Aman-Jalil approached the exit, a soft gunshot rang out from the office. No one noticed Aman-Jalil; the guard had summoned Aman-Jalil's assistant, and there were forty minutes until work began…
"What a funeral, what a funeral," Wazir thought, watching the endless procession with mourning banners. "How we love our dead, look at how we love our dead, if only this love were shown to the living, maybe paradise would come… But why? Because the dead pose no danger, there's no need to fear the dead, unless you believe in ghosts. They announced he died of a heart attack, but they say, 'he shot himself, couldn't bear the shame'… Oh, Jumshid, Jumshid, what have you done, scoundrel? May you suffer forever, such a glorious, esteemed father disappointed. What does a man need? He had everything: a good job, health, a beautiful wife, an apartment, money… Ingrate! It wasn't enough, he craved more. He wanted currency. Foreign coins to buy schnapps at the tavern. Doesn't he understand they'll ask right away: 'where'd you get this'?… What will you say? Found it at the market?… No, what a funeral… Nosaty walked with Gyaurov's wife, like the principal relative. But Jumshid's beautiful wife wasn't there. Shame on her husband. Killed his father, but saved his own skin. It's nothing; they'll send him to Bibir Island, where there's no warmth and comfort. All desires will freeze… No, what a funeral. Nothing to say, we love our dead, we love them more than the living… We're all the same: mothers during life too lazy to write an extra letter, but at the grave, they cry like little… And I'm no better: did I love Anush so much in life as I worship her after her martyr's death. Perhaps that's why we remember, love the dead so much, the guilt torments, the guilt that we didn't remember, didn't love in life. What good is our love to the dead? The living need it. Alive! I need to marry before it's too late… I need children, then maybe I won't suffer so much, that terrible road will leave me, my endless path of grief and despair"…
"Don't be jealous of evil people and don't wish to be with them: for their heart thinks about violence, and their mouth speaks evil. By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established."
Over Ahmed's grave, a speech was delivered:
– Today, we bid farewell to our friend, our comrade-in-arms, one of the indomitable fighters against global injustice, against the exploitation of man by man. In the Serra mountains, he repeatedly proved his unwavering bravery, desperate courage, and steadfastness. He dedicated all his strength to serving the people, to the cause of the rebels. The underground in the Serra mountains forged his character; his heart turned to iron, sometimes even steel. Step by step, he climbed the ladder of his earned glory, a life full of dangers but also the joys that these dangers bring. Neither threats nor bribes, neither cold nor heat, nor rain nor snow could deter him from this path of glory. He reached the summit, but his heart, filled with love for his suffering people, could not bear this monstrous burden, this selfless dedication. We will all remember this remarkable man, a wonderful father and teacher. You, my friend, will serve as an example for everyone, entering the future legends that a grateful people will compose about heroes like you. Rest peacefully, brave friend. You did all you could!
The orchestra played a funeral march. Farewell salutes pierced the cemetery's silence, adorning Gyaurov's grave in the alley of eternal glory with mountains of wreaths and fresh flowers… The mourners dispersed silently. Many were ashamed to look each other in the eye.
Aman-Jalil swiftly expanded his bustling activities. His appointment as the third deputy in the Inquisition was met with cool, if not outright cold reception. Two factions within the Inquisition vied against each other, smiling and kissing on meetings. "Didn't sleep well, my dear? Pale as a ghost, take care of yourself, need me to recommend a doctor?" "Thanks, my friend! How are things with you?" "Flourishing and smelling sweet!" "Indeed, life couldn't be better."
Both factions kept an eye on Aman-Jalil, strategizing to sway him to their side. Thus, neither faction gave him any of their own people, take whoever you want. Aman-Jalil paid homage to Ahmed, doubling the Inquisition's ranks, and recruited his own supporters, all who hung on his every word, drank from his bottle. Instantly, he became a force to be reckoned with.
No one knew how to enforce the directive on confiscation, so Aman-Jalil did whatever he deemed necessary. He swiftly identified those with movable and immovable property: wealthy merchants, remnants of the aristocracy… He taxed all the underground millionaires. According to the palace-approved list, Aman-Jalil razed a clan every day, those displeasing Iosif Besarionis.
Aman-Jalil's men stormed homes, confiscated valuables, leaving a receipt as a reminder that they once lived well. Those who resisted were killed: shot or stabbed. If nothing was found but they were on the list, they were tortured until they revealed a hiding place or died. Few could hide anything while watching their wives and daughters being violated, their sons abused. Who could trade their children for wealth? Will all the gold in the world, all the diamond mines of Golconda, replace the laughter of happy children, the sparks of happiness in their eyes…
"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see. And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword. And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand… And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with the sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth…"
"Allah, bless Isaac, let him be a Jew, but what a good man, what wonderful advice he gave. Listen, what wonderful advice he gave, all for one hundred coins: divide all the wealth into two equal parts, throw one into the devil's mouth and hide the other properly. That's what I thought to do: set aside the gold coins to hide, and decided to give away the rest. You can't hide a diamond necklace when the whole city knows about it. Soldiers descended so suddenly, they piled onto my old head like snow. I thought—everything's over. Isaac saved me again, I had to give him a tenth. How clever he is: he dumped a pile of used paper in the bathroom, tucked the wrapped gold at the bottom, then covered it again with dirty scraps. The soldiers took half, ransacked the house, turned it upside down, but, imagine, couldn't find the gold. Thank you, Allah, you even Isaac's bright head, not because he's bald, but truly bright, made to work for the good of the believers, so the devil got less. The moan hangs on the ground, how life will continue, scary to think…"
By Ahmed's order, newspapers printed fabricated obituaries of the razed dissidents and dissenters every day, meetings and assemblies were held daily where the crimes of the razed were read out. In newspapers, meetings, and assemblies, authorities gave solemn assurances that strict, exceptional measures were applied only to enemies, while other honest traders and representatives of the old nobility could sleep peacefully. And everyone believed, or just pretended to believe, rejoicing daily that the soldiers-plunderers had passed them by again, others again, not him, him – why, he is an honest fellow traveler and objector. Like sheep, they waited their turn, when their throats would all be cut, presenting an example of humility and longsuffering.
But where could you go? The border was so tightly guarded that not even a fly could fly across it, and if by stupidity it mistakenly changed direction and crossed the border, Aman-Jalil immediately shot it down with his rubber thread. He won't miss—a sniper. His recruited agents spread rumors that they saw him flying like an angel in all white over the border, and silence and peace descended where he flew. And he blew into the big horn and shouted loudly, "Sleep peacefully, the border is
