3: The Bad Liar
[Once again, the Narrator took on the default role of Shuri ibn-Razan. As mentioned, Yasir's player couldn't make it, and Farraj had to bow out near the end too. So it's a bit Abdul-heavy. Appropriately enough, given the turn of the plot... Plus, the basic story did not finish, so it doesn't receive a flourish of an ending the way the others have. Finally, Abdul is in a much better mood than he was at the end of the last session. Finding out some more about Aqisan's problems (and making a start about doing something about them) completely swept his own problems out of his mind.]
Narrator: Wherein the third night begins... [Part Two of "Fishing for an Honest Man"]
Narrator: Once in my boyhood had I beheld such wonders as Huzuz, Gem of Zakhara. Returning there was the awakening of a distant memory, now polished and made whole. Oh grateful listener, the journey that brought me and the great men with whom I was honored to travel was not without strife. The silk merchant, who I did not trust since we left the caravanserai, persisted in badgering me. At last I yelled at him, "Everyone knows for a merchant, even honesty has its price!"
The silk merchant quickly replied, "Apparently it costs as much as your courage, oh Shuri of the Grand Caliph's Hunting Dogs."
Anger swelled in my breast at this insinuation of greedy conduct by my kinsmen, but I recalled the pious company I was in and the favor with which the merchant looked upon the lion Yasir, and I thought better and swallowed my pride.
God was kind to us for the remaining three day journey to Huzuz. Following the shortcut advised by Yazid al-Hanif, we made good time and quickly reached the Al-Sarif, River of Nobility. Many travelers bid us welcome and shared our campfire as we traveled west. At night, Metef's voice would issue from the chest, always pleading and asking for repentance. Metef, that vile dog! even went so far as to claim that Mamoun merited his curse for trying to take the caravanserai from Metef. His lies were outrageous! As the journey went on, Metef's ploys grew more desperate. Yet we dared not open the chest, merely pouring water through the lock to keep the wretched sorcerer alive. My mood was dark as we approached the river ferry crossing as I thought of my dear friend Mamoun and others at the Zarif caravanserai who would rejoice now to see so much water.
This, which you shall now hear, is the tale of what befell us in Huzuz.
Abdul has been in a lighter mood in the days since his momentous confession. He smiles as the group tops a rise and beholds the grand City, gleaming. "Golden Huzuz, City of Delights! Do you see now what I meant, Farraj?"
Farraj goes through periods of intense excitement and quiet solitude during these days of travel. He seems somehow changed since the night of his temptation by the Devil in the Chest.
Abdul: "You are quiet, my friend. No, let me speak truly - my brother." He smiles at the younger man.
Farraj is never far from the chest of his temptation. It is almost as though he has become it's personal guardian! "It is hard to see with new eyes. A river flows past our feet, and in my heart."
Abdul: "Are you so full of joy, then?"
Farraj: "I truly do not know. Are those the walls of a city of men?"
Abdul laughs. "Of men, yes! Even djinni do not build larger, though they build grander."
Narrator: Since the battle against Metef's magics, Shuri keeps one hand on his scimitar hilt at all times. "I will ride ahead and broker passage on a river ferry." And he nudges his camel forward, a dark glaze over his eyes.
Farraj: "How shall we cross the waters?"
Abdul: "Shuri is seeing to it. Perhaps we should enter by the Gate of the Learned. I have a room on the street there."
Farraj laughs. "I speak and it is done! Who said that words are never enough!"
Abdul says, only a touch ironically, "No sha'ir has ever said so."
Narrator: Huzuz, even from a distance is vast. Its minarets shimmer in the desert heat which has begun even only a half hour past sunrise. A light fog of evaporating vapors dances along the surface of the Al-Sarif.
Farraj: "You must be very important to have your own room in this great city. Do you think the guards will let me pass?"
Abdul laughs again. "Important! I have a tiny room under the shop of a starving artist. I am but one scribe among thousands in the City. And of course they will - do you realize how many pilgrims come here in a year?"
Narrator: Jamul the silk merchant speaks to Yasir aside, though clearly he heaps great accolades on the warrior, who listens unimpressed by the bluff and bluster. It would seem Jamul has invited Yasir to his house for supper this evening, and Yasir insists that his companions be allowed to join him.
Farraj interjects, "Jamul, he who gave of his own to save the caravanserai, I accept your kind offer. A shared meal is a shared faith."
Abdul adds easily, "Your invitation is welcome and accepted with joy, good Jamul."
Shasti eyes the great walls of Huzuz. Blinks and thinks of the number of times she has passed its gates. It seems they have kept her city in good repair during her years in the desert.
Farraj: "Why Shasti, let me unpack your crown and throw petals at your feet. Your stride is noble today."
Narrator: Sighing, Jamul can't help but smile at Farraj. Brown-nosing courageous warriors can be exhausting work after all. "Oh noble men, my household will be blessed for your presence. You shall meet my wife, whose cooking makes the tigers in Nog ravenous, and my three daughters. Why, my eldest", he says eyeing Yasir cannily, "My eldest, Fatima, ah, her beauty is beyond compare with a head for accounting to match...." He quickly adds, "And she nears the marrying age."
Narrator: In the distance you can see Shuri negotiating heatedly with a ferryman.
Abdul smiles with only a twinkle of friendly malice in his eyes. "Do you hear that, Farraj? Perhaps our friend the merchant would consider an alliance with your tribe. You are nearly old enough to marry as well." He deliberately speaks loud enough for Jamul to hear.
Farraj: "Marry!" He blushes, suddenly looking very young.
Narrator: Shasti snorts in Jamul's direction as if to say not on her watch!
Abdul's banter, while genuine enough, is only on the surface. Deep thoughts roil beneath.
Farraj looks back at the chest. "Can you hear the wind in the minarets, Devil? They whisper your doom!"
Narrator: A hiss eminates from the chest follows by a muffled sob. Farraj hears a voice beseeching him, whispering from within the chest, but quickly puts it from his mind.
Narrator: Jamul keeps his eye on a robed man approaching. The man is dressed in a Bedouin's rugged aba, though his bearing is noble and his steed the most graceful you've ever seen.
Abdul heaves a mock sigh as Jamul elaborately ignores his suggestion. "Another great opportunity lost." He listens idly to Shuri's bargaining.
Narrator: The stranger hails Abdul. "Sahib, I am new to Huzuz. May I trouble you for directions?"
Abdul blinks and turns to the newcomer. "Certainly, sir, peace be upon you. What do you have need of knowing?"
Shasti looks upon this `steed'. She has seen better ANIMALS carrying salt.
Narrator: "Peace by upon you," says the stranger in return, a thick accent coming through. "I seek a high official said to be the most just man in Huzuz. He goes by the name of Namvar al-Qadi."
Abdul: "Alas, sir, I have been away from Huzuz this past year, and am not as familiar with events in the city as I might be. I suggest you ask after him in the Court District. Do you know of it?"
Narrator: "Alas, I have never been to Huzuz, though I am eager to see how the qadis here handle justice, " he says with a twinkle in his eyes. "How may I find the Court District?"
Farraj twitches and turns to check something in his saddle-pack.
Narrator: Shuri has concluded the deal with much ado, and signals for you to approach as the ferryman unropes the docked raft.
