Whether Hatif is the angel of the
unseen or the unseen angel is a matter of some dispute and two senior
theologians nearly had a duel over the point some years ago. It would have made
a fine show – the two old men, armed with scimitars, meeting in the Plaza at
the precise moment of dawn when a green thread can just be distinguished from a
blue one, their great scarlet theologian capes swirling about them , the copper
spurs on their high boots striking sparks from the cobbles, -- but some joyless
administratrix cancelled it, invoking the authority of a stray calico cat which
had reasonable cause to believe she might be God.
In any event, Hatif has never been
seen in the Dark City, which some take as proof he lives there, at least
when he is not brooding in empty rooms or telling trees it is safe to fall – no
one will hear them.
