Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (14 page)

“My wife? What… No, not my wife,” grumbled an exasperated Balid, “the carpet hanging
behind
my wife.”

Poor Balid,
thought Foosh, amused.

“So why didn’t you say so?” asked Kwadil while scooping another large bite of zghazti. He added quickly, “You and I are about to engage in a mutually beneficial exchange, my dear Balid.” Balid perked up. “One you and I will remember as a beautiful dawn on the seashore.”

Foosh did the mental translation
: Balid will deliver a few carpets to his camp, and he will bring the boy back. I better prepare the special container.

Balid’s carpets were expensive and warranted the extra protection of sturdy, wooden containers to protect them. One of these containers—the handiwork of master dwarfs—had a cavity concealed by a dropped ceiling large enough for a man to hide in it. The intricate etchings inside the trunk created the perfect illusion, causing the hung ceiling to remain undetectable. Two copper pipes hidden by the carvings brought fresh air inside that space. Foosh had used this trunk on several occasions in the past to smuggle fugitives of Baal and help them join the Black Robes.

“Master Kwadil, you speak again riddles and mysteries. You did not come here under curfew to buy two carpets, did you?” Balid inquired.

“Ah, my dearest Foosh, you are the queen of spices.”

Help me, I don’t know how to answer your husband.
translated Foosh silently
. Ha! This will teach Kwadil to underestimate Balid.

“Your zghazti is delicious. It must be the goat cheese you use.”

Is he telling me, to my face, that my husband is a goat?
Involuntarily, Foosh frowned.

“He is so creamy,” added Kwadil quickly. “I should like to know what you feed your goats.”

Ah, he found a way out. I was going to let him stew in his own porridge a little longer
.

“You should know, my dear friend and friend most dear,” said Kwadil to Balid in reply…

Uh-oh
, thought Balid,
I just offended a dwarf. May the heavens have mercy on us.

“…that we dwarfs are not without our own resourceful resources and resources most resourceful. Andaxil may have not yet yielded all her secrets but not all our secretive secrets and secrets most secretive were locked up within her walls. We—”

“More zaja, dear Kwadil?” offered Foosh.

The dwarf’s countenance brightened instantly. By saying “zaja,” Foosh signaled that she understood and agreed to help him.

“Zghazti,” corrected Balid wiping his forehead. “What is wrong with you two calling a zghazti dish ‘zaja’? Back to the carpets; Master Kwadil, why did you come now and not wait until tomorrow morning when the curfew is lifted?”

“My estimable esteemed client and most esteemed estimable client will be leaving at the break of dawn tomorrow morning and not a moment later.”

“Oh, where to? I was not aware anyone could leave Byblos so early.”

“The
Noonoh
, a graceful, tri-mast ship, is leaving for Tanniin tomorrow morning. My richly rich buyer wants to attend the Games of the Mines.”

Balid rubbed his chin dreamily. “The Games of the Mines, ah, yes, exciting. So many carpets to sell.”

“I have never seen the Games,” added Foosh innocently.

“Ah, yes, my dear Foosh, the Games are a wonder to see…” He lowered his gaze and shuddered. “So expensive this trip, don’t you know?” With puppy eyes, he looked at Master Kwadil, “So very expensive.”

“My customer is willing to cover the cost of travel if you throw in a third carpet,” said the dwarf.

“Done,” replied Balid. “Foosh, I shall take you to Tanniin, and you shall see the world, the Games, the mines. What an adventure. I had better go tell Parma to get busy,” he said, rising. “We have much preparation to make.”

“Then I had better leave.”

“Before you taste the sweets? Out of the question. Besides, I’ll need ten minutes at most.”

“Fine. I shall wait for you.”

“Foosh,” said Balid, whispering, “serve the sweets.”

“I am right here, Balid,” said Kwadil. “I can hear you.”

Balid smiled then slipped out of the tent.

“Who is he?” asked Foosh.

“The less you know, the better,” replied Kwadil.

“I see. You want him out of harm’s way. What shall I tell Commander Tanios?”

“Tell Tanios I am sending a slave to be trained under him. If, in the span of nine years, I do not send for him, the boy’s fate will be in his hands. He may set him free if he so wishes.”

“Why nine years?”

“Because, dear Foosh, the Tanniinites have learned that when an orphan slave is set free too early and they are left to their own devices, they leave their masters in haste and fall into the wrong hands. For the benefit of the slaves and the peace in the kingdom, a royal edict forbids an orphan slave from being set free before the age of twenty-one.”

“I see,” said Foosh. “How do we retrieve the boy?”

“I will come to you tomorrow morning, as soon as the curfew breaks, and the boy will be in my carriage. You will help Jendhi conceal him in that special trunk. Keep the boy sedated until you are far away from the coast. He must not, under any circumstances, mention the name of his sister, or else your lives and ours will be forfeited. Understood?”