Abdul gives directions easily enough. "It is just east of the Grand Palace. If you enter the Gate of the Learned just opposite the river from us just now, the street will lead you to the Street of the Ajami, and then the Boulevard of Caravans. From there you cannot miss the Palace."
Narrator: The man bows, "Thank you young man. May I enjoy the ferry with you?"
Abdul bows in turn. "I have no objection, though I suppose it is up to the ferryman. I am Abdul, and this is Farraj Hezma El Feisal. And you?"
Farraj nods to the man, a preoccupied expression on his face.
Narrator: Dismounting his horse, a fine mare of the Saqlawi strain, he salaams Farraj and the rest. "Gobryas ibn-Taralas of Mahabba, by...Well, it is a long story." He settles the account with the ferryman, whose eyes go wide at the coin the stranger gives him. The caravan guards with you comment on how dignified Shasti looks boarding the raft; their snickering is venom to Farraj's ears.
Abdul boards without fuss. "A pleasure to meet you, Gobryas. An unusual name, if I may say so."
Farraj balks and looks at Abdul. "Am I to understand that we are crossing this water on a log?"
Narrator: Shuri groans. "You've never been over a river, youth?"
Farraj repeats, "On a log, Abdul?"
Abdul blinks and looks to Farraj. "A log? It is a raft, Farraj. Many logs, tied together." To Shuri he says, "He has never
seen a river, Shuri, unless I am mistaken."
Farraj says proudly, "I have spent my years on the river of sand, Shuri and I beg for nothing less. Abdul, it is a log. My hand has many fingers but it is still just a hand."
Narrator: Shuri whispers aside to Abdul, but loud enough for Farraj to hear, "It is common in many desert dwellers. Fear of the unknown. The city. Water. These sorts of things."
Abdul laughs. "Well, be assured, Farraj: Many hundreds of men and camels have crossed on this log without getting wet!"
Narrator: The ferryman gazes impatiently at Farraj and his group, but keeps his mouth shut. He has been well paid after all.
Farraj: (To Shuri) "I fear nothing less than the Devil in the Chest but I am a man Shuri. A bird flies, the snake slithers and the man walks. He does not float."
Shasti thinks,
The man walks, does he?
Abdul: "But men DO float, Farraj. Even swim like fish, at need. I have done it myself, in this very river."
Narrator: The ferryman comments dourly, "Oh, some men sink, sahib."
Farraj: "I have seen the children paddle at the Oasis. Surely a man does not submit to such things?"
Abdul laughs again. "True enough, good ferryman. But let us not alarm my friend. Farraj, the raft floats, but you may walk back and forth upon it if you wish. There is nothing unnatural in this."
Farraj: "Are you sure?"
Abdul affirms patiently, "Quite sure. It has pleased Allah to make logs such that they float upon the water. If men choose to walk upon them as they float, I see no impiety in it."
Farraj: "I have seen the Ibis wade deep into the pond. Perhaps I should wade across. Shasti would surely not be asked to float like a leaf."
Abdul: "It is far too deep for Shasti, Farraj. Come! We are holding up the other passengers."
Narrator: The ferryman snickers, "Just make sure your camels don't leave any logs of their own floating in the river. *sniff* They fine for such things."
Farraj: "There is no way around. Perhaps I could meet you in a few days?"
Abdul: "Farraj. You see that Shuri is aboard the raft. He also is of al-Hanif, he says. Why should you not also join us?"
Farraj: "It is said that sometimes the Moon covers the Sun. If that is so, who am I to say that a man cannot float. I submit to the great wisdom of Abdul.
Abdul smiles. "And well you should. It is fitting."
Farraj gingerly leads Shasti onto the raft and proceeds to the exact centre. "Hmm, it is like walking on soft sand with hard shoes."
Abdul turns back to Gobryas. "I am sorry for the interruption, sahib. You were saying?"
Shasti walks about the raft inspecting her new domain.
Farraj: "Shasti! Must you do that! There is no room in heaven for wicked camels."
Abdul chuckles again at Farraj. "Judgment is with Allah only, my friend."
Narrator: The ferryman pushes off, and your raft pierces the snaking mists of the Al-Sarif. Glittering Huzuz, Gem of Zakhara, rises from the southern bank where all manner of boating activity can be seen. You are dwarfs among giants - great sambuks and dhows of the Caliph's own fleet surround you.
Farraj grips the planks at his feet so that his knuckles go white.
Abdul sighs when he sees how terrified the boy is, and kneels beside him, putting an arm about his shoulders. "Come, brother. You need not fear."
Shasti looks at some of the grand boats plying the waters and back at the simple raft at her feet. Something will have to be done about this!
Narrator: Gobryas looks with awe at the passing boats. "Truly the Grand Caliph is a great leader. Such vessels!"
Farraj: "How is it that men do this every day?" He finally notices the other boats.
Abdul: "Like many other things, what is at first a wonder and a terror becomes with custom but another thing men do. Many fellahin* would be terrified by a sandstorm, you know. Or even travelling across the desert without a known route." (* city dwellers)
Farraj stands up, leaning on Abdul. "It is a beautiful sight."
Abdul: "The reward for facing one's fears is often such."
Farraj: "Are those men in the rigging?"
Abdul: "They are, indeed."
Narrator: A man in the rigging of passing dhow raises his hand to you, calling out, "Any word from Kiryana al-Hanif in the Haunted Lands?"
Farraj: "Do all the different colours in the sails and hulls mean anything. I have never seen such colour." He grips Ittifaqi Hasanah.
Abdul shrugs, looking to Farraj and Shuri at the man's question. To Farraj he says, "Some indicate the houses or merchants or nations the vessels hail from. I believe others may simply be decoration."
Narrator: At that point in the adventures of the three men who saved Mamoun, I knew not this name, and yelled back to the sailor, "Alas, no!" With that he placed a hand over his heart as if wounded, and fell into the arms of his companions who laughed mirthfully.
Abdul: "How odd."
Farraj laughs and points. "Shuri! You are a word archer!"
Narrator: You both notice that the ferryman is only paddling minimally, dragging on the trip unnecessarily.
Farraj walks (carefully) over to the edge of the raft and dips a hand into the water.
Narrator: Shuri can't help but laugh at Farraj. "Though I've no talent for the bow, it would appear at least I am a good shot at something."
Abdul: "It has been said that well-timed words are more lethal than spears! ... But ill-timed ones can be perhaps more lethal yet, I suppose."
Narrator: The ferryman controls the rudder, and appears to be leaning hard on it, slowing you down, even as the rest of the oarsman toil away.
Farraj mutters, "The wealth of the desert."
Abdul then calls over to the ferryman, "Are you trying to make your oarsmen earn their pay, good sir?"
Farraj: "I remember many days of thirst when I could not have dreamed of this!"
Abdul: "Wait until you see the ocean, Farraj! Water as far as the eye can see - yet not safe to drink."
Narrator: The ferryman makes no response, and has a look which is eerily familiar to you both upon his face. The look in the ferryman's eyes sends shivers through Farraj's bones. "Yes," he mouths breathily. "Yes."
Farraj starts up, a look of horror on his face. "The Devil is a word-archer too!" He walks towards the ferry-man.
Abdul shouts angrily, "METEF! This is enough!"
