An Evil Eye

48

Yashim took a step back and looked up. He saw the silhouette of the tree stark against the stars, and with it an impression of something moving along the branch above. He stepped back on his heels for a clearer view, and then darted under the tree. The lower branches were too high to reach, but they swooped out to almost touch the roof of a single-story godown.

He heard a twig snap. Yashim ran toward the godown, put one foot on the sill of its great barred window, and grabbed at the lowest branch.

Aware that his retreat was in danger of being blocked off, Kadri began to run along the branch, balancing with open arms and still holding the stolen sandwich. As he reached the end his body sank; he bunched his muscles and prepared to jump.

Under Yashim’s weight the branch dipped and swayed.

Kadri sprang. The angle was steeper than he had expected: the ground had moved beneath his toes.

He hit the parapet with his belly, and gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. A sharp pain shot up his knee.

Yashim sprang to the sill. The boy thrashed his legs; Yashim reached up with both hands, took hold of an ankle, and leaped back.

He landed hard on the ground. The boy was beside him on his hands and knees, head hanging, still gasping for breath.

Kadri turned to the stranger who had brought him down.

To his bewilderment, the stranger began to laugh.

“You’re Kadri,” he said, nudging something with his foot. “And that, I’m afraid, was my mackerel sandwich.”