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True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 2588843" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p><strong>1: The Three Men Who Saved Mamoun</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Wherein the tale beginneth...</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> They say a sandstorm is a fearsome sight to behold, but, sihab, I assure you there was never a storm so fearsome as that night at the caravanserai of Zarif. At its forefront we could see upside down palm trees, leering skulls, and even what appeared to be a great lake. "A mirage" said the merchants wiser than I. It was at this very caravanserai that I, a poor camel keeper witnessed deeds that, had you not been there, you would think me creating a fanciful fiction. But, all my words are true, therefore listen to my tale, for in it there is weeping and redemption.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The last of the animals were rounded up inside the caravanserai as the sandstorm loomed on the horizon. The old ghaffir! Shouts one of the lookouts. An old blind man was wandering in the wrong direction, and the wind swallowed the shouts of the caravanserai dwellers. Soon the storm would swallow him up.</p><p></p><p>Abdul glances over, troubled. "Over here, father! You walk into a storm!" He starts forward, looking a bit unsure toward the sandstorm. [Note for the reader: "Father" here is simply a term of respect to an elderly man.]</p><p></p><p>Yasir glances over briefly, then turns back to the path before him. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The wind seems to catch Abdul's words, twisting them, the sound scattering in four directions like a flock of birds. The old man leans forward as if listening but is uncertain which way to turn. The last of the merchants have been ushered into the caravanserai. Two guards linger at the gates.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "God has mercy on the merciful," Abdul sighs when he realizes the man can't possibly hear him, and starts running.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A guard grabs Abdul's shoulder, "Sihab, you will surely perish!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Barely a dot, often obscured, a scrawny figure on a malnourished camel races before the storm, heading for the safety of the camp.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Who is the man, sir?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul dithers. "But...!" He shakes himself free of the man's grasp. He is fairly young. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "The ghaffir? He is the caravan master's grandfather. A wise man, some say touched by the desert. Blind as a bat, blessed be his soul." The guard replies to Yasir.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "If he is a good man, then we should help him."</p><p></p><p>Yasir follows Abdul.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> If your eyes are turned to the blasting grit you see the rider divert towards the lost Ghaffir.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Farraj feels the force of the sandstorm weighing down on him, attempting to smother him. His camel froths at the mouth. Ahead you see an old man wandering in a haze.</p><p> </p><p>Abdul comes to a decision, and once more starts running. </p><p></p><p>Yasir runs after Abdul.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul quickly brushes aside the guard who murmurs, "Blessed be the brave youth!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The sandstorm is all around Farraj, howling in his ears, blasting sand into his ears and eyes. It is more than intolerable. At least, you console yourself knowing the camel fares better than you. (make a Survival check)</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Shasti stumbles amongst the drifts, tired beyond her years as her rider drives her on </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul sees Farraj the worthy get swallowed into the storm, and nears the old man.</p><p></p><p>Yasir moves to help Farraj </p><p></p><p>Abdul grabs the old man's arm. "This way, father! It is the mother of all storms coming!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The old man clutches Abdul's arm in terror, but the storm is fast and cunning. Already Farraj has lost all sense of direction, and knows all too well that if he travels too far in the wrong direction he may become lost in the desert.</p><p></p><p>Yasir moves into the sandstorm to assist Farraj. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> As the sand swallows Abdul up, he shouts a word into the winds that cannot be heard. Doubtless a prayer.</p><p></p><p>======================================================</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Aqisan!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan appears in a puff of smoke. He is a massive, ten-and-half foot tall djinn of fearsome aspect, with olive-brown muscles bulging out of an embroidered vest.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Dear friend, would it be imposing to ask of you a favor?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan rumbles, "On the contrary, I was just looking for an excuse to put off an importunate suitor. How may I serve you, O son of the worthy?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Please preserve us from this storm. I leave to your judgment the best means of doing so... Only please do not show yourself unless it becomes necessary. I mean no offense, but you understand it could be awkward."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan bows, saying "Seeing and hearing, with sweetness and joy!" as he vanishes from sight.</p><p></p><p>=======================================================</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Perhaps the guard would have let the youth go, but now this young warrior was rushing to his death. Cursing his luck, the guard ran after Yasir, "Cover your face, you fool!"</p><p></p><p>Yasir covers his face. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Flogging his worn camel before the teeth of the storm, the wild looking man is nearing the lost elder. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir grabs the reins of Farraj's camel.</p><p></p><p>Yasir pulls the camel toward the saftey of the caravanserai. </p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "We must get to safety, sir."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "We are amongst the teeth of God, listen to him calling."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "So I hear, but we will not survive long if we do not get to shelter."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Hustling the elder, the two weather beaten travellers retreat to shelter </p><p></p><p>Abdul blindly tries to make his way back toward where he thought the caravansarai was, clutching the old man to him. </p><p></p><p>Yasir moves toward the caravanserai, clutching the camel reins. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> (To Yasir) "Thanks to you kind stranger. I am Farraj, recently of the desert. It seems the sands will not release me without a parting embrace!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Farraj and Yasir hear a whisper on the wind, "Servants of the Merciful, the gates are rapidly closing! You must hasten! Follow my voice!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I am Yasir. We must move quickly."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Farraj dismounts and allows Yasir to herd Shasti to safety as he assists the elder into the settlement </p><p></p><p>Yasir glances again to see if he can spot the elder. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul and Farraj help the old man.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Old man, you look for your home and you have found a friend."</p><p></p><p>Abdul still clings to the old man with all his might, his eyes blinded by the sand. "Thank you strangers, whoever you may be!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Sands and shadow cover the lands, strange shapes disappearing, dunes rising and falling underneath your feat.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I am Yasir al-Ayyubi; it is my honor to assist."</p><p></p><p>Yasir extends his arm toward Abdul. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> You see the vague outline of a man before you -- it appears to be the guard, "Servants of the Merciful, follow my voice!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul makes his way toward the voice. "Quickly, my friends! Haste is the friend of God in a storm!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "And I am Farraj Hezma El Feisal, what name has this place?"</p><p></p><p>Farraj follows this brave guide.</p><p></p><p>Yasir follows Farraj. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The winds blast through you, such that only hollering suffices now.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Shasti the camel wonders about the ways of men who would rather talk than take shelter. Inshallah</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As you follow Farraj, who follows the voice of the guard - as if the voice of God - you find yourselves nearing the gates of the caravanserai as they close.</p><p></p><p>Yasir pulls Shasti after him. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> You come upon the crumpled form of the guard who ran after the brave Yasir. He appears to be blinded by the sandstorm, and crawls on all fours in despair.</p><p></p><p>Yasir assists the guard.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Are you all right, my friend?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul has his hands full with the old man, but is about to bring the guard to the others attention when he notices Yasir already helping. He nods to the man gratefully and makes for the gate. </p><p></p><p>Farraj takes Shasti's reins and uses her to give some shelter to the others from the biting wind as they struggle through the gates. </p><p></p><p>Yasir gets the guard to his feet and assists him into the town. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The guard moans and clutches Yasir's clothes as he staggers to his feet. Farraj and his blessed camel Shasti bravely block the scouring winds for the rest of the group, giving them the momentary respite they need to press on to the gates. Seconds before the gates close, you burst through in a showers of dust and wind.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "God be praised!" Abdul gasps.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> With a loud 'thud' the caravanserai's gate is secured. Merchants marvel at your coughing group.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Well my friends, the Sun rises, the Sun sets and God is Great."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "You speak truly!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Several murmurs of "Truly God is merciful." can be heard throughout the caravanserai. The ghaffir's wife rushes to him, "Heart of my liver!" Clutching him, she bows before you, "Oh noble men, a thousand exultations upon you!"</p><p></p><p>[Character descriptions<img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":]" title="Devious :]" data-shortname=":]" /></p><p></p><p>Yasir is tall and broad, a sizable man with unkempt jet-black hair. He wears a well-groomed beard, which is trimmed almost daily. His skin is dark and ruddy from the sun, and his hands weathered from his work. His eyes, a dark brown colour, are distant, and suggest that his attention is often not in the moment at hand.</p><p></p><p>He usually dresses in a modest, olive-coloured dishdasha, over which he wears a rather elaborate embroidered vest. While his dishdasha and vest are sometimes weather-worn and dusty, he keeps his turban a brilliant white, and takes much pride in its appearance. A shining scimitar hangs gently at his side at all times.</p><p></p><p>Abdul is a slender, rather short young man nearing twenty, wearing the robes and carrying the writing case of a scribe. Jet black hair is swept back severely, and his beard is neatly trimmed. Dark brown eyes with a merry glint search you carefully as he smiles an enigmatic smile.</p><p></p><p>Farraj is a slight man who has yet to see twenty years. Beneath a layer of dust and grime resides dark eyes and a hawkish nose. He looks like any of a thousand men who have crawled into civilisation from the deep desert. Shasti, his camel, is a mare of considerable years who has gained in dignity and poise all that whe may have lost in endurance and speed.</p><p></p><p>[Note: Farraj's description is out of date, as he has been retconned to be fourteen years old.]</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Out of the wind you all notice the paticular reek of sweat, and camel coming from Farraj, a true sign of the desert wanderer.</p><p></p><p>Yasir speaks in a loud voice: "We have injured men, can anyone heal them?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks to have no more energy for much talk or exertion. He is panting heavily, and shaking from his close brush with the desert's kiss. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The caravan master eyes Yasir skeptically. "Surely. Laheeb, see to this man's camel." A young boy helps remove salt and sand from Shasti's eyes. The caravan master looks at the ghaffir. "As for my grandfather, I'm afraid his cough is chronic."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> The light of the truly devout servant of God shines from behind Farraj's eyes.</p><p></p><p>Abdul finally lets go of the old ghaffir, the news of safety finally reaching his limbs. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The guard who Yasir rescued, quickly rises to his feet despite being unable to see, "I---I am fine sir. It was a momentary lapse, nothing more."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "As long as you are sure."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Perhaps the storm has blown some of the Breath of God into your illustrious elder?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul murmurs faintly, "Inshallah." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I am honored that you have saved so worthy a servant," says the caravan master slyly. "I consider myself in your debt. As you seem to have come without a caravan, may I offer you free lodging and the bond of salt?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "To whom are you speaking, sir?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Most generous, I'm sure!" Abdul gasps. He sure looks to be in need of something wet to drink.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> .: With the gates are closed, darkness covers the sky and the storm crashes against the caravanserai, blasts of sand leaking in. Quickly, the staff goes about filling the cracks as merchants calm their herds. Prayers are murmured, In the name of God, the most merciful, the most compassionate... One of the merchants can't find his falcon. A musician plays upon his sitar to soothe the crowd. Jasmine, cinnamon, and frankincense assault your nostrils. Bedouin argue with one another. It looks like it will be a crowded night.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "I thank you kind friend. I have come with nothing and I arrive to your gifts. Inshallah."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The caravan master bows, "I am Metef, who is twice in your debt, for saving my grandfather and my servant." The guard is guided away by his fellows, who shoot venemous looks at the caravan master.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I am Yasir al-Ayyubi, and it was my honour to assist."</p><p></p><p>Farraj leads Shasti away to find water and a comfortable spot to rest. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Suddenly the old man bursts out "Praised be the Almighty! My cough has been cured through a <em>tahrik min qad</em>*. Though I am blind surely I know when I am in the company of saints!" ((*lit. "moving through the flame"))</p><p></p><p>Yasir looks around, puzzled. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "It is true that God is Great. You must use the voice he has given you to call out praise to him!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks, finally taking in the situation. "God be praised! The Compassionate smiles upon us - heaping up his gifts!" </p><p></p><p>Abdul then suddenly stops. "Uh... saints?" </p><p></p><p>Yasir bows in quiet prayer.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The old man begins kissing at Abdul and Yasir's feet. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Shasti politely but firmly tows Farraj in the direction of the watering troughs.</p><p></p><p>Farraj mutters, looking over his shoulder at the ghaffir, "Surely no greater sign that the man is blind."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Stand up, old man. You are among mere men."</p><p></p><p>Yasir reaches down to help the old man up. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The old man feels Yasir's face. "Ah, such piety in one so young. <em>Is not the wise and virtuous man a saint?</em>" He asks, his pearly eyes gazing at Yasir.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "As are wise old men, friend."</p><p></p><p>Abdul gets a humorous look in his eye. "Is it possible, my friend, that your admirable humility blinds you to your true status?" He looks perhaps ever so slightly piqued that his own contribution goes unrecognized.</p><p></p><p>Yasir asks the old man, "Who are you?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I am Naskir al-Ghaffir, father of Batuta, father of that ungrateful whelp Metef." Addressing Abdul, the old man grins, "A humble man was never so clear-sighted as an arrogant one."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Truly said, truly said."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "So I gather that you have come here with your grandson, Naskir."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Naskir, the old man, salaams Yasir. "May I show you your rooms? Though I am blind, I but need my wife's loyal hand and then the caravanserai is transformed into the most astonishing palace --every secret passage, nook, and cranny revealed to my hands."</p><p></p><p>Yasir turns to Abdul. "What brings you? ... Yes, Naskir, show us what you like. It is truly generous of you. Praised be Allah."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Ah, my grandson, that incorrigible stingy Metef, yes he is the master of the caravanserai. I moved here with my wife three years ago and have regretted it ever since."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Lead on, estimable Naskir."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Where is your son, Naskir?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Alas, my son perished in a sandstorm." Says Naskir, before falling silent. Guided by his wife, he travels through the courtyard, passing by Farraj.</p><p></p><p>Yasir following Naskir, says, "May Allah bless his soul, then."</p><p></p><p>Abdul trails after, still looking parched.</p><p></p><p>===================================</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> At the watering trough, Farraj comes across a shocking scene. Merchants doing what they do best, not minutes after being trapped inside by the howling storm. Various silks and rare blades are on display. Already they bicker amongst themselves about the price.</p><p></p><p>Farraj gawks at the untold and unimagined riches before him. He has never seen such colours before. And fresh forged steel, so shiny! He touches a bolt of silk and snatches his hand back. It is so soft. How did they make such fine linen? </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Shasti gorges herself at the watering trough, watching her naive master with one eye. She has carried far greater riches, and once the daughter of a prince, in days long gone.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A fat-cheeked merchant eyes Farraj, "Have I seen you before?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "We are all as one under the gaze of the Great One. Lordly merchant, surely you have traversed the far ribs of the world to bring such finery to this city." (Farraj has never seen a city before so assumes that this is one.)</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The swarthy merchant arches his brow at Farraj. "Indeed... From Baharta these silks, and the blades from Hiyal. This fine scimitar is made of Damascene steel. Where are you from stranger?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "I come from the desert kind stranger. For many, many days I have passed over the burning sands and only with this storm at my heels (Shasti snorts loudly) did I come upon this city. And what may I ask is it called?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Coyly wrapping some silk around his finger, the merchant grins at Farraj, "Why, this is the famed city of Zarif!"</p><p></p><p>Farraj, laughing, says, "I am the first of my tribe to stand within the walls of great Zarif. Thank you kind sir. My camel has drunk her fill and I must find lodging. Let the blessings of Allah fall upon you and your family." He nods and leads Shasti in search of lodging.</p><p></p><p>====================================</p><p></p><p>Yasir turns to Abdul and asks, "What brings you to the caravanserai?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Oh, me? I have been plying my trade in Halwa. Now..." Abdul flushes becomingly. "I have been invited back to Huzuz to display my craft."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Your craft?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am a scribe, kind sir."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "That would explain the case, then."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Indeed. And you? For is it not said that a trade is to a man as a staff in hand?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "My trade is rather more militant. I am seeking glory for Allah and to bring justice to the man who killed my father."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Naskir shows you to some simple rooms. Bed rolls upon the floor. The opening phrases of the Qur'an written in blue and white on the far wall. A simple pitcher of water and several bales of straw.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "May God grant you success!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Thank you."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "And your name?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Yasir al-Ayyubi, you?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul bows. "I am Abdul." He pauses, looking away for a moment. "I... have no proper patronymic."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "It is a pleasure nonetheless. And thank you, Naskir, for taking us in."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Bowing to you, Naskir wishes peace upon you. "Here you surely will find rest, for this room is two feet below the rest and well sheltered from the storm. Do not listen to my grandson if he says anything...odd...during the night. Blessings upon you."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Odd, father?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Where is that wayward camel-rider?" He glances around.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Ah, of these matters I cannot speak. I last smelled the camel in the courtyard by the cistern. Poor beast is never bathed." Naskir is gradually led away by his wife, talking to himself. "Ah, but my poor son..." "I know dear, I know."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "How strange." But Abdul wastes no time on wondering, but makes a beeline for the water pitcher.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Pour me some too, Abdul?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Of course, friend Yasir." He asks a bit dubiously, "Tell me, you are not what good Naskir believes, are you?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "A saint? Hardly."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Yes. Forgive me; no man need be insulted by the assertion he is not a saint."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Surely not."</p><p></p><p>Abdul gulps the first cup of water down, then sips the second more slowly. </p><p></p><p>Yasir sips the water slowly. </p><p></p><p>============================</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The young boy who Metef the caravan master had assigned to attend to Farraj's camel, salaams to Farraj, "I have found this on your camel." He holds out his closed hands.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "What have you there young one?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The boy places a large dab of wax that appears to have a broken arrow shaft stuck in it. "It was on your saddlebag, sihab."</p><p></p><p>Farraj takes the wax and has a good look at it, trying to discern what it might be.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Like an ocean swell, murmurs begin close to the gates among the guards and merchants gathered there, gradually rippling through the crowd seeking shelter in the caravanserai courtyard. It is news received as darkly as the storm that rages overhead itself. There is a pounding at the gates.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Farraj, though used to finding such scavenged items, is quite puzzled by it. Within the wax there appears to be a pink pearl.</p><p></p><p>Farraj pries the pearl from the wax, using his knife if necessary.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Farraj pops the pearl into his hand. It is truly fascinating. Within are the complexity of several oceans burning in fire.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> All of a sudden you hear a shriek. "Do not open the gates!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Thank you young sahib, can you help me find lodging? Perhaps the gate guards know the best place...?" Upon hearing the shriek, he deftly pockets the pearl and dawdles over towards the disturbance.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The boy looks at Farraj, and appears eager to answer, but the commotion has caught his tongue.