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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: 2992193" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Apologizing profusely, Aqisan gently guides Abdul through the myriad ranks of jinni courtiers - feathered plumes of red, yellow, and violet, scents of ambergris and sweet ash - as they approach the Khedive's audience hall. "Son of the worthy, indeed you shall, and you shall go back with wisdom. How many men are so fortunate?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul will not be put off. "But when! When I'm old and wrinkly? You didn't tell me I wouldn't be going back!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan arches his brow wearily, "You did not seem concerned before our departure about such trivialities. What has changed your disposition?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul narrows his eyes at the enormous jinn and says imperiously, "If a 'triviality' is something bad, then I'm mad at you. And just why does everyone think that 'wisdom' means 'abandoning mortalkind', anyway??" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Several young jinni laugh nearby, invisible, when an old sour-faced jinniyeh reaches out and grab's one's ear, compelling it to become visible. The jinni youth becomes visible along with his fellows, all floating in the air, surrounded by electrical winds which die down as he is lowered to the floor. More djinni move by Aqisan, who walks rather slowly, bearing his massive drum upon his back with equanimity, their ranks include jewel bedecked women, all veiled, thirteen in number, of astounding grace. Whispers follow after the robed women. Aqisan stops, forcing traffic to a near standstill such is his size and the narrowness of the entry passage.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "If you had known what wisdom meant before asking for it, would you have asked?" Aqisan inquires with a smirk on his face. "Son of the worthy, I shall endeavor to serve you as best as I am able till my hands no longer can drum, but I am no scholar. You need to talk to Old Nakhlouf, he'll have the answers you seek."</p><p></p><p>Abdul visibly and manfully forces down tears again. "No, I wouldn't have. I thought you were a good jinn. But I don't think a good jinn would make fun of me when everything's going wrong." Chest heaving, he might go on, but is too upset. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan leans down to put a massive calloused hand on Abdul's shoulder. "You shall learn Abdul just what sort of a jinn I am." The words reverberate solemnly, as if Aqisan were swearing his life to young Abdul. Sighing, he raises his finger to point out a stainglass window. "See there?" He points up to an image of a winged lion protecting a baby boy, the stars faintly visible even through the glass. "How many blessings are among the stars that are never found? Why, your blessing found you! No, son of the worthy, you are living in the best of times, and it is my pleasure to see them with you."</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks up at Aqisan, one eye still bruised shut. "But my brothers get no blessing at all. They're hungry and beaten every day. How can I be happy when I know that?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan smiles gently. "They haven't gone hungry today at least. Perhaps this is a piece of the wisdom you are seeking?" Several djinni are beginning to jostle Aqisan and grow irate with him blocking the passage; in return, Aqisan bows low to the nobles and squeezes out of their way. "There is a tradition in the village I was born in, I would have you know, son of the worthy, and a wise tradition too. Every time a mortal babe is...ah...rescued...a bag of the finest honeyed cinammoned dates is left in his stead....his weight's worth to be precise. And I'd say you're oooh," he looks Abdul up and down dramatically, "about a goat's worth of dates, eh?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> <em>You get the sense that "rescued" in that context meant something not so nice.</em></p><p></p><p>Abdul says dourly, "Akim will just take it away from them." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Will he now?" Aqisan frowns. "I'll have you know that these dates might give him complications...of the bowels." He winks.</p><p></p><p>Abdul adds acidly, folding his arms in his 'stubborn' pose, "Well, as long as I've been ... 'rescued'... I may as well give a speech they'll remember a long time."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A flicker of pain shows across Aqisan's face, before resuming his normal stoicism. "Very well, son of the worthy. I shall announce your speech when the Khedive requests you come forward. In the meantime, sit nearby me." With that, you enter the vast council chamber.</p><p></p><p>Abdul finally unbends and looks around a bit. It IS a fascinating place. He whispers to Aqisan, "What's a 'rite'?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Leaning over (ALOT) to whisper to Abdul, Aqisan explains, "You're about to find out. Where did you hear this word?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Someone said the sayyida does 'foul rites' every day by the waterfall. She seemed nice to me, though."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Banners of gold trimmed in maroon emblazoned with the Khedive's crest hang from the seating upstairs. Braziers burn in every corner of the chamber, and the room is positively luminescent as the thirteen veiled djinniyeh seem to give off their own brightness. A contingent of guards stands at the ready, their pointed helms glistening, various tokens tied to their spears; they whisper amongst themselves in jest. Aqisan takes his place among the commoners - though at their forefront suiting his post as Royal Drummer. He whispers to Abdul, "<em>Sihr</em> - dark magic."</p><p></p><p>Abdul hesitates, then joins Aqisan. "Wow. Like a wicked witch? But would a witch be nice?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A distant memory seems to flash over Aqisan's eyes, and he looks into the distance. "Only if she wanted something from you." Returning to himself, Aqisan looks intently at Abdul, "Were you talking to Zianah, the washing djinniyeh?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Uh huh. Actually, she wasn't very nice to start with, but was later. Um, someone said she might try to hurt me."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I wouldn't trust her, son of the worthy, for she is a most cunning fox who has makes trouble in the Khedive's court, and has damaged his name on several occasions. After all, why do you think she is bound to the braziers in the Khedive's throne room? To keep an eye on her, naturally." Aqisan is interrupted by the sound of trumpets, and the entire room is awash in color. Khedive Shisas emerges, eyes flashing with storm clouds, bearing his royal scepter. The gathered assembly bows before him, intoning the words, "Hail the rightful Khedive of the Court of Rising Winds, may he enjoy the fruits of peace and prosperity. Insha'allah."