Narrator: Shuri turns around, mid-laugh and upon seeing the ferryman's blank expression his eyes darken once more. Like Yasir, his swordhand is ever present upon his scimitar.
Farraj glances at the chest. "Release this man and accept your fate."
Abdul strides wrathfully toward the chest. "Try your tricks on ME if you dare, carrion crow! But leave these be." He kicks the chest savagely.
Narrator: The oarsman and Gobryas stare stunned at the commotion.
Farraj grabs ahold of the ferry-man.
Narrator: The ferryman makes no move to stop Farraj, his gaze distant upon the Trade Harbor (far west of your destination).
Farraj slaps the man's face. "Awaken. It is day and the sun is in the sky, enlighten the inner darkness."
Abdul sighs. "Farraj, tie Ittifaqi Hasanah about him. When he is free, tie it about the chest. ... You men! Who of you knows how to steer this raft?"
Farraj obeys Abdul's command and binds the steers-man with his beautiful scarfe.
Abdul then tells the chest, "You are but storing up wrath for judgment, fool."
Narrator: Once bound, the ferryman comes to himself, "A strange breeze, it seemed to call my name...Why are you all staring at me like that? And get back to the oars, you! And get this rope off of me!" He struggles to extricate himself from the sash.
Farraj takes Ittifaqi Hasanah back.
Abdul: "No more tricks from you, Metef! As I told you before, it is not unlawful to slay an prisoner in the act of escaping."
Farraj walks over to the chest.
Narrator: Both Abdul and Farraj make out faint whimpering from within the chest.
Abdul then tells the other passengers on the raft sourly, "We beg your forgiveness for the... untoward... happenings."
Farraj: "No one wants to hear your words Devil. Your chance to explain yourself approaches all too soon."
Abdul: "Tie the silk about the chest. That seems to help."
Farraj: "I must bind you again, Devil, though you have bound yourself, in truth."
Narrator: Gobryas says to Abdul, "Abdul of Huzuz, I though my story was outrageous, but yours has left me stunned. You speak to a chest as if it were a heretic and you treat a bolt of silk as a most treasured child! Surely there must be an explanation!"
Farraj binds the chest with his vibrant scarfe.
Narrator: Farraj hears Metef's voice hiss from within the chest, as if recoiling from the sash which binds the chest he lurks within, awaiting his trial which looms like the far shore of the Al-Sarif.
Abdul: "I speak not to the chest, good Gobryas, but a wicked sorcerer we are transporting for judgment in the City. He has been cursed into the form of a raven - God the Mighty having brought the curse he meant to place on faithful Yasir there upon his own head. As for this silk, it seems to have some strange virtue against the blandishments he makes against men's minds."
Farraj is quickly distracted by the amazing sights around the raft. The drifting mist and the boats gliding from one shore to another.
Narrator: Shuri gazes ominously at the chest, "I am beginning to regret not opening the chest myself and slaying the foul one. Farraj, you have cleared that blemish which the sorcerer laid upon you before. I cherish the day I see him punished for his crimes."
Farraj tells Shuri, "He is already dead within. His judgement will be greater than any punishment we can conceive."
Narrator: The northern gate is awash with travelers from Halwa, Bedouin and Al-Hadhar alike. The ferryman directs the agile bowman to jump off the raft and secure it.
Farraj looks at Shasti, bemused. "You are my ship of the desert. This is a strange day indeed."
Abdul adds to Gobryas, "You were saying you had heard of a qadi famed far and wide for wisdom? He may be just the one that we need."
Narrator: Gobryas rubs his beard, and Abdul realizes the man is younger than he had at first thought. "Perhaps. I am to meet before him with an unscrupulous beggar who claims my horse is his. Not this horse mind you. It is my honor that binds me to do so."
Abdul: "Yet you have never been to Huzuz before? How odd."
Narrator: Shuri eases the rest of the camels onto solid ground, guiding them toward the city gates. Jamul breathes deeply, inspired to be in his homeland. Feyrouz, the caravan guard brings up the rear, a dark cloud over his head since the encounter with Metef's sorcery. Gobryas converses amiably with Abdul.
Narrator: Metef lurks within the chest, grumbling about his fate. The chest is secured to a camel (a different one each day so they did not tire) which is led by Shuri.
Abdul disembarks, offering a hand in encouragement to Farraj.
Farraj: "It is a shame to be leaving the river. I will never forget the sight of the Al-Sarif and her ships." He laughs.
Abdul: "But now you will see Huzuz herself, Mother of Cities!"
Narrator: "Ah...no I haven't. I have decided to take this occasion to visit the Great Mosque," says Gobryas.
Abdul: "Well, how could a beggar of Huzuz claim your horse, if you have never been here before?"
Farraj watches the activity at the Gate. He takes a long sniff of the air, then looks back at the raft. "What a strange place where men can walk on water."
Narrator: "Ah, the beggar, by great misfortune was captured by pirates and was to be sold as a slave, but they ship-wrecked upon Mahabba's shores, whereupon the ungrateful man took to his trade at once. In passing him one day, I offered him coins, and on a second thought I offered him a ride upon my steed. When we reached his destination, I bid him dismount, and he refused, claiming the horse was his own. The qadi in Mahabba bid me come to Huzuz in one year to seek the famous Namvar al-Qadi so that the case may be decided."
Abdul: "What an odd decision! Why did he not settle the case himself? And where is the beggar now?"
Farraj turns back to the discussion. "I have seen what happens to horse (and camel) thieves."
Narrator: "He ruled in favor of the beggar, but I appealed the case, and the Caliph of Mahabba ruled that I should travel to Huzuz in a year and a day." He sighs, "So here I am with the horse in question."
Abdul: "How absurd! I can see why you seek a just qadi."
Narrator: A merchant hawking strange elixirs leans close to Farraj, her reeking breath upon his face, "Bottled breath of the Ghul's Anvil. And more wares have I. Come young one, Mesekhert's elixirs will cure all things."
Farraj: "But surely not your breath! You are a poor advertisement for your wares."
Narrator: Chastised, the hag goes on to her next customer, "Bottled breath....."
Abdul adds to Farraj, "I see you are not quite the easy mark I had feared, lad." He smiles. "There are more peddlars in Huzuz than can be dreamed of."
Narrator: Shuri laughs at Farraj, "It would seem so. Fear not, you are an archer of words, Farraj. With your wit, you could scare off the king of peddlars himself."
Farraj: "Do you think so? I knew she was trying to fool me because surely no Ghul would labour as a blacksmith."
Narrator: Shuri blinks. "Well, no, I suppose not."
Abdul stares at Farraj. "Blacksm-" he bursts out laughing.
Farraj makes sure that he is not separated from the chest. His greatest treasure is binding it!
Narrator: Great caravans of silk, glass, spices, and books pass by you toward the gates; an elephant laden with chests looms ahead, carving a swathe through the crowd. A flock of great white birds flies overhead, and a hawk harries messenger doves making their way about the city. The sound of debating theologians merges into the din of traffic, punctuated by periodic blasting of furnaces in the glassblower's neighborhood. There is a palpable buzz in the air, for Huzuz is a living breathing place, and every person has a tale.
Abdul winds down to chuckles. "Pardon me, good Gobryas. Mirth waits for no man, I fear."
