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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: 2610025" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p><strong>Interlude: The Beggar Who Wasn't (a Tale of Abdul)</strong></p><p></p><p>[The good news: A new update, really soon after the previous one! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> A solo adventure by Abdul, played out last night.]</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> There are few in Huzuz who don't know the "Tale of the Beggar Who Wasn't" these days, but there are few beggars who know the tale as well as I. Though I have since found good fortune and now wear fine clothes, I shall never forget that fateful day when the Beggar Who Wasn't changed everything. Lend me your ear, and you shall learn how I, a simple pauper, became the luckiest man in the world, all because of one man's heart.</p><p></p><p>Abdul hurries through the streets of Huzuz toward his ancient haunts: Cemetery Square.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul, wrinkled and dirty, moves through the streets, and old memories come back to him. Even as he assumes the role, he remembers telling stories to his boyhood friends, and of panhandling on the streets. All too well he remembers the disgusted stares and avoidance. But here in Cemetery Square, beggars are not reviled, they're merely part of the scenery. Why you can't swing a stick without hitting a waif or handicapped beggar, they say. </p><p></p><p>And sometimes, in Knife-Loose Alley, beggars are killed. At least one of the advantages of poverty is that the rich are the first target. </p><p></p><p>Abdul pauses to get his bearings; it's been a long time. The flood of memories and emotions takes some time to assimilate, as well.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As Abdul moves through the streets he pauses by a bakery. Though used to hunger, it has been many years, and the smell of fresh bread teases his nose as if he were a boy again. The laughter of boys fills his ears and looking up, he can see the outline of two boys playing in the dark, but soon it fades as they run down the street. Was it an illusion? A flashback?</p><p></p><p>Abdul shakes his head to clear it. "Come, Abdul, stay sharp. I'll need all my wits about me," he mutters to himself.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Two of the women at the bakery steps chat opinionatedly. "Oh, sister, you put too much faith in this Aqeedah. I have heard he robs just like the rest of the thieves. I should like to think that the guards will catch him, or at least talk some sense into the poor man. Obviously he is a run-away slave."</p><p></p><p>Abdul puts the chatter from his mind as he makes his way toward the narrow space between buildings which opens up into Leper's Alley.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Leper's Alley shimmers with smoke from roasting meat, or burning corpses, the smell is indistinguishable. The alley is narrow, and there are many smaller side alleys which branch off. Quite easy to get lost here. The lepers do have a thirst for life which rivals the gypsies however, and music around the firepits goes on even today. </p><p></p><p>Abdul makes his way down the alley, eyeing each building carefully as he makes his way westward toward the fishgutter's. He pauses to give a copper bit now and then to any particularly forlorn-looking souls.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Charity is hardly commonplace in Cemetery Square, but the noise in Leper's Alley drowns out even the most showering praise Abdul receives for this small donation. Winding through the alley, he gets the distinct feeling he's being watched.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> A hard life has taught Abdul not to let on that he suspects his watcher. He heads down one of the side-alleys, as if further inspecting buildings, and steps into a shadowed alcove to watch for anyone suspicious passing by.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Nothing unusual for Leper's Alley - a band of roving musicians and two charity workers pass by. In the alley way he notices a young boy hiding behind a barrel, stifling crying.</p><p></p><p>Abdul's heart melts within him at the sight. He heads toward the boy and asks, "Come, lad, what is amiss?" He speaks in a deliberately raspy, deeper tone than is his wont.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As soon as Abdul steps through the light the boy looks up startled. Even through the grime and tears it is clear he will grow up into a handsome young man who will rival princes in his grace. Also easily recognizeable to Abdul are the signs of physical abuse. His hands have been thrashed, his eye is black and blue, and he has a large tear in his shirt as if he ran away from his attacker. The boy cries silently.</p><p></p><p>Abdul sits down next to him, not speaking further, just patiently waiting.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Do you have any tobacco?" The boy sniffs. "I was beaten for stealing ice for my wounds. Twice in one day." He sobs again, but tries to regain his composure.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am afraid I do not. Who is it that beats you?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "My father for whistling at the pretty girls. And my older brother for not being honest about my earnings. And the police when I wouldn't tell them about my friend."</p><p></p><p>Abdul eyes the boy. "Well, I am sorry that you have been beaten. But is that all the truth?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, sahib!" He says right away, looking astonishedly at Abdul. "I did whistle at pretty girls, and I did lie about my earnings. I am a miserable wretch aren't I?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs. "I am sorry I questioned you, boy. No, I have known many men far more wretched and wicked than you. Come, the fact you can say it and mean it says you are not wholly abandoned to sin, eh? The truly wicked do not see their wickedness."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Wiping the snot from his nose, the boy starts murmuring under his voice with his hands clasped as if in prayer. He says aside to Abdul, as if not wanting to offend God by opening his eyes and talking to the man next to him. "I am praying I find my father again, and that he forgive me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Find him? Are you lost?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh, not lost, but afraid of leaving. My older brother tells me he'll take me home just as soon as we finish his next job. And even if I did go back I'm afraid my father would just beat me even more...if he even recognized me." The boy looks away. He is no more than 12, a hair younger than Farraj.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "What job is that?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Why, he intends to steal the necklace which Asfar Chahhad took from a noblewoman. He is the one the police are looking for." Realizing that he has shared too much, the boy looks perplexed. "I- I should get going, my older brother will be wondering where I am." He starts to stand.</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods, not terribly surprised, although the names mean nothing to him. "Come, lad, I am not about to turn you in. I have been around the block a time or three myself, you know. My name is Abdul. You?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I...I am called Tayseer." Says the boy cautiously; he is obviously concealing his true name. 'Tayseer' means 'facilitation', and Abdul can guess the name means 'facilitating thievery and mischief.' No doubt given to him by his older brother. "Where are you going?" asks Tayseer.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am looking for a very old friend, who I am told is staying hereabouts. Perhaps you know him? His name is Rafiqi."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer purses his lips. "Oh yes, everyone in the neighborhood talks about hiding their children from Rafiqi. He's a legend on the streets, almost as much as the Aqeedah. I haven't heard much of him recently; they say he was picked up by the police. He gave me a loaf of bread and some cheese once for making him laugh."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Hiding their children? Why would that be?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh, don't you know? Rafiqi's gang is infamous. They've started turning to mugging drunk nobles now and even..." He makes a gesture as if to say 'you know.'</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Even what?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Mugging evening women too. My older brother hates Rafiqi. It's a rotten way to do business, but he treats everyone in the neighborhood well. He's probably the richest beggar I've ever met."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well. I would not have thought it of him. You say he has not been seen about of late?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Not for a couple weeks. I hear he sometimes traveled in disguise, but no one knows where. Are you good friends?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul says sadly, "I have not seen him in a very long time. ... I am told he has a house behind Hassoud's. Do you know where it is?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "A house?" Tayseer draws a perplexed look. "Oh, you must mean the watering hole. There are some makeshift huts there. It's for animals to bathe, but I've seen lepers there too, even drinking the water." He shudders.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Hmmm. Do you know of boys that work for him: Dyjer, Pencil, Cricket?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Well I know the Cricket, but he doesn't work for Rafiqi. Someone else, and much meaner. Cricket always complains that his master threatens to break his sitar. He's the best musician I know, and even the lepers say so too. Why sometimes he comes here to play music, and I go with him just for the fun."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am beginning to think I was lied to by a much more deeply-dyed liar than yourself. A pity."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "You - you're not from Cemetery Square, are you?" asks the boy. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Many years ago, boy. Many years ago. I also worked for someone much meaner. I know what it is like to be beaten."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I'll show you the watering hole." says Tayseer, wiping his face. "Do you ever go to the Warehouse Districts in the north of the city? I would be obliged if you delivered a message to my father."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "A favor for a favor is a fair return. And who is your father?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "His name is Daoud bin-Haroun, the largest smith you have ever seen, with dark curly hair. He has a stall in the Grand Bazaar." Tayseer rises and starts walking toward the alley.</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks. "A smith's son, stealing necklaces?" He follows, though, offering his hand.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh no, sahib, I am no thief. My older brother has me appraise all that he finds, and...I'm quite good with locks too, and door hinges." Tayseer makes his way down the street. He is tall for his age; Abdul imagines that in his former life he must have been the jewel of his mother's eye. As you pass a cart full of slaves, Tayseer hops aboard, motioning for Abdul to do the same. "The driver doesn't mind, even if his mule does!" Two slaves offer Abdul a hand up.</p><p></p><p>Abdul hops up easily enough. "Tayseer... how long has it been since you saw your father?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> He recites precisely, "One year, one month, and six days." Uncomfortable discussing his father, Tayseer asks Abdul, "When were you last in Cemetery Square? Before the Madrassah?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I did not even know there was a madrassah here. A welcome change."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "The jeepney drivers deal with non-Moslem slaves, but there's more Moslems in these carts than they let on, just those that don't speak the language. But they're good men, Abdul."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I believe it. Tayseer, how did you come to be in Cemetery Square?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I ran away from my house, and my older brother found me. He taught me how to live in the Grand Bazaar, and the two of us moved here for his first job."</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs deeply. "I thought as much." He shakes his head.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "For several months it was rough, we lived hand-to-mouth, and he beat me too often, but then we started doing better. The other boys accepted me, and my older brother became successful. And then he started getting afraid, and I mean of everyone. Now I can barely talk to him without getting interrogated about what I know nothing of."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer says, "Here we are!" And jumps off the jeepney, waving to the slaves who wave back.</p><p></p><p>Abdul hops off the jeepney as well, intent on the boy. "Tayseer... Whatever your true name is. Listen to me." Abdul's voice is raw with emotion.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer looks up at Abdul, startled.</p><p></p><p>Abdul grips the lad's shoulder and holds his eyes. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Any idea at all?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer is taken aback, "Sahib, I am very lucky to have met you it is true."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "No! Not because of me. You are lucky because you have a place to go home to! A mother and a father who must be frantic for you! Do you know how few boys in Cemetery Square can say that? What in the name of all that is holy keeps you from going to them?