</p><p></p><p>Abdul repeats piously, "Insha'allah." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Royal Herald and Poet clears his throat, and an enchanting voice ripples through the air like a scent of sweet pollen on ocean breezes. "Gathered nobles, great djinni, jann, marid, and peri. Today we celebrate a great boon that has been laid at the door of the Khedive. Come forward with your gifts now, for this rarity will not be easily surpassed. Know that no gift is too small in the Khedive's eyes. Why once he received--" The Khedive coughs, and leans over to the herald, cutting him off. "Without further ado," the herald countines, blushing slightly, "may the fine and exquisite representative of the jinn of Jauherabad come forward and present their magnanimous gift for the Khedive's perusal, if you be so pleased, as it pleases the Khedive, Insha'allah." He bows several more times, at which the Khedive rolls his eyes.</p><p></p><p>Abdul asks Aqisan nervously, "What am I supposed to give?" </p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan whispers to Abdul, "Whatever is in your heart to give. Don't worry, this takes ages, so you'll have time to think about it."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "But I don't have anything at all, except for my clothes!" After a moment he adds practically, "And they aren't even mine, I got them just now."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A tall austere jinn garbed in glorious silks approaches the throne, bearing a small object covered in cloth. Setting them down before the Khedive, the ambassador raises his hand with a flourish and lifts the cloth, revealing a crystal ball. "The Eye of Malik Sayoun!" Severl courtiers gasp, and the Khedive's daughter Sitt Ninya faints.</p><p></p><p>Abdul whispers, "What's a Malik? And why is everyone so excited?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Aqisan is about to reply to Abdul, when seeing Ninya collapse, he flies across the floor, alighting at her side. Several royal guardsmen bristle at this, placing their hands on their weapons, but the Khedive waves them away. An elderly white-haired jinn, blue eyes gleaming like the vast heavens, approaches Aqisan. "Give me a hand down to her, will you? My age has robbed me of my strength." Aqisan does as the elder bids him. Holding a cord of sometihng to the djinniyeh's nose, the elder smiles. She starts to come to. "There you are, as good as new." All at once the elder looks up and sees Abdul, at which his face goes white and he looks quite frightened.</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks a bit alarmed and waves slightly, trying to look innocent. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Seeing Abdul's good-naturedness, the elder smiles broadly and winks, before whispering into Aqisan's ear. Aqisan looks over at Abdul and nods. They both help Ninya up to her feet. Relieved that his daughter is well, the Khedive nods to the jinni ambassador. "Tonight we shall hold council on the matter of the Eye. I commend those souls who were lost to retrieve it, may their sacrifice merit great reward, for the Almighty is oft Merciful and Kind."</p><p></p><p>Abdul listens, concentrating to understand the bigger words. Plenty of ideas for stories in all this, after all! </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Next, the ambassador from the jann comes, bearing a gift of the Travishes'sanni - a sparkling speck of sand which shines as bright as the sun. After the jann comes the marid ambassador, bearing the Harp of Ascalon - carved from a petrified sirene. The last of the nobility to present their gift are the peri, whose thirteen ambassadors come forward and release ringdoves throughout the hall, a magical song of delight filling the air, carrying all woes aloft for a short while, easing every heart. Abdul feels as though he had found peace with his troubles for a brief moment.</p><p></p><p>Abdul smiles beatifically and whispers a prayer in thanksgiving. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Khedive wipes a tear from his eye, as do many of the courtiers. Then the Royal Herald calls forth the gifts of those living at the Court to present their gifts, and a long line forms. Aqisan is utterly enchanted by Ninya, and his eyes linger after her as she joins her father's side, clutching her head.</p><p></p><p>Abdul carefully watches the gifts that are given, trying to think of something. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Leaning over to Abdul, Aqisan whispers, "Sitt Ninya, the Khedive's daughter, opalescent pearl of pearls. And that old fool is Nakhlouf, the Royal Librarian. Gathered are the Khedive's sons...Tivoun, the eldest, Roushaet, Qadroun, Seovar, Rajhouren, and Minfoud - those who've just returned from battle against the shaitan - the middle son Vasraoul is not present alas, for he had a falling out with the court, then there are Jawaroud, Nusoum, Eshrouman, Ajhoun, and Mehouz. Ah, and young Fajhoul."</p><p></p><p>Abdul zeroes in on the word 'librarian'. "There's books here? Will anyone read them to me?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "The Khediva Musherah, there, attending her daughter Ninya while Diwanis, her sister, looks on. The one nearest the Khedive is Darkalas, his elder brother." With the whirlwind description of the royal family, Aqisan awaits his turn, just ahead of Abdul. "Books? Ah...I suppose Old Nakhlouf will, for he runs the Royal Madrassah, though only the Khedive's sons are taught there, at least officially. Old Nakhlouf won't turn anyone who wishes to read."</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods eagerly. The Royal Librarian is sounding better by the second. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Being his turn to present to the Khedive, the massive Aqisan steps forward, dramatically pulling out a sharp ivory blade from his belt. At this the guards gasp, and place their hands on their weapons, but then Aqisan smiles cannily and presents the gift to the Khedive, "A gift from the rhinoceros, I fashioned this from its horn."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Khedive touches the stylized jambiya, "Beautiful..." Sitt Ninya looks perturbed, "You didn't hurt the rhinoceros did you? Not after lulling it to sleep with your song?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Of course not," says Aqisan, bowing low but looking up and waggling his brows. Licking his hand, he smooths back his hair. "On the contrary, the rhinoceros wished to inform the Khedive that it has found far tastier acacias in the valley of the Qaf mountains, and will no longer threaten your grace." He bows again.