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    Historical Fiction

    There Are Rivers in the Sky

    by

    Arthur finds him­self in Con­stan­tino­ple in 1872, fac­ing the ever-loom­ing uncer­tain­ty of his jour­ney to Nin­eveh. As days drag on with­out news of the fir­man that will allow him to con­tin­ue his mis­sion, a grow­ing sense of anx­i­ety starts to per­me­ate his every thought. Despite his ini­tial desire to remain focused on his work, Arthur’s iso­la­tion is inter­rupt­ed when a drago­man and clerks sug­gest he take a break. They advise him to explore the city and seek diver­sion, and though hes­i­tant at first, Arthur even­tu­al­ly agrees to this invi­ta­tion, only to find him­self swept into an unex­pect­ed and rev­e­la­to­ry evening.

    Upon enter­ing the lav­ish house, Arthur is struck by the ornate decor and the aro­mat­ic spread of del­i­ca­cies laid out before him. The drago­man explains that the estab­lish­ment is intend­ed to offer a glimpse of the authen­tic “Ori­en­tal” expe­ri­ence, tai­lored for those who have yet to explore the region. Despite the opu­lence sur­round­ing him, Arthur can’t help but feel uneasy, as mem­o­ries of sim­i­lar sit­u­a­tions in the past resur­face. These mem­o­ries are laced with dis­com­fort, remind­ing him of moments where the grandeur of such expe­ri­ences failed to bring the peace he so des­per­ate­ly sought. Just as he con­tem­plates leav­ing, the music from a qanun—a tra­di­tion­al Mid­dle East­ern stringed instrument—fills the air, and Arthur is imme­di­ate­ly drawn to its enchant­i­ng sound. The per­for­mance cap­ti­vates him, pro­vid­ing a brief escape from his inner tur­moil, and he becomes absorbed in the music, feel­ing an emo­tion­al release he had not antic­i­pat­ed.

    As the evening pro­gress­es, the har­mo­ny of the music is shat­tered by an unex­pect­ed cri­sis. The sound of pan­icked voic­es fills the air as word spreads that a fire has bro­ken out in the neigh­bor­hood. The guests, once caught in the tran­quil­i­ty of the evening, now scram­ble to flee as flames engulf the sur­round­ing build­ings in Pera, an area of Con­stan­tino­ple rich with cul­ture and his­to­ry. Amidst the pan­de­mo­ni­um, Arthur makes his way back into the estab­lish­ment, deter­mined to retrieve the qanun that had so cap­tured his atten­tion ear­li­er. To him, the instru­ment sym­bol­izes the beau­ty and fleet­ing peace he had expe­ri­enced. As the fire rages on, Arthur’s deter­mi­na­tion to pre­serve this moment is a stark reminder of how quick­ly life’s most pre­cious moments can be con­sumed by chaos. The ten­sion of the fire against the seren­i­ty of the music under­scores the frag­ile nature of life itself, leav­ing Arthur grap­pling with the imper­ma­nence of joy and sor­row alike.

    After the fire’s destruc­tion has sub­sided, Arthur seeks refuge at the British embassy, hop­ing for solace from the tumult he’s endured. How­ev­er, his moment of reprieve is cut short when he is con­front­ed with dev­as­tat­ing news—the ambas­sador informs him that his moth­er has passed away. This rev­e­la­tion sends a wave of dis­be­lief and despair through Arthur, who strug­gles to process the weight of his grief. Despite the ambassador’s kind offer to help arrange his return to Eng­land, Arthur makes the dif­fi­cult deci­sion to con­tin­ue his jour­ney. He resolves to press on toward Nin­eveh, feel­ing that he must ful­fill his mis­sion despite the emo­tion­al toll that the loss of his moth­er has tak­en on him.

    This chap­ter poignant­ly con­trasts the dual­i­ty of beau­ty and tragedy through the imagery of Con­stan­tino­ple, where Arthur finds him­self caught between the allure of the city and the harsh real­i­ties of life. The music, fire, and loss all rep­re­sent the fleet­ing nature of peace and the uncer­tain­ty that under­pins the human expe­ri­ence. Arthur’s inter­nal conflict—torn between his mis­sion and his grief—becomes a sig­nif­i­cant turn­ing point in his jour­ney. As he faces the loss of a loved one, Arthur is forced to reck­on with deep­er ques­tions of life, pur­pose, and the mean­ing of per­son­al sac­ri­fice. The deci­sion to con­tin­ue his trav­els, despite the grief he feels, speaks to his resolve and the greater mis­sion he feels called to ful­fill.

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