it did have several guards patrolling its perimeter. Raid had been observing long enough to notice that the patrol of the guards left significant areas unwatched; there were many gaps in which the guard had left unattended.

It was precisely at one of these moments that Raid took a sudden dash out of the fur blade patch he was hiding in and ran with all his might to the edges of the housing estate. It was only a short dash—about two yards or so but Raid felt that the distance had felt more like miles. He felt grateful that light from the moon had mostly been obscured by the clouds. It did help from making it too obvious that there was a miscreant heading towards the estate.

He had found himself by a tall wall, the side face of one of the houses he had marked out earlier. He ran along the wall and around the corner of the house where it was darker and out of the way of the guards’ patrol. He was in a small alley, a kind of accessway for slaves to enter their respective employers’ houses in the estate. The houses were of an adequate size. Certainly not the largest Raid had seen, but still bigger than most houses in the Town. He had assumed that the houses were linked to each other in long, continuous blocks but now in the very faint moonlight, he could see that in actuality the houses were separate but had somehow been built very close together.

The vanity of the upper middle-class, thought Raid. They knew space was scarce, but they still wanted to live in individual houses. Building the houses close together like this was the nearest they could get to having one whole, unconnected house for each family. One of the symbols of class. Raid felt his mood darken as he thought about this.
He placed his right hand on the wall. The skin flake mix or the dried lice shell material they had used must have been exceptional for the builders to achieve this degree of smoothness. It wasn’t mirror-like but it was a far cry from the roughness and often prickly and sharp-edged walls he was used to. But then that was a rougher part of the Town. You had to expect that sort of thing.

The smoothness of the walls had put a slight damper in Raid’s plan. He had not been expecting the walls to be this smooth and had been counting on the imperfections in walls to make his climb up to the upper level windows where they were likely to be more accessible.

Still, there was no harm in trying, so Raid tried grabbing a part of the wall where it was jutting out slightly—as skilled as the builders were, even they could not iron out all the flaws that was the definite result of the process—but his fingers just would not grip on the very fine surface.

Raid looked around but could not see much in the pitch black darkness. The clouds had by now covered the moon completely and even though Raid’s eyes had adjusted to the dark he could not see anything, as much as he tried. The only sounds he heard was the crunching of heavy boots worn by the guards made as they marched past not far away from him. If he listened carefully he could even hear the faint rustling of the fur blades swaying in the wind.

Raid started to walk down the dark alley, his hand still sliding against the smooth surface of the wall so as to guide him along. Once in a while, his hand would run across the rougher texture of fur blade-mesh, which Raid knew were the back doors that led into the very houses he wanted so much to break in to. The doors had no handles; they could only be opened from the inside.

After a few moments walking he had reached what he surmised was the half-way point of the alley. He stopped and decided to wait while he crouched against the wall. By now he had ran his hands on the walls on both sides of the alley; they were both too smooth to grip and climb. There was no chance for him to get into these houses just by climbing.

Raid did know that whoever could afford to live in these houses, could therefore afford to have slaves. For a family living in one of these houses, it was normal to have at least ten or so slaves servicing the house. Slaves never left their master’s house through the front door; they had to use the back door. It was only a matter of time before one of these houses let out one of their slaves, and from there he would try to get in.

Somehow.

It wasn’t the best of plans; it wasn’t even the best of his own plans … but it was a plan. It was better than nothing, seeing that his previous idea of climbing had been foiled.

He waited.

And waited.

Raid had almost dozed off when he heard voices shouting from inside one of the houses. Raid followed the sound of voices and located it behind a specific door. He put his ear to the door and tried to listen. The voices were louder but he still could not make out what the shouting voices were saying. He could tell though that it was quite the commotion that was being stirred in the household.

As he stood there trying to listen, he heard the sound of steps rapidly approaching the door. He had barely took his ear away before the door swung open and a large, swarthy man appeared in the doorway. Bright yellow light streamed out into the alley and for a moment it hurt Raid’s eyes.

The man had not yet noticed Raid, who had been pushed away a little by the opening door. The man had his head turned back into the house. “I will go look for him,” he said to someone inside that Raid could not see. His voice was a little annoyed and a little afraid. “If I do not find him, I will find another.”

“By the grace of Allah, you’d better, Omar!” cried an angry woman’s voice from within. “If anything happens to your master, it will the Pits for you!”

Omar harrumphed and adjusted his collar before turning his head to look in front of him, then bumped into Raid.

“What?” said the confused Omar. His eyes had not adjusted to the dark yet and could not see Raid properly.

“Peace upon you, fellow slave,” Raid said, thinking on his feet. “My apologies for bumping into you. It is so dark out here.”

Omar adjusted his collar again and squinted. “By Allah! And peace upon you as well, brother. It must be you finally? You must be the massager we called for, are you not?”
Raid paused momentarily but when he opened his mouth to answer, Omar had already spoken for him. “But of course you are,” Omar said, sounding very relieved. “But I did not realise you were a slave as well? I had thought the massager we called was a free man.”

“Oh … no …” Raid raced through his mind to decide what to say to Omar. “My apologies again, brother. In actual fact, it is my master that was called upon for his services. But because he was out on another errand, I was sent in his stead.”

Omar looked worried again. “Say it isn’t so, by Allah, say it isn’t so! I am afraid my master will not be pleased that the massager he called for did not come and sent his slave instead. Oh woe is my fate!”

“Man can only plan, but Allah decides what really happens, brother,” Raid said, trying to sound comforting. He was beginning to feel worried that his plan was not going to work.

“And Allah help me for what is about to happen! But such as it is, you are here, and the master’s wife has become impatient with the delay already. You might as well come in and be introduced to my master. Please.” Omar stepped aside to let Raid in.

“Thank you, brother,” Raid said as he stepped inside. “By the way my name is Raid.”

“And I am called Omar.”