<< I am General Jabar and with me is His Majesty Prince Hazma, heir to the throne of Baharmis. We would like to meet the Caliph. >>
The soldier at the head of the group of guards, in the presence of those two significant figures, apologized for his abrupt behavior and offered to act as an escort to the royal palace, knowing full well that the Caliph would have gladly accepted their arrival even at that late hour. When a courtier woke him up to announce the arrival of those personalities at court, he didn't protest and didn't even waste time making himself presentable. He did not wait to be announced, nor to be escorted, he quickly went alone to the living room where the two important guests were waiting for him, while waiting they were served food and a very aromatic hot tea.
<< Your Highness. General Jabar. It is an honor to have you as a guest in my home. >> Ghaali el-Meer said excitedly.
<< I was told that you are arriving from a long journey. I will notify the servants to prepare a good hot bath for you... and a more substantial dinner, if you wish. >>
<< Don't bother too much, right now all we need is a good bed. >>
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<< We are the ones who must apologize for disturbing you. I hope you can forgive us. >>
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Sleeping was the only thing they needed after that exhausting journey across the length and breadth of the kingdom.
Jabar, knowing he had an important mission to complete, wanted to make just a short stop, but everyone else was exhausted, and not even he could resist the tiredness for long.
An overheard conversation between two guards outside the room about the disappearance of someone at court set off alarm bells in him. His intuition told him to investigate that news and he was rarely wrong.
He then asked the Caliph, with feigned nonchalance, what interesting thing had happened in Shagreb recently.
Ghaali el-Meer began to tell him, with his usual emphasis and abundance of detail, all the events that had happened in the city in the last few days, boring Jabar and the prince who listened while forcibly holding back their yawns. When he was about to conclude the story, he remembered to add another episode: the mysterious disappearance of the court musician. At those words Jabar jumped, the alarm bells in his head ringing wildly.
<< Wait a minute... did you just say that your musician played with the Sand? >>
<< Oh yes, and with great style. I had heard of this Street Master capable of making the Sand dance in a particular way and so I thought of having him come to court to cheer up my parties and at the same time make me make a good impression on my guests. >>
<< Yes, yes. But how exactly did he do this? Was it all a trick? >>
<< No, he could do it with music. >>
<< Music? >>
<< Exactly. Playing a strange instrument I had never seen. It resembles an Oud but is much larger and emits a sound that I can define as not from these lands. >>
Jabar and Hazma exchanged a mutual glance. The musician was their man: Basim.
Hazma seemed to go mad. After days of useless searches, after talking to people who knew nothing or pretended to know with the sole aim of making money from it, they had now finally found a trace. He was giving his all in the pursuit of the Yasirpipe to live up to both his father's and his late Master's expectations and now he was one step away from doing so. He wanted to search for Basim immediately, search Shagreb himself, and even raid homes if necessary.
<< Your Highness, calm down. Let's not get carried away right now, we could compromise the mission. >>
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<< I know, and it's great progress. And it is precisely for this reason that we must be cautious. >>
Jabar had difficulty calming the prince, as he was agitated. But if he had managed to command the royal army, he could also tame that rebellious kitty.
In his head, meanwhile; one detail in the Caliph's speech had taken root: Basim had learned to play the instrument. It was not a detail to be underestimated at all, this made the young man even more important than he already was. He imagined the annoyance this news would cause Daysam.
<< My sire, why does the situation of my musician disturb you so much? >> asked the Caliph a little confused.
<< The instrument that the boy has with him belonged to the Honorable Fawzi, the Master who was killed not long ago. >>
<< Good heavens… do you think he is involved in that horrible murder? >>
<< No, on the contrary. We are certain that he is innocent. We know that he attempted to bring the instrument to Al Haimat, but the Rector sent him away without knowing what he had with him. They were waiting for him in Baharmis, but he never arrived. Instead, we fear that he is fleeing from the real culprits. Whoever killed Fawzi is perhaps looking for him to kill him and take possession of the instrument. This is why we want to find it: to protect it. >>
<< By the Gods, what an incredible story! If it is a helping hand you need, you will have all my help in your search. >>
<< Thank you, Caliph, it will be a pleasure. >>
<< So what will you do now? >>
<< We'll go to sleep, that's what we'll do. >> said the General. << We can continue this conversation tomorrow when we are all rested. >>
<< Sleep? Seriously? >> Hazma replied.