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The courtiers whisper at Aqisan's strength *and* charm. Sitt Ninya seems to look at him with new eyes. The Royal Herald calls forth Abdul.</p><p></p><p>Abdul says nervously, "I, uh, don't have anything to give, your Majesty, except that I tell stories. Maybe I could tell you one sometime?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Khedive chortles, "And what stories would you tell that impress me?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "I dunno. I don't know what impresses you yet. I'm sure there has to be one."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh? You seem confident that it is so..." The Khedive arches his brow, apparently intrigued.</p><p></p><p>Abdul gets more animated as he talks about something that interests him. "Well, sure! A story is like another place you go to - lots and lots of different places. There has to be a bunch you haven't been to yet.." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "I suppose..." The Khedive muses, then gets a twinkle in his eye. "Might I request a story of you?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul says solemnly, "I have one all planned out for my speech. Do you want it now or then?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The Khedive laughs out loud, thunder clouds gathering outside, the chamber booms with wind, and Abdul feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "A story! From a mortal boy brought by the winds of Fate!" At this the chamber goes quiet. "Now that you have the attention of everyone here," says the Khedive quietly, "you may proceed without interruption." Abdul can't tell whether the Khedive is trying to intimidate him or not, but that's a lot of onlookers.</p><p></p><p>Abdul closes his eyes, imagining the familiar faces of his brothers, hanging on every word. He launches into the story of Aladdin, "Because I feel like Aladdin right now." For his age, the boy is a masterful, spellbinding hakawati, and he makes the story come alive. He makes one small but vital change to the tale: A mysterious condition is attached to the djinn's magic, that Aladdin must never return to his old house, nor see his mother again. At first the feckless youth, tired of his mother's nagging, agrees readily; but by the end, his victory is bittersweet and tainted by regret. The story ends in wrenching questions, rather than answers and a happy resolution - questions all the more powerful for only being hinted at, rather than stated openly... Where does Aladdin's true happiness lie? With his kin in poverty, or with his beloved in luxury? </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> The assembly is mute with awe. Aqisan beams with pride, and Abdul feels as if he had just grown a half foot taller. Surely they have heard the story before, but not this story. The Khedive has placed a finger over his lips, resting his head in his palm as he listens, spell-bound, to Abdul. "Allah al-Din, what becomes of him? Does he reside with his mother or stay in the palace?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul bows to the Khedive and says with all the cunning of Shahrazad, "That is a story for another night, your Majesty." </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul can hear the other ambassadors whispering (with envy?) as the Khedive rises. "Young Abdul, you shall be a page to my court, waiting on our tables and cleaning our dishes, but so too shall you receive an education rivaling those of the mortal world. You shall learn the beauty of the word, how to read and write, how to recite the Qur'an, the Hadith, and the Sunnah, and also to recite the great works of jinni poetry. Hither, page, and stand by me."</p><p></p><p>Abdul steps forward as if in a dream. "I'm going to learn to READ!" he whispers, more than loud enough to be heard. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "And write! With such a voice as yours, it would be a crime not to immortalize it. Abdul, you shall serve as page to this court until you reach this high (he indicates 5 feet), at which time I shall evaluate whether you are ready to become one of my trusted farisan [holy warriors]. Serve well, and you shall be rewarded well. Here in Jinnistan, Aqisan is my subject and he is bound to serve none other than me; however, because he has brought you to my court he shall serve as your guide and protector."</p><p></p><p>Abdul beams. "Oh, thank you, your Majesty!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Addressing Aqisan, the Khedive bids him come forward. "Take young Abdul to Old Nakhlouf so that he might be taught courtly etiquette." Facing Abdul, the Khedive smiles. "At the end of the month, young Abdul, you shall take a ride with me and I shall make my decision final. He claps again and Aqisan ushers Abdul away.</p><p></p><p>Abdul follows Aqisan in a daze. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As Aqisan clears a way through the assembly for Abdul, whispers surround the uprooted beggar boy. "A Son of Adam!" "Is he a sha'ir plotting trickery?" "Nay, he is a precious gift." "He seems so somber." "Where did he come from?" "How odd, that a boy so small has a servant so large!" "It is because he is large of heart." "What a beautiful story...and what a storyteller." "A page to rival all others." "The Khedive must be very proud indeed."</p><p></p><p>Abdul hardly even notices, though he remembers the words later. He is in his own world, the world of Story. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> In his daze, Abdul is lead by the hand to Old Nakhlouf, who peers over his glasses at Abdul. "Well, you're ready to learn to read then?" His eyes twinkle with mirth, and at the same time look deep into Abdul's soul.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Oh, YES, sahib! I hope you have a lot of books, because I'm gonna read them ALL!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Oh?" Old Nakhlouf walks with Abdul at his side, Aqisan trailing behind them listening intently. "Even I haven't read them all, my boy."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, I'll give it a good try, anyway!"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "We shall begin where I started, with poetry which gave birth to the Arabic language. From there you will learn Djinnti, which is unsurpassed in beauty, and you will read the Khedive's own works. Latin too, and Pahlavi." Old Nakhlouf begins rattling off languages that Abdul has never heard of, all the way to the madrassah. By the time they arrive there, Aqisan is nowhere to be seen. Old Nakhlouf looks around puzzled for a moment.</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods determinedly. "How do I start?