One Thousand Desires | ON HOLD

9 | TALE OF SELF-DESTRUCTION

HOLDING THE CALIPH'S gaze was difficult for a number of reasons, but mostly due to the fact that being so close to him led Zeinab to think the inevitable thought of how splendid the colour of his eyes was. She didn't want that—the very last thing she desired was to look into the face of a murderer and think about how beautifully his eyelashes framed his eyes.

"Do you recall where I left off, sayyidi?" she asked him, averting her eyes from his face and instead focusing on the dagger on his belt, and on the stinging cut at the base of her throat where the knife had been moments ago.

       "Faruq found a single gold coin, and rather than keeping it when he was dying, he foolishly gave it to another man. He believed the act of kindness would bring him luck, and it did, because the next day, two gold coins were in the exact spot he had found the first."

"Exactly," Zeinab said, her flowing voice a smooth river. "There is a very important moral to this one. I think you'll like it, my king. It is... appropriate."

With a smirk, she looked at him again. He appeared to be hungry for something, and Zeinab knew exactly what. Her voice, with the sorcery laced into every syllable she wove, was a drug to him, and he longed—fervently desired—to hear more. He was invested in the tale not because of its contents, but because it was told by her. She knew she had to use the words on the tip of her tongue wisely. Perhaps some murderers could be reasoned with, or even taught lessons. If there was the slightest chance she could engrave the moral of her tale into his sadistic little mind, everything she had been planning would easily fall into place.

"Once he had found the two gold coins, Faruq was positively ecstatic. His good deed had paid off—he had quenched his thirst and he had more gold to buy himself from fruit from the market. But as he began to walk there, the coins clutched tightly in his closed fist, he remembered vividly how dying had felt. He remembered the beggar he had given the coin to and where he had been. So he turned around and made his way back to the beggar that he was certain had brought him good fortune. Once he found him, he gave him one of the coins and kept the other. Now, remember: this was not done out of the goodness of Faruq's heart. It was not done because he felt any amount of sympathy for the other man. It was simply because he truly, truly believed that giving to this man would be what pulled him out of poverty and gave him back the life he had always imagined living. And that it would put him in the good graces of the gods that watched over humanity.

       "That night, he ate the food he could afford to buy with the single coin, and when he awoke the next morning, he was delighted to find that his good deed had once again paid off: he found four gold coins glimmering in the hot sand."

       "It sounds like there is some sort of sorcery at play," Kadar mused softly, taking a hand through his dark locks.

       "It does indeed," Zeinab agreed. "Especially considering that went on for many days. Every day, Faruq would find that the number of coins buried in the sand had doubled, and every day, he would present half of what he had found to the same beggar. He always knew exactly where to find both the man and the coins buried in the sand. Eventually, there was so much gold that Faruq would have to spend hours digging them up. But he was content, because for as long as he gave the beggar half of his findings, he would continue to find gold in the sand. At last, he had a pleasant life, a home and more than enough food to fill him, without ever needing to work."

       The calipha's heart pounded like a caged bird struggling for freedom as she prepared to deliver the most important part of the tale. And the fact that Kadar was not interrupting showed that he was completely entranced.