</p><p></p><p>============================</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am sure there is some sad tale about your father. If it is rude for me to inquire, please tell me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "He was a merchant like yourself. He sold livestock in Halwa. I was sixteen when it happened... rivals of my father's... heretics..."</p><p></p><p>Yasir is noticably shaken and looks away, pausing. </p><p></p><p>Abdul chuckles. "I would hardly call myself a merchant, Yasir! It is true I must sell my work, but my clientele is often too decorous to haggle." He settles down to listen, making sympathetic sounds at the right places. He is a good listener. </p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Forgive me, I meant it as no offense."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "It is nothing. Please do go on, if you wish it."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "They found him in the marketplace and dragged him off. I was too far away to reach him in time." Yasir is not a terribly good story teller, and does not make the necessary dramatic effects. "I found him dead in the street a mile or so away."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "The ways of God are strange. May his Mercy ever surround you. My condolences."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Thank you, friend."</p><p></p><p>Yasir's mood lightens some. "And you, Abdul, your scribing is going well then? Is that why you are headed back?"</p><p> </p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Very well! I did not want to say it for all to hear, but... The Caliph himself has invited me to display my calligraphy!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "That is wonderful to hear."</p><p></p><p>[The shriek above is heard.]</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "What was that sound?"</p><p></p><p>Yasir stands up. "I'm not sure. We should go to the gates and see." He heads toward the sound. </p><p></p><p>Abdul gets up, resigned to more trouble, and follows along. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A crowd has gathered around the gates again. This time they watch with dread. Metef, the caravan master, in particular watches with horror at the heavy wooden post which locks the gate. And then it comes, a pounding on the gate, and a muted voice on the others side.</p><p></p><p>Yasir looks for someone nearby to ask what is happening. He wonders out loud, "Who or what is outside the gate?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Do not open the gates!" Metef commands his guards, who stare at him wild-eyed. "There is a hideous djinn called al-Zaraksh that attempts to trick us!"</p><p></p><p>Farraj asks a nearby person what the problem is? "Surely the storm is satisfied with having the rest of the desert to play in without coming into the great city of Zarif?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "May God preserve us!" Abdul exclaims piously, while fiddling with his writing case.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "A djinn? Outside?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Surely you are mistaken, good Metef? There are many wonders in God's broad world; not all of them are djinn."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Your good fortune in the arms of God has clouded your mind!" Metef snaps at Abdul. "I have suffered this shaitan for several years. It torments my caravanserai and every night knocks upon this gate attempting to lure us out so that it may prey upon us in unspeakable ways!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Every night? None have ever answered it? What has it done to unwary travellers?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> One of the guards nonchalantly remarks, "It has given them a mad host." Several of the gathered bedouin laugh.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "If it has become such a problem to your people, why does no one do anything to turn it away?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Truly, for the Hand of God shields the Faithful."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> One of the merchant's wives raises her voice, "It is too powerful to contest! It took Naskir's sight!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Then his injury must be avenged. Surely Allah will reward one who dies valiantly in combat with a djinn."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes! It is a powerful shaitan, a cunning shaitan---" Metef is interrupted by the muffled voice again, which seems to say: <em>Please, for God's mercy, open the gates!</em></p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Come! Can even a shaitan use the Name of God in its evil tricks?! Surely Allah the Mighty would blast him for it!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The merchant's wife glares at Yasir, "And would you have the rest of us die with you?"</p><p></p><p>Yasir turns to the merchant's wife. "Do you fear death more than you fear Allah?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Shasti finds a comfortable corner in the stables and within minutes fills the room with her delicate, lady-like snoring.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Metef holds up his hands, one of which is missing a finger. "This is what the shaitan has done to me when I thought to open the gate before! We must pray together, and drown out the djinn's trickery."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Then lead us in prayer, master, or move aside and let us face whatever may be outside the walls.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, Allah has favored me once today; I will trust in his Mercy once more. Can you not open the gate but slightly, so I may go out to see what awaits? It is not in me to turn aside anyone who asks in the name of God."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "You are a brave man, Abdul, and Allah favors that." Yasir puts his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Metef says, "Oh young man, do not tempt fate a second time! God is merciful to him who helps himself!" A few guards grudgingly bar the gates, though they make no show to draw blades and seem rather troubled.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Did I hear the cries of a person in need? The great city of Zafir surely houses a grand mullah who can send shaitan back to his pit?"</p><p></p><p>Yasir turns and stares awkwardly at Farraj. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Naskir is near Farraj, "The great city? There is no mullah here! Not as long as Metef is in charge!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul scoffs, "God is merciful to whomever his Most Gracious Will blesses; man's efforts are as nothing in his sight. Is it not so?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The voice at the gates continues: <em>I am dying, show me mercy! Oh forsake me not at death's door!</em></p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Open the door, Metef, and let whomever pleads to us by God's name in."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> (To Yasir) "Come, friend, there is no shame in being lost in the desert."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd murmurs in agreement with Abdul. Metef stands resolutely before them. "Tempt death! Mock God! But I will not let you risk the lives of those under my protection! Can you not see that once the doors are open we shall be consumed by the storm and the shaitan may possess any one of us?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "We stand in the greatest city in the land. Help is at hand. The prince will send his guards. You will see."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Incredulous at Farraj, Naskir whispers to him, "You must be mad! I know a secret way of egress - if you can gather your friends perhaps we may save this poor soul."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "If I have mocked God, tell me in what ways my words have offended, O most wise Metef! Lower me over the wall in a basket if that suits your fears, then."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd again murmurs in appreciation of Abdul's bravery</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Brave Abdul, you shame us. I will proudly lower you myself."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "How would you do that, brave Farraj?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Surely the friendly merchant I spoke with earlier will give of his strange fabrics in defence of this fine City. I can lower you using no more than 4 or 5 bolts of his `silk'."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> At last the guard who Yasir rescued speaks up, "Metef, you're acting like you're already possessed by a shaitan. Was it not you who ordered the gates closed on these brave souls, myself, and your own grandfather?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Open the gates. If there is combat then remember it is written: 'Who fought and were slain...I will most certainly make them enter gardens beneath which rivers flow; a reward from Allah, and with Allah is yet better reward.'"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd begans chanting: "Give them a bucket! Give them rope!" The voice outside is barely a whisper, the banging is dying down.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Where is that kindly merchant? After all, a gift given is a gift gained."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A bucket and "rope" (bolts of silk tied together) materialize from the hands of the crowd, passed to you. The "kindly" merchant grudgingly parts with his silk, cautioning you to be careful and not damage it.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I know you are as true as your word, friend Farraj." Abdul makes his way to the wall, climbing up whatever scaffolding there may be.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Come Abdul and all who praise Allah. Let us lower our champion to his destiny."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Shall I go with you, Abdul, lest you need help?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Allah can save one as easily as two, good Yasir. If Metef is right, two will only mean two deaths; if I am right, only one will be needed."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Then Allah be at your side, Abdul."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Metef is distraught beyond reason, and screeches: "I should be the one to go!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "You seem to change your tune quickly, O good Metef."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> But the crowd pushes against Metef, elbowing him out of the way. Above you the desert storm whips over the edge of the towers, casting sand in all directions, like hellish ocean spray or sweat from a mare.</p><p></p><p>Farraj clambers after Abdul onto the wall and loops the silk rope around his waist as he takes a good look at whatever is beyond the gate. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am ready, Farraj."</p><p></p><p>Yasir forces his way to the wall to watch Abdul. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Place your foot in this stirrup my friend and let your Faith be your sword."</p><p></p><p>Abdul clutches the fine silk, signalling Farraj to lower away. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The storm is blinding, strong enough to drag a full-grown man across the desert's floor. A palm leaf hurtles past you.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Signalling to Yasir for assistance, Farraj prepares to lower away</p><p></p><p>Yasir assists Farraj.</p><p></p><p>Abdul prays audibly for God's protection as he is lowered. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Inshallah! Go with God, Abdul."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Shapes become indistinguishable to Abdul, his feet cannot find purchase against the wall which has become as slippery as the path of the righteous man. At first his compatriots Farraj and Yasir lower him in spurts, but gradually Abdul is smoothly lowered to the ground. Sand bites at him from every direction. The winds howl like banshee djinni. It is indeed awesome and terrifying, as if your bones might fly from your skin.</p><p></p><p>Abdul picks his way gingerly toward the voice by the gate. </p><p></p><p>Yasir strains to see what is happening. </p><p></p><p>Farraj looks down into the swirling sands; to Yasir he says, "Blind Faith, my friend. We are protecting him and he is protecting us."</p><p></p><p>Narrator (for Yasir): You see Abdul begin gagging, but he seems to shake it off</p><p></p><p>Yasir keeps a close eye on Abdul, ready to give him any help he needs. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Cleaving to his faith, Abdul is almost guided as a blind man. And indeed he is blind, mute, deaf, threatened to be swallowed by sands which have devoured entire caravans and armies. Only his hands guide him through the raging darkness. And then he touches a shoulder, a wrapped face. A man.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Come, brother. Help is here." He gathers the man up as best as he can, then yanks on the silk "rope" rhythmically, to signal the others to pull him up. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A bubble of protection allows you to yell to each other. Moaning the man grabs Abdul, "Djinn or Moslem, I accept your aid! Help me to bang upon these gates with my last efforts."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I beg your pardon?! We will go up and over - is that not enough?"</p><p></p><p>Yasir begins to pull the two up. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> Feeling the tug, Farraj hauls in rhythm with Yasir</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The man blesses himself in the name of God. "Oh djinn, be merciful, I have never flown before!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The silk goes taut but the winds are too strong -- Abdul feels a slight tug, but the storm seems intent on claiming him.</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs like a loon - doubtless sounding a bit awe-inspiring despite himself. "Me? A djinn! Surely you jest. No, brother, I am but a man." </p><p></p><p>Farraj calls back to the people who are watching, "Who has hands as well as eyes?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir begins to haul, possessed by none other than the strength of God.</p><p></p><p>Abdul buries his face in the man's shoulder. "Cling to me, brother, and trust in God's Mercy." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> And so does the man cling to Abdul as he is half pulled, half climbs up the wall, but then he gets stuck halfway. Yasir's burst of strength is leaving him. And the people of the caravan are paralyzed with fear at Metef's preaching. "And should it swallow the brave youth and then tempt us with his voice? Would you open the gates and invite our doom?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I can't hold them much longer... we need help."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Who will allow the Champion of Zafir to perish? Help or be damned."</p><p></p><p>Abdul tenses in desperation as he feels himself begin to fall. He gathers breath to speak a last word into the winds. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The guard who Yasir rescued grabs a melon and launches it at Metef, knocking him on his arse. "If it were you in the bucket, perhaps we'd leave you out there!" Several of the guards encourage the young half-blinded guard on.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Quickly!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Several men spring to Yasir's aid at the urging of Farraj, their wives chastising them for their cowardice. Grabbing the rope, they haul Abdul and the man he has rescued over the top of the caravan wall.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir catches the man who collapses into his arms.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> If he is not a djinn, Metef, then Allah protect you.</p><p></p><p>Abdul falls to his knees and cries out, "God be praised! Twice in one day he has delivered me from the storm!" </p><p></p><p>Yasir puts the man gently onto the ground. "Someone help him."</p><p></p><p>Farraj cheers. "We lower one and bring back two, who said there was no fishing in the desert?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Farraj, less useless chatter. The man needs help."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd cheers with Farraj, prays with Abdul, and answers Yasir's call for help. Metef appears horrified and pushes his way through the crowd toward his personal quarters perhaps?</p><p></p><p>Yasir follows Metef, hand on scimitar. "Get back here, you coward!"</p><p></p><p>Farraj calls to the crowd, "Who has water for a stranger?" To the man himself, he says, "Be at peace, friend, you are within the walls of Zarif and safe from peril."</p><p></p><p>Abdul bends toward the man he rescued. "Can you hear me, brother?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The man weakly speaks to Abdul and Farraj: "Oh noble and worthiest of men, you have saved me from a terrible curse. I am Mamoun ibn-Naskir, long thought dead by my grandfather, and cursed by my own flesh and blood."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Do you hear, people of Zafir? It is Mamoun, son of Naskir!! Let the father come recognize his son!"</p><p></p><p>Yasir runs after Metef.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Be at peace friend, you are within the walls of Zarif and safe from peril."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Mamoun? Impossible! He's dead! Oh, heavens be praised! Who is to blame for our own sons' fate?" The crowd is apalled and ecstatic.</p><p></p><p>Abdul adds meaningfully, "He says he has labored under a curse - a curse laid by his own kin!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, it was my step-father Metef who cursed me to walk the deserts and for men to not know their brother's voice. That every prayer and plea I offered would fall upon deaf ears!" The man sobs, tears of joy and betrayal gracing his cheeks.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Drink, small sips, you have sun sickness."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Thank you, kind one," says Mamoun, falling unconscious in Farraj's arms.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Let not Metef escape! He stands accused of evil sorcery - though," he warns, "only a qadi can decide his fate."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Gasping, the crowd looks about for Metef. "He has taken advantage of us for the last time! A curse upon the accursed Metef! Honor to the faithful!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Where would he go, good people?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "To his quarters! Upstairs!" The crowd replies to Abdul.</p><p></p><p>Farraj finds that he is fingering the pearl in his pocket. He brings it forth and shows it to Abdul. "This was on my saddle when I arrived here." </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Show the way, then! The sorcerer must not escape justice!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "If your thirst is for blood rather than pearls, so be it." He pockets the pearl and follows Abdul. </p><p></p><p>===================================</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir spots Metef as he dashes through a curtained room, ordering a guard to bar the way. Upon seeing the approaching Yasir, the guard attempts to draw his sword, but it appears stuck in the sheath.</p><p></p><p>Yasir forces his way past the guard and toward Metef. "Face me like a man, Metef. Surrender now, and you will lose no blood."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Metef holds before him a ragged doll in the likeness of a soldier. "Come no closer, defender of the faith. For I shall curse you lest you bring ruin upon my caravanserai!"</p><p> </p><p>Yasir draws his scimitar. "Fool, do not practice such sorcery, for it is an abomination to Allah."</p><p></p><p>====================================</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd carries Abdul and Farraj toward a stunned guard on the ground and the sound of threats and conflict from within.</p><p></p><p>Farraj strides to the door and pokes his head inside. </p><p></p><p>Abdul likewise forces his way forward to see what may be seen. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> To the horror of the crowd, they fnd Yasir bravely denouncing Metef's sorcerous ways, the two struggling within the cramped quarters. Metef snarls, "My step-son is a dog who should have perished long ago! And for your meddling, I curse you defender of the faithful!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "As you desire to meddle in affairs which you know nothing about, I curse you to take such form!" yells Metef, squeezing the doll before him. Yasir feels himself fall to his knees, but a light seems to fill his heart. Though he may be a sinner, he is blameless now. Standing to his feet, Yasir throws off Metef's magic. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Wailing, Metef's doll falls to tatters in his hands and he falls backward into a chest which closes on him.</p><p></p><p>Yasir moves to keep the chest shut </p><p></p><p>Farraj gawks. "Gwaaaaaaa." </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Hear the blasphemer!" Abdul rushes into the room.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir puts all his weight on the chest. There's no way anyone inside is getting out.</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "A lock, rope, something!"</p><p></p><p>Farraj brings forth the silken rope, bundled until now in his hand. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Is he not harmless now? We can gag him, bind his hands - surely that will be enough?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "We'll bind the chest. It is safer."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The silk merchant looks wistfully at Farraj, "Now none will want this silk. Sigh. The sacrifices I make."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "For a man who can say that his wares have rescued heroes and bound villains, you have a long face."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "You talk too much, Farraj. Bind the chest before he forces his way out. We will do what we can to compensate the merchant later."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The merchant seems heartened by Farraj's words, assuredly planning his next business venture.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Of course, here it is!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul helps bind the chest however he can. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The lid jumps a bit. The chest is made of hardwood, a real scarcity; the lock is metal.</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "He is seeing his own inner darkness."</p><p></p><p>Yasir forces the lock shut. </p><p></p><p>Abdul pants. "For now I'll settle for the chest's darkness!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Yasir can hear strange sounds issuing from the securely bound chest *gawk* *gawk*</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "He was bound by chains of his own making long before we ever met him."</p><p></p><p>Abdul addresses the crowd. "Where is the nearest qadi? This matter cannot wait." </p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I am not sure why you would rather talk than act quickly, friend Farraj, but thank you for your help." He moves away from the creepy chest. </p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "You are right, Friend Yasir, yet he is bound and we are still talking, it is the will of God."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The crowd's fear has abated, and now they watch Yasir with something like wonder. Some repeat Naskir's words. Was this man truly a saint?</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Inshallah."</p><p></p><p>Abdul repeats, "The nearest qadi?" He seems to be making a habit of being ignored today. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> *gawk* It almost sounds like there is a bird, or perhaps some demonic vulture within the dark chest. The caravan master, the sorcerer Metef, paying the forefeit of his ignorance and malice. Trapped, as it were, by his own heresies.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Naskir steps forward, "Alas, the nearest qadi is in Huzuz, brave soul."</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks to the chest in wonder. "Why, it sounds as if he has suffered from the same curse he meant for you, Yasir!" </p><p></p><p>Yasir puts his hand on Abdul's shoulder. "We have done good things, friend. Thank you for your help. You are right, though. We must bring him to a qadi, as soon as the storm allows." He looks around for a wash basin. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I thank you, friend Yasir. Your devotion preserved me from the storm."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "I did only what I must."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "How did you know Yasir. One minute I am watering Shasti and the next we are jailing sorcerers. Is every day like this in the City? It is like having the moon on the ground and the desert in the sky."</p><p></p><p>Abdul finally laughs. "Wait until Farraj sees Huzuz!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> You can hear murmurs as the crowd parts, Mamoun being led forward by the half-blind guard. "What wonders have befallen ye, oh commendable servants?"</p><p> </p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "O most favored Mamoun, your wicked step-father was caught in the act of casting a foul, abhominable curse upon the good Yasir, yet it seems to have rebounded upon his own head."</p><p></p><p>Yasir moves to the cistern, removes his turban and begins to wash it. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Mamoun, despite his weakened state, bows before you. "I am humbled by your courage and faith. Indeed, my step-father is the most wicked of men, and you have dealt with him in surpassing mercy. Whatever has befallen him he wrought upon his own head. To each of you, if there is a boon within my power - for the caravanserai is now mine - I shall do my best to grant it."