Page 9 of Under the Arabian Sky

He didn’t reply. Instead, he opened a side door that led to a small bedroom with a foldout bed, a dresser drawer atop which sat an electric kettle and a teacup and saucer, while over by the bed stood a bedside table with a lamp, an old analogue phone from the eighties, and a copy of Robert A. Heinlein’sStranger in a Strange Land, its front cover dog-eared and its spine so creased that the title had disappeared in the cracks.

“This is where Cavendish slept… when he finally put down his work and closed his eyes. It’s not much of a bedroom, I’m afraid. But I’ve replaced the sheets for you and took the liberty of purchasing you a new pillow. The last one had sagged in the middle, which made it very uncomfortable.”

He suddenly realised he may have given too much away, and quickly he closed the door.

“There is a small shared bathroom down the hall and most days the hot water works.”

“Most days?”

“This is Oman, the water in the pipes is already hot enough. Now, if you have no other questions, I’ll bid you farewell.”

“I have a million other questions,” I said, the panic rising once again before I realised, “I just can’t think of any right now.”

Akbar didn’t wait for my brain to tick over. He made his way to the door, then paused a moment and added, “By the way…Ahlan.”

“Sorry?” I didn’t understand what he had just said.

“You said you didn’t know how to greet someone in Arabic.Ahlan. That is the simple way to say ‘hello’. Or you can also say ‘As-salamu ‘alaykum’.”

“What does that mean?”

He smiled for the first time. “Peace be upon you.”

With that, he looked around Cavendish’s office one last time, then quietly walked away.

As he left, a melodic chant drifted over the city.

I walked to the window and looked out across the capital.

The chant was a haunting sound coming from the loudspeaker on a mosque tower nearby.

I quickly realised it was prayer time.

From another mosque tower farther away, a second chant joined in the prayer, the two songs forming a perfect harmony that echoed through the streets before floating upward to heaven.

There I stood in the window, immersed in the heat and the dust and the sounds of Islam.

Once again, I felt homesick.

I felt lost.

I truly felt like a stranger in a strange land.

CHAPTER6

“I’m notsure I can do this without an assistant… or a guide… or at least a translator.” There was a crackle down the line, and I shook the handset of the old phone, whacking it into the palm of my hand to try and get it to work properly. “Professor Henderson? Can you hear me?”

“Christ, Arthur. You don’t need someone to hold your hand. Buy yourself an Arabic dictionary. Get yourself a map of the region. Figure it out.”

“Trust me, I don’t need a map of the region. Cavendish had enough maps to open a tourist office.”

“Then you have plenty to make do. Listen, I have to go. We’re moving camp tonight and I won’t be in range for a few days. Just take your lead from Cavendish’s notes and go from there. You’ll be—”

“Professor Henderson? You’re breaking up.”

“I said, you’ll be—”

Suddenly the line went dead.

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