Only the court Sand Masters were not at all happy; for them that show with music did not exalt the virtues of the Sand and offended the dignity of their rank.
In their category, the contempt for the Road Masters was so strong that they had no scruples in denigrating them or even attacking them to destroy their tools and take possession of their supplies of Impure Sand, relying on the protection of the law. Only the pride with which they displayed their title offset such aversion. What was happening at court with Basim was testing their patience and making their resentment grow enormously. They couldn't let someone as low-ranking as him have all that popularity, and they also didn't want to run the risk of people forgetting what a true Sand Master was. The only way to stop the potter's rise was to make his tool disappear which, despite being a Yasirpipe, they considered it an ignoble distortion of the traditional tool that they had to eliminate together with the owner.
Despite their bad intentions, however, they had no intention of compromising themselves personally, it was better to entrust the task to someone else. It was important to avoid being discovered and, in any case, if something went wrong, there would always be someone to blame. This way, no one would suspect them, and they would get away with it.
<< I am truly honored that you considered me. But why should I do that? >> Sadin asked them.
<< Don't you want to take revenge? You said you were the one who launched the Sand Dancer's career... and how does it repay you? Sending you to prison. >>
<< Technically it was your lord who did it. >>
<< But that boy didn't defend you when the Caliph accused you. He spent not a word to lighten your sentence, thus allowing our lord to let you age in here for the rest of your life. We could set you free instead. >>
<< Oh, it's not so bad: I have free room and board, the neighbors are quiet, and I also have a lot of pets. >>
<< Do you also like whippings? >>
Sadin didn't respond to the barb, hiding the still-bleeding red furrows on his arms and hands under his sleeves.
The conversation was being held in great secrecy in the interrogation room, a bare room in which there was only an old wooden table and two crooked stools. Sadin was chained to the wall by his wrists, and the chains were so short that he could raise his arms just above his pelvis—an additional suffering for the condemned but which guaranteed the safety of the jailers and guests. After a long consultation, the choice of the four Masters of the court of Shagreb had fallen on him because he seemed the perfect pawn for the job, as well as an excellent scapegoat. If he had been caught in the act and tried to justify himself, no one would have believed him given his record and, in any case, they could easily give the order to have him killed at any time.
Those Masters, with their proverbial arrogance, were certain that Sadin would accept the proposal, in particular Tanzim, the Master who led them and who was talking to him.
From his appearance he seemed more like a rich squire of the country than a scholar of the Sand; he was tall and thin, his skin was so clean as to be shiny, his hair and beard tied in a small braid were smooth and fragrant, his robes were almost as sumptuous as those of the caliph and he sported showy rings on all his fingers. He boasted to everyone that he was a great Master, but in reality, his abilities were limited; he played terribly and therefore could not properly manipulate the Sand. He was an arrogant individual, one who exploited his title to get everything he wanted; he denigrated and belittled all those he considered inferior, he was very cunning and tried to deceive with all possible means anyone he could exploit for his ends.
He thought he knew how to treat people like Sadin, which is why he had carefully chosen the words to fuel the flame of hatred and the desire for revenge in the boy, convinced that he would succeed.
<< Let's pretend that the proposal interests me... >> the boy began to say. << What do I gain? >>
<< We would ensure that your sentence is annulled. >> Tanzim replied to him.
<
<
<< Simply put, he pays you to kiss his butt. >>
<< Be careful what you say, boy! We can even convince him to toughen the sentence if we want! >> another Master said indignantly.
<< Of course... and thus you would lose the only person in the whole kingdom capable of implementing your plan. >>
<< Don't boast, brat. We can find a thousand more like you. >>
<< Maybe “like me”, but certainly not better. I'm the only one who can get close to the prey without arousing suspicion. >> Sadin said with an ironic smile.
The Masters remained silent, almost embarrassed to have to admit that Sadin was right in that case.
If they had had a whip at hand, they would have been happy to use it, those arrogant ways towards them were truly unbearable; it was very clear that with such an individual it was better to be cautious: he was smart, perceptive, and too sure of himself... prerogatives that make a scoundrel very difficult to manipulate. But given how high the stakes were, even if unreliable, he was the only person who could carry out the task and they couldn't back out.
<< In short, do you want to accept the proposal or not? >> Tanzim asked impatiently.
Sadin, more serious than ever, motioned for them to come closer. The small group approached but remained at a safe distance, to listen to the answer. After a few seconds of waiting, a loud fart was heard.