Narrator: Gobryas bows, "Thank you Abdul of Huzuz. I shall do my best to find the Courts, though Huzuz's grandeur puts Mahabba to shame. Thank you for your assistance."
Abdul leads the group confidently through the Gate of the Learned as they talk. "It was my honor, sahib. I will not wish you good fortune, but rather justice. If I may be of any further aid, I should be glad to assist."
Narrator: Gobryas wishes Abdul good luck with the sorcerer's trial, and excuses himself, leading his mare ahead of the group.
Farraj watches the elephant in awe. Pointing, he exclaims, "It has a snake on its face!"
Narrator: The elephant lumbers right by Farraj, stopping to eat a melon from a nearby stall as the merchant curses and the rider apologizes as best as he can.
Farraj: "Did any of you see that!"
Abdul: "It is an elephant, Farraj. One of God's more impressive creations."
Farraj: "How many men does it eat for breakfast? It has the biggest teeth I have ever seen!"
Abdul: "It does not eat men at all, nor any other meat."
Farraj: "Well, I am thankful for that."
Abdul leads the motley company down the Street of the Learned. "My old neighborhood. I wish I could invite you all to stay with me, but I fear my room is but a tiny one. Farraj, you may stay with me, and Shuri, you also if you wish. Where are we to join you tonight, good Jamul?"
Narrator: Shuri interrupts, "Abdul, we must speak with the water merchants and organize provisions for Zarif, for surely Mamoun and his family are suffering greatly now with the drought brought on by the furious storm. Mamoun has given me funds suited to this purpose. Is there a place we can meet again later after I broker a deal?"
Abdul: "Of course, Shuri! You are right. Jamul, who is best for us to speak to? And if you wish my aid with the negotiations, I am pleased to do so, Shuri."
Farraj turns to Shuri at the mention of the plight of the caravanserai. But he is unable to stop gawking at everything happening around him. He has Saturation Gawk Syndrome.
Abdul keeps a hawk's eye surreptitiously on Farraj out of sheer habit. Or rather, on the people passing by the lad.
Farraj murmurs, "I walk on water, enter the Great Gate of the Learned and then see a giant beast with teeth like palms who is allowed to steal melons. Perhaps a flock of tiny birds will spring out of the sun and turn into dates, surely that will happen next."
Narrator: A date pit hits Farraj on the head. A monkey chitters from a clothesline above, making faces at Farraj before disappearing.
Narrator: Jamul considers Shuri carefully, then sighs. "Noble Yasir, I would be honored if you would accompany me. We may have need of your....way with words. I shall take Shuri and Yasir to a merchant. I shall send a porter by your house just before sundown to summon you."
Abdul bows. "I thank you, good merchant."
Narrator: Shuri entrusts the camel laden with the sorcerer-in-a-chest to Abdul and Farraj before departing with Yasir and Jamul to speak with the water merchants.
Farraj: "Abdul, a tiny little man just threw a date pit at me. I cannot understand his language."
Abdul: "It is not a man but a monkey, Farraj."
Farraj: "Ah, so he is a Southerner."
Abdul: "Farraj.... Where do you GET these strange ideas?!"
Farraj: "A man once told me that all the men of the South are monkeys, you do not need to take that tone with me."
Abdul laughs. "I am sorry, my friend. It is just that you have seen much of the desert, but little of the rest of the world. I suppose I would be equally ridiculous lost in the sands. For a short while."
Narrator: "Abdul! Abdul!" rings a voice from the crowd. It is the Sufi next door, the one who gave up his name upon becoming an ascetic.
Farraj: "So I am ridiculous? Small thanks for protecting you from the Southerner."
Abdul just can't help it; he laughs again. "Ah, Nameless, it is good to see you again. Yes, I am returned."
Shasti takes in the smells and sights of the city. Ahh, it has been too long.
Narrator: A date pit bounces off the nameless Sufi's head. His eyes glaze over for a second and he does a quick dance, which goes to prove that even old men are young boys when the spirit of God moves them. "Oh Abdul, very great and very tragic news for you!"
Abdul frowns and moves toward the man, beckoning Farraj to follow. "Oh? What is this?"
Farraj: (To Shasti) "I am afraid to speak. Does it always rain dates here?"
Narrator: The nameless Sufi offers a quick prayer to God, kissing the six icons which hang around his neck before proceeding. "The chatty women of the neighborhood, you know the ones, decided that you were in need of a wife and found just such a lotus blossom, and they spread word you intended to court her. Her suitor has heard the matter and is red with jealousy and has declared he will challenge you to a duel!"
Abdul smiles. "Duel with a scribe?! Is not the pen mightier than the sword? Come, my friend, I daresay this matter is easily smoothed over. Or do you not think so?"
Farraj grins. "You and Yasir could be married on the same day!"
Abdul grins back at Farraj.
Farraj: "Have you noticed how loud it is here? My ears are aching."
Narrator: "Oh Abdul, God is Wise and I do not know. The suitor was quite irate and his shouting drew two guards over. Then, quick as a wink he disappeared into the crowd. I had never seen anything like it before in my life! Though I thought it strange when he heard your name he seemed to recognize it. Do you make it a habit to cross angry young men?" The Sufi gazes at Farraj with a broad grin.
Abdul: "What is the man's name?"
Narrator: "I am afraid he did not mention it, or did he and I wasn't paying attention? Such are the concerns of one into whose ear God constantly whispers," the nameless Sufi adds, raising a finger and rising on to his toes to make the point.
Farraj is trying his very hardest not to be distracted by all of the incredible things going on around him... but not very successfully. He watches the chest vigilantly, when he remembers.
Abdul teases, "Does He often whisper, 'Ah, Laughter, you are indeed a fool!' Though a kind fool and an excellent neighbor, to be sure!"
Farraj notices that there are dozens of Southerners swarming the street. Some of them are without clothes. This is a shameful thing.
Narrator: Laughter, Ecstasy, Rapture, The Iconist, Raja of Small Gods, the nameless Sufi raises an ear to the wind. "Oh dear Abdul, I am being called to bicker with the cleric's sons now. I hope to finish with them before the call to prayer. There is nothing like prayer to steal the anger from a man's sails." He winks and excuses himself.
Abdul tells Farraj, "A madman, but a pleasant enough one."
Farraj: (To Abdul) "I can barely even describe the madness that is across the street. I think that your neighbour is the sanest man i have met here."
Abdul laughs yet again, shaking his head. He leads the way to his own house.
Narrator: One of the Southerners scrambles over near Farraj. "Ook? Eeech. Ack! Ack! Ack! Eeach? Ook. Ook?"
Farraj bends down and smiles kindly.
Narrator: The monkey takes off the fez it is wearing and holds it out open, as if begging, with a grin a mile wild.
Farraj: "Great Southerner. It is our custom to wear clothes here in the north. A strange custom to you I am sure but it is the way we do things here."
Abdul: "The monkey cannot understand you, Farraj. He is not a man at all, but a clever beast."
Farraj: "A coin for the ignorant is a gift before God. Here, take two because you are surely twice as ignorant and therefore twice as needy."
Abdul: "Farraj..."
Farraj digs out two of his meagre supply of coins and plonks them into the southerners unusual cap.
Narrator: Tucking the coins into its vest, monkey offers its hat again, this time with a whimper on its face.