</p><p></p><p>Yasir pays little attention to Mamoun's offer. He finishes cleaning his turban, dons it again, and returns to the rest of the group. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Men and women marvel at Yasir's piety. His sainthood does not seem to be in doubt to them.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "For my part, I ask simply for safe passage to Huzuz, and hospitality should I come again. For the rest, praise Allah each day for his Mercy to you!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "If I may Mamoun, I ask to keep the silken rope. For a brief moment it helped me make a friend and it has bound the greatest evil i have ever met. Can it be so?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul beams and clasps Farraj's hand. "I feel the same way, my friend!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Mamoun looks at the silk merchant with consternation, who sighs and nods his head. "Very well, noble Farraj, I entrust to you this cord of silk, that it may continue to bind your foes and provide safety to the misfortunate."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "Thanks be to you and to the infinite grace of Allah. I humbly accept this gift." Then, to Abdul, "If that is so, will you show me this splendid city, Huzuz? The desert has made my eyes sore and I feel the need to rest them upon beautiful things."</p><p></p><p>Yasir turns to Abdul. "Your clothes are dirty with sand, friend."</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks and looks down at himself. "Well, so they are..." He seems puzzled by this comment as he brushes himself off, but adds to Farraj, "Of course I will show you Huzuz! You have not seen a city yet!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Give my boon to the silk merchant. He has done much for us."</p><p> </p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Stunned, Mamoun bows and salaams Yasir. "As you command, oh virtuous amir." At this the crowd whispers like crazy.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Yasir, you are truly a generous man."</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "Speak nothing of it. He gave us silk when we were in need."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The silk merchant is at first stunned, then weeping thanks Yasir over and over.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> And then Mamoun addresses all three men. "I have one favor to ask, though I fear I am too bold. Will you take this chest and my wicked step-father to Huzuz for fair trial?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, of course. Why do you think I asked for safe-passage?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "We must."</p><p></p><p><strong>Farraj:</strong> "The Faithful man is a gift of light to the traveller in the desert." He ties his new silken rope around his waist like a sash, gazing proudly at its bright colours. </p><p></p><p><strong>Yasir:</strong> "We should give thanks to Allah and then rest. The journey ahead is long."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "You speak truly." He continues brushing himself off, still puzzled by Yasir's drawing attention to it.</p><p></p><p>Farraj turns to look at the storm through the window as it rages beyond the gates. "In the desert we say that a storm is the breath of God, it brings friends together and binds them as they take shelter. The dunes move, the sky goes dark but when the sands fall to the earth the world is as new. Let us go to Huzuz."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "And that, oh weary traveler, is the tale of the Three Men Who Saved Mamoun. And should you come to our humble oasis again, ask Mamoun to tell you the story. Why, you may even meet the brave Abdul, the strong Yasir, or the wise Farraj at this very caravanserai. Inshallah." The young Laheeb, a camel groom of little import but big imagination left his listeners with a tale. The first of many..."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 2588843, member: 16760"] [b]1: The Three Men Who Saved Mamoun[/b] [b]Narrator:[/b] Wherein the tale beginneth... [b]Narrator:[/b] They say a sandstorm is a fearsome sight to behold, but, sihab, I assure you there was never a storm so fearsome as that night at the caravanserai of Zarif. At its forefront we could see upside down palm trees, leering skulls, and even what appeared to be a great lake. "A mirage" said the merchants wiser than I. It was at this very caravanserai that I, a poor camel keeper witnessed deeds that, had you not been there, you would think me creating a fanciful fiction. But, all my words are true, therefore listen to my tale, for in it there is weeping and redemption. [b]Narrator:[/b] The last of the animals were rounded up inside the caravanserai as the sandstorm loomed on the horizon. The old ghaffir! Shouts one of the lookouts. An old blind man was wandering in the wrong direction, and the wind swallowed the shouts of the caravanserai dwellers. Soon the storm would swallow him up. Abdul glances over, troubled. "Over here, father! You walk into a storm!" He starts forward, looking a bit unsure toward the sandstorm. [Note for the reader: "Father" here is simply a term of respect to an elderly man.] Yasir glances over briefly, then turns back to the path before him. [b]Narrator:[/b] The wind seems to catch Abdul's words, twisting them, the sound scattering in four directions like a flock of birds. The old man leans forward as if listening but is uncertain which way to turn. The last of the merchants have been ushered into the caravanserai. Two guards linger at the gates. [b]Abdul:[/b] "God has mercy on the merciful," Abdul sighs when he realizes the man can't possibly hear him, and starts running. [b]Narrator:[/b] A guard grabs Abdul's shoulder, "Sihab, you will surely perish!" [b]Farraj:[/b] Barely a dot, often obscured, a scrawny figure on a malnourished camel races before the storm, heading for the safety of the camp. [b]Yasir:[/b] "Who is the man, sir?" Abdul dithers. "But...!" He shakes himself free of the man's grasp. He is fairly young. [b]Narrator:[/b] "The ghaffir? He is the caravan master's grandfather. A wise man, some say touched by the desert. Blind as a bat, blessed be his soul." The guard replies to Yasir. [b]Yasir:[/b] "If he is a good man, then we should help him." Yasir follows Abdul. [b]Farraj:[/b] If your eyes are turned to the blasting grit you see the rider divert towards the lost Ghaffir. [b]Narrator:[/b] Farraj feels the force of the sandstorm weighing down on him, attempting to smother him. His camel froths at the mouth. Ahead you see an old man wandering in a haze. Abdul comes to a decision, and once more starts running. Yasir runs after Abdul. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul quickly brushes aside the guard who murmurs, "Blessed be the brave youth!" [b]Narrator:[/b] The sandstorm is all around Farraj, howling in his ears, blasting sand into his ears and eyes. It is more than intolerable. At least, you console yourself knowing the camel fares better than you. (make a Survival check) [b]Farraj:[/b] Shasti stumbles amongst the drifts, tired beyond her years as her rider drives her on [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul sees Farraj the worthy get swallowed into the storm, and nears the old man. Yasir moves to help Farraj Abdul grabs the old man's arm. "This way, father! It is the mother of all storms coming!" [b]Narrator:[/b] The old man clutches Abdul's arm in terror, but the storm is fast and cunning. Already Farraj has lost all sense of direction, and knows all too well that if he travels too far in the wrong direction he may become lost in the desert. Yasir moves into the sandstorm to assist Farraj. [b]Abdul:[/b] As the sand swallows Abdul up, he shouts a word into the winds that cannot be heard. Doubtless a prayer. ====================================================== [b]Abdul:[/b] "Aqisan!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan appears in a puff of smoke. He is a massive, ten-and-half foot tall djinn of fearsome aspect, with olive-brown muscles bulging out of an embroidered vest. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Dear friend, would it be imposing to ask of you a favor?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan rumbles, "On the contrary, I was just looking for an excuse to put off an importunate suitor. How may I serve you, O son of the worthy?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Please preserve us from this storm. I leave to your judgment the best means of doing so... Only please do not show yourself unless it becomes necessary. I mean no offense, but you understand it could be awkward." [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan bows, saying "Seeing and hearing, with sweetness and joy!" as he vanishes from sight. ======================================================= [b]Narrator:[/b] Perhaps the guard would have let the youth go, but now this young warrior was rushing to his death. Cursing his luck, the guard ran after Yasir, "Cover your face, you fool!" Yasir covers his face. [b]Farraj:[/b] Flogging his worn camel before the teeth of the storm, the wild looking man is nearing the lost elder. [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir grabs the reins of Farraj's camel. Yasir pulls the camel toward the saftey of the caravanserai. [b]Yasir:[/b] "We must get to safety, sir." [b]Farraj:[/b] "We are amongst the teeth of God, listen to him calling." [b]Yasir:[/b] "So I hear, but we will not survive long if we do not get to shelter." [b]Farraj:[/b] Hustling the elder, the two weather beaten travellers retreat to shelter Abdul blindly tries to make his way back toward where he thought the caravansarai was, clutching the old man to him. Yasir moves toward the caravanserai, clutching the camel reins. [b]Farraj:[/b] (To Yasir) "Thanks to you kind stranger. I am Farraj, recently of the desert. It seems the sands will not release me without a parting embrace!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Farraj and Yasir hear a whisper on the wind, "Servants of the Merciful, the gates are rapidly closing! You must hasten! Follow my voice!" [b]Yasir:[/b] "I am Yasir. We must move quickly." [b]Farraj:[/b] Farraj dismounts and allows Yasir to herd Shasti to safety as he assists the elder into the settlement Yasir glances again to see if he can spot the elder. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul and Farraj help the old man. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Old man, you look for your home and you have found a friend." Abdul still clings to the old man with all his might, his eyes blinded by the sand. "Thank you strangers, whoever you may be!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Sands and shadow cover the lands, strange shapes disappearing, dunes rising and falling underneath your feat. [b]Yasir:[/b] "I am Yasir al-Ayyubi; it is my honor to assist." Yasir extends his arm toward Abdul. [b]Narrator:[/b] You see the vague outline of a man before you -- it appears to be the guard, "Servants of the Merciful, follow my voice!" Abdul makes his way toward the voice. "Quickly, my friends! Haste is the friend of God in a storm!" [b]Farraj:[/b] "And I am Farraj Hezma El Feisal, what name has this place?" Farraj follows this brave guide. Yasir follows Farraj. [b]Narrator:[/b] The winds blast through you, such that only hollering suffices now. [b]Farraj:[/b] Shasti the camel wonders about the ways of men who would rather talk than take shelter. Inshallah [b]Narrator:[/b] As you follow Farraj, who follows the voice of the guard - as if the voice of God - you find yourselves nearing the gates of the caravanserai as they close. Yasir pulls Shasti after him. [b]Narrator:[/b] You come upon the crumpled form of the guard who ran after the brave Yasir. He appears to be blinded by the sandstorm, and crawls on all fours in despair. Yasir assists the guard. [b]Yasir:[/b] "Are you all right, my friend?" Abdul has his hands full with the old man, but is about to bring the guard to the others attention when he notices Yasir already helping. He nods to the man gratefully and makes for the gate. Farraj takes Shasti's reins and uses her to give some shelter to the others from the biting wind as they struggle through the gates. Yasir gets the guard to his feet and assists him into the town. [b]Narrator:[/b] The guard moans and clutches Yasir's clothes as he staggers to his feet. Farraj and his blessed camel Shasti bravely block the scouring winds for the rest of the group, giving them the momentary respite they need to press on to the gates. Seconds before the gates close, you burst through in a showers of dust and wind. [b]Abdul:[/b] "God be praised!" Abdul gasps. [b]Narrator:[/b] With a loud 'thud' the caravanserai's gate is secured. Merchants marvel at your coughing group. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Well my friends, the Sun rises, the Sun sets and God is Great." [b]Abdul:[/b] "You speak truly!