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> He looks away, ashamed. "If - if I leave, my older brother has no one. He has no home or family except for me. And my father scorns me for my looks."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Listen. Rafiqi was my 'older brother'. And I was and am grateful to him, because I had no place else to go. He was the only family I had. But you, you have been taken from your family. From the place you belong. ... I know not what your father holds against your looks, though you are a handsome lad indeed. But I feel quite confident that he will be overjoyed to see you. He must have given you up for dead by now!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer squints, biting his lip. "Maybe I belong here. I think that if I am dirty enough then no one will see the face my father hates."</p><p></p><p>Abdul embraces the boy fiercely. "You must know what is truly right, or you would not say such stupid things. Come, am I wrong? Your heart has already decided, has it not?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The boy stifles a sob, clinging to Abdul. Abdul hears someone approaching from behind him.</p><p></p><p>Abdul holds self-preservation above even comforting troubled youngsters. He whirls, a hand dipping into a fold of his rags. He keeps one hand on the boy.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A dark cloaked young man gazes at Abdul from underneath his hood. Something about the man is hauntingly familiar. "I see you've met my younger brother."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul hears Rafiqi's voice from underneath the cloak, though the man stands and acts nothing like Rafiqi. "Come Tayseer, I've missed you." He says, a hint of neediness creeping into his voice, as he extends his hand. As he does so, Abdul makes out the hilt of a jambiya in his cloak.</p><p></p><p>Abdul asks in wonder, "Rafiqi! Is that you?!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Why have you taken my brother from me? Don't you know Leper's Alley is dangerous at night?" asks Rafiqi's voice.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Taken him from you? I found him weeping and beaten. But you - how can you not know me! I was your brother long ago!" Abdul takes a step forward, only a little doubtful. He still keeps one hand on Tayseer.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "You mistake me for someone else," snarls Rafiqi's voice. "Come Tayseer, I have found some ice for your wounds. Forgive me, I was hasty and afraid."</p><p></p><p>Abdul begins to look confused. "But...!" His voice has lost the artificial tone he gave it.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer clings to Abdul, uncertain of his older brother's true intentions. "Have you really brought ice for me?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes," laughs Rafiqi's voice hoarsely. "Stolen from the very ice house of Al-Fareed himself, just for you, boy. Beggar," he says, addressing Abdul, "do you not have a charge of your own to look after that you must go fishing in other men's pools?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul says stiffly, thoroughly put off now, "I am not 'fishing' at all, sirrah. Perhaps you are."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "What is your name, beggar?" asks Rafiqi's voice, becoming more gravely.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Who wishes to know?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Suddenly the man's voice switches to Akim's, and Abdul feels his body cringe. "The boy's older brother, Fareed."</p><p></p><p>Abdul's muscles tense, but he can see that this man is far too young to be Akim. "I know not by what cheap trick you change your voice so, sirrah. But it does not impress me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Then perhaps we should look face-to-face?" says the young man before removing his hood and Abdul stares straight into the face of his childhood adversary Akim, his sunken eyes and split lip, his wide ears and sun-burnt wrinkled forehead. "You're one of the Forgotten Boys, aren't you?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul gapes, his heart pounding. "You... are not Akim." He says it almost doubtfully at first, then his voice firms up. "Akim does not know any arts of <em>sihr</em>. Akim does not recruit boys personally. And I have never heard of any 'Forgotten Boys'."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "No, I'm not Akim, you're right. I am Fareed, proud older brother to Tayseer here. But you do recognize his face, which few in Cemetery Square can claim anymore, and you do know Rafiqi, so you've been around the block." The man gazes at Tayseer now. "Come, the ice will melt soon. If you won't let go of this beggar, then bring him with us and we'll eat together."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer gazes up at Abdul, "Will you come with us?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul asks gently, "What is the desire of your heart, bin-Daoud bin-Haroun?" He is not speaking of something so small as a meal.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I- I can't abandon him. I wish my father would take me back in with him." He says earnestly, looking at Abdul with wide-eyes.</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs deeply. "Perhaps. I do not know. But he certainly will not do so unless you ask." Then, "Fareed. These arts of sihr that trick the eye - they will work you ill in the end. As you say, I have been around the block. More than you know. Take it from one who has seen much."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I can't ask him, not face to face...you do not know my father, how much I've hurt him..." Tayseer looks away.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Then I will go with you."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Arching his brow, Fareed, if that's even his real name, raises his cloak hood again. "You're right, they've done others much harm, but then again in Cemetery Square justice comes here only when dragged kicking and screaming. I did not get the pleasure of your name, beggar?" His voice becomes that of a young man, faintly familiar to Abdul, but unrecognizeable at the same time.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I do not speak of the sort of justice that comes from qadis. I do not even speak of the justice you will face before God on the Last Day. The very nature of things means those arts work ill on the one who uses them."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Very well, I shall call you the 'Theologian' then." Fareed motions for Tayseer to lead the way, which the boy does willingly. He seems to be in his element dealing with others and negotiating his way through the city streets. "So does the blacksmith's furnace char his face, crack his hands, his lips, and even mangle his fingers and wreck his back. But are not his works beautiful?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul follows, keeping a hand on Tayseer's shoulder if the boy will let him. "Any beauty his works have come from within him, from the beauty that is in his soul. But sihr withers a man's soul and makes it ugly in the end."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Well, Theologian, your words are certainly illuminating. Would it surprise you to learn that I am no sorcerer?" He eyes a group of beggar boys talking amidst themselves, who glare at him nervously. "The Almighty himself has blessed me with the gift to present men the face which they keep closest to their hearts...whether in love or spite."</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks. "I have never heard of such a thing. But if it is so, then I have wronged you. I apologize."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Chuckling in a raspy voice, the young Fareed rubs his chin. "But I do wonder about God's intentions sometimes. How is it, Theologian, that you know so much about magic and Cemetery Square? One would think the two things antithetical."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "That is a long story, Fareed. A very long story. I imagine some hereabouts might remember a part of it, though."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Pushing through a series of old rusted gates that barely hang on their hinges, Tayseer leads you to a burned out building, using the outside stairs to ascend to the third floor. Within the chipped stucco and drifts of ash, Abdul is astounded to find a room suited to any prince! Fine vases and elaborate rugs, golden incense holders and bowls of dates and other candies. Of course, the crumbling ceiling, empty wine jug, and thieves' tools hanging on the wall give away its true nature.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I must say, you are quite an accomplished thief." It is a neutral observation, neither admiring nor condemning. "I imagine that being able to look like those men love and fear serves you well."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Every man has his gifts, and what Fate giveth, she also taketh away," says Fareed, moving swiftly to a wrapped bundle in a bowl. Breaking off a piece of ice with his knife, he crushes it and wraps it before handing it to Tayseer. "When you've finished, keep us safe." He says before tossing the boy's hair playfully. Fareed turns to Abdul, "Wise Theologian, care to join me on my palace's veranda overlooking this fine city?" He says majestically.</p><p></p><p>Abdul eyes the man just a bit warily. "If you wish it."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Stepping through a silk curtain, he looks down upon Leper's Alley. "If there is anything you wish to say to me, say it now and let me decide whether to hang you or to serve you."</p><p></p><p>Abdul thnks for a moment, then says, "Rafiqi was my 'older brother'. I am seeking him. As for bin-Daoud... I have told him he is luckier than all the boys of Cemetery Square for having a family to go home to, and I spoke the truth to him. I never did."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Earlier, when I called you one of the Forgotten Boys, I meant those who worked for Akim, who still had integrity, before the thugs started moving in, but those in uniform and out of it. You're right that Tayseer is lucky, but not in the way you think." Fareed removes his cloak tossing it over the railing, before rubbing his eyes so hard he almost appears to be clawing them out. "His family sold him into slavery just before he ran away from home. I intercepted the slavers and brought him here. He has nobody else to turn to, so quit putting these ideas of a happy family reunion into his head."</p><p></p><p>Abdul says coolly, "Well, you certainly give me something to look into." In a more normal tone, he adds, "As for the 'Forgotten Boys', if that is what such are called, I hope I am one of them. I believe I had some integrity then, and I know that Rafiqi did."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul spots Tayseer down in the streets, winding his way through the crowd, tracing the exact route they traveled to get here from the watering hole. Fareed gazes hard at Abdul, "Rafiqi is one of the few good men in Cemetery Square, but he has many enemies. And I hear that Akim is looking for him now, all because of this Asfar Chahhad, this Yellow Beggar, who stole a necklace."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I know nothing of any Asfar. And you must already know I am not seeking Rafiqi to do him harm. Would any such speak as I have done?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "If you wish to find him, you will go to the old fire station and wait till you hear a crow call. At least, that is how he used to communicate with his brothers. As for Tayseer, don't cross me about him. Tayseer and I are only here long enough for my next job. However much you may be opposed to it, thievery feeds many bellies. Now, Theologian, will you join me for supper or is your appetite conflicted by morals?" </p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs. "You already know I worked for Akim. I cannot look down my nose at any man for theft. But may I ask you a thing? Did you grow up here?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "And if I did?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, speaking as one who did also, I can well understand that one who did might have much to learn of love. I have heard the need in your voice when you speak of the boy. I do not doubt you care for him, but ask yourself if you always seek his good." He pauses, then says, "And my name is Abdul. The other boys called me 'Hakawati' * back in the day." ((* street storyteller))</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Hakawati, eh? Did you know a poor thief named Mehdi? He was very dear to me."</p><p></p><p>Abdul groans. "Good Dar-Al! I remember him well. Poor lad. Please tell me he is well."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Sadly, he was picked up by Al-Fareed and other secret police, purportedly working for the Caliph. I do not know what has become of him." Fareed has a distant look in his eyes. "Tell me of your first job for Akim, Abdul."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "My very first? I was so young - three years old. I scarcely remember. Given my age, they probably used me as the 'monkey' - you know, the one that eyes are upon while others do their work."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Three years old? And still begging these days? You seem far too educated to be a beggar, unless you've donned rags to find your older brother?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul chuckles. "I see I have not lost the arts Rafiqi taught me. Though the egg-white trick was of little use to ones so young as us!