Page 69 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Nicholas Boothman
He led them through twisting alleys toward the
hills above the port. Tangier at morning was a city
of echoes — seagulls crying in Morse code, doors
creaking like old words, vendors singing to ghosts
of customers. Every sound carried a shadow.
They stopped before a weathered archway
marked by the Spiral. Beneath it, a phrase in Arabic
had been freshly painted: الـــــــــصـمـت يـــــــــتـكـلـم — Silence
Speaks.
Hafid pushed the door open. “Welcome to the
bazaar,” he said. “Here, the unsaid is for sale.”
3. The Bazaar Below
The stairs descended into coolness. Light
flickered from lanterns hung at uneven intervals.
At the bottom was a cavernous hall lined with rugs,
books, copperware — and radios. Dozens of radios.
Each tuned to a different frequency. Each
whispering nonsense, laughter, prayers, fragments
of forgotten songs.
Carolina walked slowly between them, her
expression shifting from curiosity to awe. “It’s like
a graveyard of language.”
“No,” Hafid said. “A seedbank. Every word
someone tried to erase ends up here.”
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