<< It's been a long day and you, your Highness, are the one who needs to rest the most. Then we could better organize the next move. >>
<< Okay... but I want to be woken up early. The sooner we start, the better. >>
And with that decision, everyone was finally able to go to sleep and indulge in the much-desired restful sleep.
Peace fell again in the palace and in the silence of the night you could only hear the chirping of the cicadas and the rustling of the plants caressed by the light breeze that brought coolness.
But some persisted in staying awake—someone who had too many worries that didn't allow him the luxury of rest. The figure came out of the secret room from which he had until then spied on the entire conversation, reaching on tiptoe the only room where the light of a candle still shone.
<< Were they the General and Prince Hazma? They came looking for the boy, didn't they? >> Master Tanzim asked him in a worried tone.
<< Yes, unfortunately. >> he replied to him.
At that news, the four Masters felt a strong lump in their throats.
It was still very calm in the palace as the night continued its course but, to make sure that no one heard them, they locked themselves in their study, a very luxurious room for a place of work, full of precious objects and rare books. They were there waiting, like mice waiting in their burrow for the cat to go away. They had done everything over time to get into Daysam's good graces and be part of his group of collaborators. Their devotion had not gone unnoticed by the Rector, who had decided to use them as his informants on everything that happened in the Caliph's court. Unfortunately, however, envy and hatred towards Basim had made them forget to warn Daysam about the boy's presence at court and the Yasirpipe.
<< This is bad... what if they found out everything? >>
<< Don't talk nonsense. There is no evidence of our involvement. >>
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<< Blackmailed or corrupted. None of them will speak. >>
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<< Only the devil could do that. I repeat to you that nothing will happen. >>
Tanzim pretended to be confident but, in reality, he was just as anxious as the others.
The arrival of Jabar and Hazma had come at the worst time, and it was not appropriate for it to be discovered that Basim had disappeared because of them. The presumption of being able to control Sadin and his betrayal had put them in a bad position.
It was therefore necessary for them to find the boys first and until then they had to make sure that the General did not discover the truth, especially because, if it had also reached the ears of the Rector, it would have unleashed his anger towards them. They had to hurry, there wasn't much time left. They thought of hiring someone capable of quickly killing the thief before he was found by the General and the prince; a hitman or a corrupt guard or, whoever was able to do it, in short; and they also thought of eliminating Basim, certain that by now Sadin had made him aware of their plans. Tanzim, however, eager to gain greater prestige in the eyes of the rector, thought of organizing himself to solve the problem.
The next day Jabar, the prince, and his men, accompanied by some of Ghaali el-Meer's guards, began searching for Basim in the city. They intended to search every corner of all the neighborhoods of Shagreb and to meticulously interrogate the population, also providing a precise description of the man.
The Caliph was quite annoyed because the General had asked him not to interfere too much in that operation and to leave it to him and his men. It was his city, and this didn't make him happy at all but, since these were the people closest to the sultan, he had reluctantly accepted, putting his pride aside.
The first place they went to was the nomad camp suggested by the Caliph, hoping that Basim had taken refuge among those people. They inspected every tent and possible hiding place, ignoring the tribe's protests over the sudden invasion. They questioned everyone, even using threatening tones, but the result was only to generate great concern for Basim and to hear continuously from those people how much respect they had for him after what he had done for them.
“Well, we made it clear that he helped those people. Optimal. Perfect. What a good person..." the prince thought annoyed.
He didn't care what he had done, he just wanted to find him and get the Yasirpipe back. That's all.
He shook his head vigorously; he was getting emotional again. He had to stay focused and think.
“If no one saw him leave Shagreb, then he is surely still hiding in the city. He's a big, tall guy, a boy like that doesn't go unnoticed. Probably someone is helping him, perhaps the same person with whom they saw him leave the building.”
He examined the map of Shagreb with the General and they agreed that the only possible hiding place could be in the poor neighborhoods that were to the east, on the edge of the city, a spot well hidden in the facade splendor of the small kingdom. These were made up of numerous miserable hovels, all low, hidden by the large golden buildings as if trying to hide a degradation that they did not want to admit. The area was vast and the number of houses to be searched was very high; it was therefore impossible to establish how long the inspection would take.
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Knowing he was so close to the Yasirpipe and still not finding it made him very nervous.
From the corner of his eye, he observed the General repeatedly running his hands through his hair, an unusual gesture for him, he was probably almost as whipped as he was.
Jabar looked at his hands and realized that they were stained black. Not wanting to let anyone know about his habit of dyeing his hair, with the excuse of having to update the Caliph on the situation, he took his leave to return to the palace and walked away, urging the horse in the crowd. Hazma let out a chuckle, “So the rumors that she dyes her hair are true.”
Sadin narrowly dodged General Jabar's horse which was about to overwhelm him.
His first reaction was to rail at that arrogant knight, but he stopped himself; in the situation, he found himself in, he didn't want to cause a stir, there was the risk of being recognized by someone, therefore, he turned his back and went down his street, cursing under his breath.
The slums were the opposite of the shiny part of Shagreb: they were sad, dirty, and degraded… but the only refuge for those who could barely afford to survive. The food was always insufficient and even the moldy bread on those poor tables was considered a luxury. Most of the houses were made of mud bricks mixed with straw and wooden beams on which patched sheets were stretched as a roof; the children born there were considered unlucky by the parents themselves who felt guilty for having brought them into the world in that miserable place. Where the only possible toys were small bags of dirt. Sadin had no sympathy for the people of his tribe but, faced with so much misery, he considered himself lucky to have been born in a more dignified environment than the one he was experiencing. He had stolen some coins since he had escaped from prison, and he decided to distribute them among those poor people, not being able to help everyone he felt his heartache.
<< You're finally back, what happened to you? >>
<< Were you worried about me, darling? >>
<< Be serious, you stayed out all night. >>
<< I didn't go back earlier out of caution, there are a lot of guards around. More than before. >>
<< More? Seriously? >>
<< Here I am! And it seems there's someone else looking for us too. The situation is getting serious. >>
Basim had hoped for better news but, in their situation, it was lucky they hadn't found them yet.
They were looking for them everywhere, but not in the right way and place. While everyone thought they were hiding in poor neighborhoods or outside the city, in reality, they were holed up in the cellar of a beautiful, uninhabited house in a downtown area. It was one of the houses that Sadin had noticed during his patrols, it had been child's play to sneak in and remain quiet all that time, without the worry of being discovered.
Sadin's idea was to remain in the shadows for a few days until whoever was looking for them had concluded that they had now moved away from the city and were already very far away. It seemed to be working, but the arrival of another garrison to enhance the search now forced them to change their plan.
<< This is the right time to get away. >>
<< Well, it's about time. I was tired of hiding like a mouse. Do you already have a plan in mind on how to escape? >>
<< Of course, what questions! You always have to have an escape plan when you're in trouble and I - not to brag - I know about certain things. >>
<< You wouldn't think so, given your recent arrest…. >>
<< Are you making fun of me? >>
<< Forget it and tell me what's on your mind. >>
<< We will pass ourselves off as travelers and tiptoe out of the city. >>
<< Is that all? Is this the plan? >>
<< OK, I admit it. I couldn't think of anything else, but it's better than having nothing in hand. >>
<< In practice the success of this escape will depend entirely on luck, then? >>
<< If we want to put it this way... yes. We have no alternatives; we have to leave as soon as possible. >>
<< Okay, let's do it. It's worth taking a risk. >>
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<
That's right, the two prepared to escape.
They carefully disguised themselves and set off, trying to resemble poor travelers as much as possible. Escaping during the night would have been the most logical choice if the patrols had not been so frequent; therefore, they decided to move under the sunlight, even though they felt exposed like sheep moving into wolf territory.
As they walked along the main road, the same one they had taken days before upon their arrival, their hearts beat in unison like drums and despite the lightness of their clothes, they sweated profusely. Properly disguised, they walked with bowed heads through the crowd as tense as violin strings without speaking or looking at each other; now and then they looked up to look for Shagreb's exit gates or to make sure no one was looking at them suspiciously.
They passed many guards along the way. Passing by two of them they heard part of the conversation about someone they would have to find at any cost.
<< I told you. It was those Masters who started the research. They probably fed some story to the Caliph to make me look like the bad guy. >>
<< Stop with this story. You're exaggerating, Sadin. >>
<< Exaggerating? Surely, they want me dead or something. I'm telling you; they'll break my neck like a chicken if they catch me. >>
<< Stop it, the Caliph is not bloodthirsty. Arrogant and lazy without a doubt but far from violent. >>
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<< Sadin! Careful! >>
A moment of distraction almost cost Sadin a head-on collision with a wagon.
He leaped to the side to avoid being trampled by the horses. While dodging the beasts, however, a part of his tunic got caught in the wheel of the chariot which slowly began to pull him towards him. He fought with all his strength until, fortunately, the fabric tore up, just before he ended up strangled by his clothes. Even though it was a random accident, Sadin thought that some entity was mad at him.
He met an alarmed look. Not that of Basim who meanwhile, standing next to him, continued to ask him if he was okay. It was the look of a royal guard who had witnessed the scene, standing in the middle of the crowd curious about the small incident.
The man was very tall and this came in handy on his patrols, because he could see everything from a higher perspective like the hawks in the sky. He was not among the brightest of soldiers and for this reason, the tasks entrusted to him mainly concerned traffic control. He had witnessed the scene and only thought about how lucky Sadin had been to come out of that accident unscathed. The faces of the two boys told him nothing, unaware of their identities and of what was happening in those days right under his nose. When he walked in their direction he didn't intend to arrest them, but only to make sure they were okay... but Sadin couldn't know this and interpreted his approach as a danger.
He looked at Basim and thought about what trouble he would get into because of him.
What would they do to him if they started to think that he was the one who broke him out? The Masters would find a way to frame him and he could not allow this injustice to happen. His strong point was improvisation, so he already knew what to do to avoid the worst for his friend.
<< Stop! Don’t take another step! >> Sadin shouted at the guard, pointing a dagger at Basim's throat.
The sight of the weapon forced the man to draw his sword and call for reinforcements.
<< What the hell are you doing?! Do you want to kill me?! >> Basim asked him in a whisper.
<< No, I don't want them to think we are accomplices. Pretend you're scared. >> Sadin replied seriously.
<< I'm really scared! >>
<< Shut up or this will end badly! >>
Basim didn't need to feign concern while he had a dagger at his throat. Four soldiers stood in front of them a few steps away, but they did not dare to approach so as not to risk the situation degenerating. Behind them was the small wagon that had stopped, loaded with large bags and with the horses pawing.
<< Go! Go! Jump on! >> Sadin shouted, pulling Basim by the hair, forcing him to get on while he took the reins.
At the snap of the leather bridles the animals took off at a gallop but, before their race got too fast, two guards managed to grab hold of the cart and jump on.
<< Basim, you take the reins while I try to get rid of these intruders. >> Sadin said.
As the wagon careened through the streets of Shagreb, the three men on board tried to fight but were more focused on maintaining their balance than trying to hit each other. The slashes and lunges were imprecise and ineffective, it was easier to hurt oneself than to hit the opponent, all accentuated by the risk of falling badly.
Sadin, thanks to his agility, managed to get rid of a guard almost immediately, throwing him off the wagon after stabbing him in the knees.
He had rarely been forced to use a weapon, but he had learned, for his defense, which weak points to hit without having to be forced to kill.
The second man managed not to get hit and threw himself at him, seeking a hand-to-hand fight that seemed unequal, given the different builds of the two contenders.
The rhythm of the blows continued rapidly and Sadin tried to protect himself as best he could. He had received many in his young life but those of his opponent were just as hard as boulders. He was almost overpowered when Basim, realizing that he had the whip that is usually used to whip horses next to him, took it and, turning with a quick move, hit the guard full in the face, making him lose his balance and allowing Sadin to use that moment to push her down.
The soldier grabbed one of the bags and held on to it so as not to fall. Looking up he noticed the mischievous smile Sadin had on his lips as he brandished his dagger towards him. With terror, he thought that his time had come and begged him to stop, but Sadin did not hit him, instead, he cut the fabric of the sack, and a waterfall of cereals flowed down from the cart together with the man. The chariot was able to gain speed.
But the two young men didn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief when suddenly a dark noise echoed behind them. And then they saw something coming.
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<< If you wanted, would you be able to “ride” the Sand? >>
<< An expert Master would be capable of it. Why? >>
<< Because we're in a bit of a mess. >>
A red wave was reaching them, flooding the street with its violent flow. It wasn't the water of a raging river that was chasing them, but powerful magical sand.
The roar produced by the moving Sand was frightening, it seemed as if the roar of a hundred lions had merged with a storm of thunder and lightning, thus generating that deafening noise.
Incredibly, there was someone on board a sort of octagonal table finely decorated like a fine carpet, who seemed to be riding that wave of sand. Basim knew what it was: it was a Sandrider.
It was a wooden structure that the Masters wanted to be transported by the Sand.
A simple but very particular tool, with special retractable hooks that anchored it to the sand below when it was moving. The hooks were connected to the table through a mechanism built to cushion any shocks and allow the Maestro located on the platform to continue playing without the difficulties caused by the jolts.
At the edge of the table, Master Tanzeem was vibrating the keys of his Yasirpipe and one could read in his eyes the ardent desire to capture them. From the beginning he had decided to find the two boys personally, he couldn't allow others to find them with the risk of his shady dealings being discovered, he had to solve the problem his way and that is, eliminate them before they could talk. Perhaps his skills as a Sand Master were average, but what he was able to do, he could do very well, especially when he was enraged like in this case. He created a menacing golem from the shapeless mass of Sand that rushed towards the two with his arms wide open to try to grab them, and even if he crumbled into pieces in that mad rush, crashing into the buildings, the magic of the sound instantly recomposed him, allowing him to continue his journey. Tanzim smiled sarcastically as he made that sinister sound that brought the monster to life, eager for it to grab them and crush them in its hands like grapes, especially that disgusting little rat Sadin.
With such an arsenal, it was no wonder that the Masters had become a legend on the continent of Iazaresh.
How could one deal with such a weapon? But above all, how could you escape from it?
There was nothing that could stop the Sand, let alone a wave or a golem made of it.
<< Basim! Basim! You are the expert on the subject! Do you have any idea how the Sand stops?! That stuff has a weakness, doesn't it?! >> Sadin asked agitatedly, unable to take his eyes off the creature that was getting closer and more threatening.
<< I don't know! M-maybe! >> Basim stammered anxiously, while he tried to remember.
<< The water! Yes! If the Sand gets soaked in water it doesn't work! >> he exclaimed at a certain point.
<< Sand, by absorbing water, becomes a heavy lump that crumbles easily and, however special, cannot escape certain effects that make it practically useless. >>
<< Good to know! We have plenty of water here! Hand me the reins, I have a plan! >> Sadin said, again with a flash of light in his eyes, spurring the horses to gallop faster.
Basim hoped he had a really good idea, otherwise they were doomed.
There was certainly no shortage of water in Shagreb; there were fountains, swimming pools, and many public baths but none of them were what they needed. Lots and lots of water was needed… an entire river, to be precise.
Sadin smiled as he recognized the shimmer of the Shams River in the sun's rays, right in front of them; he headed straight towards the shore praying to the god Isin, divinity of good luck, to assist him and not abandon him at that moment. What he intended to do was a very risky move with a high probability of failure, but he had no alternative.
Basim held his breath, thinking that Sadin wanted to throw themself into the water with the entire cart and horses.
Instead, with careful calculation, he jumped the horses aboard a barge that was moving away at that moment from a small pier along the shore. The force of the jump pushed the boat out to the river, making it slide and sway on the surface of the river, quickly moving it away under the astonished eyes of a small crowd who had witnessed the scene in disbelief. Master Tanzim realized too late what was happening and didn't have time to stop his golem who threw himself headlong into the river with an energetic dive. The golem immediately dissolved in the water and the Sand dispersed, even if they managed to recover all of it, separating it from the mud at the bottom of the river, it would have taken a very long time before it could regain its power. In the worst-case scenario, it would no longer be of any use. Tanzim was devastated, he couldn't believe he had failed because of two kids.
Sadin could see his disappointed expression and considered it his victory.
Feeling safe at last, he tinkered with the barge to reach the opposite side of the shore and asked Basim to lend him a hand. In response, he punched him in the face.
<< Why the hell did you do that?! >>
<< Because you're a rowdy madman! We could have died! >>
<< “Died”, what a big word. It was a calculated risk; I knew we wouldn't get hurt. >>
<< I don't believe you at all. >>
<< In any case, we are finally out of the city. After everything that has happened to us, we need a nice holiday to recover our energy. >>
<< A holiday? It's precisely by thinking like this that I ended up in this mess. And where would you like to go, just to know? >>
<< Oh, I was thinking of a quiet place like Abu Wasaa. >>
<< Abu Wasaa?! But that's…! >>
<< It's the best hideout in the world. >>
<< That's not the point! You know there's that desert nearby! >>
<< Trust me, we will be safe there. >>
<< The word “safe” does not apply to Abu Wasaa at all. Have you ever been there? >>
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<< I imagined it. >>