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Fareed laughs, pausing to look at Abdul, before laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. Tayseer calls from outside as he ascends the stairs. "Our rice is finished cooking. I should think you could even fool Akim with your disguise."</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs also, then his mood darkens. "Let us hope for his sake it does not come to that."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer says a quick prayer over the meal of roasted figs, rice, sheep's cheese, and sardines. Fareed lights two candles religiously while Tayseer prays, then pauses, and digs around for a third candle and lights it too before sitting down. "For your friend Rafiqi," he murmrs.</p><p></p><p>Abdul pauses to pray also. "Indeed. How do you know so much of Akim's boys, Fareed?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "There is someone who might be able to help you, Abdul, a man named Zayid who runs the madrassah. He is tracking down your old friends, and would know far more than I."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I will be certain to speak to him."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "As for the rest, the only other I know by name is Ashquar, and only because he tried to drag me into his turf battles with Rafiqi. Ashquar sold out a group of boys to the authorities." He gazes at his meal, his eyes darkening. "Maybe even Mehdi."</p><p></p><p>Abdul's knuckles go white on the table. "I would not have thought it of him. He was a good brother, long ago."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Fareed gazes at Abdul over the candle. "Everyone has a price, my guest."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "For some men, the price is too high for any to pay."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer asks Fareed, "Brother, do you remember how we'd use to play in the old chicken coop? It's been so long since I've had chicken, I can scarcely remember what they look like. I'm afraid I'd try to eat a rat and think it was a chicken." Tayseer laughs to himself as Fareed gazes intently at Abdul.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Speak your mind, my host."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, I remember Tayseer. Father never approved of us, did he?" Fareed smiles at his younger brother. Looking back to Abdul he asks, "What has brought you to seek out Rafiqi?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I am only just returned. Come, you surely must have had heard the tale of Hakawati. It was dramatic enough." He pauses as he looks at the two of them. "Wait, the two of you are brothers by blood?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Of course," says Tayseer to Abdul, "or did you think I called him 'older brother' by jest only?" Fareed gazes at Abdul impassively, "Please tell us of the Hakawati."</p><p></p><p>Abdul starts laughing. "I thought..." He can't stop laughing.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As Abdul laughs, a thought sends a shiver down his spine. Tayseer did not react at all to Fareed's face and voice changing; either the youth has grown used to it, or else Fareed's ability plays on the mind and is an illusion. In which case, who does he look like to Tayseer?</p><p></p><p>Abdul's face drains of color and he stares at Fareed over the table, as the candles flicker.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer laughs at Abdul's face, "Oh, brother, this shall be a great tale!" Fareed pats his brother's hand. "Yes indeed." He gazes at Abdul, his eyes seeming to morph into Akim and Rafiqi's eyes at once almost subconsciously.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Fareed... I think you are a better man than I thought before. But remember what I told you of love."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A weak smile, but an authentic one, forms on Fareed's face. "Abdul, what is the most ridiculous thing you can think of Akim doing? Something that would make him seem nothing more than a palace fool to you?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul blinks. "Eh?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer rolls over on to his stomach, propping his chin up with his hands. This is not a household where people rush to clean the dishes, apparently. Fareed gestures impatiently. "If you were the puppeteer what would you have Akim do that he would never do? Something that would make you laugh....and isn't too humiliating for me, preferably."</p><p></p><p>Abdul says stiffly, "I am not going to ask you to play the fool for my sake, my host. And indeed, I have no desire to look on the man's face again."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Very well," he says glumly. "I only wished to entertain you." Tayseer immediately moves to comfort his brother.</p><p></p><p>Abdul sits for a moment in silence, then says with a certain quiet savagery, "Hakawati was a dreamer-boy who listened to stories and told stories and dreamed of a better life - though any life would be better than the one he had. Akim called it 'prattle'. Well, one day one of his stories came true, and he was carried off by a jinn. The end." He is very tense.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Tayseer is silent, uncertain how to react. Fareed gazes into the candle. "And did he forget all about Akim and his beating and live happily with a beautiful djinni wife in a jewled palace?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Not at all. Akim haunted his dreams to this very day. And he was very lonely, for while the jeweled palace was fine, there was nobody in it but jinni. But he learned much, and grew, and it was indeed a better life than any he had dreamed of, and for that he was thankful."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Is that what I am, a jinn? An empty man in an empty palace?" Fareed asks the question his voice very distant, his eyes glazed over. Snapping from his trance, Fareed smiles weakly at Abdul, "Your story is also incomplete it would seem, but perhaps another time?" He looks over at Tayseer whose eyes are at half-mast. </p><p></p><p>Abdul meets Fareed's eyes. "I do not know what you are, Fareed - except that you are not a djinn so far as I can tell. Look within yourself, for only you can decide what you are. But the thieving is beginning to pall a bit, is it not?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "It always has, Abdul," he retorts, easing Tayseer's head onto a pillow. "You know where the fire station is?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I do. Will he be here tonight?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I do not know, but some of his boys will be, and they can tell you more. If you visit Zayid at the madrassah, it is in the old de-licing center for the textile factory."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Do you know of a Ferej? He tried to trick me, saying he worked for Rafiqi, though he lied about everything else."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Ferej? No, I don't. Though I wonder why someone would lie about working for Rafiqi? How are you feeling?" Suddenly, Abdul feels very light-headed and the room starts to swim.</p><p></p><p>Abdul bolts to his feet at the oddness of that question and the feeling in his head. "You traitor...!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "My apologies, Abdul, but you wouldn't want to remember how to get here. It's for your own good..." Abdul scrambles toward the door and falls over. Blackness swims about him with images of Akim and Rafiqi, and of Tayseer, and splintered bits of his conversation with Fareed....</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> ...Abdul jerks awake in a side alley off of Leper's Alley. His eyes swim in a haze, and his entire body is paralyzed for a minute before he can move and see once again. What in the world happened? </p><p></p><p>Abdul concentrates for a solid minute, using the esoteric centering techniques Nakhlouf taught him long ago. His head doesn't hurt...</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul's spatial senses have been seriously scrambled. He is not exactly sure where he is right now (though he's sure he's in Cemetery Square). He can't remember where Fareed's hideout is, or where he found Tayseer.</p><p></p><p>Abdul gets to his feet, growls with frustration, and restrains himself from punching the wall. "The candles! Ach! I am a fool." He pauses a moment to pray, to collect himself. Finally, he shrugs and heads into Leper's Alley to get his bearings again.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul finds the watering hole quickly, which at this hour of night is populated only by sleeping beggars in their makeshift huts.</p><p></p><p>Abdul hurries down the alley back to the place he first entered it. He definitely does not want to go down Knife-Loose Alley.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Backtracking, Abdul fights off the last remnants of the drug that had so disoriented him. At first, his steps are awkward, but he quickly regains his composure. Abdul nears the old fire station. This part of the neighborhood looks like it has suffered from violence. Too many widows' black shawls line the shop windows. </p><p></p><p>Abdul moves cautiously, stealthily, into the old building he remembers so well.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The building has clearly suffered from disrepair, and doesn't look like it sees much use anymore. The same hole in the back that Abdul used as a boy is still there. It's a squeeze, but he enters the basement. Piles of buckets are gnawed at by rats. The sound of dripping water can be heard. Quickly he finds the old well that once was in the basement; by the looks of it the old well has dried up.</p><p></p><p>Scattered around the floor near the well is granular salt in a perfect circle, though some sandal prints can be made out having long since trampled the salt.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul feels two competing memories tugging at him. One of playing games in the old fire station with his boyhood friends, and nursing his first wounds from Akim. The other of a book in Nakhlouf's library entitled "Circles & Symbols of the Almighty's Protection", which described a ritual for frightening away evil spirits with salt thrown over the shoulder or placed in a circle.</p><p></p><p>Abdul frowns down at the salt. Carefully, he tries to spread it back out into an unmarred circular shape. It passes the time while he's waiting for a crow call.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul is unsure of what time it is - he has felt a gap since awakening in the alley after Fareed's treachery. Most likely near or after midnight. Suddenly he hears some shapes moving through the hole in the back of the cellar, and just then the crow call goes out, piercing the night.</p><p></p><p>Abdul stage-whispers, "I am here, brothers." He knows well that whispered voices are hard to recognize.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> One of the boys says to the other, "See? I told you he moves like the wind!" There are at least two boys in the darkness. One presents a basket of eggs, the other a pouch of coins. Abdul notices a third shape slip in behind the two boys unnoticed, lingering in the shadows.</p><p></p><p>Abdul waits for the boys to enter and recognize him, holding out his hands placatingly. "Do not be afraid, lads. I am looking for an old friend."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "You're not Rafiqi!" says one boy, drawing a knife on Abdul. "Did Akim send you?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Never him! I was one of his too, long ago. It is Rafiqi I look for, as I have missed him sorely."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The other boy looks Abdul up and down, "How can I know to trust you? And Rafiqi isn't here - He's left us."</p><p></p><p>Abdul smiles. "I think you mean he is behind you. At any rate, someone is. But as for how to trust me, surely he has told you of his brothers in Akim's days? How many others would know their names?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I'm listening," says the rail thin boy. If ever a boy deserved the nickname 'Pencil' it is this boy. </p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Other than Rafiqi himself, there were Lightfingers, and Kerif Twigtoes, and Ashquar, and Mehdi Dar-Al and Hakawati. Shall I go on?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The figure in the background stirs, limping forward, "Not Rafiqi, but I know him well." The voice is vaguely familiar to Abdul. "I am Lightfingers."</p><p></p><p>Abdul studies the man carefully, to make sure of him. Though it has certainly been many years.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> It's hard to tell. The Lightfingers Abdul remembers was a wastrel youth with stringy brown hair, an awkward gait, and long agile fingers. This youth before you is only slightly younger than Abdul, sporting the beginnings of a moustache, and has his hair closely cut to his head.</p><p></p><p>Abdul takes a step forward, hesitantly. "Brother. Do you recognize me, under the egg-white?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The two youths jump when Lightfingers unveils himself; apparently this man is quite good at concealing himself. Though Abdul feels he can never be too cautious around confirming other's identities this day. Lies have been flowing like water, after all. Peering closely at Abdul, Lightfingers eyes widen. "Yes, you do look familiar to me...Were you one of Akim's old crew?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I was. Which of them ... disappeared, suddenly, amidst laughter?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Laughter?" He raises his hand shakily to feel Abdul's clothes. "We, we thought you'd died! Or been kidnapped by djinni....and here you are alive and well...with egg whites on your face..." Tears stream down Lightfingers face, as he clutches Abdul's clothes in disbelief.</p><p></p><p>Abdul embraces Lightfinger tightly. "Oh, brother! It is so good to see you again!