Abdul: "Farraj, if you give coins to all the monkeys you meet, you will soon need to beg yourself. Take it from one who knows: It is not a pleasant way to live." Abdul is serious all of a sudden.
Farraj: "I will give you a greater gift than coins, my friend. Here is some advice. If you are ever lost in the desert, look to the sky in the evening. If you see the hawk in the air, follow his lead. For the Hawk hunts the mouse and the mouse lives where there is water."
Abdul blinks and files that away. You never know. "This way, Farraj."
Farraj stands up and beams at Abdul. "He has money for bread and will do well in the desert. Let the Southerners know that Farraj is a good judge of men."
Narrator: The Southerner falls over, astounded by Farraj's hand raised in the air. It pulls a date pit from its mouth and gives it to Farraj.
Abdul shakes his head but opens the door to his old home.
Farraj (to the Southerner): "Well, thank you, perhaps these are coins in your primitive southern lands. I will plant this in a treasured place and the palm that grows will be a shared treasure for any who pass."
Narrator: Abdul finds the house exactly as he left it, save for his desk has been moved, pillows cover the floor and a bowl of half-eaten rice is balanced precariously near a window sill! What madness is this! A great canvas, half-torn, has various bits of calligraphy, seemingly copied from Abdul's own books by an untrained hand. Humming can be heard from the pantry room.
Farraj: "Ah Abdul, what should I do with Shasti? Is there room for her here?"
Abdul stands stock still for a moment, gaping in astonishment. Then his face goes red. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Farraj starts at Abdul's turn from humor to rage. "What is wriong?"
Abdul strides into the front room, looking about more carefully.
Narrator: A fat-cheeked man comes from the pantry, dropping a jar of grape leaves upon the floor. *crash* "Oh my! Are you Abdul? I am Ferej, the artist's friend. I wasn't expecting you for another month."
Abdul: "Abdallah's friend, are you?! What are you doing in my home?!"
Narrator: "Why, didn't you know I was keeping the place for you while you were away? Abdallah certainly must have told you!" He replies indignantly, going about the task of cleaning up the dropped grape leaves and oil.
Abdul: "Keeping it! It looks like a typhoon has hit it! And no, I was told nothing of this - and no surprise, as I paid to have it waiting for me as I left it!"
Narrator: "Welcome, welcome," says Ferej to Farraj and his camel, "please come in won't you. Oh, nothing to worry about Abdul. I am a superb chef and a talented barber."
Abdul says icily, "Are you suggesting, SIR, that I am to suffer your presence in my home another moment?"
Narrator: "Suffer? Oh not at all, I've kept good care of all your books - even tried my hand at reproducing some of those beautiful letters you write, but alas I am illiterate. I repainted the cracks in your ceiling, chased out the vermin, and I have even gotten the two love-birds upstairs to quiet down. But that's a story for another time." He winks.
Abdul does not dignify that with a retort, but sweeps past the man with an imperious air that even the Caliph might envy to check on his precious books.
Narrator: At the very least the boisterous Ferej doesn't seem to have damaged Abdul's books, and they have clearly been taken care of.
Abdul relaxes. Barely. He states, "Where is Abdallah."
Farraj leads the camels into the house. Waving over his shoulder to the Southerner. "It has been a pleasure meeting you little man."
Narrator: The monkey waves to Farraj before scurrying away.
Abdul glances over at the camels. What matter, a few more guests, probably cleaner ones!
Narrator: "Say, Abdul there was someone looking for you yesterday. He tried to rough me up, but I scared him away. Oh! Abdallah is visiting his sister in Hiyal. He said he will return in two weeks time."
Abdul: "Then you will stay in Abdallah's apartment until he returns. I am sure he would not mind putting up a friend."
Shasti watches the vine leaves in oil on the floor. There was a day when she was fed such delights. And marinaded apricots studded with cloves. But such days are gone....
Abdul: "And who was this man you speak of?"
Farraj looks at the attempts at calligraphy.
Narrator: Ferej seems overjoyed at the presence of the camels. "Fine coat of hair on this one. Though it does smell rather funny." The man blinks. "Oh, good Abdul, that surely is out of the question, for his fiance's brother and wife are visiting with their three children. The quarters upstairs are quite crowded. Fortunately, I stayed the course of my duty and occupied your room valiantly despite the crying of the little children upstairs." He says with a whiff of pride.
Abdul: "Where do you come by such inimitable cheek, you... you... POLTROON?!"
Farraj: "Friend Abdul. Remember the hospitality we have found on the road. Perhaps he deserves nothing less than what we have been given?"
Narrator: "Why thank you," says Ferej finishing cleaning up the grape leaves and spilt oil. "I didn't catch his name. Haggardly though, perhaps a beggar, several years older than you. And a monkey was hanging around him. Cute little animal." He says fondly.
Farraj: "Yes, there are many of them here it would seem. But there is no need to insult them despite their strange customs."
Abdul almost explodes messily when the man thanks him, but Farraj's words calm his ire. "Very well! You may stay a few days to make other arrangements. I would not throw any man on the street. But Abdallah will be hearing more of this than he cares to, I can assure you."
Narrator: "My name is Ferej, the sixth son of six, and I am pleased to meet you oh bearer of fine camels. You are fortunate to have met me and not my brothers, the five of them are prone to rambling and can drive you mad with their incessant gibbering. But I will not speak ill of my brothers. Perhaps some water for your camels and fresh sherbet for yourselves? We should spare no expense, after all, this it has been a year since Abdul has been here. Just because we have never met before does not mean we can't celebrate your returning!"
Abdul eyes Ferej. "Whose expense are you speaking of?"
Narrator: Puffing up his chest, "Why I sold a couple things that were lying around -- you know riff raff, odds and ends -- and I managed to get a bit of money. Well, I invested in a group of merchants bound for the Crowded Sea, and I'm bound to come across great fortune just as soon as they come back!" He appears quite happy with himself.
Abdul says in a quiet, dangerous voice, "You sold. A couple things. That were lying around." After a measured pause: "What."
Narrator: "Nothing anyone will miss, I can tell you that. There were the crumpled writings to begin with, several old seals that you could barely make out, pens that stopped working, some white feather quills -- because everyone knows white is an unlikely color -- you know, those sorts of things. Ah! And one more thing..."
Abdul waits with a thunderous patience for Ferej to finish his story.
Farraj watches Abdul while Shasti casually edges her way around to the spilled vine-leaves. He wonders if men are really meant to turn the same shade of crimson that Abdul's face has become. Usually only prior to sunstroke.
Narrator: "...and someone had the audacity to fake the Caliph's seal, can you imagine? Sent three letters your way, all of which I wouldn't dishonor you by reading, and these I promptly threw out. On the third trip, I kicked the porter and said 'Attempt not such trickery! Abdul will be quite displeased with you for trying to deceive him so.'"
Shasti hopes that the piffling argument that the men are having continues long enough for her to daintily lick up the spill, carefully avoiding the glass.
Abdul turns from red to white. "You... insulted... a messenger... of the... Caliph?"
Farraj frowns.
Abdul: A vein begins pulsing in Abdul's forehead. Oh, this can't be good.
Narrator: "Convincing the scoundrel was, though. I mean, why in the world would a messenger of the Caliph (peace and praise upon him) ever step foot in our humble neighborhood. Thus I figured out his trick. It was the least I could do for one who so graciously has invited me into his home." He says innocently.