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "By making papyrus of course," smiles Nakhlouf, squinting at Abdul. "There is a bucket out that door full of mashed pulp. Go step on it for an hour until it has broken apart and the water turns murky. When you've finished," he says leading Abdul out the door, "pour the contents through this strainer, collecting the water in the bucket below. I'll take care of the rest after that. After all, there'd be nothing to read is there wasn't papyrus. Of course, sages use paper now, but not all of them. And before papyrus there was cuneiform, but we'll wait until you're older to tackle that. Little steps for little fish!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul does just exactly as he is told. He's going to learn how to READ! </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> As Abdul labors, Old Nakhlouf comes back an hour later, "Ah, did you see where I put that copy of <em>Liber Argent Arcanus Benevolentiae</em>? I seem to...ah have misplaced it?" He pats around on his robes absently.</p><p></p><p>Abdul says humbly, "I don't know what that is, sahib. Um, what should I call you?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Nakhlouf, of course! What else would you call me?" Raising his finger, his eyes light up. "That's looking good, let's strain it out shall we?"</p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Do you know your Arabic alphabet?" he asks, helping Abdul carry the bucket.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Well, you're my teacher and all, but whatever you want, um, Nakhlouf." He pronounces the strange name clumsily. "I'm Abdul. No, I don't know the al-pha-bet." Whatever that is, his careful pronounciation suggests.</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Very well, Abdul. I teach every day, except for the Holy Days and the Khedive's birthday, which is something of a celebration here. The madrassah is open to any once the sun goes below the horizon, but before then it is absolutely prohibited to all but the Khedive's sons. Is that clear?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul nods. "Yes, sahib! Um, I mean, Nakhlouf." He cringes ever so slightly every time he does something 'wrong'. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Sahib is my father, Abdul, I'm only...4...or is it 5?" He counts on his fingers. "Well, we'll start with the alphabet tonight. The clase is studying very hard, for we are planning to go to Batil Peak and consult the riddling Xargosi, who will teach the one who answers his riddle for 40 days and nights. Xargosi's riddles are always about the alphabet, or at least they have been for centuries. Though he may change one of these days. At any rate, that means you'll need to study hard to catch up to the other jinni."</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks bewildered. "I'll work as hard as I can, sahib - I mean, Nakhlouf - but aren't you older than five?" He then cringes again when he realizes he dared to question something his teacher said. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Why you're quite right, I'm 7...ah...792! I didn't get to my age by being sentimental. Now where is that book? Look around those unshelved books and see if you can spot it - a cover of white oak bark." Nakhlouf looks intently through the shelves.</p><p></p><p>Abdul looks around diligently for the book. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> While looking through the unsorted books, Abdul knocks one to the ground. Picking it up, he is drawn to the cover. Though he can't read it there is a symbol in the background, something vaguely familiar. In fact he has seen this same symbol on the pendant that Aqisan was wearing.</p><p></p><p>Abdul opens the book, filled with an inexplicable curiosity. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Abdul hears voices approaching, when suddenly a great wind comes in through the backdoor and Abdul feels a presence behind him. "Evil Sha'ir, I've found you now!" Gleeful cackling follows.</p><p></p><p>Abdul closes the book with a bang and squeaks, "Evil?! Me?!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> A wide-eyed handsome shaggy black-haired young jinn, about Abdul's height, watches him with a glint in his eyes. In the young jinn's hand is an olive branch. Adopting a fencing pose, the young jinn makes an en guarde salute. "You may have trapped my brothers in your magic bottles, but I know your secret is in that book! Give it to me or taste my blade!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul cringes reflexively. "I didn't mean it, honest!" He makes himself as small and inoffensive as possible. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Grabbing for the book, the young jinn tries to wrest it from Abdul's hands. "Give it here!"</p><p></p><p>Abdul lets go. "You can have it, sahib, there you go!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Taking the book, the jinn looks at it upside down at first then gets it right side up, turning to the page Abdul was looking at. A complicated diagram is revealed with the picture of a djinni in the center. Suddenly the jinn's eyes go wide and he takes a step away from Abdul. "Y- You really are a sha'ir?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul says plaintively, "No? I don't think so. I really really don't know how I summoned Aqisan, honest!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> He squints his eyes. "I don't know. I'll need some proof..."</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "P-proof?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Say something magical, say ' I summon Khedive Shisas of the Rising Winds Court.'" He looks at Abdul nervously.</p><p></p><p><strong>Abdul:</strong> "Ummm. I'm the Khedive's page. I don't think I ought to do that."</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Aha! So you're a real sha'ir! Well, you don't seem that evil....for a sha'ir, and all. Wow! Wait till I show you to my brothers. Do you want to come meet them?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul is utterly bewildered now. "Will the sahib - I mean, Nakhlouf - mind?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Nakhlouf cries out. "I've found it! Now what are you doing, Abdul? Oh. I see you've found Fajhoul ibn-Shisas. What are you doing with that olive branch, young Fajhoul?"</p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> "Uh, nothing. But you can't have it," answers Fajhoul testily, then adds. "I wanted to show him to my brothers - he's a real sha'ir isn't he?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul stays mute, not wanting to draw attention to himself. </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Nakhlouf looks at Abdul, then at the book in Fajhoul's hands, and back to Abdul. "Well, are you an accidental summmoner, young Abdul?"</p><p></p><p>Abdul whines, "I don't KNOW! All I know is that I woke up and Aqisan said I'd called him forth and that I was his master. Or something. And I don't know ANYTHING!" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Nakhlouf smiles. "The first sign of a wise man is admitting his ignorance. Now, run along and play, but don't be late. Remember, class starts at sunset."