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers sobs in Abdul's arms. "Oh that Rafiqi were here to witness you!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul sobs also, but sighs in relief. "So he does not seek my ruin, then. I did not think so. A liar told me such."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "A liar?" Lightfingers takes a deep breath. "Too much deceit these days - it would break your heart to learn what has become of the others. These are Rafiqi's boys Dyjer and Pencil." The two youths wordlessly nod.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I have already heard about Ashquar and Dar-Al, though I do not know if the tale was true. Hello, lads. I am Abdul, who was called Hakawati. Surely Rafiqi has spoken of me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh yes, sahib," croaks out of Dyjer's mouth, but other words seem to catch there.</p><p></p><p>Abdul frowns slightly. "Out with it, lad. I will not be angry, though it be good or ill."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Rafiqi has made something of a legend of you, Abdul!" grins Lightfingers, wiping the tears from his eyes.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "C- can you really cause tapestries to talk and show your tales like a desert mirage?" asks Dyjer, on the tip of his toes.</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs. "I am afraid not. Though I can do many interesting things indeed!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers looks at the two boys, he splits the eggs evenly between the four of you and gives the pouch of coins back to the boys, "Keep your catch tonight. Now leave us to catch up on old times."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "One moment, please. Before I forget, do any of you know a man who calls himself Ferej?" He describes the man. "He told me lies of Rafiqi, but he got your names right, interestingly enough. He may be an enemy of Rafiqi's as well as mine."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Both boys shake their heads. Abdul is getting the distinct impression that "Ferej" was a working name.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Ah well. Run along, lads, and I hope to know you better soon."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Goodbye, Hakawati. Salaam!" The two boys rush out to spend their hard-earned cash.</p><p></p><p>Abdul turns to Lightfingers, still just glorying in the man's presence. "I hardly know where to begin. Except, where is Rafiqi?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "You make a good impression on them." Lightfingers sighs. "Rafiqi has a high-class lover. I'm sure by now they've secretly engaged or some crazy notion. I tell you, Rafiqi has become the most lovesick man I've ever seen, and after all his talk over the years about how he would never love a woman. Ha!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs out loud. "How absurd, and how delicious! Who is she? And is he undercover now, due to her family's anger?" He rubs his cheeks until the egg-whites peel off as he talks.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Well, Rafiqi would kill me for telling you, but I followed him one time. After I joined his gang we became much closer, but he always hid the secret of his beloved from me, so one night I followed him. I don't know her name, but I do know she is the daughter of a high-ranking Persian bureaucrat named Namvar al-Qadi. For all I know Rafiqi and her have eloped! He left me no word where he was heading."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Namvar al-Qadi! Tell me - is he truly as just as they say?</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "For Rafiqi's sake, I hope not!" Lightfingers laugh. "There! It is good to see your face clearly now."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "How long has he been missing?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "About two weeks."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Most strange, most strange.... Hmmm. Tell me, has he ever worked for a scribe? Rafiqi, I mean."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "A scribe? Not that he told me, but I know he worked for someone when he went out on his forrays, as he always returned with a fat purse. I doubt he got it all from thieving and conning, but you never know. He could fast talk a camel out of its humps!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Indeed he could. Ach! There is such a web of lies surrounding him and me of late that I hardly know how to unravel them! But enough about the present! Tell me of yourself, and I shall try to do the same."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers sits at the edge of the well, dropping a stone down. "After I left that bastard Akim I tried to find out about my parents for some time. All I know is that my mother worked at the whorehouse, and people swear my father must be a Persian because of my face. After a few months I gave up and decided what did it matter? I began doing odd jobs for a man people call 'the Crescent', thievery, but always of the rich and the wicked. Eventually, Rafiqi told me of his gang and I joined up faster than you can say 'hakawati.' We've gotten into a few fights with Ashquar, but nothing serious. And, I've been visiting Twigtoes, remember him?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Of course I do! The two of you were always so close. I should love to see him."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "He does menial jobs at the whorehouse now. His body is quitting on him, and he has been afflicted with tuberculosis. I try to get him medicines, but they are so expensive. Abdul, I fear Kerif hasn't much longer among us."</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs, and straightens his shoulders. "Well, I will see what I can do. I am a man of some little means, now... I should be able to afford some sort of doctor for him."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Bless you. I am afraid that beating Akim gave him damaged his mind and spirit. He is a broken man, Abdul. He grows more deluded with every visit I make - he thinks the whorehouse is a princesses' palace and the whores goad him on." Lightfingers sighs looking at his hands. "He is my greatest friend in all the world, and I can do nothing for him."</p><p></p><p>Abdul grips the man's shoulder. "Nonsense, my friend. You have given him your love, and that is a great gfit. He is probably alive today because of it. But what should I call you? It seems strange to use the name 'Lightfingers' now!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "It is the only name I have, Abdul, and it fits me well. Without my hands, I wouldn't know what to be called."</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods sadly. "Very well." He pauses. "My own story is... strange. I hope it will not alarm you."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "The wonders of what befell you are welcome if they shed light on the darkness of my days in Cemetery Square."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, you remember how fond I was of the story of Aladdin. A shiftless boy finds a magic ring that calls a jinn, and suddenly he is rich. Except that I, Abdul, well, I was not shiftless! I would not make the stupid wishes and make the stupid mistakes he did. You remember."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, you told that story so well."</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs. "And I used to dream about my family, too, how rich and powerful they were. I still know nothing about them... except that they bound a jinn to the family line by his name."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers' jaw drops. Abdul's story is truly wondrous.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I stumbled upon that name, quite by accident, that night. Suddenly a jinn was right before me! Ten and a half feet tall!! ... I didn't know what to say or think. All the fine wishes I had thought up quite fled my mind. And he looked so fearsome! What if he were angry? I knew that I did not wish to be stupid, though, so I told him I wished to learn and become wise. He... well. He carried me off to Jinnistan, where I was taught many things. I served as a page in a noble house of Jauherabad."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Jinnistan. Jauherabad. These are names of myth to Lightfingers, who knows only the cold taste of biting a stolen coin to check its worth, and the sweaty palms of running from the authorities. His is a world of dirt and grime, and it is hard to swallow these legends made real. "You're not making this up?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "As sure as Akim's rod, Lightfingers, it is all truth."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers chews his fingernails. "Why in God's name did you ever want to leave, Abdul?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs. "Many, many reasons, my friend. I was lonely. I was not like the jinni boys. And... I wanted to help you others, too, though I cannot say truthfully that was often at the forefront of my thoughts. In any case, I thought I would be able to come back and return as often as I liked, but my lord was angered and exiled me back here with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have spent a couple years establishing myself as a scribe."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "How you could ever be lonely surrounded by djinn at your command and jewled towers is beyond me, but I know nothing of such things. Though I have seen many lonely wealthy men, so perhaps there is truth in what you say." Lightfingers scratches his head. "So that's why you've come back, to visit us and Rafiqi?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs weakly. "Djinn at my command? Only the one, and he, while dear to me, has not all the power the stories claim. As for the rest, I was more at their command than anything: I was a page. ... Yes, that is why I am returned to Cemetery Square - to find all of you, and especially Rafiqi, of whom I have been told so many lies of late."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I should like to go there one day," says Lightfingers, looking at his feet. "This world has left a sour taste in my mouth."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "O my brother, every world will do that, if a man's heart be bitter. I am still learning to overcome the taste of our youthful suffering." He embraces Lightfingers again, more gently this time.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Thank God for your safe return, Abdul." Lightfingers is relieved to see his old friend well and alive. "I am nearly bursting with joy at seeing you, but should I stay quiet about it for now?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Hmmm. That is a good question. It seems clear that I have enemies in Huzuz, and I am told that Rafiqi has many as well."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "If you want to find Rafiqi I'd talk to the qadi's daughter - though I think he has two, so you'll have to figure out which one has become smitten by old Rafiqi."</p><p></p><p>Abdul chuckles. "That should not be hard for one trained in wiliness by the best, eh?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers sighs, wiping tears from his eyes again. "Abdul. In the flesh. I still can't believe it. And I shall be discreet with who I share this good news with."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Yes. Though doubtless Dyjer and Pencil are already chattering."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Yes, well, at least I hope word doesn't reach Akim or your other enemies."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Akim? What could he do to me now? He may be feared in Cemetery Square, but he is scarcely a power in larger Huzuz. The man never did have any imagination."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers snorts. "He's deeply in debt now to the al-Jazandri family. And I hear the authorities want him for questioning about Asfar Chahhad. I've just heard whispers today that the whorehouse has stopped accepting his money after they were visited by a Nubian slave they call Aqeedah. Akim is a relic of the past, but he blames all his misfortune on you. It's sheer madness, but he is terrifying to hear, ranting and raving. I know I'll sleep better once he is buried."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> Wheels begin turning in Abdul's brain. "Is that so? Most interesting. And who IS this Asfar Chahhad, of whom I hear so much?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "One of Akim's young blood - a pack of scorpions, the lot of them. Remember the Beggar's Code we wrote behind the slave auction? I'd be surprised if even one of those rats has even heard of it. Anyhow, Asfar is an albino, and some say his parents are wealthy merchants from the Pearl Cities. He stole a priceless necklace, so goes the rumor, and Al-Fameed has been working to get it back, either for himself or for the bragging rights most likely. A qadi has issued a warrant for Asfar to be picked up along with Akim."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I wonder why this generation of brothers has gone so bad. But at any rate, this means that Akim will be lying low. All to the good!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "What will you do next Abdul?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul sighs. "I have other responsibilities at the moment. You will scarcely credit this, but I need to arrange a trial for a wicked sorcerer - Namvar al-Qadi may be just the man, if you can tell me where he lives. And I am to present my calligraphy to the Caliph, and there seems to be a scribe who wishes to prevent this. And a young friend of mine has gone missing, along with everything else. If you should see him, or hear tell of him, please take him in hand." He describes Farraj.