The Fourth Scroll: The Talking Tent

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Only about an hour away from central Tajar, we arrive on a high bluff overlooking a stretch of mostly empty desert. Below you, about 100 yards distant, about a hundred people have gathered near a large tent. The rectangular tent is made of dull yellow cloth, held taut by ropes attached to wooden stakes. The front flaps, the tent's only opening, are closed. The people are keeping their distance. From their simple dishdashahs and casual manner, most look like peasants and farmers. Some stand and chat. Others sit on faded blankets, munching fruit. The atmosphere is relaxed and festive.

About a dozen workers are gathering brush and sticks, stacking them in piles around the tent. It is slow, tedious work, owing to the scarce vegetation in the area. The piles are barely a foot high.

A middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache and narrow eyes sits astride a magnificent black stallion, overseeing the workers. Beside him, a bald man on a small gray horse scribbles intently on a parchment scroll, occasionally addressing the man on the stallion. Both men wear brown abas and yellow sashes. The man on the stallion has golden embroidery on the hem of his aba and also wears a gold-embroidered keffiyeh.

A young man in a white aba paces nervously in front of the tent, careful not to get too close. Every few seconds, he stops and wrings his hands, then resumes his pacing. No one pays him much attention.

A woman in her early twenties sits on a sand dune a few yards from the pacing man. She holds her head in her hands and appears to be sobbing. Two workers, one on either side of her, stand at attention, holding spears.

On the bluff not far from you, two plump men with scraggly beards and cheerful demeanors recline in the shade of a tall palm tree. They stare expectantly in the direction of the tent, taking sips from a green bottle, which they pass between them.

One of the men notices your group and nudges his companion. Both smile and wave. "Greetings, friends!" one shouts. "Come join us! We will have a wonderful view of the fire!"

Zhalum cocked an eyebrow at the mention of a fire and seeing the weeping woman below, he knew no good would come of this. "We should go, this is none of our business, these desert folk have strange ways," giving a smile and nod over to Fahd, "and no good will come of our staying." Lum expected the curiosity of the others to no doubt keep them here and although he had almost grown used to keeping his blades sheathed for so long during their trip, he wouldn't regret seeing some action if it came his way.

Ya'qub grins, the gaps appearing wider now than before. "If it leases, my tall Eastern friend, I think we should take our rest ere. Thanks to our noble guide Fahd, we have weathered the sandstorm well, but it would not hurt to stop for a few moments and
catch our breaths. And we are making good time, even in spite of the storm."

"Besides, it looks like there is to be some type of festival, and it would be rude to turn down so gracious an invitation from two upstanding gentlemen."
Privately, though, Ya'qub noticing the worried-looking young man, the distraught young lad, and the two officious-looking horsemen, all mixed with a mention of "fire," wonders just what kind of festival this is to be…He is also glad that Lum is nearby, and that Hasim and Achmed give a very fearsome appearance.

Hasim looks up from the very large and heavy book he's been paging through for days, pulls out his flask, and intones,. "Tonic, by my wish you are free."

A voice from the flask responds, "I say, old boy, WOULD you quit shaking me about? I'm trying to nap, here."
Hasim looks up at Ya'qub, "We may as well. I can use the light come nightfall to keep reading. Maybe a smith's forge could melt it down.....

Achmed seems to be, well, laughing.

Barakeh licked his lips. Proud as he was of having fulfilled the mission his father had given him, he wanted nothing more than to leave the endless sand behind and return to the shaded alleys of Tajar. He hadn't found enough privacy on the trail to practice even the simplest spell, and missed more than anything his small (but growing!) library of scrolls and magical texts.
But now he was tired, and his legs ached from the hours spent riding. Any excuse to dismount and rest was something to be seized, and a large fire would be a wonderful change from the chill of the desert night.
He hesitated and glanced around, keeping silent and listening to his fellow travelers and hoping they would decide to stop, if only for a little while.

