The Book of Heaven: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

soldier, she had to give herself over to an experience that she had been schooled to defend herself from her entire life. She now unnaturally had to permit a man what she had previously utterly forbidden to the point of death.
    She had heard she would be wounded. Perhaps the man would be as well? But there was no clear story about how the blood on that sheet was purchased. Did the man enjoy the pain? Would she? Was it forgotten afterward, or always remembered? And in any case she must be the loyal companion, the faithful servant, the clairvoyant fulfillment of the man, whether or not she liked him, even whether or not she loathed him. As a soldier must guard and obey his commander, regardless of the nature of their personal feelings toward each other.
    Tonight, though, the brides were exempt. Even though she had a long journey to make, she drank more wine, and danced until late, on the carpet that would be the last of the dowry gifts to be packed and the first to be set in place in her new household. Its pattern of squares, lozenges, and arches in blue and contrasting silver silk threads had been devised uniquely for Souraya. The design was impeccably abstract enough to satisfy the iconoclast examiners, yet the figures represented the shapes of windows through which the bride could see the shining light of her former home.
    Her exhaustion as they set out next day was merciful. Souraya slept through most of the day, her slight nausea a useful tranquilizer, like the layer of ash judiciously applied to fire to damp down its flames. Adon’s entourage was waiting to meet them after they crossed over the river nearest his compound.
    There, after ceremonious addresses and formal greetings, something strange occurred. Instead of proceeding directly through the gates of the compound, to the sounds of drums and harps and songs, the party was halted, barred from advancing further by a line of guards, each with a heavily ornamented knife in his belt. They could see the musicians, poised on the walls of the compound, each holding a silent instrument poised for song, as if they were paralyzed by some magic. Then a pair of guards surrounded the mounds of luggage Souraya’s party had brought, and began to unpack it.
    Souraya’s father, masking his fear of banditry, perhaps even the possibility that these were not in fact Adon’s men, approached the soldier directing the pillage. They were searching the luggage for images, the soldier explained to him. It was forbidden for images to be transported into the compound, or across any threshold occupied by a kinsman. Any images that were discovered would be taken back across the river and quarantined there in a guarded post, unless they belonged to the bride.
    They amassed a small, indiscriminate pile of clay figurines, winged angels, painted medallions, golden eyes, and a pair of earrings in the shape of swimming dolphins. Among Souraya’s dowry gifts, there were cooking pans with handles in the shape of nymphs, which, though they were exquisitely crafted and valuable, were destroyed. No treasure was prized above the great holy laws.
    The soldiers turned their attention to her personal belongings. Packed with her perfumes and cosmetics were a group of mirrors in graduated sizes. The guards seized them, and began to smash them. Souraya pleaded to keep just one, for the sake of her husband, so she could make herself presentable for him. “These objects collect and contain images,” the soldiers said, unmoved.
    She looked at her father, but he kept his eyes on the ground, not looking at what the soldiers were doing, and for the first time, not meeting the mirror of his daughter’s gaze. Suddenly there was a commotion near the baggage, and a soldier rushed forward, embracing a dress covered in a magnificent, intricate design of sequins, which glittered scarlet in the light of the sunset. He had never seen such a garment. It was Souraya’s wedding dress. The commander examined it closely,