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers sympathetically offers, "Perhaps life was simpler as a beggar?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul laughs. "Simpler, but far less interesting. And you, brother - it is not too late for you to learn another trade."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Maybe. I have always wanted Rafiqi to teach me the art of saddle-making which was his family trade. I fear that I've been spoiled by the streets though - I'm really good at what I do."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Nonsense, brother. A man can always change, though the road may not be easy."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "When will you next come back to Cemetery Square?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "As soon as I can. How can I leave you word? And as for me," he describes his place on the Street of the Learned, and which of his neighbors can be trusted to deliver a message.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Dyjers and Pencil are often near the old fire station, and you can always lead word at the whorehouse, as I check on Kerif every day."</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods. "Know that you can count on me, Lightfingers. Always." He holds out his hand. "You lads are the only blood I have."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Lightfingers takes Abdul's hand. "I've got your back, Abdul, remember that. You are my brother in this world and the next."</p><p></p><p>Abdul grins. "And in Jinnistan too!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> So ends my tale, gracious listener, but it is in truth the very beginning. For I, who was called "Tayseer" among the streets, would be reunited with my family once the lies of my treacherous friend Fareed were revealed. The day the Beggar Who Wasn't walked into my life was the day I first thought of my freedom and reconciling with my father. So these things did come to pass, in the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 2610025, member: 16760"] [b]Interlude: The Beggar Who Wasn't (a Tale of Abdul)[/b] [The good news: A new update, really soon after the previous one! :) A solo adventure by Abdul, played out last night.] [b]Narrator:[/b] There are few in Huzuz who don't know the "Tale of the Beggar Who Wasn't" these days, but there are few beggars who know the tale as well as I. Though I have since found good fortune and now wear fine clothes, I shall never forget that fateful day when the Beggar Who Wasn't changed everything. Lend me your ear, and you shall learn how I, a simple pauper, became the luckiest man in the world, all because of one man's heart. Abdul hurries through the streets of Huzuz toward his ancient haunts: Cemetery Square. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul, wrinkled and dirty, moves through the streets, and old memories come back to him. Even as he assumes the role, he remembers telling stories to his boyhood friends, and of panhandling on the streets. All too well he remembers the disgusted stares and avoidance. But here in Cemetery Square, beggars are not reviled, they're merely part of the scenery. Why you can't swing a stick without hitting a waif or handicapped beggar, they say. And sometimes, in Knife-Loose Alley, beggars are killed. At least one of the advantages of poverty is that the rich are the first target. Abdul pauses to get his bearings; it's been a long time. The flood of memories and emotions takes some time to assimilate, as well. [b]Narrator:[/b] As Abdul moves through the streets he pauses by a bakery. Though used to hunger, it has been many years, and the smell of fresh bread teases his nose as if he were a boy again. The laughter of boys fills his ears and looking up, he can see the outline of two boys playing in the dark, but soon it fades as they run down the street. Was it an illusion? A flashback? Abdul shakes his head to clear it. "Come, Abdul, stay sharp. I'll need all my wits about me," he mutters to himself. [b]Narrator:[/b] Two of the women at the bakery steps chat opinionatedly. "Oh, sister, you put too much faith in this Aqeedah. I have heard he robs just like the rest of the thieves. I should like to think that the guards will catch him, or at least talk some sense into the poor man. Obviously he is a run-away slave." Abdul puts the chatter from his mind as he makes his way toward the narrow space between buildings which opens up into Leper's Alley. [b]Narrator:[/b] Leper's Alley shimmers with smoke from roasting meat, or burning corpses, the smell is indistinguishable. The alley is narrow, and there are many smaller side alleys which branch off. Quite easy to get lost here. The lepers do have a thirst for life which rivals the gypsies however, and music around the firepits goes on even today. Abdul makes his way down the alley, eyeing each building carefully as he makes his way westward toward the fishgutter's. He pauses to give a copper bit now and then to any particularly forlorn-looking souls. [b]Narrator:[/b] Charity is hardly commonplace in Cemetery Square, but the noise in Leper's Alley drowns out even the most showering praise Abdul receives for this small donation. Winding through the alley, he gets the distinct feeling he's being watched. [b]Abdul:[/b] A hard life has taught Abdul not to let on that he suspects his watcher. He heads down one of the side-alleys, as if further inspecting buildings, and steps into a shadowed alcove to watch for anyone suspicious passing by. [b]Narrator:[/b] Nothing unusual for Leper's Alley - a band of roving musicians and two charity workers pass by. In the alley way he notices a young boy hiding behind a barrel, stifling crying. Abdul's heart melts within him at the sight. He heads toward the boy and asks, "Come, lad, what is amiss?" He speaks in a deliberately raspy, deeper tone than is his wont. [b]Narrator:[/b] As soon as Abdul steps through the light the boy looks up startled. Even through the grime and tears it is clear he will grow up into a handsome young man who will rival princes in his grace. Also easily recognizeable to Abdul are the signs of physical abuse. His hands have been thrashed, his eye is black and blue, and he has a large tear in his shirt as if he ran away from his attacker. The boy cries silently. Abdul sits down next to him, not speaking further, just patiently waiting. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Do you have any tobacco?" The boy sniffs. "I was beaten for stealing ice for my wounds. Twice in one day." He sobs again, but tries to regain his composure. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am afraid I do not. Who is it that beats you?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "My father for whistling at the pretty girls. And my older brother for not being honest about my earnings. And the police when I wouldn't tell them about my friend." Abdul eyes the boy. "Well, I am sorry that you have been beaten. But is that all the truth?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes, sahib!" He says right away, looking astonishedly at Abdul. "I did whistle at pretty girls, and I did lie about my earnings. I am a miserable wretch aren't I?" Abdul sighs. "I am sorry I questioned you, boy. No, I have known many men far more wretched and wicked than you. Come, the fact you can say it and mean it says you are not wholly abandoned to sin, eh? The truly wicked do not see their wickedness." [b]Narrator:[/b] Wiping the snot from his nose, the boy starts murmuring under his voice with his hands clasped as if in prayer. He says aside to Abdul, as if not wanting to offend God by opening his eyes and talking to the man next to him. "I am praying I find my father again, and that he forgive me." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Find him? Are you lost?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh, not lost, but afraid of leaving. My older brother tells me he'll take me home just as soon as we finish his next job. And even if I did go back I'm afraid my father would just beat me even more...if he even recognized me." The boy looks away. He is no more than 12, a hair younger than Farraj. [b]Abdul:[/b] "What job is that?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Why, he intends to steal the necklace which Asfar Chahhad took from a noblewoman. He is the one the police are looking for." Realizing that he has shared too much, the boy looks perplexed. "I- I should get going, my older brother will be wondering where I am." He starts to stand. Abdul nods, not terribly surprised, although the names mean nothing to him. "Come, lad, I am not about to turn you in. I have been around the block a time or three myself, you know. My name is Abdul. You?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "I...I am called Tayseer." Says the boy cautiously; he is obviously concealing his true name. 'Tayseer' means 'facilitation', and Abdul can guess the name means 'facilitating thievery and mischief.' No doubt given to him by his older brother. "Where are you going?" asks Tayseer. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am looking for a very old friend, who I am told is staying hereabouts. Perhaps you know him? His name is Rafiqi." [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer purses his lips. "Oh yes, everyone in the neighborhood talks about hiding their children from Rafiqi. He's a legend on the streets, almost as much as the Aqeedah. I haven't heard much of him recently; they say he was picked up by the police. He gave me a loaf of bread and some cheese once for making him laugh." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Hiding their children? Why would that be?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh, don't you know? Rafiqi's gang is infamous. They've started turning to mugging drunk nobles now and even..." He makes a gesture as if to say 'you know.' [b]Abdul:[/b] "Even what?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Mugging evening women too. My older brother hates Rafiqi. It's a rotten way to do business, but he treats everyone in the neighborhood well. He's probably the richest beggar I've ever met." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well. I would not have thought it of him. You say he has not been seen about of late?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Not for a couple weeks. I hear he sometimes traveled in disguise, but no one knows where. Are you good friends?" Abdul says sadly, "I have not seen him in a very long time. ... I am told he has a house behind Hassoud's. Do you know where it is?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "A house?" Tayseer draws a perplexed look. "Oh, you must mean the watering hole. There are some makeshift huts there. It's for animals to bathe, but I've seen lepers there too, even drinking the water." He shudders. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Hmmm. Do you know of boys that work for him: Dyjer, Pencil, Cricket?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Well I know the Cricket, but he doesn't work for Rafiqi. Someone else, and much meaner. Cricket always complains that his master threatens to break his sitar. He's the best musician I know, and even the lepers say so too. Why sometimes he comes here to play music, and I go with him just for the fun." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am beginning to think I was lied to by a much more deeply-dyed liar than yourself. A pity." [b]Narrator:[/b] "You - you're not from Cemetery Square, are you?" asks the boy. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Many years ago, boy. Many years ago. I also worked for someone much meaner. I know what it is like to be beaten." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I'll show you the watering hole." says Tayseer, wiping his face. "Do you ever go to the Warehouse Districts in the north of the city? I would be obliged if you delivered a message to my father." [b]Abdul:[/b] "A favor for a favor is a fair return. And who is your father?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "His name is Daoud bin-Haroun, the largest smith you have ever seen, with dark curly hair. He has a stall in the Grand Bazaar." Tayseer rises and starts walking toward the alley. Abdul blinks. "A smith's son, stealing necklaces?" He follows, though, offering his hand. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh no, sahib, I am no thief. My older brother has me appraise all that he finds, and...I'm quite good with locks too, and door hinges." Tayseer makes his way down the street. He is tall for his age; Abdul imagines that in his former life he must have been the jewel of his mother's eye. As you pass a cart full of slaves, Tayseer hops aboard, motioning for Abdul to do the same. "The driver doesn't mind, even if his mule does!" Two slaves offer Abdul a hand up. Abdul hops up easily enough. "Tayseer... how long has it been since you saw your father?" [b]Narrator:[/b] He recites precisely, "One year, one month, and six days." Uncomfortable discussing his father, Tayseer asks Abdul, "When were you last in Cemetery Square? Before the Madrassah?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I did not even know there was a madrassah here. A welcome change." [b]Narrator:[/b] "The jeepney drivers deal with non-Moslem slaves, but there's more Moslems in these carts than they let on, just those that don't speak the language. But they're good men, Abdul." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I believe it. Tayseer, how did you come to be in Cemetery Square?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "I ran away from my house, and my older brother found me. He taught me how to live in the Grand Bazaar, and the two of us moved here for his first job." Abdul sighs deeply. "I thought as much." He shakes his head. [b]Narrator:[/b] "For several months it was rough, we lived hand-to-mouth, and he beat me too often, but then we started doing better. The other boys accepted me, and my older brother became successful. And then he started getting afraid, and I mean of everyone. Now I can barely talk to him without getting interrogated about what I know nothing of." [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer says, "Here we are!" And jumps off the jeepney, waving to the slaves who wave back. Abdul hops off the jeepney as well, intent on the boy. "Tayseer... Whatever your true name is. Listen to me." Abdul's voice is raw with emotion. [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer looks up at Abdul, startled. Abdul grips the lad's shoulder and holds his eyes. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Any idea at all?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer is taken aback, "Sahib, I am very lucky to have met you it is true." [b]Abdul:[/b] "No! Not because of me. You are lucky because you have a place to go home to! A mother and a father who must be frantic for you! Do you know how few boys in Cemetery Square can say that? What in the name of all that is holy keeps you from going to them?" [b]Narrator:[/b] He looks away, ashamed. "If - if I leave, my older brother has no one. He has no home or family except for me. And my father scorns me for my looks." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Listen. Rafiqi was my 'older brother'. And I was and am grateful to him, because I had no place else to go. He was the only family I had. But you, you have been taken from your family. From the place you belong. ... I know not what your father holds against your looks, though you are a handsome lad indeed. But I feel quite confident that he will be overjoyed to see you. He must have given you up for dead by now!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer squints, biting his lip. "Maybe I belong here. I think that if I am dirty enough then no one will see the face my father hates." Abdul embraces the boy fiercely. "You must know what is truly right, or you would not say such stupid things. Come, am I wrong? Your heart has already decided, has it not?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The boy stifles a sob, clinging to Abdul. Abdul hears someone approaching from behind him. Abdul holds self-preservation above even comforting troubled youngsters. He whirls, a hand dipping into a fold of his rags. He keeps one hand on the boy. [b]Narrator:[/b] A dark cloaked young man gazes at Abdul from underneath his hood. Something about the man is hauntingly familiar. "I see you've met my younger brother." [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul hears Rafiqi's voice from underneath the cloak, though the man stands and acts nothing like Rafiqi. "Come Tayseer, I've missed you." He says, a hint of neediness creeping into his voice, as he extends his hand. As he does so, Abdul makes out the hilt of a jambiya in his cloak. Abdul asks in wonder, "Rafiqi! Is that you?!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Why have you taken my brother from me? Don't you know Leper's Alley is dangerous at night?" asks Rafiqi's voice. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Taken him from you? I found him weeping and beaten. But you - how can you not know me! I was your brother long ago!" Abdul takes a step forward, only a little doubtful. He still keeps one hand on Tayseer. [b]Narrator:[/b] "You mistake me for someone else," snarls Rafiqi's voice. "Come Tayseer, I have found some ice for your wounds. Forgive me, I was hasty and afraid." Abdul begins to look confused. "But...!" His voice has lost the artificial tone he gave it. [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer clings to Abdul, uncertain of his older brother's true intentions. "Have you really brought ice for me?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes," laughs Rafiqi's voice hoarsely. "Stolen from the very ice house of Al-Fareed himself, just for you, boy. Beggar," he says, addressing Abdul, "do you not have a charge of your own to look after that you must go fishing in other men's pools?" Abdul says stiffly, thoroughly put off now, "I am not 'fishing' at all, sirrah. Perhaps you are." [b]Narrator:[/b] "What is your name, beggar?" asks Rafiqi's voice, becoming more gravely. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Who wishes to know?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Suddenly the man's voice switches to Akim's, and Abdul feels his body cringe. "The boy's older brother, Fareed." Abdul's muscles tense, but he can see that this man is far too young to be Akim. "I know not by what cheap trick you change your voice so, sirrah. But it does not impress me." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Then perhaps we should look face-to-face?" says the young man before removing his hood and Abdul stares straight into the face of his childhood adversary Akim, his sunken eyes and split lip, his wide ears and sun-burnt wrinkled forehead. "You're one of the Forgotten Boys, aren't you?" Abdul gapes, his heart pounding. "You... are not Akim." He says it almost doubtfully at first, then his voice firms up. "Akim does not know any arts of [i]sihr[/i]. Akim does not recruit boys personally. And I have never heard of any 'Forgotten Boys'." [b]Narrator:[/b] "No, I'm not Akim, you're right. I am Fareed, proud older brother to Tayseer here. But you do recognize his face, which few in Cemetery Square can claim anymore, and you do know Rafiqi, so you've been around the block." The man gazes at Tayseer now. "Come, the ice will melt soon. If you won't let go of this beggar, then bring him with us and we'll eat together." [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer gazes up at Abdul, "Will you come with us?" Abdul asks gently, "What is the desire of your heart, bin-Daoud bin-Haroun?" He is not speaking of something so small as a meal. [b]Narrator:[/b] "I- I can't abandon him. I wish my father would take me back in with him." He says earnestly, looking at Abdul with wide-eyes. Abdul sighs deeply. "Perhaps. I do not know. But he certainly will not do so unless you ask." Then, "Fareed. These arts of sihr that trick the eye - they will work you ill in the end. As you say, I have been around the block. More than you know. Take it from one who has seen much." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I can't ask him, not face to face...you do not know my father, how much I've hurt him..." Tayseer looks away. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Then I will go with you." [b]Narrator:[/b] Arching his brow, Fareed, if that's even his real name, raises his cloak hood again. "You're right, they've done others much harm, but then again in Cemetery Square justice comes here only when dragged kicking and screaming. I did not get the pleasure of your name, beggar?" His voice becomes that of a young man, faintly familiar to Abdul, but unrecognizeable at the same time. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I do not speak of the sort of justice that comes from qadis. I do not even speak of the justice you will face before God on the Last Day. The very nature of things means those arts work ill on the one who uses them." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Very well, I shall call you the 'Theologian' then." Fareed motions for Tayseer to lead the way, which the boy does willingly. He seems to be in his element dealing with others and negotiating his way through the city streets. "So does the blacksmith's furnace char his face, crack his hands, his lips, and even mangle his fingers and wreck his back. But are not his works beautiful?" Abdul follows, keeping a hand on Tayseer's shoulder if the boy will let him. "Any beauty his works have come from within him, from the beauty that is in his soul. But sihr withers a man's soul and makes it ugly in the end." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Well, Theologian, your words are certainly illuminating. Would it surprise you to learn that I am no sorcerer?" He eyes a group of beggar boys talking amidst themselves, who glare at him nervously. "The Almighty himself has blessed me with the gift to present men the face which they keep closest to their hearts...whether in love or spite." Abdul blinks. "I have never heard of such a thing. But if it is so, then I have wronged you. I apologize." [b]Narrator:[/b] Chuckling in a raspy voice, the young Fareed rubs his chin. "But I do wonder about God's intentions sometimes. How is it, Theologian, that you know so much about magic and Cemetery Square? One would think the two things antithetical." [b]Abdul:[/b] "That is a long story, Fareed. A very long story. I imagine some hereabouts might remember a part of it, though." [b]Narrator:[/b] Pushing through a series of old rusted gates that barely hang on their hinges, Tayseer leads you to a burned out building, using the outside stairs to ascend to the third floor. Within the chipped stucco and drifts of ash, Abdul is astounded to find a room suited to any prince! Fine vases and elaborate rugs, golden incense holders and bowls of dates and other candies. Of course, the crumbling ceiling, empty wine jug, and thieves' tools hanging on the wall give away its true nature. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I must say, you are quite an accomplished thief." It is a neutral observation, neither admiring nor condemning. "I imagine that being able to look like those men love and fear serves you well." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Every man has his gifts, and what Fate giveth, she also taketh away," says Fareed, moving swiftly to a wrapped bundle in a bowl. Breaking off a piece of ice with his knife, he crushes it and wraps it before handing it to Tayseer. "When you've finished, keep us safe." He says before tossing the boy's hair playfully. Fareed turns to Abdul, "Wise Theologian, care to join me on my palace's veranda overlooking this fine city?" He says majestically. Abdul eyes the man just a bit warily. "If you wish it." [b]Narrator:[/b] Stepping through a silk curtain, he looks down upon Leper's Alley. "If there is anything you wish to say to me, say it now and let me decide whether to hang you or to serve you." Abdul thnks for a moment, then says, "Rafiqi was my 'older brother'. I am seeking him. As for bin-Daoud... I have told him he is luckier than all the boys of Cemetery Square for having a family to go home to, and I spoke the truth to him. I never did." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Earlier, when I called you one of the Forgotten Boys, I meant those who worked for Akim, who still had integrity, before the thugs started moving in, but those in uniform and out of it. You're right that Tayseer is lucky, but not in the way you think." Fareed removes his cloak tossing it over the railing, before rubbing his eyes so hard he almost appears to be clawing them out. "His family sold him into slavery just before he ran away from home. I intercepted the slavers and brought him here. He has nobody else to turn to, so quit putting these ideas of a happy family reunion into his head." Abdul says coolly, "Well, you certainly give me something to look into." In a more normal tone, he adds, "As for the 'Forgotten Boys', if that is what such are called, I hope I am one of them. I believe I had some integrity then, and I know that Rafiqi did." [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul spots Tayseer down in the streets, winding his way through the crowd, tracing the exact route they traveled to get here from the watering hole. Fareed gazes hard at Abdul, "Rafiqi is one of the few good men in Cemetery Square, but he has many enemies. And I hear that Akim is looking for him now, all because of this Asfar Chahhad, this Yellow Beggar, who stole a necklace." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I know nothing of any Asfar. And you must already know I am not seeking Rafiqi to do him harm. Would any such speak as I have done?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "If you wish to find him, you will go to the old fire station and wait till you hear a crow call. At least, that is how he used to communicate with his brothers. As for Tayseer, don't cross me about him. Tayseer and I are only here long enough for my next job. However much you may be opposed to it, thievery feeds many bellies. Now, Theologian, will you join me for supper or is your appetite conflicted by morals?" Abdul sighs. "You already know I worked for Akim. I cannot look down my nose at any man for theft. But may I ask you a thing? Did you grow up here?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "And if I did?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, speaking as one who did also, I can well understand that one who did might have much to learn of love. I have heard the need in your voice when you speak of the boy. I do not doubt you care for him, but ask yourself if you always seek his good." He pauses, then says, "And my name is Abdul. The other boys called me 'Hakawati' * back in the day." ((* street storyteller)) [b]Narrator:[/b] "Hakawati, eh? Did you know a poor thief named Mehdi? He was very dear to me." Abdul groans. "Good Dar-Al! I remember him well. Poor lad. Please tell me he is well." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Sadly, he was picked up by Al-Fareed and other secret police, purportedly working for the Caliph. I do not know what has become of him." Fareed has a distant look in his eyes. "Tell me of your first job for Akim, Abdul." [b]Abdul:[/b] "My very first? I was so young - three years old. I scarcely remember. Given my age, they probably used me as the 'monkey' - you know, the one that eyes are upon while others do their work." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Three years old? And still begging these days? You seem far too educated to be a beggar, unless you've donned rags to find your older brother?" Abdul chuckles. "I see I have not lost the arts Rafiqi taught me. Though the egg-white trick was of little use to ones so young as us!