Fahd had taken the time to study the situation, as in maybe the time it took to count one grain of sand. In that instant his mind had done the permutations and combinations of the potential fun times he could have there with a fire, women, food, women, story telling, women, strong drink, women, . . . True he did hear voices off in the distance, familiar voices ----- those of his companions whom he had guided safely to this point in the desert.
His one good eye blinked making certain what he was seeing was not a trick of the sun. Once assured that there was indeed a camp there, he prodded his unnamed camel forward as if this was the natural was to go.
He was, after all, the desert guide.

A small brown rat suddenly appeared and sat upon his left shoulder. Both its eyes blinked in the sunlight. It shook its head, as if indicating negativity.
Since it was on Fahd's blind side, he did not notice.
"Hrmm." Was Zhalum's only reply, he didn't like this situation, but perhaps he was overreacting. The endless dunes they had traveled maybe had fried Lum's brain, but then again he was never a social creature. Deciding to get a bit more information of the goings on here, Lum approached the two spectators and bowed respectfully. "Es salam alekum. May I ask, what is happening down there?"

"Saheeda [greetings], friend. I am Daasim and this is Harid, we are but humble street cleaners for the glorious Tajar."

They wait momentarily to see if any PCs introduces themselves. If not, they continue regardless.
Offering to share their bottle of wine, Dassim says: "Fate has blessed us with a truly memorable day. "The fire should be magnificent."

"Do you think," says Harid, "that we will see the spirit rise from the flames, or will it escape into the ground?"

"An excellent question," replies Daasim. "Perhaps our new friends have an opinion. Do you know the ways of spirits?"

Harid interrupts. "Did you hear the tent speak?"

In response to Lum's question, Daasim replies: "An evil spirit took over the tent. The spirit will not come out, so those who work for Khafaz ibn Dahz are going to burn it down with the spirit inside. We heard of this from a friend in the city and got out here as fast as we could."
Leading Nasim to kneel so that he could slide off, Ya'qub makes his way to the two spectators.

"Most noble keepers of the streets of the city," he begins, "As you can see we have only recently returned from a journey across the desert. Perhaps you could enlighten us as to who these notable personages are? I presume the gallant gentleman on the stallion is this Khafaz ibn Dahz of whom you speak; but the others?"
Daasim replies: "The man on the black stallion is Khafaz ibn Dahz, Fahad al-Zakir's chief administrator."

Only Barakeh had never heard of Fahad al-Zakir, one of Zakhara's most renowned businessmen and philanthropists, noted for his charity work and generous heart.

"The man on the gray horse is Turin, Khafaz's assistant,” Dassim continued. "Those wearing the brown abas are workers under Khafaz's supervision.

"The pacing man in the white aba is Fayiz, a healer. He conducts his medical practice in the tent. I do not know the name of the weeping woman, but I believe she has a daughter that Fayiz was treating."

"The others have come to watch. Like us, they have never seen a big fire, let alone a real spirit."

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Ya’qub responds, "A healer, hmm? A thousand pardons, kind sirs, but I must excuse myself. I would like to speak with the illustrious Fayiz about replenishing the supply of medicines I keep on hand during the caravan routes."

Saying thus, he bows deeply, and begins to make his way over to Fayiz to replenish his supply, as he said, but also hoping to overhear conversations regarding the night's "festivities"

Hasim looks up from his reading, peers at the tent, then starts flipping pages in his Really Big Book of Genie Lore, checking the index several times. Finally he shrugs, shuts the book, puts it in a saddle bag, and dismounts, walking over to the tent.
He rubs the tent 3 times, and declares, "I summon the Genie of the Tent."

Fahd had moved closer. He offered his name, "Fahd," as the introductions were given, and made the appropriate hand gestures in greeting. Since these fine gentlemen were being generous with their spirits, he accepted the wine that was offered and drank from the bottle, without even wiping it off.

