The Thief of Kalimar; Captain Sinbad; Cinnabar

by Graham Diamond

  Silent ships at anchor dipped and bowed across the curving bay like lonely sentinels waiting for the dawn. In the eastern sky the first cracks of light were spreading thinly over the sleeping city. The magnificent edifices of Basra climbed upward against the sloping hills. Soon the muezzins would come to the balconies and sing out the birth of a new day. The faithful would rise and kneel in prayer and the city would again ring with hectic life.

  Aladdin loved the port city of Basra. It was certainly the closest thing to home he had ever known. How many times had he promised himself he would remain, he wondered. Give up this nomadic life of wanderings and quests, settle permanently as the sultan urged, find a wife, raise a brood of children, and perhaps find real happiness. That was his dream. Somehow, though, it had never come to pass. During his life he had seen places that most men can only fantasise; exotic lands and turbulent oceans which took him to virtually every comer of the world. He knew how his very name had come to be synonymous with the word adventure, how young school-age boys admired and tried to emulate him. Yes, there was a compelling lure to journeys of adventure. A life of glamour and danger. But he also realised that there comes a point in life when the lustre begins to fade. Aladdin knew he was many things — but not a fool. Sooner or later he must face reality and alter his destiny before circumstance and fortune made it too late. One day the odds would catch up; the world was littered with the corpses of soldiers-of-fortune who had undertaken one journey too many.

  Being in Basra now made that realisation all too apparent. This need to alter his situation was no capricious whim; he had tossed and turned through many a sleepless night considering it. But tonight, seeing the sultan’s joy, briefly being a part of the world of civilisation he so often forgot existed, had made an indelible mark. If indeed the sultan envied him, then how much more he himself was jealous of his boyhood friend. Not for his wealth or title or power; those were artificial trappings of little worth. Rather, it was for the peace of mind and tranquillity the sultan had found.

  Ah, if only there were a Fatima waiting for me somewhere, he mused. That alone was a reason for existence. Let life’s hidden mysteries remain unexplained. The solution of its puzzles was less than the sum of its fulfilment. Leave philosophy to the philosophers. For too long the fool’s paradise of wandering had possessed him. He saw that plainly now. Truly the sultan was right.

  Give it up, Aladdin, the small voice in his mind nagged louder than ever. Set your mind and heart to your destiny, while you still can.

  He pounded a restless fist into his palm as he stared out at the sweeping city. And then he made his vow, this time determined not to break it. His last quest for fame and fortune was finished. Let younger men carry the banner of adventure forward into the vastness of the world. Tomorrow he would take up the offer of the sultan. Yes, remain here with his good and honest friends. Return to the civilisation he had so carelessly foresworn, settle in Basra, and begin his search in but one direction: toward the woman of his dreams.

  He turned from the terrace and filled his lungs with the salty air, feeling a new exhilaration come over him. He lifted his fist heavenward, crying aloud, “By Allah, this time I shall keep my word. No more will I roam. At last I have come home.”

  Chapter Four

  He whistled a merry tune as he walked through the hanging gardens to his rooms in the spacious west wing of the palace. His tired brain hummed with plans and ideas for his new life. First, he would sell his cottage retreat near Baghdad, then Find what price he could realise for the land given to him by the generous Persian moneylender whose daughter he saved from bandits. If he also sold his collection of jade, perhaps he might see enough money to begin some new career. A soldier-of-fortune has no specific trade other than hiring his blade and wits for pay, but he felt confident that somewhere in this huge city, meaningful employment could be found for an honest and enterprising fellow like himself. Basra was without question the crowning jewel of all Araby; a crossroad through which all important trade must pass: spices and silks from the Orient, precious stones and metals from the mines of western kingdoms; lumber from the mountains, marble from the Persian quarries; the finest horses in all the world from Arabia; the great craftsmanship of Baghdad; wines from the fabled vineyards of Tyre and Alexandria and the renowned steel weaponry from Damascus. The city was a vital metropolis, rivalling such famous places as Jerusalem and Baghdad. It was also a centre for science and the arts. Renowned for its scholarship, the university drew a steady flow of the finest teachers and pupils. A city of tolerance and peace where disparate cultures blended harmoniously, it was well-governed and protected by the sultan. There were so many avenues from which to choose, that thinking about his future now only boggled his mind.

