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Back The Wild Ones Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR The Wild Ones
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. The Beginning, or How Paheli Became the First Wild One; With a Cameo by Taraana, the Boy Made of Stars.
  7. An Introduction; Hold On to Your Hats.
  8. The Sweetness in the Sugarcane, or The Impractical Nature of Immortality
  9. Paheli: The Vagrant Experiences of a Mango Addict
  10. Cotton Candy Sugar Screams
  11. From the Book of MEMORIES
  12. “Will You Walk into My Parlor?” Said the Spider to the Fly.
  13. The Best Ice Cream in the World, Teddy Bears, and a Tree Creature.
  14. From the Book of MEMORIES
  15. I.
  16. The Reappearance of the Boy Made of Stars and the Plight of the Girl by the Oleander Lane.
  17. Paheli: An Interlude in Blue
  18. Besieged in the Between
  19. Tea, the City of Stairs, and the Story of a Boy
  20. From the Book of MEMORIES
  21. Heartbreak, Stone Buildings, and Tandoori
  22. Observations, Conversations, and Hot Parantha
  23. Paheli: The Spies Who Came In from the Between
  24. From the Book of MEMORIES
  25. The French Quarter, the Spanish Half, and Eulalie
  26. Paheli: The Eggplant Overture
  27. Sunny Jelly Beans, Po’Boys, and “Alouette”
  28. From the Book of MEMORIES
  29. The Keeper of the Green and the Mysteries of Magic
  30. Blood and the Between
  31. The Library of the Lost and the Stories of the Silenced
  32. Walking in Wicked Ways or The Importance of Balık Ekmek
  33. From the Book of MEMORIES
  34. Looking for the Needle in the Haystack
  35. Paheli: The Peculiar Crackle in the Electricity
  36. Ten Degrees Past Despair
  37. The Fault in the Stars
  38. The Blue City in the Mountains
  39. Paheli: Disharmony in the Attics
  40. From the Book of MEMORIES
  41. Paheli: Continued
  42. The Politics of a Body, the Politics of Pleasure
  43. The Medina, the Riad, and the Red City
  44. Paheli: The Atlas Mountains, the Cozy Rooftop, and the Confession, Possibly of Love
  45. From the Book of MEMORIES
  46. Souks, Spices, and Survival: A Guide into Chaos
  47. Jemaa el-Fna: The Mosque at the End of the World
  48. Paheli: A Moment in Chartreuse
  49. From the Book of MEMORIES
  50. Paheli: On the Frailties of the Heart
  51. Sonagi, or A Sudden Rain
  52. Paheli: The Cheese in the Trap
  53. Paheli: The Maze and the Minotaur
  54. A New Era, a New Dar; the River Sings
  55. The Burning Door, the Fallen City, and Taraana 2.0
  56. Paheli: The Beginning of Forever
  57. From the Book of MEMORIES
  58. Moving One Rock at a Time Will Eventually Move a Mountain, aka Goodbye
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. More from the Author
  61. About the Author

We exit the Between in the historic quarter of Jbeil. The City of Byblos is one of the oldest cities in the world and one of the only cities that has been continuously inhabited ever since she was built. If cities had voices, Jbeil would have one like good wine, with layers, notes, and depths granted to her by her age.

Perhaps it is due to her age that Byblos was declared a sanctuary city by the Magic Council. No middle worlders, no matter how severe their enmity to each other, are allowed to spill blood in Byblos. All conflicts may be peacefully resolved, but no conflicts are to be created here. We don’t know what punishment is given to those who break this law, but the ones who govern the middle world aren’t known for their grace. The city is as close to safe as the middle world can get.

It is afternoon and the cobbled streets of the historic quarters are filled with sunshine. We breathe deep of the air scented by flowers and spices as we slowly take in the beauty of the city. The old souk is not far from where we are.

But first, food.

We fuel up with shawarma, mezze, and a host of other local delicacies, the most memorable among them, baklava. Licking our fingers and feeling a rare peace with the world, we set out to walk through the streets of the old souk. The magic is strongest in the narrow alleys of the marketplace, so it’s no stretch of the imagination to assume that the gathering Assi told us about will most likely be held there.

We pass through an oleander lane on the way. The oleander trees curve toward each other above us, forming a sort of tunnel filled with flowers and green. What can we say about the beauty with which the light fills the lane? Probably nothing the poets haven’t already.

Jbeil is rich with stories. Every step we take has been taken by countless others, thick in the middle of their own tales. The history steeped into the stones of the streets gives the place a resonance that young cities do not have. When we emerge from the lane, the sky is streaked with the colors of a gentle dusk. Some early stars glint in the darkening sky. We stop walking to fully appreciate the spectacle of a world clad in the colors of both day and night. At that moment, a soft sniffling sounds, breaking our hard-found serenity.