</p><p></p><p>Abdul stares at Nakhlouf in astonishment. 'Run along and play'? What kind of trick IS this? </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Fajhoul grins. "A real sha'ir. You'll be on my side. Ah, can we borrow this book?" He asks Nakhlouf, who grabs the book out of Fajhoul's hands. "You most certainly may not!" replies Nakhlouf. Looking glum, Fajhoul turns to Abdul, "You don't need to do any magic, we'll just pretend. It's a game we play. One pretends to be the sha'ir and makes wishes of the others...you'll see."</p><p></p><p>Abdul gets a little of his courage back. "Well, maybe it's pretend and maybe it's not. We'll just have to see, hmm?" </p><p></p><p><strong>Narrator:</strong> Fajhoul nervously laughs, then looks at Abdul out of the corner of his eye. Mortal boys were sure not as scary as sha'irs, but the Royal Drummer obeyed him. Why, Fajhoul had tried numerous times to get the Royal Drummer to do favors for him, and not once had he succeeded. That fact alone made his father's new page someone to be reckoned with and excellent competition.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 2992193, member: 16760"] [b]Narrator:[/b] Apologizing profusely, Aqisan gently guides Abdul through the myriad ranks of jinni courtiers - feathered plumes of red, yellow, and violet, scents of ambergris and sweet ash - as they approach the Khedive's audience hall. "Son of the worthy, indeed you shall, and you shall go back with wisdom. How many men are so fortunate?" Abdul will not be put off. "But when! When I'm old and wrinkly? You didn't tell me I wouldn't be going back!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan arches his brow wearily, "You did not seem concerned before our departure about such trivialities. What has changed your disposition?" Abdul narrows his eyes at the enormous jinn and says imperiously, "If a 'triviality' is something bad, then I'm mad at you. And just why does everyone think that 'wisdom' means 'abandoning mortalkind', anyway??" [b]Narrator:[/b] Several young jinni laugh nearby, invisible, when an old sour-faced jinniyeh reaches out and grab's one's ear, compelling it to become visible. The jinni youth becomes visible along with his fellows, all floating in the air, surrounded by electrical winds which die down as he is lowered to the floor. More djinni move by Aqisan, who walks rather slowly, bearing his massive drum upon his back with equanimity, their ranks include jewel bedecked women, all veiled, thirteen in number, of astounding grace. Whispers follow after the robed women. Aqisan stops, forcing traffic to a near standstill such is his size and the narrowness of the entry passage. [b]Narrator:[/b] "If you had known what wisdom meant before asking for it, would you have asked?" Aqisan inquires with a smirk on his face. "Son of the worthy, I shall endeavor to serve you as best as I am able till my hands no longer can drum, but I am no scholar. You need to talk to Old Nakhlouf, he'll have the answers you seek." Abdul visibly and manfully forces down tears again. "No, I wouldn't have. I thought you were a good jinn. But I don't think a good jinn would make fun of me when everything's going wrong." Chest heaving, he might go on, but is too upset. [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan leans down to put a massive calloused hand on Abdul's shoulder. "You shall learn Abdul just what sort of a jinn I am." The words reverberate solemnly, as if Aqisan were swearing his life to young Abdul. Sighing, he raises his finger to point out a stainglass window. "See there?" He points up to an image of a winged lion protecting a baby boy, the stars faintly visible even through the glass. "How many blessings are among the stars that are never found? Why, your blessing found you! No, son of the worthy, you are living in the best of times, and it is my pleasure to see them with you." Abdul looks up at Aqisan, one eye still bruised shut. "But my brothers get no blessing at all. They're hungry and beaten every day. How can I be happy when I know that?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan smiles gently. "They haven't gone hungry today at least. Perhaps this is a piece of the wisdom you are seeking?" Several djinni are beginning to jostle Aqisan and grow irate with him blocking the passage; in return, Aqisan bows low to the nobles and squeezes out of their way. "There is a tradition in the village I was born in, I would have you know, son of the worthy, and a wise tradition too. Every time a mortal babe is...ah...rescued...a bag of the finest honeyed cinammoned dates is left in his stead....his weight's worth to be precise. And I'd say you're oooh," he looks Abdul up and down dramatically, "about a goat's worth of dates, eh?" [b]Narrator:[/b] [i]You get the sense that "rescued" in that context meant something not so nice.[/i] Abdul says dourly, "Akim will just take it away from them." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Will he now?" Aqisan frowns. "I'll have you know that these dates might give him complications...of the bowels." He winks. Abdul adds acidly, folding his arms in his 'stubborn' pose, "Well, as long as I've been ... 'rescued'... I may as well give a speech they'll remember a long time." [b]Narrator:[/b] A flicker of pain shows across Aqisan's face, before resuming his normal stoicism. "Very well, son of the worthy. I shall announce your speech when the Khedive requests you come forward. In the meantime, sit nearby me." With that, you enter the vast council chamber. Abdul finally unbends and looks around a bit. It IS a fascinating place. He whispers to Aqisan, "What's a 'rite'?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Leaning over (ALOT) to whisper to Abdul, Aqisan explains, "You're about to find out. Where did you hear this word?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Someone said the sayyida does 'foul rites' every day by the waterfall. She seemed nice to me, though." [b]Narrator:[/b] Banners of gold trimmed in maroon emblazoned with the Khedive's crest hang from the seating upstairs. Braziers burn in every corner of the chamber, and the room is positively luminescent as the thirteen veiled djinniyeh seem to give off their own brightness. A contingent of guards stands at the ready, their pointed helms glistening, various tokens tied to their spears; they whisper amongst themselves in jest. Aqisan takes his place among the commoners - though at their forefront suiting his post as Royal Drummer. He whispers to Abdul, "[i]Sihr[/i] - dark magic." Abdul hesitates, then joins Aqisan. "Wow. Like a wicked witch? But would a witch be nice?" [b]Narrator:[/b] A distant memory seems to flash over Aqisan's eyes, and he looks into the distance. "Only if she wanted something from you." Returning to himself, Aqisan looks intently at Abdul, "Were you talking to Zianah, the washing djinniyeh?