  A gentle wind rustled the leaves of the fruit trees and swayed the palms as he hurried across the garden paths. Should he enter a career in the arts, he wondered. Perhaps become a dealer in the finest imported silks from Cathay and the East? Or maybe his new life would find him a partner in shipping, trading valuable cargoes to far-flung lands whose names he could hardly pronounce? What about horses? He had always loved fine stallions; surely the Arabian breeds available would bring a handsome profit in faraway markets...

  Dawn was spreading faster now, as the paleness in the sky gave way to a splendorous glow. Aladdin paused by a splashing fountain and drank cool water until his thirst was quenched. Birds were stirring and beginning to sing in the trees, and a tiny robin flew from its nest and soared above the palace walls.

  “You and I have much in common, tiny bird,” he muttered. “We are both free and untamed creatures, flying where and when we will. But now, like you, I have found a nest.”

  The domes of the mosques glittered as they caught the first golden rays of sunlight. A soft bluish haze hung gently above the city, moist with dew and spray from the sea. Aladdin plucked a savoury pomegranate from its yellow petals and bit into it, pausing to watch the sunrise.

  Oh, how outrageously marvellous he felt at this moment; no longer tired or melancholy, but ready and eager to begin life anew. Then he thought of Christóbal, his constant companion in adventure, and frowned. What would the man he trusted with his life say to his born-again life? The big Spaniard would likely call him mad, a stark raving lunatic for wanting to give up everything that had been important.

  Aladdin chuckled at the thought, picturing the bear in a stocking cap, his massive hands on massive hips, his oversized head tilted askance, saying gruffly, “Have you lost your mind completely, capitán?” Then he would scratch the jutting chin lost behind the forest of beard. “Why would any man be content with a single roof of stone when he can have the whole sky to shelter him?” Christóbal would shake his head sadly. “For what do you seek a single woman when there are thousands waiting with open arms and enticing lips?”

  Since the First day they encountered one another upon a journey which found them both after the same prize in the caves of Crete, they had become fast friends and traveling companions. Partners in fortune and, frequently, misfortune. Aladdin had come to love and respect the big ox despite his shortcomings. The brawling aficionado of fine wines and women was not getting any younger, either. The ugly bear needed convincing that a life of aimless wandering was as futile for him as it was for Aladdin. Far more opportunity awaited them both right here at their doorstep — sharing alike as they always had.

  Contemplating how best to break the news to the ox, Aladdin finished his tasty fruit and resumed his walk. As he came out from the trees and onto the green, a cold shadow crossed his path. Aladdin spun around, his right hand reflexively lowering to where his absent dagger normally rested. Squinting in the brightening light, he saw a dark-robed, cowled figure lingering among the trees.

  “Forgive me if I startled you,” came the voice of the stranger, deeply accented. He lifted a bony hand in peaceful gesture. “I meant no harm.”

  Aladdin shifted his weight and stared as the figure took a few steps toward him. The ma
n moved stiffly, holding himself erect. Dangling from his neck was a silver chain fastened in the front with a crystalline gem that sparkled magnificently in the golden light. The stranger, aware that his stone had caught Aladdin’s attention, lifted a frail hand and toyed gently with the hanging jewel. Aladdin could not see his face, hidden inside the recesses of his cowl, only the hint of a greying spade-beard, and the burning of two deeply set, feverish eyes that gazed at him with piercing intensity. The stranger met his own stare unblinkingly, and Aladdin had the uneasy feeling he was being scrutinised.