He was delighted to hear the tent was full of spirits as he did not think this bottle would be enough for all to share.

He watched as Hasim spoke to the tent. He said to the rat. "Think he has been sampling some spirits on his own?"

Barakeh is trailing a few paces behind Hasim, watching him and hoping to understand something of Genie lore from what he does. Under his breath, he repeats the declamation, doing his best to memorize it and the motions that go along with it.

Having already descended the bluff, Hasim and Barakeh found themselves mingled among the spectators and the brown robed workers. A few people had offered friendly greetings, but most had ignored the newcomers until Hasim approached the tent. A hush settled over the area at Hasim's words.

A pregnant pause...

Then, when nothing obvious occurred the weeping woman sobbed and resumed her grieving. The workers returned to their task, some laughing nervously, most looking askance at Hasim.

Meanwhile on the bluff, Daasim sits up, nodding in agreement with Fahd,. "Perhaps it is not wise to be rubbing or angering the tent. I was told this tent said in a loud, dread voice: "Death awaits anyone who comes in." Dassim's hand trembles as he accepts the bottle of wine.

"No, I heard it said, and from a very honorable man: "Anyone who comes in will be killed", that's what it said." assures Harid. He appears to be about to say more when he squints and sees Skiz the rat on Fahd's shoulder. The rat squints back, adjusting his keffiyeh (head cloth) with a tiny paw.

Near the tent, Barakeh noticed an embroidered sign by the tent flap. It proclaimed that herein by the boundless generosity of the benevolent Fahad al-Zakir patients with debilitating diseases can be treated by the competent young physician Fayiz, here outside the city in quiet and privacy.

Turin, his bald head glistening with sweat, resumes scribbling on the parchment scroll. His small gray horse shakes its head to dislodge a troublesome fly. After a moment Turin stops writing and reads aloud:
"A spirit from the darkness moved into the healer's tent/Who knows what evil to do it meant?/But Khafaz's fire made it scatter/Will it return is another matter."

Khafaz ibn Dahz looks pensively down from his stallion. He strokes his moustache. "It's progressing nicely," he says at last. "Continue."

Both men wear brown abas with yellow sashes. Khafaz's aba has golden embroidery on the hem and a gold-embroidered keffiyeh sits snuggly on his head.

As other members of the caravan come down the bluff to the area of the tent, Khafaz ibn Dahz approaches Hasim.

"Learned traveler, fire is the safest and quickest way to deal with evil spirits. If you'll step aside, this entire problem, given to me by Fates wisdom, will be resolved in one hour."

The young physician Fayiz who is about 30 years old, wears a spotless white aba, and looks to be on the verge of tears. He seems eager to share his troubles, even with strangers.

Fayiz tells any who'll listen: "I left the tent this morning to run an errand. When I returned, the tent spoke to me. Frightened, I fled into the city and sent news to the wise and kind Khafaz, who decided in his wisdom that the tent had been possessed by a spirit and ordered it burned down.

Hasim reaches into his sash and pulls out his flask. While removing the top, he responds to Khafaz, "It is said, noble sir, that it is best to fight fire with fire. Mayhap, then, fighting evil spirits is best done with evil spirits."

Hasim turns to the tent "Depart the tent, spirit, or face the gen Tonic, a fate considered worse than death by powerful Sha'irs."

Hasim rubs the flask 3 times, declaims "I summon the Djinni Tonic" and throws the flask into the tent as Tonic starts to appear.

Barakeh turns to Fayiz and asks him: "O healer, has the voice from the tent been heard since it was decided to burn it? Perhaps the spirit has been frightened off by Khafaz's wise plan?"

"No," Fayiz said. He stopped his nervous pacing and turned toward Barakeh, his face a mask of suffering. He stretched out his arms, pleading for understanding.

"Circumstances beyond our control often dictate our actions. Does that not seem reasonable? Am I not a reasonable man? Do I not look reasonable? Have I not lived my life in a reasonable manner?"

