‘Let me tell you,’ the Jinni said, ‘about the souls that go on after death, or are brought back against their will … Have you ever seen a shadow that flies across the ground, like that of a cloud? Except that when you look up in the sky, there are no clouds to speak of? … that is a shade,’ he said. ‘A lost soul. In the desert there are shades of every type of creature. They fly from here to there in perpetual anguish, searching and searching. Can you guess what they are searching for? … they’re searching for their bodies. And when they find them — if they find them, if their bones haven’t long turned to dust — they crouch over them, and weep, and make the most horrible noises … they find the nearest of their kin, and plead with them, asking to help them find rest. But all their kin can hear is a kind of wailing, like a high wind. And all they feel is the cold chill of death.’