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of the early dawn. Abu Jaafar first thought that what he was seeing was a mere figment of his imagination. He then peered more closely, and he came to grips with his own utter amazement. He went toward the woman, took off his woolen cloak, and wrapped it around her body. He asked her her name and where she lived, but it seemed as though she could neither see nor hear him. He left her to continue on her way, and he watched her from behind as she walked on slowly, his eyes fixed on the jingling gold spangles that wrapped around her ankles caked with the mud of a road her two feet had been treading.
    In spite of the wintry chill and the howling winds that shook the walnut trees lining both sides of the road, Abu Jaafar remained standing by the door of his shop until the sun released its pale yellow rays and exposed the street's prominent features.

    Inside the shop he exchanged a few words with Naeem and then went to a corner where he sat quietly. The boy couldn't help but notice his patron's silence, and he responded by suppressing his usual noisiness, as he began the day's work with a desire to do a good job to please his patron and with a genuine concern for him, making Naeem sneak a peek at him every now and then.
    "What's your name, my boy?"
    The man was very tall and somewhat frightening, looking no different from all those older men who intimidated him, who would no sooner stop him on the street than he would leap away like a scared jackrabbit. He lifted his gaze and glanced up over his towering body until he came to the eyes, blue and peaceful. He didn't rush, and he answered in a soft voice: "Naeem."
    "Where is your family, Naeem?"
    "They went away, or they died. I don't know."
    Abu Jaafar stretched out his enormous hand and took hold of the boy's hand, and the boy followed with the longest strides his two young feet al lowed him to take in order to keep pace.
    Abu Jaafar fed him, gave him shelter, and began to teach him all the tricks of his trade. He trained him in tanning and drying goat hides for bind ing. He taught him how to arrange the pages of a manuscript and bind them together. He allowed him to undertake every task save a couple he preferred to do himself. He instructed Naeem to follow him closely so that he could learn: to thread the twine into the awl, and slowly and carefully pass the awl and thread through the spine of the book, once, twice, a third and fourth time, back and forth until the stitching was tight; then he let him attach the spine to the cover and place the book under a press. Several days later, he would re move the book from underneath the press and Abu Jaafar would write the title and the name of the author, as well as the owner of the manuscript, in gold ink or something else that may have been requested. Finally, he would engrave the cover with intricate patterns.
    Naeem became consumed by a desire to do all of that by himself, and when he persisted, Abu Jaafar handed him a piece of paper, smiling: "Here, write the opening chapter of the Quran on this." He felt as though he had backed himself into a corner because his penmanship was as crooked as a long and winding mountain pass.

    "Are you feeling ill, Abu Jaafar?"
    Abu Jaafar didn't respond, nor did he look in Naeem's direction. He remained with his head bent down and his eyes lost in distraction. The day went on and the phantom of the young woman remained fixed in his mind. He was disturbed and saddened by it, but it was not until the following day when he heard the news of the meeting at the Alhambra that a foreboding unease took possession of him. Rumors were circulating about Ibn Abi Ghassan's drowning in the River Genil. Could the naked woman then be a credible sign, he wondered, like a vision or an omen?
    His pessimism grew steadily and entrenched itself deep in his heart when Naeem told him several days later the story of a woman whose naked corpse had been found drifting on the river.
    "Was it the Darro or the Genil?"
    "The