  Aladdin said, “Who are you? What do you want?”

  The cowled man lowered his head in a stiff nod. “I am called Shaman,” he said, his tone as rigid as his body. “Newly arrived in Basra...”

  Aladdin slackened his taut posture. The man was undoubtedly a foreigner, one of the many invited guests to last night’s gala. I must not look for danger in every shadow, he reminded himself. It was proper behaviour for a soldier-of-fortune, perhaps, but not for a man of the city. “No harm done, stranger,” he said, sorry for his display of unease. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. Enjoy your stay and the sultan’s hospitality. Go in peace.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” called the cowled man.

  Aladdin turned back. “Yes?”

  “Forgive the ways of a foreigner, but I am looking for someone who I am assured is here on the palace grounds. Perhaps you can help me find him...?”

  “I’ve been away from Basra a long time, myself,” Aladdin said, adding with a shrug, “But I’ll do my best. Whom are you seeking?”

  The stranger’s eyes seemed to bore right through him. “The one that calls himself adventurer. Aladdin.”

  Again Aladdin tensed. “Ah, I see,” he replied without commitment. A soldier-of-fortune learns never to tip his hand without caution, and the abrupt appearance of this fellow seeking him out made him apprehensive. “What business do you have with Aladdin?” he asked.

  “Urgent business. I beg you, do you know where he can be found?” Although his appearance was frail and sickly, his demeanour was commanding.

  “You are in luck, my friend. I am he. I am Aladdin. Of what service can I be to you?”

  The hint of a smile came into the stranger’s eyes. He tilted his head toward the light, exposing a wrinkled, gaunt, and yellowed face. The face of a man severely ill and wracked by pain.

  “I had thought it was you,” the man who called himself Shaman said. “Your description fits you well, adventurer. I am most fortunate to have found you so quickly.”

  “And so you have,” said Aladdin, more sorry for him than anything else. “What do you want me for?”

  The stranger shuffled a few steps closer. “I do not have much time,” he said softly, thickly. “As you have no doubt noticed, I am ill...” Now his movements seemed less stiff than pained, and even as he spoke he rasped as though his lungs were riddled with disease.

  “Basra has many good physicians,” Aladdin told him, feeling pity. “Surely one might have a cure for your malady.”

  Again the haunting smile came into his eyes. Shaman shook his head at the suggestion. “No, it is too late for that, I’m afraid. That is why I must not tarry.”

  “Then why have you come to me? Of what help can I possibly be to you?”

  “Enormous help, Aladdin.” He clasped his veined hands and rubbed his palms together. “I have been told that if a task needs doing, the one called Aladdin will do it. Your reputation is vast, adventurer. I trust it has not been exaggerated.”

  “You flatter me,” said Aladdin with a laugh. “Still, I’m uncertain as to what I can do for you.”

  “Perhaps a better way to put it is what we can do for each other. I’ll not mince words with you, adventurer. My search has taken me here to Basra in hope of finding you. A task needs to be done, one that shall require a good deal of your time.” His feverish eyes narrowed as he peered sharply at Aladdin. “In return for your efforts I am prepared to reward you more handsomely than you have ever been rewarded before.”

  Aladdin was surprised by the seriousness of his tone, the near desperation behind the intense eyes. “I tear you have come to me too late, Shaman,” he said. “I have vowed to retire from soldiering.”

  Shaman studied him long and hard, then he smiled. “I will not haggle. Command your own price, then. Know only that for the next twelve months you must remain completely at my disposal.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t understand. I am not bargaining; your offer of payment is greatly appreciated but I still must decline. You see, I’ve decided to settle here in Basra.”

  For a time the stranger made no reply. Then, with quiet fatalism, he said, “Every man has his price. Even a king.” His thoughts seemed to drift to some distant place as he spoke. “Twelve months of a young man’s life is nothing. What is a single year? You can then return to Basra with the rest of your life assured. Fabulous wealth awaits you, Aladdin. Only a fool would spurn me without knowing what I have to give.”