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Fareed laughs, pausing to look at Abdul, before laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. Tayseer calls from outside as he ascends the stairs. "Our rice is finished cooking. I should think you could even fool Akim with your disguise." Abdul laughs also, then his mood darkens. "Let us hope for his sake it does not come to that." [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer says a quick prayer over the meal of roasted figs, rice, sheep's cheese, and sardines. Fareed lights two candles religiously while Tayseer prays, then pauses, and digs around for a third candle and lights it too before sitting down. "For your friend Rafiqi," he murmrs. Abdul pauses to pray also. "Indeed. How do you know so much of Akim's boys, Fareed?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "There is someone who might be able to help you, Abdul, a man named Zayid who runs the madrassah. He is tracking down your old friends, and would know far more than I." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I will be certain to speak to him." [b]Narrator:[/b] "As for the rest, the only other I know by name is Ashquar, and only because he tried to drag me into his turf battles with Rafiqi. Ashquar sold out a group of boys to the authorities." He gazes at his meal, his eyes darkening. "Maybe even Mehdi." Abdul's knuckles go white on the table. "I would not have thought it of him. He was a good brother, long ago." [b]Narrator:[/b] Fareed gazes at Abdul over the candle. "Everyone has a price, my guest." [b]Abdul:[/b] "For some men, the price is too high for any to pay." [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer asks Fareed, "Brother, do you remember how we'd use to play in the old chicken coop? It's been so long since I've had chicken, I can scarcely remember what they look like. I'm afraid I'd try to eat a rat and think it was a chicken." Tayseer laughs to himself as Fareed gazes intently at Abdul. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Speak your mind, my host." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes, I remember Tayseer. Father never approved of us, did he?" Fareed smiles at his younger brother. Looking back to Abdul he asks, "What has brought you to seek out Rafiqi?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I am only just returned. Come, you surely must have had heard the tale of Hakawati. It was dramatic enough." He pauses as he looks at the two of them. "Wait, the two of you are brothers by blood?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Of course," says Tayseer to Abdul, "or did you think I called him 'older brother' by jest only?" Fareed gazes at Abdul impassively, "Please tell us of the Hakawati." Abdul starts laughing. "I thought..." He can't stop laughing. [b]Narrator:[/b] As Abdul laughs, a thought sends a shiver down his spine. Tayseer did not react at all to Fareed's face and voice changing; either the youth has grown used to it, or else Fareed's ability plays on the mind and is an illusion. In which case, who does he look like to Tayseer? Abdul's face drains of color and he stares at Fareed over the table, as the candles flicker. [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer laughs at Abdul's face, "Oh, brother, this shall be a great tale!" Fareed pats his brother's hand. "Yes indeed." He gazes at Abdul, his eyes seeming to morph into Akim and Rafiqi's eyes at once almost subconsciously. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Fareed... I think you are a better man than I thought before. But remember what I told you of love." [b]Narrator:[/b] A weak smile, but an authentic one, forms on Fareed's face. "Abdul, what is the most ridiculous thing you can think of Akim doing? Something that would make him seem nothing more than a palace fool to you?" Abdul blinks. "Eh?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer rolls over on to his stomach, propping his chin up with his hands. This is not a household where people rush to clean the dishes, apparently. Fareed gestures impatiently. "If you were the puppeteer what would you have Akim do that he would never do? Something that would make you laugh....and isn't too humiliating for me, preferably." Abdul says stiffly, "I am not going to ask you to play the fool for my sake, my host. And indeed, I have no desire to look on the man's face again." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Very well," he says glumly. "I only wished to entertain you." Tayseer immediately moves to comfort his brother. Abdul sits for a moment in silence, then says with a certain quiet savagery, "Hakawati was a dreamer-boy who listened to stories and told stories and dreamed of a better life - though any life would be better than the one he had. Akim called it 'prattle'. Well, one day one of his stories came true, and he was carried off by a jinn. The end." He is very tense. [b]Narrator:[/b] Tayseer is silent, uncertain how to react. Fareed gazes into the candle. "And did he forget all about Akim and his beating and live happily with a beautiful djinni wife in a jewled palace?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Not at all. Akim haunted his dreams to this very day. And he was very lonely, for while the jeweled palace was fine, there was nobody in it but jinni. But he learned much, and grew, and it was indeed a better life than any he had dreamed of, and for that he was thankful." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Is that what I am, a jinn? An empty man in an empty palace?" Fareed asks the question his voice very distant, his eyes glazed over. Snapping from his trance, Fareed smiles weakly at Abdul, "Your story is also incomplete it would seem, but perhaps another time?" He looks over at Tayseer whose eyes are at half-mast. Abdul meets Fareed's eyes. "I do not know what you are, Fareed - except that you are not a djinn so far as I can tell. Look within yourself, for only you can decide what you are. But the thieving is beginning to pall a bit, is it not?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "It always has, Abdul," he retorts, easing Tayseer's head onto a pillow. "You know where the fire station is?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I do. Will he be here tonight?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "I do not know, but some of his boys will be, and they can tell you more. If you visit Zayid at the madrassah, it is in the old de-licing center for the textile factory." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Do you know of a Ferej? He tried to trick me, saying he worked for Rafiqi, though he lied about everything else." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Ferej? No, I don't. Though I wonder why someone would lie about working for Rafiqi? How are you feeling?" Suddenly, Abdul feels very light-headed and the room starts to swim. Abdul bolts to his feet at the oddness of that question and the feeling in his head. "You traitor...!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "My apologies, Abdul, but you wouldn't want to remember how to get here. It's for your own good..." Abdul scrambles toward the door and falls over. Blackness swims about him with images of Akim and Rafiqi, and of Tayseer, and splintered bits of his conversation with Fareed.... [b]Narrator:[/b] ...Abdul jerks awake in a side alley off of Leper's Alley. His eyes swim in a haze, and his entire body is paralyzed for a minute before he can move and see once again. What in the world happened? Abdul concentrates for a solid minute, using the esoteric centering techniques Nakhlouf taught him long ago. His head doesn't hurt... [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul's spatial senses have been seriously scrambled. He is not exactly sure where he is right now (though he's sure he's in Cemetery Square). He can't remember where Fareed's hideout is, or where he found Tayseer. Abdul gets to his feet, growls with frustration, and restrains himself from punching the wall. "The candles! Ach! I am a fool." He pauses a moment to pray, to collect himself. Finally, he shrugs and heads into Leper's Alley to get his bearings again. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul finds the watering hole quickly, which at this hour of night is populated only by sleeping beggars in their makeshift huts. Abdul hurries down the alley back to the place he first entered it. He definitely does not want to go down Knife-Loose Alley. [b]Narrator:[/b] Backtracking, Abdul fights off the last remnants of the drug that had so disoriented him. At first, his steps are awkward, but he quickly regains his composure. Abdul nears the old fire station. This part of the neighborhood looks like it has suffered from violence. Too many widows' black shawls line the shop windows. Abdul moves cautiously, stealthily, into the old building he remembers so well. [b]Narrator:[/b] The building has clearly suffered from disrepair, and doesn't look like it sees much use anymore. The same hole in the back that Abdul used as a boy is still there. It's a squeeze, but he enters the basement. Piles of buckets are gnawed at by rats. The sound of dripping water can be heard. Quickly he finds the old well that once was in the basement; by the looks of it the old well has dried up. Scattered around the floor near the well is granular salt in a perfect circle, though some sandal prints can be made out having long since trampled the salt. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul feels two competing memories tugging at him. One of playing games in the old fire station with his boyhood friends, and nursing his first wounds from Akim. The other of a book in Nakhlouf's library entitled "Circles & Symbols of the Almighty's Protection", which described a ritual for frightening away evil spirits with salt thrown over the shoulder or placed in a circle. Abdul frowns down at the salt. Carefully, he tries to spread it back out into an unmarred circular shape. It passes the time while he's waiting for a crow call. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul is unsure of what time it is - he has felt a gap since awakening in the alley after Fareed's treachery. Most likely near or after midnight. Suddenly he hears some shapes moving through the hole in the back of the cellar, and just then the crow call goes out, piercing the night. Abdul stage-whispers, "I am here, brothers." He knows well that whispered voices are hard to recognize. [b]Narrator:[/b] One of the boys says to the other, "See? I told you he moves like the wind!" There are at least two boys in the darkness. One presents a basket of eggs, the other a pouch of coins. Abdul notices a third shape slip in behind the two boys unnoticed, lingering in the shadows. Abdul waits for the boys to enter and recognize him, holding out his hands placatingly. "Do not be afraid, lads. I am looking for an old friend." [b]Narrator:[/b] "You're not Rafiqi!" says one boy, drawing a knife on Abdul. "Did Akim send you?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Never him! I was one of his too, long ago. It is Rafiqi I look for, as I have missed him sorely." [b]Narrator:[/b] The other boy looks Abdul up and down, "How can I know to trust you? And Rafiqi isn't here - He's left us." Abdul smiles. "I think you mean he is behind you. At any rate, someone is. But as for how to trust me, surely he has told you of his brothers in Akim's days? How many others would know their names?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "I'm listening," says the rail thin boy. If ever a boy deserved the nickname 'Pencil' it is this boy. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Other than Rafiqi himself, there were Lightfingers, and Kerif Twigtoes, and Ashquar, and Mehdi Dar-Al and Hakawati. Shall I go on?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The figure in the background stirs, limping forward, "Not Rafiqi, but I know him well." The voice is vaguely familiar to Abdul. "I am Lightfingers." Abdul studies the man carefully, to make sure of him. Though it has certainly been many years. [b]Narrator:[/b] It's hard to tell. The Lightfingers Abdul remembers was a wastrel youth with stringy brown hair, an awkward gait, and long agile fingers. This youth before you is only slightly younger than Abdul, sporting the beginnings of a moustache, and has his hair closely cut to his head. Abdul takes a step forward, hesitantly. "Brother. Do you recognize me, under the egg-white?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The two youths jump when Lightfingers unveils himself; apparently this man is quite good at concealing himself. Though Abdul feels he can never be too cautious around confirming other's identities this day. Lies have been flowing like water, after all. Peering closely at Abdul, Lightfingers eyes widen. "Yes, you do look familiar to me...Were you one of Akim's old crew?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I was. Which of them ... disappeared, suddenly, amidst laughter?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Laughter?" He raises his hand shakily to feel Abdul's clothes. "We, we thought you'd died! Or been kidnapped by djinni....and here you are alive and well...with egg whites on your face..." Tears stream down Lightfingers face, as he clutches Abdul's clothes in disbelief. Abdul embraces Lightfinger tightly. "Oh, brother! It is so good to see you again!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers sobs in Abdul's arms. "Oh that Rafiqi were here to witness you!" Abdul sobs also, but sighs in relief. "So he does not seek my ruin, then. I did not think so. A liar told me such." [b]Narrator:[/b] "A liar?" Lightfingers takes a deep breath. "Too much deceit these days - it would break your heart to learn what has become of the others. These are Rafiqi's boys Dyjer and Pencil." The two youths wordlessly nod. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I have already heard about Ashquar and Dar-Al, though I do not know if the tale was true. Hello, lads. I am Abdul, who was called Hakawati. Surely Rafiqi has spoken of me." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh yes, sahib," croaks out of Dyjer's mouth, but other words seem to catch there. Abdul frowns slightly. "Out with it, lad. I will not be angry, though it be good or ill." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Rafiqi has made something of a legend of you, Abdul!" grins Lightfingers, wiping the tears from his eyes. [b]Narrator:[/b] "C- can you really cause tapestries to talk and show your tales like a desert mirage?" asks Dyjer, on the tip of his toes. Abdul laughs. "I am afraid not. Though I can do many interesting things indeed!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers looks at the two boys, he splits the eggs evenly between the four of you and gives the pouch of coins back to the boys, "Keep your catch tonight. Now leave us to catch up on old times." [b]Abdul:[/b] "One moment, please. Before I forget, do any of you know a man who calls himself Ferej?" He describes the man. "He told me lies of Rafiqi, but he got your names right, interestingly enough. He may be an enemy of Rafiqi's as well as mine." [b]Narrator:[/b] Both boys shake their heads. Abdul is getting the distinct impression that "Ferej" was a working name. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Ah well. Run along, lads, and I hope to know you better soon." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Goodbye, Hakawati. Salaam!" The two boys rush out to spend their hard-earned cash. Abdul turns to Lightfingers, still just glorying in the man's presence. "I hardly know where to begin. Except, where is Rafiqi?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "You make a good impression on them." Lightfingers sighs. "Rafiqi has a high-class lover. I'm sure by now they've secretly engaged or some crazy notion. I tell you, Rafiqi has become the most lovesick man I've ever seen, and after all his talk over the years about how he would never love a woman. Ha!" Abdul laughs out loud. "How absurd, and how delicious! Who is she? And is he undercover now, due to her family's anger?" He rubs his cheeks until the egg-whites peel off as he talks. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Well, Rafiqi would kill me for telling you, but I followed him one time. After I joined his gang we became much closer, but he always hid the secret of his beloved from me, so one night I followed him. I don't know her name, but I do know she is the daughter of a high-ranking Persian bureaucrat named Namvar al-Qadi. For all I know Rafiqi and her have eloped! He left me no word where he was heading." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Namvar al-Qadi! Tell me - is he truly as just as they say? [b]Narrator:[/b] "For Rafiqi's sake, I hope not!" Lightfingers laugh. "There! It is good to see your face clearly now." [b]Abdul:[/b] "How long has he been missing?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "About two weeks." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Most strange, most strange.... Hmmm. Tell me, has he ever worked for a scribe? Rafiqi, I mean." [b]Narrator:[/b] "A scribe? Not that he told me, but I know he worked for someone when he went out on his forrays, as he always returned with a fat purse. I doubt he got it all from thieving and conning, but you never know. He could fast talk a camel out of its humps!" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Indeed he could. Ach! There is such a web of lies surrounding him and me of late that I hardly know how to unravel them! But enough about the present! Tell me of yourself, and I shall try to do the same." [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers sits at the edge of the well, dropping a stone down. "After I left that bastard Akim I tried to find out about my parents for some time. All I know is that my mother worked at the whorehouse, and people swear my father must be a Persian because of my face. After a few months I gave up and decided what did it matter? I began doing odd jobs for a man people call 'the Crescent', thievery, but always of the rich and the wicked. Eventually, Rafiqi told me of his gang and I joined up faster than you can say 'hakawati.' We've gotten into a few fights with Ashquar, but nothing serious. And, I've been visiting Twigtoes, remember him?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Of course I do! The two of you were always so close. I should love to see him." [b]Narrator:[/b] "He does menial jobs at the whorehouse now. His body is quitting on him, and he has been afflicted with tuberculosis. I try to get him medicines, but they are so expensive. Abdul, I fear Kerif hasn't much longer among us." Abdul sighs, and straightens his shoulders. "Well, I will see what I can do. I am a man of some little means, now... I should be able to afford some sort of doctor for him." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Bless you. I am afraid that beating Akim gave him damaged his mind and spirit. He is a broken man, Abdul. He grows more deluded with every visit I make - he thinks the whorehouse is a princesses' palace and the whores goad him on." Lightfingers sighs looking at his hands. "He is my greatest friend in all the world, and I can do nothing for him." Abdul grips the man's shoulder. "Nonsense, my friend. You have given him your love, and that is a great gfit. He is probably alive today because of it. But what should I call you? It seems strange to use the name 'Lightfingers' now!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "It is the only name I have, Abdul, and it fits me well. Without my hands, I wouldn't know what to be called." Abdul nods sadly. "Very well." He pauses. "My own story is... strange. I hope it will not alarm you." [b]Narrator:[/b] "The wonders of what befell you are welcome if they shed light on the darkness of my days in Cemetery Square." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, you remember how fond I was of the story of Aladdin. A shiftless boy finds a magic ring that calls a jinn, and suddenly he is rich. Except that I, Abdul, well, I was not shiftless! I would not make the stupid wishes and make the stupid mistakes he did. You remember." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes, you told that story so well." Abdul sighs. "And I used to dream about my family, too, how rich and powerful they were. I still know nothing about them... except that they bound a jinn to the family line by his name." [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers' jaw drops. Abdul's story is truly wondrous. [b]Abdul:[/b] "I stumbled upon that name, quite by accident, that night. Suddenly a jinn was right before me! Ten and a half feet tall!! ... I didn't know what to say or think. All the fine wishes I had thought up quite fled my mind. And he looked so fearsome! What if he were angry? I knew that I did not wish to be stupid, though, so I told him I wished to learn and become wise. He... well. He carried me off to Jinnistan, where I was taught many things. I served as a page in a noble house of Jauherabad." [b]Narrator:[/b] Jinnistan. Jauherabad. These are names of myth to Lightfingers, who knows only the cold taste of biting a stolen coin to check its worth, and the sweaty palms of running from the authorities. His is a world of dirt and grime, and it is hard to swallow these legends made real. "You're not making this up?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "As sure as Akim's rod, Lightfingers, it is all truth." [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers chews his fingernails. "Why in God's name did you ever want to leave, Abdul?" Abdul sighs. "Many, many reasons, my friend. I was lonely. I was not like the jinni boys. And... I wanted to help you others, too, though I cannot say truthfully that was often at the forefront of my thoughts. In any case, I thought I would be able to come back and return as often as I liked, but my lord was angered and exiled me back here with nothing but the clothes on my back. I have spent a couple years establishing myself as a scribe." [b]Narrator:[/b] "How you could ever be lonely surrounded by djinn at your command and jewled towers is beyond me, but I know nothing of such things. Though I have seen many lonely wealthy men, so perhaps there is truth in what you say." Lightfingers scratches his head. "So that's why you've come back, to visit us and Rafiqi?" Abdul laughs weakly. "Djinn at my command? Only the one, and he, while dear to me, has not all the power the stories claim. As for the rest, I was more at their command than anything: I was a page. ... Yes, that is why I am returned to Cemetery Square - to find all of you, and especially Rafiqi, of whom I have been told so many lies of late." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I should like to go there one day," says Lightfingers, looking at his feet. "This world has left a sour taste in my mouth." [b]Abdul:[/b] "O my brother, every world will do that, if a man's heart be bitter. I am still learning to overcome the taste of our youthful suffering." He embraces Lightfingers again, more gently this time. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Thank God for your safe return, Abdul." Lightfingers is relieved to see his old friend well and alive. "I am nearly bursting with joy at seeing you, but should I stay quiet about it for now?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Hmmm. That is a good question. It seems clear that I have enemies in Huzuz, and I am told that Rafiqi has many as well." [b]Narrator:[/b] "If you want to find Rafiqi I'd talk to the qadi's daughter - though I think he has two, so you'll have to figure out which one has become smitten by old Rafiqi." Abdul chuckles. "That should not be hard for one trained in wiliness by the best, eh?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers sighs, wiping tears from his eyes again. "Abdul. In the flesh. I still can't believe it. And I shall be discreet with who I share this good news with." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Yes. Though doubtless Dyjer and Pencil are already chattering." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Yes, well, at least I hope word doesn't reach Akim or your other enemies." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Akim? What could he do to me now? He may be feared in Cemetery Square, but he is scarcely a power in larger Huzuz. The man never did have any imagination." [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers snorts. "He's deeply in debt now to the al-Jazandri family. And I hear the authorities want him for questioning about Asfar Chahhad. I've just heard whispers today that the whorehouse has stopped accepting his money after they were visited by a Nubian slave they call Aqeedah. Akim is a relic of the past, but he blames all his misfortune on you. It's sheer madness, but he is terrifying to hear, ranting and raving. I know I'll sleep better once he is buried." [b]Abdul:[/b] Wheels begin turning in Abdul's brain. "Is that so? Most interesting. And who IS this Asfar Chahhad, of whom I hear so much?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "One of Akim's young blood - a pack of scorpions, the lot of them. Remember the Beggar's Code we wrote behind the slave auction? I'd be surprised if even one of those rats has even heard of it. Anyhow, Asfar is an albino, and some say his parents are wealthy merchants from the Pearl Cities. He stole a priceless necklace, so goes the rumor, and Al-Fameed has been working to get it back, either for himself or for the bragging rights most likely. A qadi has issued a warrant for Asfar to be picked up along with Akim." [b]Abdul:[/b] "I wonder why this generation of brothers has gone so bad. But at any rate, this means that Akim will be lying low. All to the good!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "What will you do next Abdul?" Abdul sighs. "I have other responsibilities at the moment. You will scarcely credit this, but I need to arrange a trial for a wicked sorcerer - Namvar al-Qadi may be just the man, if you can tell me where he lives. And I am to present my calligraphy to the Caliph, and there seems to be a scribe who wishes to prevent this. And a young friend of mine has gone missing, along with everything else. If you should see him, or hear tell of him, please take him in hand." He describes Farraj. [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers sympathetically offers, "Perhaps life was simpler as a beggar?" Abdul laughs. "Simpler, but far less interesting. And you, brother - it is not too late for you to learn another trade." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Maybe. I have always wanted Rafiqi to teach me the art of saddle-making which was his family trade. I fear that I've been spoiled by the streets though - I'm really good at what I do." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Nonsense, brother. A man can always change, though the road may not be easy." [b]Narrator:[/b] "When will you next come back to Cemetery Square?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "As soon as I can. How can I leave you word? And as for me," he describes his place on the Street of the Learned, and which of his neighbors can be trusted to deliver a message. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Dyjers and Pencil are often near the old fire station, and you can always lead word at the whorehouse, as I check on Kerif every day." Abdul nods. "Know that you can count on me, Lightfingers. Always." He holds out his hand. "You lads are the only blood I have." [b]Narrator:[/b] Lightfingers takes Abdul's hand. "I've got your back, Abdul, remember that. You are my brother in this world and the next." Abdul grins. "And in Jinnistan too!" [b]Narrator:[/b] So ends my tale, gracious listener, but it is in truth the very beginning. For I, who was called "Tayseer" among the streets, would be reunited with my family once the lies of my treacherous friend Fareed were revealed. The day the Beggar Who Wasn't walked into my life was the day I first thought of my freedom and reconciling with my father. So these things did come to pass, in the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate. [/QUOTE]
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True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
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