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Several murmurs of "Truly God is merciful." can be heard throughout the caravanserai. The ghaffir's wife rushes to him, "Heart of my liver!" Clutching him, she bows before you, "Oh noble men, a thousand exultations upon you!" [Character descriptions:] Yasir is tall and broad, a sizable man with unkempt jet-black hair. He wears a well-groomed beard, which is trimmed almost daily. His skin is dark and ruddy from the sun, and his hands weathered from his work. His eyes, a dark brown colour, are distant, and suggest that his attention is often not in the moment at hand. He usually dresses in a modest, olive-coloured dishdasha, over which he wears a rather elaborate embroidered vest. While his dishdasha and vest are sometimes weather-worn and dusty, he keeps his turban a brilliant white, and takes much pride in its appearance. A shining scimitar hangs gently at his side at all times. Abdul is a slender, rather short young man nearing twenty, wearing the robes and carrying the writing case of a scribe. Jet black hair is swept back severely, and his beard is neatly trimmed. Dark brown eyes with a merry glint search you carefully as he smiles an enigmatic smile. Farraj is a slight man who has yet to see twenty years. Beneath a layer of dust and grime resides dark eyes and a hawkish nose. He looks like any of a thousand men who have crawled into civilisation from the deep desert. Shasti, his camel, is a mare of considerable years who has gained in dignity and poise all that whe may have lost in endurance and speed. [Note: Farraj's description is out of date, as he has been retconned to be fourteen years old.] [b]Farraj:[/b] Out of the wind you all notice the paticular reek of sweat, and camel coming from Farraj, a true sign of the desert wanderer. Yasir speaks in a loud voice: "We have injured men, can anyone heal them?" Abdul looks to have no more energy for much talk or exertion. He is panting heavily, and shaking from his close brush with the desert's kiss. [b]Narrator:[/b] The caravan master eyes Yasir skeptically. "Surely. Laheeb, see to this man's camel." A young boy helps remove salt and sand from Shasti's eyes. The caravan master looks at the ghaffir. "As for my grandfather, I'm afraid his cough is chronic." [b]Farraj:[/b] The light of the truly devout servant of God shines from behind Farraj's eyes. Abdul finally lets go of the old ghaffir, the news of safety finally reaching his limbs. [b]Narrator:[/b] The guard who Yasir rescued, quickly rises to his feet despite being unable to see, "I---I am fine sir. It was a momentary lapse, nothing more." [b]Yasir:[/b] "As long as you are sure." [b]Farraj:[/b] "Perhaps the storm has blown some of the Breath of God into your illustrious elder?" Abdul murmurs faintly, "Inshallah." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I am honored that you have saved so worthy a servant," says the caravan master slyly. "I consider myself in your debt. As you seem to have come without a caravan, may I offer you free lodging and the bond of salt?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "To whom are you speaking, sir?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Most generous, I'm sure!" Abdul gasps. He sure looks to be in need of something wet to drink. [b]Narrator:[/b] .: With the gates are closed, darkness covers the sky and the storm crashes against the caravanserai, blasts of sand leaking in. Quickly, the staff goes about filling the cracks as merchants calm their herds. Prayers are murmured, In the name of God, the most merciful, the most compassionate... One of the merchants can't find his falcon. A musician plays upon his sitar to soothe the crowd. Jasmine, cinnamon, and frankincense assault your nostrils. Bedouin argue with one another. It looks like it will be a crowded night. [b]Farraj:[/b] "I thank you kind friend. I have come with nothing and I arrive to your gifts. Inshallah." [b]Narrator:[/b] The caravan master bows, "I am Metef, who is twice in your debt, for saving my grandfather and my servant." The guard is guided away by his fellows, who shoot venemous looks at the caravan master. [b]Yasir:[/b] "I am Yasir al-Ayyubi, and it was my honour to assist." Farraj leads Shasti away to find water and a comfortable spot to rest. [b]Narrator:[/b] Suddenly the old man bursts out "Praised be the Almighty! My cough has been cured through a [i]tahrik min qad[/i]*. Though I am blind surely I know when I am in the company of saints!" ((*lit. "moving through the flame")) Yasir looks around, puzzled. [b]Farraj:[/b] "It is true that God is Great. You must use the voice he has given you to call out praise to him!" Abdul blinks, finally taking in the situation. "God be praised! The Compassionate smiles upon us - heaping up his gifts!" Abdul then suddenly stops. "Uh... saints?" Yasir bows in quiet prayer. [b]Narrator:[/b] The old man begins kissing at Abdul and Yasir's feet. [b]Farraj:[/b] Shasti politely but firmly tows Farraj in the direction of the watering troughs. Farraj mutters, looking over his shoulder at the ghaffir, "Surely no greater sign that the man is blind." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Stand up, old man. You are among mere men." Yasir reaches down to help the old man up. [b]Narrator:[/b] The old man feels Yasir's face. "Ah, such piety in one so young. [i]Is not the wise and virtuous man a saint?[/i]" He asks, his pearly eyes gazing at Yasir. [b]Yasir:[/b] "As are wise old men, friend." Abdul gets a humorous look in his eye. "Is it possible, my friend, that your admirable humility blinds you to your true status?" He looks perhaps ever so slightly piqued that his own contribution goes unrecognized. Yasir asks the old man, "Who are you?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "I am Naskir al-Ghaffir, father of Batuta, father of that ungrateful whelp Metef." Addressing Abdul, the old man grins, "A humble man was never so clear-sighted as an arrogant one." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Truly said, truly said." [b]Yasir:[/b] "So I gather that you have come here with your grandson, Naskir." [b]Narrator:[/b] Naskir, the old man, salaams Yasir. "May I show you your rooms? Though I am blind, I but need my wife's loyal hand and then the caravanserai is transformed into the most astonishing palace --every secret passage, nook, and cranny revealed to my hands." Yasir turns to Abdul. "What brings you? ... Yes, Naskir, show us what you like. It is truly generous of you. Praised be Allah." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Ah, my grandson, that incorrigible stingy Metef, yes he is the master of the caravanserai. I moved here with my wife three years ago and have regretted it ever since." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Lead on, estimable Naskir." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Where is your son, Naskir?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Alas, my son perished in a sandstorm." Says Naskir, before falling silent. Guided by his wife, he travels through the courtyard, passing by Farraj. Yasir following Naskir, says, "May Allah bless his soul, then." Abdul trails after, still looking parched. =================================== [b]Narrator:[/b] At the watering trough, Farraj comes across a shocking scene. Merchants doing what they do best, not minutes after being trapped inside by the howling storm. Various silks and rare blades are on display. Already they bicker amongst themselves about the price. Farraj gawks at the untold and unimagined riches before him. He has never seen such colours before. And fresh forged steel, so shiny! He touches a bolt of silk and snatches his hand back. It is so soft. How did they make such fine linen? [b]Farraj:[/b] Shasti gorges herself at the watering trough, watching her naive master with one eye. She has carried far greater riches, and once the daughter of a prince, in days long gone. [b]Narrator:[/b] A fat-cheeked merchant eyes Farraj, "Have I seen you before?" [b]Farraj:[/b] "We are all as one under the gaze of the Great One. Lordly merchant, surely you have traversed the far ribs of the world to bring such finery to this city." (Farraj has never seen a city before so assumes that this is one.) [b]Narrator:[/b] The swarthy merchant arches his brow at Farraj. "Indeed... From Baharta these silks, and the blades from Hiyal. This fine scimitar is made of Damascene steel. Where are you from stranger?" [b]Farraj:[/b] "I come from the desert kind stranger. For many, many days I have passed over the burning sands and only with this storm at my heels (Shasti snorts loudly) did I come upon this city. And what may I ask is it called?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Coyly wrapping some silk around his finger, the merchant grins at Farraj, "Why, this is the famed city of Zarif!" Farraj, laughing, says, "I am the first of my tribe to stand within the walls of great Zarif. Thank you kind sir. My camel has drunk her fill and I must find lodging. Let the blessings of Allah fall upon you and your family." He nods and leads Shasti in search of lodging. ==================================== Yasir turns to Abdul and asks, "What brings you to the caravanserai?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Oh, me? I have been plying my trade in Halwa. Now..." Abdul flushes becomingly. "I have been invited back to Huzuz to display my craft." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Your craft?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am a scribe, kind sir." [b]Yasir:[/b] "That would explain the case, then." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Indeed. And you? For is it not said that a trade is to a man as a staff in hand?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "My trade is rather more militant. I am seeking glory for Allah and to bring justice to the man who killed my father." [b]Narrator:[/b] Naskir shows you to some simple rooms. Bed rolls upon the floor. The opening phrases of the Qur'an written in blue and white on the far wall. A simple pitcher of water and several bales of straw. [b]Abdul:[/b] "May God grant you success!" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Thank you." [b]Abdul:[/b] "And your name?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Yasir al-Ayyubi, you?" Abdul bows. "I am Abdul." He pauses, looking away for a moment. "I... have no proper patronymic." [b]Yasir:[/b] "It is a pleasure nonetheless. And thank you, Naskir, for taking us in." [b]Narrator:[/b] Bowing to you, Naskir wishes peace upon you. "Here you surely will find rest, for this room is two feet below the rest and well sheltered from the storm. Do not listen to my grandson if he says anything...odd...during the night. Blessings upon you." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Odd, father?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Where is that wayward camel-rider?" He glances around. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Ah, of these matters I cannot speak. I last smelled the camel in the courtyard by the cistern. Poor beast is never bathed." Naskir is gradually led away by his wife, talking to himself. "Ah, but my poor son..." "I know dear, I know." [b]Abdul:[/b] "How strange." But Abdul wastes no time on wondering, but makes a beeline for the water pitcher. [b]Yasir:[/b] "Pour me some too, Abdul?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Of course, friend Yasir." He asks a bit dubiously, "Tell me, you are not what good Naskir believes, are you?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "A saint? Hardly." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Yes. Forgive me; no man need be insulted by the assertion he is not a saint." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Surely not." Abdul gulps the first cup of water down, then sips the second more slowly. Yasir sips the water slowly. ============================ [b]Narrator:[/b] The young boy who Metef the caravan master had assigned to attend to Farraj's camel, salaams to Farraj, "I have found this on your camel." He holds out his closed hands. [b]Farraj:[/b] "What have you there young one?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The boy places a large dab of wax that appears to have a broken arrow shaft stuck in it. "It was on your saddlebag, sihab." Farraj takes the wax and has a good look at it, trying to discern what it might be. [b]Narrator:[/b] Like an ocean swell, murmurs begin close to the gates among the guards and merchants gathered there, gradually rippling through the crowd seeking shelter in the caravanserai courtyard. It is news received as darkly as the storm that rages overhead itself. There is a pounding at the gates. [b]Narrator:[/b] Farraj, though used to finding such scavenged items, is quite puzzled by it. Within the wax there appears to be a pink pearl. Farraj pries the pearl from the wax, using his knife if necessary. [b]Narrator:[/b] Farraj pops the pearl into his hand. It is truly fascinating. Within are the complexity of several oceans burning in fire. [b]Narrator:[/b] All of a sudden you hear a shriek. "Do not open the gates!" [b]Farraj:[/b] "Thank you young sahib, can you help me find lodging? Perhaps the gate guards know the best place...?" Upon hearing the shriek, he deftly pockets the pearl and dawdles over towards the disturbance. [b]Narrator:[/b] The boy looks at Farraj, and appears eager to answer, but the commotion has caught his tongue. ============================ [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am sure there is some sad tale about your father. If it is rude for me to inquire, please tell me." [b]Yasir:[/b] "He was a merchant like yourself. He sold livestock in Halwa. I was sixteen when it happened... rivals of my father's... heretics..." Yasir is noticably shaken and looks away, pausing. Abdul chuckles. "I would hardly call myself a merchant, Yasir! It is true I must sell my work, but my clientele is often too decorous to haggle." He settles down to listen, making sympathetic sounds at the right places. He is a good listener. [b]Yasir:[/b] "Forgive me, I meant it as no offense." [b]Abdul:[/b] "It is nothing. Please do go on, if you wish it." [b]Yasir:[/b] "They found him in the marketplace and dragged him off. I was too far away to reach him in time." Yasir is not a terribly good story teller, and does not make the necessary dramatic effects. "I found him dead in the street a mile or so away." [b]Abdul:[/b] "The ways of God are strange. May his Mercy ever surround you. My condolences." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Thank you, friend." Yasir's mood lightens some. "And you, Abdul, your scribing is going well then? Is that why you are headed back?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Very well! I did not want to say it for all to hear, but... The Caliph himself has invited me to display my calligraphy!" [b]Yasir:[/b] "That is wonderful to hear." [The shriek above is heard.] [b]Abdul:[/b] "What was that sound?" Yasir stands up. "I'm not sure. We should go to the gates and see." He heads toward the sound. Abdul gets up, resigned to more trouble, and follows along. [b]Narrator:[/b] A crowd has gathered around the gates again. This time they watch with dread. Metef, the caravan master, in particular watches with horror at the heavy wooden post which locks the gate. And then it comes, a pounding on the gate, and a muted voice on the others side. Yasir looks for someone nearby to ask what is happening. He wonders out loud, "Who or what is outside the gate?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Do not open the gates!" Metef commands his guards, who stare at him wild-eyed. "There is a hideous djinn called al-Zaraksh that attempts to trick us!" Farraj asks a nearby person what the problem is? "Surely the storm is satisfied with having the rest of the desert to play in without coming into the great city of Zarif?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "May God preserve us!" Abdul exclaims piously, while fiddling with his writing case. [b]Yasir:[/b] "A djinn? Outside?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Surely you are mistaken, good Metef? There are many wonders in God's broad world; not all of them are djinn." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Your good fortune in the arms of God has clouded your mind!" Metef snaps at Abdul. "I have suffered this shaitan for several years. It torments my caravanserai and every night knocks upon this gate attempting to lure us out so that it may prey upon us in unspeakable ways!" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Every night? None have ever answered it? What has it done to unwary travellers?" [b]Narrator:[/b] One of the guards nonchalantly remarks, "It has given them a mad host." Several of the gathered bedouin laugh. [b]Yasir:[/b] "If it has become such a problem to your people, why does no one do anything to turn it away?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Truly, for the Hand of God shields the Faithful." [b]Narrator:[/b] One of the merchant's wives raises her voice, "It is too powerful to contest! It took Naskir's sight!" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Then his injury must be avenged. Surely Allah will reward one who dies valiantly in combat with a djinn." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes! It is a powerful shaitan, a cunning shaitan---" Metef is interrupted by the muffled voice again, which seems to say: [i]Please, for God's mercy, open the gates![/i] [b]Abdul:[/b] "Come! Can even a shaitan use the Name of God in its evil tricks?! Surely Allah the Mighty would blast him for it!" [b]Narrator:[/b] The merchant's wife glares at Yasir, "And would you have the rest of us die with you?" Yasir turns to the merchant's wife. "Do you fear death more than you fear Allah?" [b]Farraj:[/b] Shasti finds a comfortable corner in the stables and within minutes fills the room with her delicate, lady-like snoring. [b]Narrator:[/b] Metef holds up his hands, one of which is missing a finger. "This is what the shaitan has done to me when I thought to open the gate before! We must pray together, and drown out the djinn's trickery." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Then lead us in prayer, master, or move aside and let us face whatever may be outside the walls. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, Allah has favored me once today; I will trust in his Mercy once more. Can you not open the gate but slightly, so I may go out to see what awaits? It is not in me to turn aside anyone who asks in the name of God." [b]Yasir:[/b] "You are a brave man, Abdul, and Allah favors that." Yasir puts his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. [b]Narrator:[/b] Metef says, "Oh young man, do not tempt fate a second time! God is merciful to him who helps himself!" A few guards grudgingly bar the gates, though they make no show to draw blades and seem rather troubled. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Did I hear the cries of a person in need? The great city of Zafir surely houses a grand mullah who can send shaitan back to his pit?" Yasir turns and stares awkwardly at Farraj. [b]Narrator:[/b] Naskir is near Farraj, "The great city? There is no mullah here! Not as long as Metef is in charge!" Abdul scoffs, "God is merciful to whomever his Most Gracious Will blesses; man's efforts are as nothing in his sight. Is it not so?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The voice at the gates continues: [i]I am dying, show me mercy! Oh forsake me not at death's door![/i] [b]Yasir:[/b] "Open the door, Metef, and let whomever pleads to us by God's name in." [b]Farraj:[/b] (To Yasir) "Come, friend, there is no shame in being lost in the desert." [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd murmurs in agreement with Abdul. Metef stands resolutely before them. "Tempt death! Mock God! But I will not let you risk the lives of those under my protection! Can you not see that once the doors are open we shall be consumed by the storm and the shaitan may possess any one of us?" [b]Farraj:[/b] "We stand in the greatest city in the land. Help is at hand. The prince will send his guards. You will see." [b]Narrator:[/b] Incredulous at Farraj, Naskir whispers to him, "You must be mad! I know a secret way of egress - if you can gather your friends perhaps we may save this poor soul." [b]Abdul:[/b] "If I have mocked God, tell me in what ways my words have offended, O most wise Metef! Lower me over the wall in a basket if that suits your fears, then." [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd again murmurs in appreciation of Abdul's bravery [b]Farraj:[/b] "Brave Abdul, you shame us. I will proudly lower you myself." [b]Yasir:[/b] "How would you do that, brave Farraj?" [b]Farraj:[/b] "Surely the friendly merchant I spoke with earlier will give of his strange fabrics in defence of this fine City. I can lower you using no more than 4 or 5 bolts of his `silk'." [b]Narrator:[/b] At last the guard who Yasir rescued speaks up, "Metef, you're acting like you're already possessed by a shaitan. Was it not you who ordered the gates closed on these brave souls, myself, and your own grandfather?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Open the gates. If there is combat then remember it is written: 'Who fought and were slain...I will most certainly make them enter gardens beneath which rivers flow; a reward from Allah, and with Allah is yet better reward.'" [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd begans chanting: "Give them a bucket! Give them rope!" The voice outside is barely a whisper, the banging is dying down. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Where is that kindly merchant? After all, a gift given is a gift gained." [b]Narrator:[/b] A bucket and "rope" (bolts of silk tied together) materialize from the hands of the crowd, passed to you. The "kindly" merchant grudgingly parts with his silk, cautioning you to be careful and not damage it. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I know you are as true as your word, friend Farraj." Abdul makes his way to the wall, climbing up whatever scaffolding there may be. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Come Abdul and all who praise Allah. Let us lower our champion to his destiny." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Shall I go with you, Abdul, lest you need help?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Allah can save one as easily as two, good Yasir. If Metef is right, two will only mean two deaths; if I am right, only one will be needed." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Then Allah be at your side, Abdul." [b]Narrator:[/b] Metef is distraught beyond reason, and screeches: "I should be the one to go!" [b]Abdul:[/b] "You seem to change your tune quickly, O good Metef." [b]Narrator:[/b] But the crowd pushes against Metef, elbowing him out of the way. Above you the desert storm whips over the edge of the towers, casting sand in all directions, like hellish ocean spray or sweat from a mare. Farraj clambers after Abdul onto the wall and loops the silk rope around his waist as he takes a good look at whatever is beyond the gate. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am ready, Farraj." Yasir forces his way to the wall to watch Abdul. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Place your foot in this stirrup my friend and let your Faith be your sword." Abdul clutches the fine silk, signalling Farraj to lower away. [b]Narrator:[/b] The storm is blinding, strong enough to drag a full-grown man across the desert's floor. A palm leaf hurtles past you. [b]Farraj:[/b] Signalling to Yasir for assistance, Farraj prepares to lower away Yasir assists Farraj. Abdul prays audibly for God's protection as he is lowered. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Inshallah! Go with God, Abdul." [b]Narrator:[/b] Shapes become indistinguishable to Abdul, his feet cannot find purchase against the wall which has become as slippery as the path of the righteous man. At first his compatriots Farraj and Yasir lower him in spurts, but gradually Abdul is smoothly lowered to the ground. Sand bites at him from every direction. The winds howl like banshee djinni. It is indeed awesome and terrifying, as if your bones might fly from your skin. Abdul picks his way gingerly toward the voice by the gate. Yasir strains to see what is happening. Farraj looks down into the swirling sands; to Yasir he says, "Blind Faith, my friend. We are protecting him and he is protecting us." Narrator (for Yasir): You see Abdul begin gagging, but he seems to shake it off Yasir keeps a close eye on Abdul, ready to give him any help he needs. [b]Narrator:[/b] Cleaving to his faith, Abdul is almost guided as a blind man. And indeed he is blind, mute, deaf, threatened to be swallowed by sands which have devoured entire caravans and armies. Only his hands guide him through the raging darkness. And then he touches a shoulder, a wrapped face. A man. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Come, brother. Help is here." He gathers the man up as best as he can, then yanks on the silk "rope" rhythmically, to signal the others to pull him up. [b]Narrator:[/b] A bubble of protection allows you to yell to each other. Moaning the man grabs Abdul, "Djinn or Moslem, I accept your aid! Help me to bang upon these gates with my last efforts." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I beg your pardon?! We will go up and over - is that not enough?" Yasir begins to pull the two up. [b]Farraj:[/b] Feeling the tug, Farraj hauls in rhythm with Yasir [b]Narrator:[/b] The man blesses himself in the name of God. "Oh djinn, be merciful, I have never flown before!" [b]Narrator:[/b] The silk goes taut but the winds are too strong -- Abdul feels a slight tug, but the storm seems intent on claiming him. Abdul laughs like a loon - doubtless sounding a bit awe-inspiring despite himself. "Me? A djinn! Surely you jest. No, brother, I am but a man." Farraj calls back to the people who are watching, "Who has hands as well as eyes?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir begins to haul, possessed by none other than the strength of God. Abdul buries his face in the man's shoulder. "Cling to me, brother, and trust in God's Mercy." [b]Narrator:[/b] And so does the man cling to Abdul as he is half pulled, half climbs up the wall, but then he gets stuck halfway. Yasir's burst of strength is leaving him. And the people of the caravan are paralyzed with fear at Metef's preaching. "And should it swallow the brave youth and then tempt us with his voice? Would you open the gates and invite our doom?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "I can't hold them much longer... we need help." [b]Farraj:[/b] "Who will allow the Champion of Zafir to perish? Help or be damned." Abdul tenses in desperation as he feels himself begin to fall. He gathers breath to speak a last word into the winds. [b]Narrator:[/b] The guard who Yasir rescued grabs a melon and launches it at Metef, knocking him on his arse. "If it were you in the bucket, perhaps we'd leave you out there!" Several of the guards encourage the young half-blinded guard on. [b]Yasir:[/b] "Quickly!