Foosh nodded. “All of this for a slave?” she added quizzically.

“Tanios must not suspect anything. To anyone on that boat and in Tanniin, the boy must look like an orphan slave who is still in shock at the loss of his family. No more, no less.”

“It is done,” said Balid, walking back into the tent.

“Zaja makes you healthy. It prevents tooth decay,” said Kwadil, beaming. “Have some more.”

Balid did not bother correcting the dwarf. Instead, he obliged, wondering if he was still the host or if he had become the guest under his own tent. He knew his friend was a born leader, feeling at ease in a tent as much as in a palace. He, on the other hand, was content to play a more passive role.

“Time for some sweets,” said Foosh, smiling. She served them and bowed. “Master Kwadil, I must retire early. There is much to be done tomorrow.”

“May you be preserved from harm,” replied the dwarf, bowing, and his words rung ominously in her ears. She smiled and left the tent.

Kwadil clapped like a child who had just been handed a wonderful gift. “Ah, my dear Balid, your wife’s namoorah is without compare. I love her,” he added looking at Balid.

“Master Kwadil,” started Balid cautiously, “you are not suggesting what I think you have just suggestively suggested.”

“Bravo, my dear friend,” exclaimed the dwarf. “After twenty years of friendship, you are beginning to understand her.”

“Who? My wife?”

“No, our language. Your sentence was perfectly dwarfish.”

“Thank you,” replied Balid beaming. Encouraged, he went on the offensive. “Have some more namoorah,” he said grinning. “She has prepared her for you.”

“Who?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife prepared herself—”

“No, the namoorah.”

“Ah, her. Very well, now, keep up your good work, and she will reward you greatly.”

“Who, my wife?”

“No, the trip, of course. I suppose all has been said, yes? Good. Please give my highest regards to your delightful wife and do let her know how highly appreciative I am of her wonderful cuisine.”

“Thank you, my friend, and do not worry. She will be very successful.”

“Your wife?”

“No, the trip.”

“What a peculiar manner of speech,” said Kwadil, as he vanished into the night.

“I will never get it,” muttered Balid. “I have known him for over twenty years, and I still do not get it. Dwarfish grammar doesn’t make sense.”

Early the next morning, Foosh and Balid went aboard the Noonoh. The seventeen trunks filled with their choicest carpets went through customs and were loaded into the cargo bay of the tri-mast.

So it was, on Tébêt 2, 1141, that Balid, the carpet merchant, and his wife, Foosh, spirited Ahiram out of Fineekia to sell him as a slave in Tanniin.

“I sure hope we make it in time for the Games of the Mines,” said Balid. “We’ve got to sell those carpets now.”

“Don’t you worry, Balid,” said Foosh. “We will.”

“The Games of the Mines were a great invention of the Kingdom of Tanniin, preserving their national pride and identity. Year after year, the Games reenacted El-Windiir’s victory, and year after year, the team from Baal won, reminding the Tanniinites that Baal was their master and they, his servants. To this end, Baal sent the finest juniors of the High Riders to win the Games.”

–
Teachings of Oreg, High Priest of Baal

“To the Games!”

Thunderous applause closed the inaugural speech of King Jamiir III of Tanniin on the eve of the Games of the Mines. The King smiled obsequiously, opened his arms, and gave a curt bow imbued with feigned humility. He raised his cup, surveying the guests fortunate enough to be admitted into the Royal Hall. The remaining 2,637 guests were confined to the Royal Garden, the lower hall on the first floor, and the middle hall on the second. The total number being exactly 2,929, to honor the span of years since El-Windiir, the kingdom’s founder, fought the Lord of the Pit in the Wars of Meyroon.

“And now, dear friends, let us make merry. Let there be dancing and rejoicing on the eve of the great Games of the Mines.”

Elliptical in shape, the Royal Hall was oriented east to west to honor Tanniin from the rising sun to its setting. The massive, vaulted ceiling held a masterpiece of dwarfish craftsmanship: a sun-shaped, alabaster-plated keystone—five feet in diameter—studded with two thousand diamonds. With its twelve gold sunrays sprawled over the white vault, the keystone shimmered like an inner sun. The high ceiling rested on twenty-four columns surrounding a gleaming dance floor large enough for seven hundred guests. Their bases of beaten bronze and hemmed, silver-fluted shafts rose to the capitals, where the ruby-eyed faces of kings long past cast an introspective gaze upon the guests below.

Twenty silver chains held a bronze lattice over the dance floor. Resembling the inverted frame of a ship’s hull, it was the largest candelabrum ever conceived, holding eight hundred and sixty candles lighting the room as if in bright daylight.