<< This is my answer, gentlemen. >> Sadin said smiling.
Outraged and wounded in pride, the Masters called the guards to leave, ordering them to give the prisoner a just punishment for the offense suffered, and then walked away trying to ignore Sadin's loud laughter.
<< What do we do now? >> asked one of them << Shall we look among the other prisoners? >>
<< No, we have to convince him. If the plan goes wrong at least we have the certainty that the blame can be placed on him. >>
<< But he will never accept. >>
<< Let's give him some time. A week without food will change his mind. >>
Sadin's new "life" began.
For seven days, he was subjected to severe physical and mental torture. During the day, under the scorching sun, they forced him to carry out backbreaking work with very short breaks and they also looked for any opportunity to give him whips and shower him with insults. In that prison, the punishments left indelible scars on the inmates both in the soul and in the body. Tears and pleas were of no use, and it was lucky if they made it to the end of the day alive. With the older prisoners they turned a blind eye but, for Sadin instead, who had youth on his side, was different, and was ordered to perform tasks beyond his means. With that treatment, he didn't have the strength to complain, nor to make his usual jokes, he was just trying to save his breath to be able to survive all that.
Following the orders of the Masters, he was the only one who did not receive a fair ration of food, he was only given a few sips of water and a piece of stale bread, just the minimum necessary to prevent him from dying. They even made sure that the other prisoners did not try to share their meals with him, keeping him aside and forcing him to watch while everyone consumed the meager nourishment that was distributed to them.
His stomach rumblings accompanied by cramps became loud and even persistent from the second day onwards; Sadin knew how to resist, however, he knew well the burden of suffering from hunger. He had already had to skip meals in the past, especially during the periods of famine that had hit his tribe when little food there was distributed mainly to children and the elderly. On that occasion, Sadin was suffering but he was resting to save energy while now, inside that prison forced to work continuously, he was rapidly losing his strength.
“This time I'm in really bad shape.” he thought worriedly.
Perhaps he would never emerge from that prison, and if the doors ever opened one day, it would be either as a dead man or as an old and gray-haired man. Prospects that he rejected both. There was the Sand Masters' offer as an alternative but, that was a deception. He had immediately understood that they would never let him go free and he also knew that they would return sooner or later to convince him to accept and, if he refused again, they would certainly make his sentence more painful.
Sadin, tired and prostrate from the pangs of hunger, dropped onto the miserable bed trying to sleep. The cot was an uncomfortable wooden board with a blanket placed on it, nothing like the comfortable bed at home which, when he wanted, he could move outside to sleep under the stars. When could he see them again? His cell had no windows and they only let him out during the day, to bring him back in at sunset. Having the stars as a roof was one of the many thoughts that began to pass through his mind and remind him of Uncle Zaka.
“Who knows how he is and what he is doing now.” He thinks.
Zaka was the only person in the tribe that Sadin truly cared about. The only one who had shown him affection by giving him a roof over his head and helping him grow, the only one who considered him part of the family.
Half-breed or bastard were the only words everyone used to describe Sadin.
He was born between the illegitimate union of the daughter of one of Zaka's brothers and a good-looking stranger from a distant land. No one knew who that man was or how he got there; he spoke little about himself but spoke emphatically about the great deeds that he said he had accomplished in his homeland, fascinating everyone. This was how he had stolen the heart of Zaka's niece and from that love, Sadin was born. Then one day suddenly the man, just as he had arrived, without saying a word, had gone away and the desperate woman, still madly in love, had abandoned the tribe to look for him, leaving little Sadin to the family However, he ended up being welcomed only by the charitable arms of his uncle Zaka.
Since he was a child, Sadin had demonstrated strong intelligence and a very open mind, he paid attention to his surroundings and was very curious and enterprising. Already at the age of five, he understood that he lived in a different situation from other children, whom he saw pampered and loved by their parents from morning to night, while he only had his uncle. He also realized the difference in how he was treated or looked at by everyone. One day he asked his uncle why he didn't have a mom and dad like other children. To protect him from the truth, Zaka replied that his parents had left on a long journey and that one day they would return. Sadin liked the idea of ??having explorer parents and when he thought of them, he imagined them visiting fantastic places. But, as time passed, and not seeing them return, the doubt crept into his little heart that the story was all a lie.