Abdul asks almost gently, as if of a child, "Are you a man, or a fiend in human shape sent to destroy me?" He sounds serious.
Farraj looks about for a chair, he thinks that Abdul is about to collapse.
Narrator: "Are you well Abdul? Perhaps your travel in the desert has wearied you?" suggests Ferej, quickly making a stack of pillows for Abdul to lie down upon.
Farraj nods to Ferej. "You are a kind and generous man, Ferej. Perhaps we should take his shoes off. That can help."
Abdul slaps Ferej's face. "By your own accounting, you are a freeloader, a thief, and you have insulted the Caliph on my behalf. Give me ONE REASON why I should not haul you before a qadi this instant!"
Farraj jumps back.
Narrator: Tears well up in the man's face. He seems completely flabbergasted and knows not what to say. "Oh, Abdul, I have only tried to be a humble and good housekeeper in your absence. I have tried to get a job, but a former criminal such as my self, why jobs are scarce and memories long. But soon, when these sailors return, I shall have a fat sum of money and I shall repay your kindness tenfold."
Abdul snarls, "I have heard sad stories made up by EXPERTS, Ferej! Spare me your crocodile tears! You are nothing compared to Rafiqi!"
Farraj: "If only Yasir was here. It is a cruel day when bad luck strikes when the righteous have been called away."
Narrator: Terrified, Ferej whimpers. "Oh I kiss the ground upon this Rafiqi, and call him lord if it abates your wrath, Abdul, which I fear is the product of your lack of rest might I add." He resumes cringing once again. "Perhaps if you laid down, I shall massage your feet with warm oil and ease your travel-worn body?"
Abdul: "What, so you can cripple me in the bargain, with everything else?!"
Farraj: "In the desert we say that water spilled is water lost. Abdul, berating your guest will not solve these problems."
Abdul: "Is this man my guest? Did I invite him into my home?"
Narrator: "Oh Abdul, I fear you cripple yourself with these unhealthy fancies. Surely the guest of your host is your guest is he not?" he says hopefully, a glint in his eyes.
Abdul catches sight of that glint. "A deceiver as well, are we? I think you are not as ignorant as you seem. You knew enough to sell my most expensive small items, certainly."
Narrator: "Would that I were so lucky merchants trusted me anymore, but until I pay my debts I am afraid I can neither buy nor sell anything. Abdul, friend of Abdallah, you worry yourself too much! Please rest before you pass out. " Ferej pleadingly arranges some cushions for Abdul.
Farraj: "If you are willing to speak and make accord, I will play a short piece I learned from a man I met during my bout of shaking sickness two years ago. It is the story of Tiljma and how she helped the Lion find his Tail."
Abdul: "You yourself just told me you sold some of my effects to finance your venture! You are a terrible liar, Ferej." To Farraj, "There is nothing at all to reconcile, Farraj. Two of a trade never agree."
Narrator: Looking frantic, Ferej bumbles as quickly as he can. "Oh, noble scribe..."
Abdul levels a finger at Ferej. "You might be able to pull the wool over the eyes of another scribe, but not me. I was not born to my station, but grew up on the streets. I know your kind, Ferej, so you may as well stop now." He is deadly serious.
Narrator: Ferej whimpers, "Oh, it was that wicked Rafiqi! And he tied up Abdallah and his wife upstairs!" He is on his hands and knees before Abdul sobbing.
Abdul: A truly extraordinary expression goes over Abdul's face. "Rafiqi?! Here?!"
Narrator: "Yes, oh scribe, but for my sake do not tell him, for he will beat me sorely about the hands and ankles should he learn of my betrayal." He pleads to Farraj, "Oh servant, let not your master beat and berate me. Let him not abandon me at death's door."
Abdul: "Lead me to him this instant. He will not beat any man if I have aught to say about it. He should know better."
Narrator: "Yes, oh virtuous and merciful Abdul," says Ferej (if that's his real name), pointing toward the street.
Abdul collars Ferej firmly to make sure he doesn't get away. "Lead on."
Narrator: As soon as you emerge on to the street, several people start gazing at Abdul and the collared Ferej. At once, Ferej shouts, "Oh have mercy!" All at once, Abdul notices a figure in the crowd look up sharply and take off running.
Abdul cries out, "Rafiqi! Come back! I hold nothing against you - you are like a brother to me!"
Narrator: The figure dashes through the crowd looking back but once. Ferej says to Abdul, "He will surely get away, and where he goes I cannot follow, for his hiding places are various."
Farraj hurries after Abdul. Upon hearing his words, he slips off after the running man.
Abdul hauls Ferej back inside. "Tell me all you know of him. If I am pleased with your answers, perhaps I will not give you up for judgment to lose a hand."
Abdul adds, "And do not lie. You may have heard I was carried off by a jinn. The tale is true." He smiles disturbingly.
==================================
Narrator: Farraj follows the running man, Rafiqi, around several back alley bends. Once he is convinced no one is following him the beggar man ambles through the crowd normally. The city Huzuz is a cunning maze of foreign faces, wide-eyed pilgrims, and great glassblowers. The alleys are narrow and pass by many furnaces and shop backdoors, while the streets are crowded and few people make way for a beggar. The man moves with studied confidence, deftly avoiding. He makes no effort to ply his trade, and moves hurriedly.
Farraj follows this man who Abdul is so interested in.
Narrator: At last the beggar arrives at a stall in a bazaar the size of the Zarif oasis itself!
Narrator: He meets another beggar, this one sharp-eyed with a vicious scar along his upper lip. The scarred beggar and the man Farraj followed hold a quiet conversation. "Is he in Huzuz again?" "Without a doubt, and as perceptive as you said he'd be." "Well done Rafiqi, it appears my trap is working just as planned." "Yes, soon you won't have to worry about any competition for the Caliph's graces." And so the conversation turns to mundane things and they speak in innuendo which is indecipherable to
Farraj, who listens nearby.
Farraj spends a moment to memorise everything that he can about the scarred man's face and features and taking care that he is unnoticed, returns to Abdul's abode.
Narrator: Farraj gets halfway back to Abdul's home, getting lost in the Warehouse District. Loud voices, like the roar of the nearby sea, and jarring motions disorient his desert senses. Soon he finds himself amidst an alley of blacksmiths who watch him carefully as he passes. These are men used to thieves, and in their mind Farraj fits the bill.
==================================
Narrator: Meanwhile, Abdul listens to Ferej spill his guts:
Narrator: "Rafiqi lives in a burned out house deep in the Northwest District behind a cemetery of whorehouses and dying men. He meets every week with a scribe who seeks to do all his competition in, and he is paid handsomely for his jobs. Several boys work for him now, and he beats them like he was trying to rid a mule of evil djinn..."
Abdul's eyes narrow. "If you are lying to me, Ferej... Do you not mean that Akim does these things?"
Narrator: Ferej shrugs helplessly in response.
Narrator: Abdul doesn't think that Rafiqi could ever hit a child. Perhaps Ferej embellishes to give Abdul what he perceives Abdul wants to hear? At any rate, the rest of the information is plausible, though a bit shocking.
Abdul: "How do you come to work for him?"
