Read The Architect's Apprentice for Free Online

robe and a high turban. A senior official, no doubt. When they noticed him the Captain made a gesture for him to approach. Jahan crossed the rickety wooden plank, jumped down and walked towards them.
    ‘The Captain tells me you are the mahout,’ said the official.
    Jahan hesitated for the briefest moment – that passing doubt one feels before uttering a lie. ‘Yes,
effendi
. I came from Hindustan with the elephant.’
    ‘You did?’ A shadow of suspicion flickered across the man’s face. ‘How is it that you speak our language?’
    Jahan was expecting this question. ‘They taught me in the Shah’s palace. I learned more on board. The Captain helped me.’
    ‘Very well. We’ll get the elephant out tomorrow afternoon,’ said the official. ‘First we need to unload the freight.’
    Aghast, Jahan threw himself on the ground. ‘If you would be so good,
effendi
. The beast is sick. He’ll die should he stay in that hold another night.’
    There was a surprised silence until the official said, ‘You care for the animal.’
    ‘He’s a good boy,’ the Captain said, his eyes cold despite his smile.

    Five sailors were assigned the task of getting the elephant out. Eyeing the animal with disdain, swearing a blue streak, they tied ropes around him and pulled with all their might. Chota didn’t budge. The boy watched the men toil, his anxiety growing with each passing moment. After much deliberation, it was decided not to force the elephant out but to winch the crate up with him inside it. A brigade of haulers unlatched the covers of the hold, leaving it wide open, and tied hawsers to four sides of the crate, which they coiled around aged oak trees. When ready, the men towed in unison, their arms jerking in tandem, their cheeks puffed with exertion. With one last tug, a large plank came off, falling down with a crash, miraculously not hurting anyone. Bit by bit, the crate levitated, then stopped. Down below, people gaped in astonishment at the elephant, which they could see through the gaps in the crate; he was dangling in the air like some half-bird, half-bull creature,
dabbat al-ard
, the beast of the earth that the imams said would appear on the Day of Judgement. Other men ran to help, the crowd of spectators thickened, and soon every person in the port was either watching or pulling. Jahan scampered back and forth, trying to lend a hand but not knowing quite how.
    When the crate landed it did so with a loud, sickening thud. The elephant’s head hit the roof-slats. The haulers did not want to bring him out for fear the beast would attack them. It took the boy a lot of pleading to assure them that Chota would not.
    Once out, Chota’s legs gave way. He collapsed like a puppet without strings. Limp with exhaustion, he refused to move, shutting hiseyes as if he wanted this place and these people to disappear. They pushed and yanked and hoisted and flogged him, ultimately managing to thrust him on to a mammoth cart pulled by a dozen horses. Just as Jahan was about to hop on, an arm clutched at his elbow.
    It was Captain Gareth. ‘Farewell, son,’ he said loud enough for everyone to hear. Then, dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, ‘Go now, my little thief. Bring me diamonds and rubies. Remember, if you do me wrong, I’ll cut off your balls.’
    ‘Trust me,’ Jahan mumbled – words carried away by the wind as soon as they left his lips – and climbed on to the cart.
    In every street through which they passed, people moved aside in fright and delight. Women drew their babies close; mendicants hid their begging bowls; old men grabbed their canes as though in defence. Christians made the cross; Muslims recited surahs to chase Sheitan away; Jews prayed benedictions; Europeans looked half amused, half awed. A big, brawny Kazakh went pale, as if he had just seen a spectre. There was something so infantile in the man’s fright that Jahan could not help but chuckle. Children, only they, stared up with sparkling