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Meanwhile, as he grew up, his particular character began to take shape. He soon demonstrated that the humility of the farmer and the patience of the shepherd did not flow in his blood, and it did not take long for his aptitude for deception and lies to emerge.
The thefts began almost as a joke, as a sort of personal challenge to demonstrate how good he was at deceiving people without them realizing it. He soon found it satisfying to take what belonged to others and, if they were arrogant rich people or cheating merchants, the pleasure of robbing them was greater.
Sadin's skill, which was such that he was very rarely caught red-handed and, in that case, always with that peculiar sarcastic smile of his, justified himself from the accusations by stating that stealing from thieves was legitimate. “This isn't stealing, it's doing justice” he always used to say.
If the tribe already did not look favorably on that child for his birth, his behavior was even less welcome. Although Sadin didn't care much about other people's opinions, the constant negative comments, the distrustful looks, and the covertly hostile way in which he was treated still caused a certain resentment in him. What right did they have to judge him, since they had never given him the chance to be one of them? They had always considered him a stranger, only his uncle had made him feel at home, only he had worked hard to take care of him, even when even the other relatives had told him to leave it alone; only he had truly loved him. Who needed a father or a mother when Uncle Zaka was enough to fill that void? He had always been there, even when he had gotten into trouble with the law.
Sadin did not feel tied to the tribe and had no reason to help them but, if he was committed to finding the money it was only because he owed his uncle a debt of gratitude.
But now? How would he handle the lie about him running away? Would he believe the boys' lies? That he had run away, abandoning them in their time of need? He was certainly not naive.
Sadin may have been a no-good but not enough to commit such an infamy, and his uncle certainly knew this. Or at least, he hoped he thought so.
The doubt, born so suddenly, took possession of Sadin like a demon. He was no longer able to send him away, making him agitated, taking away his sleep and his breathing. There was a moment when, in desperation, he tried to open the cell door by punching and kicking it until he had the strength. He wanted to go out and run to his uncle, show him that he hadn't turned his back on him and that he could still do the right thing, but above all to tell him that he was sorry for always worrying him and to tell him that he loved him too.
He had to get out of there, no matter the cost.
As expected, the Masters returned to see him a week later.
He was emaciated and tired, but he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of being seen in pain; therefore, he welcomed them with his usual smile, struggling to stand despite his now weak legs. They were left speechless by his attitude despite his appearance showing otherwise; only Tanzim was not impressed and had no intention of wasting time on his antics.
<< How was your week? >> he asked him with a grin.
<< Excellent. I did a lot of exercise and a little diet. It was a nice experience. >> Sadin replied in kind.
<< Good to know. I hope it also helped you think. >>
<< Oh yes, I've thought about it a lot. >>
Now Sadin was serious and stared straight into the Master's eyes, sustaining an intense duel of awe from which he would not emerge defeated.
<< I imagine that if I don't accept your proposal, you will find some other poor desperado ready to slit a few throats for two copper coins, right?>>
<< Very true. Finding unfortunates like you is easy, so consider yourself lucky that you are the first to whom we make this offer. So, do you accept? >>
Sadin had already done enough thinking. As Tanzim had said, if he had not accepted, surely someone else would have taken his place, someone who probably would have had no qualms about cutting Basim's throat before taking the instrument from his hands. He was the only one who could prevent this from happening, even if he would have had to take great risks to do so. But Sadin, despite everything, would never abandon a friend in difficulty, and as for taking risks... well, that was his daily bread!
<< I accept. >> he said finally.
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Basim let his hands emerge from the bottom of the basin after having kept them immersed in the cold water for an hour.
Finally, he felt relief. After playing non-stop, his fingers had reached the limit level of tolerance and with spasms and pangs, they made him understand that they would not play another note for the rest of the day. He had to convince the Caliph to reduce the duration of the concerts, he could not continue to play as he was doing.
He was tired and discouraged, he considered being hired as a court musician neither an honor nor a stroke of luck, just another obstacle that prevented him from returning home.
<< Basim, do you really don't want us to stay with you? It will be hard to work alone. >>
<< Don't worry guys, after all, it's me who the Caliph wants, it's me who has to play, you don't need to stay, think about reaching your families who will surely be worried, don't worry about me, I somehow, I'll get through it. >>
Having taken on a new job, Basim had thought it wasn't right to force the boys to stay with him. At least they could go home.
The boys would leave; everyone except Sadin, unfortunately.
Basim was worried; How would the tribe react to the news of his arrest? Certainly, his uncle would have tried to mediate for his release, but he doubted that the Caliph would listen to his pleas.
Zaater had said nothing of what they had said during his prison visit, and it was worrying not to know how it had gone. He had asked the Caliph many times for permission to go and see him, at least to find out if he was well and if he could do something for him, but every time his pleas fell on deaf ears, he replied that his only concern had to be to make dancing the Sand.
<< However, know that we will anxiously await your return. >> said the boys << And when this happens, we will have a big party in your honor. >>
<< Don't exaggerate, I still owe you a lot afterward, I will never forget the welcome I received in your village. >>
<< We owe you the same for helping us. >>
Basim felt flattered by those words that made him feel important, more than the nobles of Shagreb could.
<< When you return, we will take you home. The Caliph's reward has repaid your debt. >>
<< I'm just sorry that it's less than promised. >>
<< We'll figure something out. We are nomads, and working hard is part of our lifestyle. >>
<< Oh, I believe it. I don't think I've ever seen more determined people than you in my life. Many people should take you as an example. >>
The conversation would have lasted much longer but the soldier who would guide the boys called them impatiently, ordering them to hurry, and, after another minute of greetings, the small group was finally able to head home.
Basim looked forward to returning to them soon, for he would finally realize his wish to return to Baharmis.
Unfortunately for him, however, the Caliph had no intention of letting him go anytime soon. Ghaali el-Meer wanted to still strut his stuff with his performances and be able to boast of being the discoverer of such a great talent. “I feel honored to have a new Master at my court,” he said proudly.
In all sincerity, Basim was not happy to be compared to a Master, he had lost a lot of respect towards the Sand Masters.
Since he had started practicing the Yasirpipe and performing, he had repeatedly witnessed attacks on the Street Masters by them. So much violence towards those people who were just looking for a way to survive shocked him. He realized that they were not people of noble soul as they tried to show themselves in public and that many of them, behind smiles and many words of wisdom, hid arrogance and wickedness.
Therefore, no. He didn't want to be considered a Sand Master. Enraged, he kicked a bag of Sand that, for the first time in his life, he couldn't bear to see and, for a moment, he was tempted to scatter it in the wind, so no one would force him to handle it anymore.
He left the palace to get away from that golden prison at least for a while, but even walking in the royal garden, in that state of mind, wasn't relaxing. He didn't have a friend to talk to and certainly, no one else had the intention of becoming close to him. The Sand Masters in particular hated him and would have incinerated him with just a glance if they could.
He approached a small aviary, one of many scattered in the garden, with some nectarines inside with iridescent green plumage and tails as long as ribbons. He paused to listen to their chirping and watch as they continually hopped from one perch to another, stopping only to feed with their long, thin, curved beaks. Who knows if those little animals also felt like prisoners, he thought with a sigh. The cage door had neither a lock nor a padlock; all he would have needed to do was open it a little and allow them to escape and regain the freedom they deserved, at least.
<< You should change your name, what's the point of being called “Basim” if you rarely smile? >>
Basim jumped when he heard himself called from behind, especially since he knew the voice well.
<< Sadin?! >> he exclaimed in disbelief. <
There was no doubt that it was him, even as dirty and emaciated as he was.
He was so surprised to see him again that he started asking him question after question without waiting for an answer, even stopping mid-sentence to ask more questions and confusingly overlapping the words.
<< Hey! Hey! Slow down, friend! I've already had my share of interrogations, so give it a rest. >>
<< But you...? But how…? >>
<< I'm enjoying some fresh air if that's what you want to know. You know how it is, you get bored of being stuck inside all the time. >>
<< Have you escaped...? >>
<
<< Sadin, you were already in trouble, do you want to make the situation even worse? >>
<< I wouldn't mind, it's fun. >>
<< I'm serious. The Caliph still hasn't gotten over his anger at your attempted theft and does nothing but complain as soon as someone mentions it. >>
<< Well, I wouldn't have ended up in this situation if someone had given me a hand. Nice thing friends, right? Especially when they stab you in the back. >>
<< Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you; I didn't know what to do or what to say, I was taken by surprise and... >>
<< Come on friend, it's certainly not your fault that I ended up in chains. But you could have come to visit me sometime. But it doesn't matter, because now the two of us are leaving here. >>
Sadin uttered those words with his usual sinister grin while, with slow theatricality, he revealed a dagger kept hidden until then behind his back and a bag of coins. Basim had not yet lost his fear of sharp blades and the sight of that weapon brought back bad memories, triggering a tremor of fear that grew with the beating of his heart.
<< Hey, I'm joking. I do not want to hurt you. >> he hastened to tell him the boy.
He immediately put the dagger away and began to explain the real reason for his presence.
<< Listen friend, you are in more danger. Those treacherous Sand Masters want to destroy your Yasirpipe. >>
<< What? What are you saying? >>
<< Yes, and they asked me to do the dirty work. That's how I got out of prison. >>
<< Why would they? It's a tool to move the Sand, something they should preserve. >>
<< It's the way you're using it that they don't accept. Have you forgotten that for people you are not just a musician, but a Street Master? >>
<< Yes, but is it just for this reason? Or is there something else? >>
<< It's also because they are jealous of your success. And if you want to know, their intentions are not only to destroy the instrument but, they would also like me to be able to get rid of you. You know... in the sense that... >>
Sadin made the throat cut sign to better convey the point.
Basim, struck by those words, stopped to reflect. He was undecided whether to believe Sadin or not.
He knew that the Sand Masters of Shagreb had no respect for him, but could they really commit such a crime?
The boy, sensing his state of mind, handed him the Yasirpipe, intact and without a loose string.
<< Why do you give it back to me? You might earn a few coins by selling it to a vendor of oddities. >>
<< Are you kidding? A deal like this is difficult to sell. >>
In reality, for Sadin, such an important object needed to be protected, not destroyed, and he did not consider it as such for its magical prerogatives, but rather for the well-being it had brought to his tribe. He considered it almost like a good luck charm and for this reason he had immediately put it in a safe place, rather than destroying it.
<< Do you really think they can hurt me too? >> Basim asked him, while he caressed the instrument.
<< Unfortunately, yes. >>
<< Well, then I can say that my career as a street musician is over. >>
<< Just interrupted, my friend. We just need to take a break. >>
Basim sighed, finally accepting what he had just been told. He asked Sadin if he had a plan to escape, and he replied in an almost offended tone:
<< Of course I have a plan. It's my specialty. Behave and maybe we can leave unnoticed. >>
Basim, being part of the court, could walk around undisturbed without fear of being stopped. He could go anywhere, from the stables to the kitchens and, above all… the exit.
Sadin walked at his side, wrapped in an elegant and colorful women's veil, trying to hide his masculine features as much as possible. They proceeded together towards the exit of the building, trying to maintain a normal pace that did not arouse suspicion.
Only a few meters and then freedom, which at that moment seemed almost unattainable both due to the slowness with which they moved and due to the worry of arousing suspicion from the small patrol of soldiers coming from the opposite side.
As the guards passed by, marching noisily, they both held their breath, keeping their gazes down trying not to meet theirs.
<< One moment! >> Someone suddenly shouted.
The two stopped in surprise. A patrol guard, the last in his line, had moved away from the formation and was slowly approaching with the typical expression of someone who had some doubts.
<< Where are you going? >> he asked them.
Basim couldn't say a word, his mind was in turmoil, and he couldn't move his mouth. Sadin, on the other hand; accustomed to finding himself in that kind of situation, promptly responded in falsetto, pretending to be a court lady:
<< His kindness, the court musician, is accompanying me for a walk. His Royal Highness could not accompany me, and it was a shame to stay in the palace on such a beautiful day. Don't you think so, soldier? >>
<< Yes, it's a beautiful day. >> the man replied uncertainly.
<< A question: would you be one of the Caliph's courtesans? >>
Sadin, perhaps too caught up in his role, gave the soldier a resounding slap while his companions, from afar, giggled in amusement.
<< Of course I am! What kind of question are you asking me? Rude! I will report to the appropriate authorities! >> he screamed, taking Basim's arm, while acting offended they left the building.
The guard did not dare call them back. He felt stupid for having doubted a lady; after all, he knew well that his lord had strange tastes in women. Luckily for Sadin, he hadn't noticed his dirty and ruined shoes peeking out from under his dress, decidedly unsuitable for a lady of high rank. Basim, on the other hand, was surprised by the success of the performance, so much so that he managed to whisper in a low voice:
<< You're crazy. >>
<< Many people tell me this. >>
[1]they are a family of passerine birds. They present a marked sexual dimorphism: the plumage of the males is brightly colored, often with iridescent metallic reflections, while that of the females is less showy; males are also larger and have longer tails.