Narrator: "He bought off my gambling debts in a card game, and he plagues my conscience night and day, reminding me constantly of the good turn he has done me, and how I must repay him." Ferej gnaws his lip.
Abdul: "It is obvious enough you have not been doing this long. Is Akim still in the same house he was when Rafiqi lived there?"
Narrator: "I know nothing of Akim save for what Rafiqi tells me. Please, sahib, let me be and I swear I shall never bother you again, " pleads Ferej.
Abdul: "Tell me more of this scribe Rafiqi works for."
Narrator: Ferej continues spilling his guts. "The scribe dresses as a beggar, but his hands are too dainty and reveal his noble birth. He is possessed by unnatural jealousy, particularly for you, Abdul, and he often rants to Rafiqi, who endures such nonsense so that he can spite you. There have been several times when I thought the scribe would break ties with Rafiqi for his violent way with other scribes. I think he holds a grudge against all people born to favor...."
Abdul: "Born to favor? I am not one such. Rafiqi desires to spite me?"
Narrator: "Oh, Abdul, I do not know why he is so turned against you, but his hate is so great, he shudders upon hearing your name."
Abdul closes his eyes. "This pains me more than I can say, for I love him well." After a short interval, he sighs. "Tell me the location of his house, and the names and faces of some of his boys. Oh, and the name of this scribe. Then I will do you a favor, Ferej, equal or greater to the one Rafiqi did you."
Narrator: Nervously, Ferej continues, "His house lies behind the Northwest cemetery, behind the fishgutter Hassoud, where three of his boys sleep. He calls them "Dyjer" (and Khemtian by his eyes), "Cricket" (the youngest who is gifted at music), and "Pencil" (the thinnest boy I've ever seen). He meets with the scribe in the Grand Bazaar amidst the melon stalls."
Abdul nods. "How much of the truth did you tell me before? How long have you been here, and did you truly insult the Caliph's men?"
Narrator: "These were lies Rafiqi told me to tell you, Abdul, please have mercy," says Ferej in whimpering tones.
Abdul nods again. "How long have you been here? Just today?"
Narrator: "Yes, and the day before. I waited for Abdallah to leave, and I convinced his cousin staying here to run an errand for me that would take several days."
Abdul adds sourly, "And of course, your words 'Oh have mercy' outside were the warning phrase telling Rafiqi to flee. You see, you can hide nothing from me."
Narrator: "Verily, now you know the truth of it," says Ferej in fatalistic despair. "Surely you intend some dire punishment for me?"
Abdul: "This is what I shall do, Ferej: Nothing at all. I will not turn you over for punishment, nor will I harm you myself. I think you will agree that a hand is worth more than whatever Rafiqi paid for you, so do not think to oppose me again. I will ask of you only one small favor; and then I will give you a bit of advice."
Abdul: "The favor is this. Speak these words to Rafiqi without change or alteration, and that they are from me, Abdul Hakawati: "My brother, long have I missed you and long have I sought you, to no avail. I have not forgotten the Code, and I will stand by you in all things. And if you desire to vent your anger upon me, verily I will stand still and let you beat me with a rod even until I die, if your wrath can only thus be satisfied. But come and speak with me and look me in the eye and tell me how I have angered you.'"
Narrator: "You are too kind, Abdul." Ferej bows low, groveling, but his eyes drift to the door, as if he needs permission to leave.
Abdul: "This is the advice, Ferej: Do not gamble any more, but know that Rafiqi did you no favor at all. There was no kindness in his deed, but he has used it to make you his slave. Live free and do not lie. Now go."
Narrator: With that, Ferej scrambles to his feet, thanking Abdul as he backs toward the door, bobbing his head up and down in penance before turning and darting into the street.
Abdul then heads outside, following the sound of arguing infallibly to the Sufi and the cleric's sons.
Narrator: "Islam is not a revealed religion, old coot! If my father were better, he'd teach you a thing or two!" yells the cleric's eldest son and the nameless Sufi irreverently swings a bucket of fish in one hand. "Revelation is not in the book, but in the fish!" declares the Sufi triumphantly. At logger-heads once again. At least everything amongst his neighbors seems normal.
Abdul blanches a bit at the heresy, and from a cleric's son to boot. But he asks the Sufi, "Oh Nameless One, I ask of you a small favor. If the young man who was with me before should return here when I am not in, please take him in hand. He is, as you saw, extremely new to the City."
Narrator: "Fishing for friends or fishing for the Friend, Abdul?" inquires the Sufi. The cleric's son angrily goes inside. "Ah youth. He does have a point, but he makes it so poorly!"
Abdul: "Both, always, O Sage."
Narrator: "I will care for your friend as best as I am able. Where are you headed, Abdul?" He inquires absently.
Abdul sighs. "In search of one who is a brother and an enemy, all in one." Satisfied with leaving the Sufi a conundrum to please him, he enters his house again. "Ah, Shasti, what possessed young Farraj to run off? It makes things so much more difficult."
Shasti snorts and licks grape oil from her lips. Farraj would come back soon enough; her prince would arrive with her guards soon enough. They would see.
=========================================
[Meanwhile
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Farraj turns towards the most prosperous looking blacksmith (assuming that he must know his way around the city). "Excuse me sir, I believe that you have lost a precious trinket."
Narrator: The blacksmith turns to Farraj, "And what'd that be, boy?"
Farraj: "Why, it is the memory of the day the sun turned blue."
Narrator: "Ha! What do you take me for, a fool?" says the blacksmith, wiping sweat from his brow before cooling an iron poker. "The sun is bright yellow like a bee. It has never turned blue!"
Farraj: "Good sir, of course you will say that. Today it is yellow, yesterday it was yellow, just as the bright forge before you. But, considering that you seem to have forgotten, perhaps I can jog your memory by singing you a song about the day the Sun turned blue. It seems a shame to have forgotten such a wonderous thing."
Narrator: The blacksmith hangs up his apron. "Very well, I've got to break before the new ingots come in. I should enjoy a bit of song." He leans against a wall watching Farraj.
Farraj: "A wise choice sir." Wherein Farraj launches into a song sung by parents to children in the desert. (It is a kind of nonsense song that is meant to be fun and is sung when children ask for things that their parents cannot give them. It is a very morphable song into which all sorts of things can be inserted, depending on the situation (and whatever the child asked for.)
Farraj: (The upshot of the song is that the child was actually given what they wanted. They got it on the day the sun turned blue. I will try to reproduce the tone of this Bedouin song.)
Oh friend Blacksmith, sitting on his break;
Looking at the singer, wondering what he would take;
If he were a scoundrel and his song was far from true;
About the riches, lost and found, on the day the Sun turned blue.
Are you surprised the hammer you hold was once a swooping bird;
Flying high amongst the clouds, take me at my word.
For you have forgotten this wondrous thing, and doubt it can be true;
That what once soared, now makes swords, on the day the Sun turned Blue.
And gaze upon the Forge so bright, it was once a horse;
Carrying a brave prince, in search of distant wars.
Surely you recall striking the heathen, and know it must be true;
Galloping across the field of dreams, on the day the Sun turned blue.
We take our trials and face our fears and give our thanks to Allah;
We live our lives and die our deaths and dream our dreams of grandeur.
In times of doubt when hope is spent, remember it is true;
All our hopes and dreams came to be on the Day the Sun turned Blue.