  “There are thousands of soldiers-of fortune in Basra, Shaman, any of which would be more than grateful to accept your offer...”

  “They will not do!” hissed the sickly figure. He shook his head slowly. “It is you I have sought. You are the finest of your trade; a lesser man would prove useless to me.”

  Aladdin drew a breath and sighed. “Then I’m sorry; but I cannot accept.”

  “Without even knowing of the task I charge you with?”

  In truth the strange figure had piqued his curiosity. What adventurer worth his salt wouldn’t want to know more? But hearing of it might only encourage him to break his vow. “It matters little,” he answered quietly. “I have fought for too many causes, seen too much blood needlessly shed. That’s all behind me now.” He was ready to bid the foreigner farewell when Shaman placed a bony hand on his arm. “Allow me to be blunt,” he said, preventing Aladdin from leaving. “I am charged with the duty of preventing a whole people from their annihilation. My situation is nothing short of desperate. Here, look.” He reached inside the folds of his robe and withdrew what at first glance appeared to be a handful of common pebbles. But on closer look they were blue pearls, the likes and size of which he had never seen before. He stared at them and whistled softly in amazement.

  “By Allah, they’re magnificent! Where did you get them?”

  “These are merely a small down payment for your time and services, Aladdin.” His smiled enigmatically while Aladdin gaped at the shimmering baubles. “In my own land such things of beauty are as common as sands upon a beach.”

  Aladdin was stunned, overwhelmed at the prospect that such a place could exist. He swallowed and ran his tongue over his lips, sorely tempted to hear more. “With these riches you could raise the finest army the world has ever seen. Why do you come to me? Of what use is a single man?”

  The consumptive stranger waved a frail hand. “Of great use to my people. Legions cannot follow where I must lead. Few could even survive the Passage. My hope is that you will. It is dangerous enough for me”

  “Passage? I don’t understand,” Aladdin mumbled feebly.

  “For now that does not matter. My people have no use for mighty armies; we are few in number but not lacking in the ability to fend for ourselves. Indeed, we have been waging our war for two thousand years. But now we are near the end, extinction awaits us. A man such as yourself, a master of strategy and arms, could retrain us in new tactics and give to us the edge we need to survive.”

  “You paint a bleak and sombre picture for me, Shaman. I don’t see what good I can be.”

  His thoughts were met by the compelling glare of the stranger’s troubled eyes. “You are young, Aladdin. I cannot make you understand these matters in a few short moments. Later you will come to see for yourself. For now, time is of the essence. I ask you again. Will you come with me to save a valiant and noble people from doom? Will you sail upon my waiting ship to where no man of your world has ever journeyed before?�
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  “My world, Shaman?”

  The petitioner nodded mysteriously. “The world to which I would take you is far removed from sky and sun and moon. It is a place created by the gods themselves, called by many names through the ages, but perhaps known to you as... Cinnabar.”

  Aladdin blanched. “Surely you’re not serious? Cinnabar? Impossible, man! It doesn’t exist!”

  A chilly wind gusted; Aladdin stood speechless as the dying man remained deadly silent. Then he laughed. The stranger had beguiled him with his pearls and his plea for help. For a brief moment he had actually considered breaking his vow and embarking on this final adventure. Fortunately, Shaman himself had dashed those foolish ambitions by snapping him back to his senses. Cinnabar indeed! This fellow Shaman was clearly as ill in mind as he was in body. The legends of Cinnabar were fables, telling of a great and advanced civilisation whose marvels of science were beyond what other nations had ever known. Like Atlantis, the continent had been swallowed by the sea. A paradise lost, the storytellers said. An Eden which every adventurer had hoped to find since the beginning of time. But only as a fancy of the imagination.

  “I see by your expression that you do not believe me,” Shaman said.

  Aladdin shook his head and grinned. “No, friend, in honesty I do not.”