Tales of the Desert, The Nepeth Draught (ToD 0.33).
Prelude.
The man before me is famous. He is Abdul al-Adil, also known as the Collector of Fables. He is perhaps the closest to a historian Madeena al Salaam knows, even though he is not from here. And he is my guest, on his own insistence. The subject of his enquiry is not me, alas. Perhaps I have grown beyond the concern of mortals, condemned to be only noted when I finally relinquish my grasp on power, when the City of Peace becomes a City of Strife.
Instead, Abdul al-Adil is more concerned with history. He wants to know about war, about heroes, about savages, about magic, about treasures. And from that short introduction, I gather that he is not at all interested in history, but merely seeks lives up to his nickname, looking to add just one more fable to his repertoire. There often is nothing more true than a name. Nevertheless, all of the elements are part of this particular history, so maybe the tale I will tell will remain, in some way or another. I take a sip of clear water, and start to speak.
“To the south of the city, you'll find the Sea of Sand. Ask a trader who emerges from the desert and he will tell you that from here until Ishktar Oasis, you will find nothing but rolling dunes punished by the sun and the wind, obscuring the trails. To find your way, he will tell you, you will have to read the instruments of navigation, and have the memory of a fox and the nose of a camel. And every map will tell you the same. Beyond Ishktar, to the west,after you cross the Stone Flats, you will reach the land of the Nepeth Pharaoh, and it is here that our story begins.
The Nepeth are powerful, and ancient. Ask any Nepeth – there are enough of them in the city, actually: soldiers, priests, merchants, slavers - and he will tell you that their civilization rests on three pillars: the river, the Pharaoh, and the army. He will tell you that the river provides, the Pharaoh rules, and the army protects. But the essence of their society is not those three pillars that uphold the splendid temples and pyramids of the Nepeth religion as a roof under which they all shelter. No, the fundament is the peasant, he who farms.
And there, my dear Abdul, is where our story starts.” I take another sip, push with the tip of my tongue against the iced pearl that cools the water, and observe. Al-Adil has put down his brush, he sits and watches, scratches himself under his turban. He's waiting for the armies, I fear. Oh dear.
“We do not know what caused it. We only know the results. But last spring, the delta did not flood. The peasants had only dry fields to work with. And so, they turned to the priests. And the priests did what priests do best (apart perhaps from swindling riches, food and women from gullible believers): they prayed. They beseeched the God of the River, Keshet the Crocodile. He didn't answer them. They turned to Apsis the Sun God, to take pity on them and let the sweltering heat stop. Apsis did not answer. Then, they offered mirrh and gold to Osis, the God of the Pharaohs, for guidance, but he had none to offer. Finally, they offered the first born child in each family to Hasnet, their jackal faced God of Death, if only he would take mercy on the starving. Hasnet continued to feed, and no doubt he was bloated before he could even start on the first born babies.
They even prayed to Basket, the Cat Goddess, who never listens, for what cat does?
And with one pillar crumbling, the other two had to share the burden, and the Pharaoh sent out the armies of the Nepeth to conquer the nearest source of water that is big enough to relieve his population. He sent them marching to Ishktar Oasis.” I take another sip, content in the knowledge that even my drink suits my story.
“Naturally, anything that needs to be conquered is of value. And anywhere you find value, you find those who trade. It is no different with Ishktar and the many surrounding smaller oasis. I know you are a foreigner, but surely you must have heard of Delat and Meshkir? They are two of the five great Merchant families that together, from the bazaars known as the Houses of Agreements, rule the flow of wealth to and from Madeena al-Salaam. The Delat family specializes in transport of various... precious goods, most of whom require... a deft touch. Some of their goods are dangerous, some are exquisite, some spoil rapidly, and some are so sizeable that an entire caravan is required. The Meshkir, they prefer livestock and food. Probably because it walks itself to its destination, instead of requiring wagons. They breed camels, and goats. Their dates are marvellous, as is the cheese. Naturally, they have also profitted from Ishktar's relative proximity to the Nepeth slave markets, and they have a virtual monopoly on slave laborers here in Madeena. A very profitable trade, that. I am not sure I would call slaves livestock, but the Meshkir, they do. Of course, the bitter irony of the invasion was that the Delat might have to transport themselves back to Madeena and the Meshkir ran the risk of becoming slaves themselves. And so they harnassed their riches in pursuit of war to hang on to what they perceived as theirs.