===================================
Abdul sighs. "Well... As long as I am already annoyed, I may as well hear more annoying things." He moves Metef's chest into the next room and covers it with pillows so he can't hear.
Shasti appears very agitated by Farraj's absence. They haven't been this far apart since they met. She watches Abdul with bashful eyes.
Abdul hehs at the camel. "You are about to see an astonishing sight, Shasti. Pay attention." He stoops down and traces Fajhoul's symbol in the dust on the floor.
Fajhoul: In a flash of light which knocks Abdul on his back, Fajhoul appears in the room, drawing his scimitar, "Deev or ifreet be damned, I'll vouch for the youth!" Staring around at the empty room, Fajhoul sighs, realizing he overreacted.
Abdul picks himself up and salaams deeply. "I thank you for your confidence in me, my lord." Truly, he measures Fajhoul with a certain new appreciation.
Fajhoul: "Abdul, I had thought you were attacked." Sheepishly sheathing his sword, the handsome jinn continues, "Of course, there is the matter that if I didn't respond such to my family sigil, my prestige would suffer amongst all those other sha'ir that summon me. Has it been three days already? And how fares the exiled youth of my father's court?"
Abdul: "Yes, my lord, it has been three days. As for me... I fare oddly. Perhaps as usual."
Fajhoul: "Surely you wish to question me about Aqisan?" he inquires haphazardly, blowing dust from his fingernails.
Abdul: "Indeed, and the reaction of the Court."
Fajhoul: "My father was not pleased to even hear mention of your name. I had not realized how much he took your departure to heart. At first he raved, but his councilors quickly convinced him this was a serious matter. Rumors abound of an alliance between Malik Sayoun and Malik Hakiziman." He shudders when he says these names, the first out of rage, the second out of fear.
Abdul winces at this word of the Khedive's anger.
Fajhoul: "The Court is concerned that you may become a target. Though I...haven't told them of the sigil I taught to you, they have asked me to keep an eye on you. And, truth be told, there are still those in the court who hope you shall return one day."
Abdul: "Well, that is good to hear. I am glad that there are those who remember me well. But come, what of Aqisan? Is there any word of him? Will your father send a delegation to the Maliks?"
Fajhoul: "If Malik Hakiziman has taken your servant, then he either intends to use him as a hostage -- but, as he has made no attempt to consult the Court yet, we can only presume he intends one of two things. To trick or interrogate information from Aqisan. Or to use him as bait." Fajhoul eyes Abdul pointedly.
Abdul blinks. "Come, my lord! How can one such as I have any value to one such as the Malik?"
Fajhoul: "Well, you are an unprotected and unofficial member of my father's court. And you know Nakhlouf, who has bad blood with the ifreet. And there is the matter, though I am loath to bring it up, of your family. At any rate, the Court has decided to send an envoy to Malik Sayoun to inquire of his intentions in the matter. However, my father fears sending an envoy to Malik Hakiziman, for the last one defected to his side."
Abdul: "That is... most odd. ... Of course, we do not
know yet that Aqisan is held by the Malik. So far all the evidence is circumstantial, at least to my knowledge. Has Hafiz Nakhlouf come up with any new information?"
Fajhoul: Fajhoul looks at Abdul with genuine sorrow. "Nakhlouf went blind shortly after you summoned me the first time. My mother suspects it is a curse, but his eyesight was failing due to his age, so it is hard to say. However, Nakhlouf was able to confirm that Aqisan is still alive and in Malik Hakiziman's captivity. Nakhlouf possesses a torus which I only glimpsed briefly; I believe this enabled him to gaze upon Aqisan ignoring all distances and structures."
Abdul lets out a gasp of sorrow. "Oh, this is hard news! My lord... I am to present my calligraphy to the Caliph in a few days. I had hoped to honor our old teacher with a gift of the second-best copy. But... he cannot see it? He cannot even READ? Oh. woe!
Fajhoul: "It was a sorry sight to see him thus, but his mood is as pleasant as ever and he has quite a bit of humor about it. Though he is as preoccupied with you over Aqisan."
Abdul shakes his head in dismay. "It is one bit of bad news after another today!" Then his eyes go round. "Wait! Lord Fajhoul - you mentioned my family?! Can YOU tell me anything of them? Nakhlouf and Aqisan could not, for their bindings."
Fajhoul: Fajhoul purses his lips, "Abdul, I am forbidden from speaking of even what I have told you now about Aqisan. The Court fears you might do something brash, such as rushing to rescue him and endangering yourself. So," he says with a pure djinni grin that reveals all the recklessness of youth, "I should be happy to oblige you. Though I know little of your family, I have met, though only briefly in court, a woman claiming to be your aunt. Her name was Irethia bint Amira al-Hiyal, and she bore a long title which I cannot remember for it was surpassing boring to me."
Abdul says faintly, "She claimed to be my aunt? And nobody told me?"
Fajhoul: "Of course not, there were many djinn and sha'ir alike who wanted you for their own. A youth raised by the revered Nakhlouf with his own private jinni servant? And versed in the arts of a scholar too? Why, such a page is valued universally across the land, and by more than just good-hearted djinni I might add."
Abdul: "I never knew I was such a game-piece. Is that why the Court still values me, exile though I be?"
Fajhoul: Fajhoul laughs, shaking the foundation of Abdul's house. At this the camels huddle to the farthest corner from Fajhoul. The neighbors surely must think, "Oh! Abdul is back!"
Abdul just stares mutely until a more meaty response comes. It's been a long day.
Fajhoul: "Indeed it is, and for your good company, if you can believe that," Fajhoul stretches his arms. "I didn't know if she spoke the truth or not, Abdul, but she did bear passing resemblance to you, and she referred to you exactly as your servant does, calling you 'son of the worthy.' At this my ears pricked up, but I said nothing about it as I did not wish to upset you. This was three summers ago, and I have kept this secret from you in my breast since that day."
Abdul: "I... I thank you, my lord. My friend, if I may call you such. For truly, you have proved yourself a friend to me."
Fajhoul: Fajhoul arches his brow, "Say that when I have to save you from yourself, Abdul."
Abdul: "What do you mean?"
Fajhoul: "Already I can see you hatching a plan to rescue Aqisan. And if I told you about the flames that surrounds the Malik Hakiziman's palace and of the temptresses that serve him you would just be more determined. So what use? If you can't beat them, join them."
Abdul laughs weakly. "No doubt it is just as you say. But I face threats enough here in Huzuz at the moment. Let me see if I survive the next week, and then we can discuss the City of Brass."
Fajhoul: "Very well. Then I shall return to my studies." Fajhoul blows upon a nearby candle, and as it goes out, the smoke trail wraps around him like a snake.
Abdul: "Wait, please. One thing more."
Fajhoul: "Yes, Abdul, mighty sha'ir?"
Abdul: "Please tell your father that I mean to live as a worthy member of the Court of Rising Winds, even if he will not suffer me in it. I will make the best use I can of the training and education that have been vouchsafed to me, the unworthy. And that I hope he thinks of me not altogether unkindly, for I think of him with nothing but gratitude."
Fajhoul: "I shall deliver your words to my father..." says Fajhoul, as his eyes are left lingering in the smoke as it clears, leaving Abdul with more puzzles.
To wit:
