Jabar downed the wine in one long gulp, and the servant at his side immediately refilled the cup as soon as it was within reach again, meanwhile, two young slave girls were massaging his back and feet in an attempt to relax his tired muscles. The man was making a great effort not to lose his temper. Certainly, ranting and screaming would have been very useful to let off steam and release the tension, but he wouldn't have given him that realistic help in finding Basim.

  Baharmis was filled with the calm aura of the evening, illuminated by the delicate colors of the sunset that were beginning to fade from warm to cold hues. Both he and Prince Hazma had been forced to return to the capital for reasons of state, the season of Arnanoth was near and both were needed to prepare the city to face one of the most delicate periods of the year. When he received the communication, it was like receiving a slap in the face, this meant interrupting the search.

  At a certain point, he chased away all his servants, their presence had become annoying to him. In the solitude of his house, he muttered between continuing to drink, polishing his sword, or exercising. He opted for the third option, considering how strong the desire was to have to do something. But for a guy like him, physical exercise at that time was taken into consideration differently.

  Baharmis was the pinnacle of order and legality, but it too had its little dark side which, however minimal, certainly did not disappoint in terms of offering more or less legal goods and services. For those who wanted something in particular that could not be obtained normally, one had to go to the center of the most humble neighborhoods, dotted with hidden alleys and invisible shops of which not even the Baharmasians themselves knew the existence: drugs, slaves, brothels... they were there were many "special" offers hidden in the shadows of the capital and were often more tempting than those exposed to the sunlight. Among the various ways to earn money, when you have no goods or material goods, is to sell yourself. There are various systems with which you can market your body and none of them are painless. In the city, in that case, the highest-paid activity of the category concerned clandestine struggles. The matches take place in the cellars of the houses or even in the animal stables, in spaces that are so narrow that the opponents often risk ending up on top of the screaming spectators who praise the violence, bewitched by the euphoria of that violent fun. Fights rarely end with a death and when this happens the evidence of what happened is eliminated without too much disappointment... there is never a shortage of contenders, even if you try not to run out of them.

  Jabar liked the meetings but rejected their aim for the sole gain of money. According to him, it was not honorable: he defined it as a form of prostitution for men. It was depressing to see promising young men having to stoop to the level of chickens. Why should they waste their manhood like that? Why not join the legion then?

  “Oh yeah, they can't.” He thought annoyed. “There is not enough money to recruit new soldiers.”

  He sat in the audience for a short time, annoyed by the jostling and constant shouting in his ears, before deciding to participate in the contest as planned. Unlike those poor wretches, he competed for the joy of fighting rather than for the paltry money at stake. Despite his military ranks, he had no opportunity to engage in real battles, in training he always had to go slowly whether they were recruits or expert soldiers, whereas here, in that small arena where only the victory of the strongest counted, he could let off steam as much as he wanted.

  The moment his body began to move, pounding into the hot, sweaty flesh of his opponents, hearing bones breaking and teeth falling out… oh, what excitement permeated him. With every punch and every kick the stress was decreasing and his pleasure, at the same time, grew and warmed his blood. The kind of fervor he was feeling at that moment was similar to what he felt during sex or when he was drunk, a feeling of intense gratification that made him ask for more and more. After the first three matches, many of those present began to place bets on him. But before the stakes could reach a figure high enough to be considered important, the challengers were already finished. Only Jabar remained standing and unharmed, barely breaking a sweat. He was amazed and annoyed, it couldn't have already ended like this before he could even define himself as satisfied! He was still thirsty for a beating! Of moans of pain! But as much as he tried to incite new adversaries with heavy insults to manhood, no one strong or courageous enough accepted the gauntlet. Jabar left the arena in frustration, his growl momentarily resembling that of an enraged dog.

  If the human body had been capable of radiating light in response to emotions, the General would probably have shone like a torch. It wasn't difficult to imagine his head engulfed in the flames of anger, one look at his face was enough to understand how frustrated he was, and that made it clear that it was better to stay away from him, at least until his fists stopped shaking ready to spring at any moment. He had almost reached home when a servant ran towards him, waving a letter that had just arrived by traveling falcon.

  Jabar showed no enthusiasm for the message that had just arrived, assuming it was yet another useless piece of news. His greenish eyes read the paper without blinking, after a few seconds, without realizing it, he began to giggle with a cheerfulness that his servant found disturbing. It wasn't a normal laugh from him, it was pure joy. The message read: “I found your man. He is in Tura.”

  Basim couldn't help but tell himself how amazing the sea was.

  He had never seen so much water in his life, it was as if there could be nothing else beyond the blue horizon that sparkled animatedly under the sun, the smell of salt that rose at certain hours was strange but not annoying, certainly it was more pleasant than that of the fish which was caught abundantly every day.

  Tura was certainly an interesting city, especially given how it had developed on the side of a hill that descended in levels almost to the coast; but its port was the real jewel. He had never seen so many ships gathered in one place, some of them larger than a house and at times even intimidating with their decorated hulls, almost all of them had flags or sails on which magical symbols were embroidered, but which indicated their belonging to overseas cultures. The port occupied a large part of the flat space, where there were no ships docked for loading and unloading goods there were shipyards where they built them; each new docking was always greeted by energetic shouts of exultation and the comings and goings of the sailors became as frenetic as that of an anthill.

  Talking about diversity, the people themselves were also a reason for curiosity.

  Tura was the nautical crossroads of different ethnic groups. How could a group of people of different races be defined? If there was a term, he didn't know it. He could only say that it was incredible that there were people with different features than him... much more bizarre than Sadin's, which people had been so amazed by. Already since his arrival, he had crossed paths with people with skin as light as milk or hair as golden as straw, or even red as saffron; he had to admit that he was afraid of white-skinned people because they seemed like ghosts to him. The difference did not stop only in appearance, the way of dressing and speaking was also another prominent element, there were men on whose arms strange animals or symbols were drawn, and tall, muscular women with a proud bearings who dressed in heavy armor. How varied and curious the world could be, Basim thought.

  << One day I too will travel the world. I've dreamed of going on one of those ships since I was little. >>

  << Really? But then wouldn't you feel homesick? >>

  << The only thing I would miss is my uncle, after all, the rest never mattered much to me. >>

  <>

  << In the northern countries without a doubt! I have heard of a land much colder than ours, with animals like camels but with large horns and where solid white rain falls. >>

  << Solid... rain? Come on Sadin, this is a lie. >>

  Basim and Sadin had settled in Tura for a month now.

  For now, it seemed that luck and tranquility were on their side.

  In reality it was also due to the commitment to keep a low profile, more than they had attempted to do in Abu Wasaa. This time the boys didn't share time in the city, Sadin had already been to that town a couple of times in the past and knew only too well how talkative and nosy the people there were. No missteps this time, whatever happened they shouldn't be noticed. For Sadin, it was an easy game thanks to all those years spent evading guards and civilians like a shadow, but for Basim, who didn't have senses as refined as his, he always had to be on alert, aware of not having to attract the be careful, sometimes he was so restless that his shoulders would stiffen to the point of pain.

  Once a week they met in different places to get updates from each other. An appointment that Basim always looked forward to.

  This time the meeting point was in a caravanseraion the border between the port and the city proper. Many merchants stopped there before resuming their journey by sea or land, or to comfortably conclude various types of business in the small rooms furnished with cushions and carpets. Part of the clientele was also made up of foreign explorers who, partly because of the alcohol, didn't exactly have the good sense to have a conversation in a low voice regardless of whether their language was understandable to others or not.

  << I wonder if old Elamin is well... >> he said thinking of the Collector.

  << Surely yes, Grandpa is a smart guy. When I get old, I want to be like him. >> Sadin said with admiration.

  << Do you think that one day we will be able to return to Abu Wasaa to repay him for the help he gave us? >>

  << Who can say? Maybe if you become a true Sand Master we may or may not succeed. >>

  << Are you going to do it now too? I don't want to become a Sand Master. >>

  After leaving the desert and accompanying them to the first human outpost, Elamin retraced his steps to return to Abu Wasaa. He had tried to convince him to stay with them, that it was risky to return after what had happened, but he had replied that he couldn't abandon the other unfortunate people of the town just to save his skin. Even if no law or blood bond was uniting them, they had always helped each other out of respect.

  << Speaking of serious things, how is it going so far? Have you had any problems? >>

  <>

  << Notice anything unusual? >>

  << Yesterday I saw some foreigners who, while speaking, waved their hands convulsively. They reminded me of the Sand Collectors, but their way of moving seemed like that of a madman. >>

  <>

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  << Then apart from this, there is nothing else. >>

  << That's good. We were lucky to end up in these parts. There are so many foreigners that no one pays attention to us. >>

  << Yes, but we can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, we will have to return home. >>

  << You're right my friend, but I'm still thinking about the next move. Honestly, I don't know what we should do from this point on. I'm a little out of ideas. >>

  The boys were in a stalemate, after so much time spent running away, now they didn't know what to do. The only thing they agreed on was that neither of them had any intention of putting down roots in Tura and they knew that sooner or later they would have to settle the Yasirpipe issue once and for all.

  <> proposed Basim.

  Sadin gave a sort of ironic laugh.

  << Why not? So they throw both of us in jail. By now the Masters of Shagreb will have fed the royal family a load of bullshit. And don't forget about that Master Architect in Abu Wasaa. >>

  << Well, we could try to talk to the prince first. Everyone at Baharmis says that he is someone who always listens to his subjects before judging them. >>

  << Yes, and donkeys fly. >>

  << Look, the prince is not like the nobles we have known until now. I have always heard good things about him... certainly more than his father... and above all for how he always did his utmost to help the people. Who knows... maybe he could give us a hand. >>

  << Bah! It seems impossible to me. >>

  << Come on, he could be the person we need. It's still an idea, right? >>

  << Okay, okay. I'll think about it and let you know. Happy? >>

  Basim would only have been if that idea of ??his had worked. At least it was something to work towards, rather than having nothing in hand.

  With that agreement, the two boys concluded their weekly meeting.

  They walked together for a few minutes in the port before taking different paths, to the displeasure of Basim who by now felt a sense of abandonment in his solitude. He went up the hilly city to its third level, the three-storey white and gray houses had been built with precision next to each other and all faced the sea, but the residents, looking out of the windows or balconies, were taken from chatting loudly to each other rather than admiring the view which, at least for him, was worth more than gossip. He arrived at the inn where he was temporarily living, recognizable by the effigy of a fish carved into a wooden disc that hung above the entrance. The place was not sumptuous, but it certainly tried to be comfortable both for those who had to stop for just one night or a week, the food was not bad even if it often permeated the adjoining tavern with a not exactly pleasant, combined aroma of onions and fish and, it seems, stocked up on wine as quickly as they ran out of it. He counted the coins in his wallet, he could afford to stay there for another week, then he would have to look for another place to stay.

  “Maybe I should have asked Sadin for money…” he thought regretfully.

  “No, I have to manage on my own. I can't always rely on others.” He reiterated to himself.

  He had proven to himself that he could do it on his own, so he had no reason to worry. And if he had to sleep on the streets… well, there was no problem, after all, he had slept near the most dangerous desert of Iazaresh.

  << Hey, welcome back kid. >>

  When Basim entered, the owner welcomed him with his deep voice.

  He was sweeping the floor with an old broom whose straw bristles scattered on the ground making the work quite useless. The man reminded him a bit of his grandfather, he was short and bald like him, only with fewer years on his shoulders, as well as physically fitter. Both on his muscular arms and his shaved head there were scars whose size went from being as thin as a thread of string to as wide as two of his fingers, he had a crooked nose and a cut lower lip, all wounds probably due to past fights... but despite the menacing man ran the inn like a perfect businessman, solved every unknown with iron calm and was even able to communicate with foreign customers in their native language if necessary. He was a good man, just a little too attached to money.

  << Come here for a while. I need to ask you something. >> he told him, gesturing with his hand.

  << If it's for the rent, I've already settled the bill with your wife. I swear. >> he hastened to tell him Basim.

  << That's not what I want to know: I just wanted to ask you a favor. >>

  <>

  << I know you recently arrived in these parts, but I need a hand this evening. Do you know anyone who can play? >>

  << Play? >>

  Basim's attention lit up when he heard that word.

  << Yes, exactly. The musician I hire has usually been feeling ill and I have no one tonight to entertain the customers while they eat. >>

  << I... unfortunately I don't know anyone. I'm sorry... >> said Basim. He paused and then added: <<... but I'm doing quite well. >>

  << Can you play? >> the innkeeper asked him surprised.

  << Yes, sir. >>

  << You're not kidding me, are you? >>

  << Absolutely not, I swear. >>

  << Prove it to me. If you can put two decent notes together, I'm even willing to pay you. >>

  At the first whiffs of food, the customers gathered in the tavern and less than a minute the confusion was already such as to force the owner to scold the most undisciplined. The ability of some to be able to speak and eat at the same time without choking was surprising. In a corner, someone had decided to hold a drinking contest for which a winner could not yet be established, and the smokers' pipes had formed gray mists around their tables.

  In the general chatter and drunken laughter, someone managed to pay attention to the background music and applaud the skill of the musician who was entertaining them. Basim bowed to every praise, now and then he glanced at the innkeeper and when he gave him a satisfied smile, he knew he was doing well. He had missed performing, and even though it wasn't his usual large audience, the few who gave him attention were more than satisfying. Although he seemed to be ignored by most of the guests, in reality, they always had their ears alert and demonstrated it the moment he played something they knew, starting to sing and dance accordingly. He found it very funny how men as hard as rock and cold as metal became as joyful as little boys after being easily softened by the alcohol.

  He realized that he had become better at playing. He didn't say it out of arrogance, he noticed it precisely with the ease with which he played; he came so naturally to him now that he could no longer remember what he was like before he learned. He didn't want to let it go to his head, but it was a great satisfaction to have finally mastered his passion.

  After a couple of encores and a few personal requests, it was finally time for him to eat too. He sat aside in a corner of the kitchen slowly eating a large plate of chicken and vegetables, while the cooking and serving continued around him. It wasn't so late as to say it was time to sleep, but Basim couldn't wait to go to bed, feeling his tiredness weighing down his eyelids with ever more perseverance.

  << Not bad, I thought you were making fun of me but instead you know how to strum properly. You're even better than that other string plucker who usually comes here. >> said the satisfied innkeeper. Then he handed him a bag in which many coins jingled.

  << Here, you deserved it. I'd like to hear you play again, how about tomorrow? Same pay and a hot meal. >>

  Basim thought it was a good proposal and accepted it. Even though that money would soon return to the man's pocket when he paid the rent, at least it guaranteed him that he wouldn't be kicked out.

  The innkeeper gave him the rest of the evening free, by now they were too drunk in the tavern to pay attention to the music. Before going to sleep he decided to take one last look of admiration at the sea, enchanted for the umpteenth time by the panorama it offered him; particularly by the way the moonlight reflected on the water. He had said he didn't want to stay and live in Tura, but he wouldn't have minded, perhaps later in life; moving to an equally similar city where he could have the sea next to him as a sort of friendly neighbor.

  <>

  Feeling called, he turned.

  Basim was struck by the appearance of the man who stood a few meters from him, so tall and muscular and with green eyes the color of palm leaves. For a second, he thought it was a thief, he had neither seen nor heard him coming, and with his size, he could have easily subdued him if he had wanted to rob him; instead, he approached him with an excited voice.

  <> insisted the stranger.

  << Y-yes, it's me... but who are you...? >> he tried to ask him in surprise before the man interrupted him by squeezing his shoulders, and for a moment he almost seemed to want to hug him.

  << I finally found you! Luckily you are safe and sound! I cannot believe it! >> he told him.

  << Wait! Wait! How do you know my name? What do you want from me? >> said Basim, giving him a shove.

  He was a friendly guy but to the point of letting the first stranger he met on the street touch him.

  << Forgive me, you're right, it's just that... by the Gods, I've been looking for you for a long time. I have been tasked by your parents to find you and bring you home. My name is Jabar, I am the General of the kingdom of Baharmis. >>

  Basim was speechless, he couldn't believe that he had the famous Jabar in front of him. He had heard many stories of his incredible abilities and how much he was admired for his excellent skills, as well as his intelligence and perspicacity. He was envied by men as much as women admired him and tried to ingratiate themselves with him to be married, as some cousins ??and aunts in his family had tried to do. In practice he had a national hero in front of him... and he had pushed him away in a rude way.

  In a whirlwind of surprise and emotion, the General managed to explain that his family, tormented by the nightmare that they might have lost him forever, had begged him on their knees to find him, despite knowing that his duties towards the internal kingdom were worth more than a single individual. In the face of so much anguish, he had not been able to remain impassive and had decided to help them, putting aside any military duty. His family... Basim hadn't seen them for so long now that just hearing about them triggered a strong sense of nostalgia: his parents, his cousins, his grandparents... how were they all? How were they living those days without him?

  << …And boy, you sure were hard to track down, you had me going up and down the kingdom restlessly. It almost felt like you wanted to hide from the world. >>

  << I... I don't know what to say. Did you come all this way to find me? >>

  << I did this and more. However, I am quite shocked to see you unharmed... or are you by any chance injured? We can go to a doctor right away if you're not well. >>

  << No, I don't need it. I'm just surprised... and confused... and happy. By the gods, I don't understand anything anymore. So many things have happened since I left that I've almost forgotten how it all started. >>

  << Take a deep breath, you're safe with me now. I think it's better if you tell me your story over a good hot tea. I, as much as your family, want to know your story. >>

  Unveiling a surprisingly deep and gentle voice, Basim slowly let himself be hypnotized by such courtesy that he could almost define it as angelic, even his gaze reassured him, instilling in him the confidence he needed to open up. Back at the inn, the warm infusion of tea opened him to confidence, and he told as clearly as possible his story, his misadventures, and even the Yasirpipe. He was afraid to talk about the instrument, worried that he might think of him as a thief, but when the General told him that he knew that he had tried to bring him back to Al Haimat thanks to the testimonies of its followers, it took a great weight off his shoulders. He then told him how he had to learn to play it to earn a living, how he had become a "Street Master" and the discrimination of the Sand Masters, things which came to Jabar as unclear and confusing rumors, but which fit with what was heard.

  After finishing his story, Basim's throat was dry and he was trembling with excitement. He relied on the warmth of the tea to calm him down, clutching the cup in his hands like a lifeline.

  << You went through a lot and managed to get out of it. You are truly an amazing guy. >>

  << I was just very lucky. If I survived, I only owe it to the people who helped me and to the Gods who protected me. >>

  << Don't be modest. It takes a lot of willpower to survive for so long and with so many obstacles. You are a fighter and I admire that. >>

  << I… thank you, sir. I'm sorry that you had to come so far just for me, >>

  << Don't even say it, I just did my duty. Now I guess you can't wait to get home. >>

  << Absolutely! And I promise you that I will do everything to repay the debt I owe you. >>

  << Oh come on, I don't need to be thanked in any way. >>

  << I insist, I will not have peace if I do not reciprocate what you have done for me and my family. >>

  << Since you care so much, we'll find something. >>

  Basim smiled; things were finally going right.

  He suddenly felt dizzy, his eyelids became heavy, and he began to struggle to put his thoughts together. He felt an unusual tiredness pervade him, it had been a long day and many emotions... perhaps it was because of that, but he couldn't think about it clearly, disoriented by the mental fog that was becoming increasingly thicker.

  <> Jabar asked him.

  His figure seemed blurry to him at that moment, so much so that for a moment it seemed like he was smiling at him strangely. No... why on earth would he? From his voice, it was clear that he was instead worried.

  << I... I don't feel well. But I think it's temporary. >> Basim replied disoriented.

  He tried to get up but in doing so the dizziness unbalanced him, Jabar managed to catch him before he fell to the ground, supporting him with his body. Without him realizing it, Jabar closed the secret compartment hidden under the gem of a ring that he always carried with him.

  << You better lie down; you could hurt yourself if you keep moving. >>

  <>

  << Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. You rest now, I'll take care of the rest. >>

  [1]The caravanserai is a building generally consisting of a wall that encloses a large courtyard and a portico. It was used to stop caravans crossing the desert, but it could also be found near ports. It could also include wayfarers' rooms used freely by travellers. In many of them there were also libraries, and especially in the evening there was the opportunity for profound cultural exchanges between people of different latitudes.