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "Uh huh. Actually, she wasn't very nice to start with, but was later. Um, someone said she might try to hurt me." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I wouldn't trust her, son of the worthy, for she is a most cunning fox who has makes trouble in the Khedive's court, and has damaged his name on several occasions. After all, why do you think she is bound to the braziers in the Khedive's throne room? To keep an eye on her, naturally." Aqisan is interrupted by the sound of trumpets, and the entire room is awash in color. Khedive Shisas emerges, eyes flashing with storm clouds, bearing his royal scepter. The gathered assembly bows before him, intoning the words, "Hail the rightful Khedive of the Court of Rising Winds, may he enjoy the fruits of peace and prosperity. Insha'allah." Abdul repeats piously, "Insha'allah." [b]Narrator:[/b] The Royal Herald and Poet clears his throat, and an enchanting voice ripples through the air like a scent of sweet pollen on ocean breezes. "Gathered nobles, great djinni, jann, marid, and peri. Today we celebrate a great boon that has been laid at the door of the Khedive. Come forward with your gifts now, for this rarity will not be easily surpassed. Know that no gift is too small in the Khedive's eyes. Why once he received--" The Khedive coughs, and leans over to the herald, cutting him off. "Without further ado," the herald countines, blushing slightly, "may the fine and exquisite representative of the jinn of Jauherabad come forward and present their magnanimous gift for the Khedive's perusal, if you be so pleased, as it pleases the Khedive, Insha'allah." He bows several more times, at which the Khedive rolls his eyes. Abdul asks Aqisan nervously, "What am I supposed to give?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan whispers to Abdul, "Whatever is in your heart to give. Don't worry, this takes ages, so you'll have time to think about it." [b]Abdul:[/b] "But I don't have anything at all, except for my clothes!" After a moment he adds practically, "And they aren't even mine, I got them just now." [b]Narrator:[/b] A tall austere jinn garbed in glorious silks approaches the throne, bearing a small object covered in cloth. Setting them down before the Khedive, the ambassador raises his hand with a flourish and lifts the cloth, revealing a crystal ball. "The Eye of Malik Sayoun!" Severl courtiers gasp, and the Khedive's daughter Sitt Ninya faints. Abdul whispers, "What's a Malik? And why is everyone so excited?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Aqisan is about to reply to Abdul, when seeing Ninya collapse, he flies across the floor, alighting at her side. Several royal guardsmen bristle at this, placing their hands on their weapons, but the Khedive waves them away. An elderly white-haired jinn, blue eyes gleaming like the vast heavens, approaches Aqisan. "Give me a hand down to her, will you? My age has robbed me of my strength." Aqisan does as the elder bids him. Holding a cord of sometihng to the djinniyeh's nose, the elder smiles. She starts to come to. "There you are, as good as new." All at once the elder looks up and sees Abdul, at which his face goes white and he looks quite frightened. Abdul looks a bit alarmed and waves slightly, trying to look innocent. [b]Narrator:[/b] Seeing Abdul's good-naturedness, the elder smiles broadly and winks, before whispering into Aqisan's ear. Aqisan looks over at Abdul and nods. They both help Ninya up to her feet. Relieved that his daughter is well, the Khedive nods to the jinni ambassador. "Tonight we shall hold council on the matter of the Eye. I commend those souls who were lost to retrieve it, may their sacrifice merit great reward, for the Almighty is oft Merciful and Kind." Abdul listens, concentrating to understand the bigger words. Plenty of ideas for stories in all this, after all! [b]Narrator:[/b] Next, the ambassador from the jann comes, bearing a gift of the Travishes'sanni - a sparkling speck of sand which shines as bright as the sun. After the jann comes the marid ambassador, bearing the Harp of Ascalon - carved from a petrified sirene. The last of the nobility to present their gift are the peri, whose thirteen ambassadors come forward and release ringdoves throughout the hall, a magical song of delight filling the air, carrying all woes aloft for a short while, easing every heart. Abdul feels as though he had found peace with his troubles for a brief moment. Abdul smiles beatifically and whispers a prayer in thanksgiving. [b]Narrator:[/b] The Khedive wipes a tear from his eye, as do many of the courtiers. Then the Royal Herald calls forth the gifts of those living at the Court to present their gifts, and a long line forms. Aqisan is utterly enchanted by Ninya, and his eyes linger after her as she joins her father's side, clutching her head. Abdul carefully watches the gifts that are given, trying to think of something. [b]Narrator:[/b] Leaning over to Abdul, Aqisan whispers, "Sitt Ninya, the Khedive's daughter, opalescent pearl of pearls. And that old fool is Nakhlouf, the Royal Librarian. Gathered are the Khedive's sons...Tivoun, the eldest, Roushaet, Qadroun, Seovar, Rajhouren, and Minfoud - those who've just returned from battle against the shaitan - the middle son Vasraoul is not present alas, for he had a falling out with the court, then there are Jawaroud, Nusoum, Eshrouman, Ajhoun, and Mehouz. Ah, and young Fajhoul." Abdul zeroes in on the word 'librarian'. "There's books here? Will anyone read them to me?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "The Khediva Musherah, there, attending her daughter Ninya while Diwanis, her sister, looks on. The one nearest the Khedive is Darkalas, his elder brother." With the whirlwind description of the royal family, Aqisan awaits his turn, just ahead of Abdul. "Books? Ah...I suppose Old Nakhlouf will, for he runs the Royal Madrassah, though only the Khedive's sons are taught there, at least officially. Old Nakhlouf won't turn anyone who wishes to read." Abdul nods eagerly. The Royal Librarian is sounding better by the second. [b]Narrator:[/b] Being his turn to present to the Khedive, the massive Aqisan steps forward, dramatically pulling out a sharp ivory blade from his belt. At this the guards gasp, and place their hands on their weapons, but then Aqisan smiles cannily and presents the gift to the Khedive, "A gift from the rhinoceros, I fashioned this from its horn." [b]Narrator:[/b] The Khedive touches the stylized jambiya, "Beautiful..." Sitt Ninya looks perturbed, "You didn't hurt the rhinoceros did you? Not after lulling it to sleep with your song?