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Several men spring to Yasir's aid at the urging of Farraj, their wives chastising them for their cowardice. Grabbing the rope, they haul Abdul and the man he has rescued over the top of the caravan wall. [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir catches the man who collapses into his arms. [b]Yasir:[/b] If he is not a djinn, Metef, then Allah protect you. Abdul falls to his knees and cries out, "God be praised! Twice in one day he has delivered me from the storm!" Yasir puts the man gently onto the ground. "Someone help him." Farraj cheers. "We lower one and bring back two, who said there was no fishing in the desert?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Farraj, less useless chatter. The man needs help." [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd cheers with Farraj, prays with Abdul, and answers Yasir's call for help. Metef appears horrified and pushes his way through the crowd toward his personal quarters perhaps? Yasir follows Metef, hand on scimitar. "Get back here, you coward!" Farraj calls to the crowd, "Who has water for a stranger?" To the man himself, he says, "Be at peace, friend, you are within the walls of Zarif and safe from peril." Abdul bends toward the man he rescued. "Can you hear me, brother?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The man weakly speaks to Abdul and Farraj: "Oh noble and worthiest of men, you have saved me from a terrible curse. I am Mamoun ibn-Naskir, long thought dead by my grandfather, and cursed by my own flesh and blood." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Do you hear, people of Zafir? It is Mamoun, son of Naskir!! Let the father come recognize his son!" Yasir runs after Metef. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Be at peace friend, you are within the walls of Zarif and safe from peril." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Mamoun? Impossible! He's dead! Oh, heavens be praised! Who is to blame for our own sons' fate?" The crowd is apalled and ecstatic. Abdul adds meaningfully, "He says he has labored under a curse - a curse laid by his own kin!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes, it was my step-father Metef who cursed me to walk the deserts and for men to not know their brother's voice. That every prayer and plea I offered would fall upon deaf ears!" The man sobs, tears of joy and betrayal gracing his cheeks. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Drink, small sips, you have sun sickness." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Thank you, kind one," says Mamoun, falling unconscious in Farraj's arms. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Let not Metef escape! He stands accused of evil sorcery - though," he warns, "only a qadi can decide his fate." [b]Narrator:[/b] Gasping, the crowd looks about for Metef. "He has taken advantage of us for the last time! A curse upon the accursed Metef! Honor to the faithful!" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Where would he go, good people?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "To his quarters! Upstairs!" The crowd replies to Abdul. Farraj finds that he is fingering the pearl in his pocket. He brings it forth and shows it to Abdul. "This was on my saddle when I arrived here." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Show the way, then! The sorcerer must not escape justice!" [b]Farraj:[/b] "If your thirst is for blood rather than pearls, so be it." He pockets the pearl and follows Abdul. =================================== [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir spots Metef as he dashes through a curtained room, ordering a guard to bar the way. Upon seeing the approaching Yasir, the guard attempts to draw his sword, but it appears stuck in the sheath. Yasir forces his way past the guard and toward Metef. "Face me like a man, Metef. Surrender now, and you will lose no blood." [b]Narrator:[/b] Metef holds before him a ragged doll in the likeness of a soldier. "Come no closer, defender of the faith. For I shall curse you lest you bring ruin upon my caravanserai!" Yasir draws his scimitar. "Fool, do not practice such sorcery, for it is an abomination to Allah." ==================================== [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd carries Abdul and Farraj toward a stunned guard on the ground and the sound of threats and conflict from within. Farraj strides to the door and pokes his head inside. Abdul likewise forces his way forward to see what may be seen. [b]Narrator:[/b] To the horror of the crowd, they fnd Yasir bravely denouncing Metef's sorcerous ways, the two struggling within the cramped quarters. Metef snarls, "My step-son is a dog who should have perished long ago! And for your meddling, I curse you defender of the faithful!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "As you desire to meddle in affairs which you know nothing about, I curse you to take such form!" yells Metef, squeezing the doll before him. Yasir feels himself fall to his knees, but a light seems to fill his heart. Though he may be a sinner, he is blameless now. Standing to his feet, Yasir throws off Metef's magic. [b]Narrator:[/b] Wailing, Metef's doll falls to tatters in his hands and he falls backward into a chest which closes on him. Yasir moves to keep the chest shut Farraj gawks. "Gwaaaaaaa." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Hear the blasphemer!" Abdul rushes into the room. [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir puts all his weight on the chest. There's no way anyone inside is getting out. [b]Yasir:[/b] "A lock, rope, something!" Farraj brings forth the silken rope, bundled until now in his hand. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Is he not harmless now? We can gag him, bind his hands - surely that will be enough?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "We'll bind the chest. It is safer." [b]Narrator:[/b] The silk merchant looks wistfully at Farraj, "Now none will want this silk. Sigh. The sacrifices I make." [b]Farraj:[/b] "For a man who can say that his wares have rescued heroes and bound villains, you have a long face." [b]Yasir:[/b] "You talk too much, Farraj. Bind the chest before he forces his way out. We will do what we can to compensate the merchant later." [b]Narrator:[/b] The merchant seems heartened by Farraj's words, assuredly planning his next business venture. [b]Farraj:[/b] "Of course, here it is!" Abdul helps bind the chest however he can. [b]Narrator:[/b] The lid jumps a bit. The chest is made of hardwood, a real scarcity; the lock is metal. [b]Farraj:[/b] "He is seeing his own inner darkness." Yasir forces the lock shut. Abdul pants. "For now I'll settle for the chest's darkness!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Yasir can hear strange sounds issuing from the securely bound chest *gawk* *gawk* [b]Farraj:[/b] "He was bound by chains of his own making long before we ever met him." Abdul addresses the crowd. "Where is the nearest qadi? This matter cannot wait." [b]Yasir:[/b] "I am not sure why you would rather talk than act quickly, friend Farraj, but thank you for your help." He moves away from the creepy chest. [b]Farraj:[/b] "You are right, Friend Yasir, yet he is bound and we are still talking, it is the will of God." [b]Narrator:[/b] The crowd's fear has abated, and now they watch Yasir with something like wonder. Some repeat Naskir's words. Was this man truly a saint? [b]Yasir:[/b] "Inshallah." Abdul repeats, "The nearest qadi?" He seems to be making a habit of being ignored today. [b]Narrator:[/b] *gawk* It almost sounds like there is a bird, or perhaps some demonic vulture within the dark chest. The caravan master, the sorcerer Metef, paying the forefeit of his ignorance and malice. Trapped, as it were, by his own heresies. [b]Narrator:[/b] Naskir steps forward, "Alas, the nearest qadi is in Huzuz, brave soul." Abdul looks to the chest in wonder. "Why, it sounds as if he has suffered from the same curse he meant for you, Yasir!" Yasir puts his hand on Abdul's shoulder. "We have done good things, friend. Thank you for your help. You are right, though. We must bring him to a qadi, as soon as the storm allows." He looks around for a wash basin. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I thank you, friend Yasir. Your devotion preserved me from the storm." [b]Yasir:[/b] "I did only what I must." [b]Farraj:[/b] "How did you know Yasir. One minute I am watering Shasti and the next we are jailing sorcerers. Is every day like this in the City? It is like having the moon on the ground and the desert in the sky." Abdul finally laughs. "Wait until Farraj sees Huzuz!" [b]Narrator:[/b] You can hear murmurs as the crowd parts, Mamoun being led forward by the half-blind guard. "What wonders have befallen ye, oh commendable servants?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "O most favored Mamoun, your wicked step-father was caught in the act of casting a foul, abhominable curse upon the good Yasir, yet it seems to have rebounded upon his own head." Yasir moves to the cistern, removes his turban and begins to wash it. [b]Narrator:[/b] Mamoun, despite his weakened state, bows before you. "I am humbled by your courage and faith. Indeed, my step-father is the most wicked of men, and you have dealt with him in surpassing mercy. Whatever has befallen him he wrought upon his own head. To each of you, if there is a boon within my power - for the caravanserai is now mine - I shall do my best to grant it." Yasir pays little attention to Mamoun's offer. He finishes cleaning his turban, dons it again, and returns to the rest of the group. [b]Narrator:[/b] Men and women marvel at Yasir's piety. His sainthood does not seem to be in doubt to them. [b]Abdul:[/b] "For my part, I ask simply for safe passage to Huzuz, and hospitality should I come again. For the rest, praise Allah each day for his Mercy to you!" [b]Farraj:[/b] "If I may Mamoun, I ask to keep the silken rope. For a brief moment it helped me make a friend and it has bound the greatest evil i have ever met. Can it be so?" Abdul beams and clasps Farraj's hand. "I feel the same way, my friend!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Mamoun looks at the silk merchant with consternation, who sighs and nods his head. "Very well, noble Farraj, I entrust to you this cord of silk, that it may continue to bind your foes and provide safety to the misfortunate." [b]Farraj:[/b] "Thanks be to you and to the infinite grace of Allah. I humbly accept this gift." Then, to Abdul, "If that is so, will you show me this splendid city, Huzuz? The desert has made my eyes sore and I feel the need to rest them upon beautiful things." Yasir turns to Abdul. "Your clothes are dirty with sand, friend." Abdul blinks and looks down at himself. "Well, so they are..." He seems puzzled by this comment as he brushes himself off, but adds to Farraj, "Of course I will show you Huzuz! You have not seen a city yet!" [b]Yasir:[/b] "Give my boon to the silk merchant. He has done much for us." [b]Narrator:[/b] Stunned, Mamoun bows and salaams Yasir. "As you command, oh virtuous amir." At this the crowd whispers like crazy. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Yasir, you are truly a generous man." [b]Yasir:[/b] "Speak nothing of it. He gave us silk when we were in need." [b]Narrator:[/b] The silk merchant is at first stunned, then weeping thanks Yasir over and over. [b]Narrator:[/b] And then Mamoun addresses all three men. "I have one favor to ask, though I fear I am too bold. Will you take this chest and my wicked step-father to Huzuz for fair trial?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, of course. Why do you think I asked for safe-passage?" [b]Yasir:[/b] "We must." [b]Farraj:[/b] "The Faithful man is a gift of light to the traveller in the desert." He ties his new silken rope around his waist like a sash, gazing proudly at its bright colours. [b]Yasir:[/b] "We should give thanks to Allah and then rest. The journey ahead is long." [b]Abdul:[/b] "You speak truly." He continues brushing himself off, still puzzled by Yasir's drawing attention to it. Farraj turns to look at the storm through the window as it rages beyond the gates. "In the desert we say that a storm is the breath of God, it brings friends together and binds them as they take shelter. The dunes move, the sky goes dark but when the sands fall to the earth the world is as new. Let us go to Huzuz." [b]Narrator:[/b] "And that, oh weary traveler, is the tale of the Three Men Who Saved Mamoun. And should you come to our humble oasis again, ask Mamoun to tell you the story. Why, you may even meet the brave Abdul, the strong Yasir, or the wise Farraj at this very caravanserai. Inshallah." The young Laheeb, a camel groom of little import but big imagination left his listeners with a tale. The first of many..." [/QUOTE]
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True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
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