And that is where the third party comes into this story. For where there are folks growing rich, there are also parasites in plenty. Robbers, thieves, murderers, hacks and swindlers all seek a share of the wealth without working for it, but in the Sea of Sands lurks a danger that makes them all gnats on the back of a lion. The Sea of Sands is the territory of the White Foal Clan of the Khanates, and as any clansman will tell you, the White Foal are the best raiders of all of them. The Black Stallion has better warriors and bigger numbers, the Red Mare has more fertile pastures, the Clan of the Golden Standard is the most feared and the Horde of the Hundred Thousand surely has the numbers over any of them.” I have to suppress a smile there. “But the White Foal are hardened and dangerous and they would not let the Nepeth drive them away. And thus, war loomed.”
I suck the pearl from the cup, tuck it into my cheek it like I would do with the stone of a date, and swallow the last bit of water. The pearls are a famous eccentricity of mine, a little bit of honesty-installing cruelty that keeps the City of Peace a city of peace. At first, there were plenty of greedy little men who tried swallowing the pearl, to then cough them up at home or even shit them out, greedy for their value once they had cleaned the wastes of their own body of them. Until they found out about the little magic I put in there... swallow, and a little djinn of air is conjured forth. They like air, and air is rather scarce in body cavities. And so, the djinn claws their way out, bringing the pearl with them. The last time someone decided to be greedy, was fifteen years ago. Usually, once in every twelve years someone needs to die to remind the people that this is not just fable... maybe they've gotten smart. Somehow, I doubt it. I resume my tale.
“I am the Khalif. I value peace and prosperity. Everyone knows that, and even before a single drop of blood was shed, all three parties had asked me to mediate. The Nepeth wanted water, but I had not a drop to grand that isn't already someone elses. The Houses wanted protection, but I have no army. The White Foal wanted aid, but they have always taken more than they need, so why would I help them take even more? Even so, judgment was required, and I am the Khalif.
I made three judgments. The Traders should protect themselves and if they seek my aid, then I will require the price of obedience. I demanded Ishktar Oasis, and they ceded it. I now controlled the source of this war, and it would be mine to bargain in the settlement. The White Foal I promised that if they worked in concert with Madeena al-Salaam, their way of life could continue. The Nepeth committed a crime in invading my lands, and therefore, they deserved punishment, but if they showed sufficient strength, I would grant them that which they wanted. And thus, I dispatched a force that could enforce all three. I sent one entity. I sent the Qadi of Loathing, that immortal creature with magic of unimaginable power at his disposal. One of the three Heartless who serve me.” I spit out the pearl for emphasis. It clatters on the ground, makes three little jumps before spinning in place, a finger length away from the Collector of Fables.
“Your audience is over, Abdul al-Adil. But if you wish to hear more about the Nepeth Drought, I will grant you another hour at dusk, tomorrow.” In a quiet voice, I add: “I hope you will take notes.”
For a second, he blanches as if I threatened him with death. And maybe I did, for I am the Khalif of the City of Peace. I am the Qadi of Cold Justice.
Players:
1. Silencer
2. Tattersail
3. HiddenOne
4. GH
5. JLV
6. D'rek (perhaps)
7. Lyca
8. Khellendros
9. Shinrei
10. JA (after jan 2)
11. HD (after jan 2 and it must be ToD)
12. ansible
13. twelve (but only ToDS)
14. Mentalist (missed his "IN").
This post has been edited by Path-Shaper: 02 January 2012 - 02:05 PM

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