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Of course not," says Aqisan, bowing low but looking up and waggling his brows. Licking his hand, he smooths back his hair. "On the contrary, the rhinoceros wished to inform the Khedive that it has found far tastier acacias in the valley of the Qaf mountains, and will no longer threaten your grace." He bows again. [b]Narrator:[/b] The courtiers whisper at Aqisan's strength *and* charm. Sitt Ninya seems to look at him with new eyes. The Royal Herald calls forth Abdul. Abdul says nervously, "I, uh, don't have anything to give, your Majesty, except that I tell stories. Maybe I could tell you one sometime?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The Khedive chortles, "And what stories would you tell that impress me?" [b]Abdul:[/b] "I dunno. I don't know what impresses you yet. I'm sure there has to be one." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh? You seem confident that it is so..." The Khedive arches his brow, apparently intrigued. Abdul gets more animated as he talks about something that interests him. "Well, sure! A story is like another place you go to - lots and lots of different places. There has to be a bunch you haven't been to yet.." [b]Narrator:[/b] "I suppose..." The Khedive muses, then gets a twinkle in his eye. "Might I request a story of you?" Abdul says solemnly, "I have one all planned out for my speech. Do you want it now or then?" [b]Narrator:[/b] The Khedive laughs out loud, thunder clouds gathering outside, the chamber booms with wind, and Abdul feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "A story! From a mortal boy brought by the winds of Fate!" At this the chamber goes quiet. "Now that you have the attention of everyone here," says the Khedive quietly, "you may proceed without interruption." Abdul can't tell whether the Khedive is trying to intimidate him or not, but that's a lot of onlookers. Abdul closes his eyes, imagining the familiar faces of his brothers, hanging on every word. He launches into the story of Aladdin, "Because I feel like Aladdin right now." For his age, the boy is a masterful, spellbinding hakawati, and he makes the story come alive. He makes one small but vital change to the tale: A mysterious condition is attached to the djinn's magic, that Aladdin must never return to his old house, nor see his mother again. At first the feckless youth, tired of his mother's nagging, agrees readily; but by the end, his victory is bittersweet and tainted by regret. The story ends in wrenching questions, rather than answers and a happy resolution - questions all the more powerful for only being hinted at, rather than stated openly... Where does Aladdin's true happiness lie? With his kin in poverty, or with his beloved in luxury? [b]Narrator:[/b] The assembly is mute with awe. Aqisan beams with pride, and Abdul feels as if he had just grown a half foot taller. Surely they have heard the story before, but not this story. The Khedive has placed a finger over his lips, resting his head in his palm as he listens, spell-bound, to Abdul. "Allah al-Din, what becomes of him? Does he reside with his mother or stay in the palace?" Abdul bows to the Khedive and says with all the cunning of Shahrazad, "That is a story for another night, your Majesty." [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul can hear the other ambassadors whispering (with envy?) as the Khedive rises. "Young Abdul, you shall be a page to my court, waiting on our tables and cleaning our dishes, but so too shall you receive an education rivaling those of the mortal world. You shall learn the beauty of the word, how to read and write, how to recite the Qur'an, the Hadith, and the Sunnah, and also to recite the great works of jinni poetry. Hither, page, and stand by me." Abdul steps forward as if in a dream. "I'm going to learn to READ!" he whispers, more than loud enough to be heard. [b]Narrator:[/b] "And write! With such a voice as yours, it would be a crime not to immortalize it. Abdul, you shall serve as page to this court until you reach this high (he indicates 5 feet), at which time I shall evaluate whether you are ready to become one of my trusted farisan [holy warriors]. Serve well, and you shall be rewarded well. Here in Jinnistan, Aqisan is my subject and he is bound to serve none other than me; however, because he has brought you to my court he shall serve as your guide and protector." Abdul beams. "Oh, thank you, your Majesty!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Addressing Aqisan, the Khedive bids him come forward. "Take young Abdul to Old Nakhlouf so that he might be taught courtly etiquette." Facing Abdul, the Khedive smiles. "At the end of the month, young Abdul, you shall take a ride with me and I shall make my decision final. He claps again and Aqisan ushers Abdul away. Abdul follows Aqisan in a daze. [b]Narrator:[/b] As Aqisan clears a way through the assembly for Abdul, whispers surround the uprooted beggar boy. "A Son of Adam!" "Is he a sha'ir plotting trickery?" "Nay, he is a precious gift." "He seems so somber." "Where did he come from?" "How odd, that a boy so small has a servant so large!" "It is because he is large of heart." "What a beautiful story...and what a storyteller." "A page to rival all others." "The Khedive must be very proud indeed." Abdul hardly even notices, though he remembers the words later. He is in his own world, the world of Story. [b]Narrator:[/b] In his daze, Abdul is lead by the hand to Old Nakhlouf, who peers over his glasses at Abdul. "Well, you're ready to learn to read then?" His eyes twinkle with mirth, and at the same time look deep into Abdul's soul. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Oh, YES, sahib! I hope you have a lot of books, because I'm gonna read them ALL!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Oh?" Old Nakhlouf walks with Abdul at his side, Aqisan trailing behind them listening intently. "Even I haven't read them all, my boy." [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, I'll give it a good try, anyway!" [b]Narrator:[/b] "We shall begin where I started, with poetry which gave birth to the Arabic language. From there you will learn Djinnti, which is unsurpassed in beauty, and you will read the Khedive's own works. Latin too, and Pahlavi." Old Nakhlouf begins rattling off languages that Abdul has never heard of, all the way to the madrassah. By the time they arrive there, Aqisan is nowhere to be seen. Old Nakhlouf looks around puzzled for a moment. Abdul nods determinedly. "How do I start?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "By making papyrus of course," smiles Nakhlouf, squinting at Abdul. "There is a bucket out that door full of mashed pulp. Go step on it for an hour until it has broken apart and the water turns murky. When you've finished," he says leading Abdul out the door, "pour the contents through this strainer, collecting the water in the bucket below. I'll take care of the rest after that. After all, there'd be nothing to read is there wasn't papyrus. Of course, sages use paper now, but not all of them. And before papyrus there was cuneiform, but we'll wait until you're older to tackle that. Little steps for little fish!" Abdul does just exactly as he is told. He's going to learn how to READ! [b]Narrator:[/b] As Abdul labors, Old Nakhlouf comes back an hour later, "Ah, did you see where I put that copy of [i]Liber Argent Arcanus Benevolentiae[/i]? I seem to...ah have misplaced it?" He pats around on his robes absently. Abdul says humbly, "I don't know what that is, sahib. Um, what should I call you?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Nakhlouf, of course! What else would you call me?" Raising his finger, his eyes light up. "That's looking good, let's strain it out shall we?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Do you know your Arabic alphabet?" he asks, helping Abdul carry the bucket. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Well, you're my teacher and all, but whatever you want, um, Nakhlouf." He pronounces the strange name clumsily. "I'm Abdul. No, I don't know the al-pha-bet." Whatever that is, his careful pronounciation suggests. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Very well, Abdul. I teach every day, except for the Holy Days and the Khedive's birthday, which is something of a celebration here. The madrassah is open to any once the sun goes below the horizon, but before then it is absolutely prohibited to all but the Khedive's sons. Is that clear?" Abdul nods. "Yes, sahib! Um, I mean, Nakhlouf." He cringes ever so slightly every time he does something 'wrong'. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Sahib is my father, Abdul, I'm only...4...or is it 5?" He counts on his fingers. "Well, we'll start with the alphabet tonight. The clase is studying very hard, for we are planning to go to Batil Peak and consult the riddling Xargosi, who will teach the one who answers his riddle for 40 days and nights. Xargosi's riddles are always about the alphabet, or at least they have been for centuries. Though he may change one of these days. At any rate, that means you'll need to study hard to catch up to the other jinni." Abdul looks bewildered. "I'll work as hard as I can, sahib - I mean, Nakhlouf - but aren't you older than five?" He then cringes again when he realizes he dared to question something his teacher said. [b]Narrator:[/b] "Why you're quite right, I'm 7...ah...792! I didn't get to my age by being sentimental. Now where is that book? Look around those unshelved books and see if you can spot it - a cover of white oak bark." Nakhlouf looks intently through the shelves. Abdul looks around diligently for the book. [b]Narrator:[/b] While looking through the unsorted books, Abdul knocks one to the ground. Picking it up, he is drawn to the cover. Though he can't read it there is a symbol in the background, something vaguely familiar. In fact he has seen this same symbol on the pendant that Aqisan was wearing. Abdul opens the book, filled with an inexplicable curiosity. [b]Narrator:[/b] Abdul hears voices approaching, when suddenly a great wind comes in through the backdoor and Abdul feels a presence behind him. "Evil Sha'ir, I've found you now!" Gleeful cackling follows. Abdul closes the book with a bang and squeaks, "Evil?! Me?!" [b]Narrator:[/b] A wide-eyed handsome shaggy black-haired young jinn, about Abdul's height, watches him with a glint in his eyes. In the young jinn's hand is an olive branch. Adopting a fencing pose, the young jinn makes an en guarde salute. "You may have trapped my brothers in your magic bottles, but I know your secret is in that book! Give it to me or taste my blade!" Abdul cringes reflexively. "I didn't mean it, honest!" He makes himself as small and inoffensive as possible. [b]Narrator:[/b] Grabbing for the book, the young jinn tries to wrest it from Abdul's hands. "Give it here!" Abdul lets go. "You can have it, sahib, there you go!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Taking the book, the jinn looks at it upside down at first then gets it right side up, turning to the page Abdul was looking at. A complicated diagram is revealed with the picture of a djinni in the center. Suddenly the jinn's eyes go wide and he takes a step away from Abdul. "Y- You really are a sha'ir?" Abdul says plaintively, "No? I don't think so. I really really don't know how I summoned Aqisan, honest!" [b]Narrator:[/b] He squints his eyes. "I don't know. I'll need some proof..." [b]Abdul:[/b] "P-proof?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Say something magical, say ' I summon Khedive Shisas of the Rising Winds Court.'" He looks at Abdul nervously. [b]Abdul:[/b] "Ummm. I'm the Khedive's page. I don't think I ought to do that." [b]Narrator:[/b] "Aha! So you're a real sha'ir! Well, you don't seem that evil....for a sha'ir, and all. Wow! Wait till I show you to my brothers. Do you want to come meet them?" Abdul is utterly bewildered now. "Will the sahib - I mean, Nakhlouf - mind?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Nakhlouf cries out. "I've found it! Now what are you doing, Abdul? Oh. I see you've found Fajhoul ibn-Shisas. What are you doing with that olive branch, young Fajhoul?" [b]Narrator:[/b] "Uh, nothing. But you can't have it," answers Fajhoul testily, then adds. "I wanted to show him to my brothers - he's a real sha'ir isn't he?" Abdul stays mute, not wanting to draw attention to himself. [b]Narrator:[/b] Nakhlouf looks at Abdul, then at the book in Fajhoul's hands, and back to Abdul. "Well, are you an accidental summmoner, young Abdul?" Abdul whines, "I don't KNOW! All I know is that I woke up and Aqisan said I'd called him forth and that I was his master. Or something. And I don't know ANYTHING!" [b]Narrator:[/b] Nakhlouf smiles. "The first sign of a wise man is admitting his ignorance. Now, run along and play, but don't be late. Remember, class starts at sunset." Abdul stares at Nakhlouf in astonishment. 'Run along and play'? What kind of trick IS this? [b]Narrator:[/b] Fajhoul grins. "A real sha'ir. You'll be on my side. Ah, can we borrow this book?" He asks Nakhlouf, who grabs the book out of Fajhoul's hands. "You most certainly may not!" replies Nakhlouf. Looking glum, Fajhoul turns to Abdul, "You don't need to do any magic, we'll just pretend. It's a game we play. One pretends to be the sha'ir and makes wishes of the others...you'll see." Abdul gets a little of his courage back. "Well, maybe it's pretend and maybe it's not. We'll just have to see, hmm?" [b]Narrator:[/b] Fajhoul nervously laughs, then looks at Abdul out of the corner of his eye. Mortal boys were sure not as scary as sha'irs, but the Royal Drummer obeyed him. Why, Fajhoul had tried numerous times to get the Royal Drummer to do favors for him, and not once had he succeeded. That fact alone made his father's new page someone to be reckoned with and excellent competition. [/QUOTE]
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True20 Al-Qadim: Zakharan Nights (updated 6/21/06)
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