Fayiz stops in front of Barakeh, stabbing a finger at the tent. "The tent threatened me! Had I a choice other than to alert the authorities? Could I have known that Khafaz would burn down the tent? It was not my decision to make. I am not a seer. How was I to know?"

At this moment, a heart-wrenching cry rang out: "You'll kill my Iyda!"

"Dhiba, please..." Fayiz moaned, what little color remained in his face draining away.

The two armed workers on either side of the weeping woman gently restrained her from assaulting the doctor or entering the tent.

Khafaz ibn Dahz, from astride his stallion called down soothingly. "Please understand young Dhiba, we've called out to your daughter many times and not once has she replied."

At this point, Ya'qub walks up.

"Your tent threatened you? How? I have traveled far and wide with many caravans, and have never heard of such a thing. However, I am also not a learned doctor as your self, but a simple caravaneer who is most curious."

The trembling physician turned, wide-eyed, to Ya'qub. "In a voice most frightful, as dread as the voice of my mother is sweet, bless her and keep her..." he said, speaking rapidly and almost incoherently, "Doom awaits within! Doom awaits within!" He then fluttered his arms in front of him wildly. "And, and, thusly fluttered the tent flaps with each word!"

Ya'qub turns to the poor mother. "I am most grieved to hear that your daughter is still within. What ailed her so that you sought the services of this most noble healer?"

The young mother, Dhiba, looks up at Ya'qub with pleading soft blue eyes, tears running rivulets through the dust on her face. "My heart's desire, my dearest Iyda has blisters all over her body. She is an innocent child not yet twelve. I have no home, no money for medicine, I can barely buy food... we make dolls from straw...Iyda and I." Her chin fell to her chest in a new round of sobs.

Brushing her stringy brown hair from her face she cried out to the heavens, "I've already lost my husband to the sea, please don't take my child. Is it my fate to suffer, alone? I thought it a blessing that Fahad al-Zakir would help us, but his cursed physician loses my child and his cursed administrator wants to burn her..."

She pleads with any who'll listen: "Please, can you make Khafaz understand? He forbids me to enter, saying he'll not risk losing another life to the spirit. But, if my daughter is truly gone, then I want to see her body. Please, can you make Khafaz understand?

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Having made his way to the tent after the rest, Zhalum had decided upon a course of action. He wasn't much for long speeches and remained introspective most of the time, probably due to his training. Looking about for his novice, and seeing him lagging behind as usual, he motioned toward him to come to his side. Looking back to the tent, Lum drew his scimitar with his right hand and a jambiya in a reverse grip in his left. "My novice and I will enter the tent to rescue your daughter, Dhiba, and I hope some of companions will join me." He looked at no one in particular when he finished, his gazed was locked on the entrance to the tent. Steeling himself, he made the motion to his novice he was ready, and then rushed into the tent.

Fahd had been drinking in the spirits, liquid and imagined. He watched as one tried to exhume the spirits from the tent, then he saw someone, Lum, approach it.

'Think I heard there were more spirits inside,' Fahd reminded himself. 'Not about to let him consume them all. Perhaps he'll need our assistance?' he said to the rat.

The rat remained silent.

Fahd slid down from his camel and moved to the tent. 'Hope they are strong spirits,' he hoped.
The rat just shrugged its shoulders, and seemed to put its paws over its eyes.

A thin, white wisp of smoke curled up from Hasim's small metal flask. "May a porcupine live in your trousers for a thousand…," a whining incorporeal voice began. It was cut short as Hasim tossed the Djinni through the tent flap.

Lum rushed past Hasim, pushing through the tent door before Dhiba could respond, his fair-skinned novice Amin right behind him.

"My liver!" Khafaz shouted. "Turin, you son of dog's water, I hold you responsible for letting these people interfere." Satisfied blame was safely applied, he turned toward Barakeh with a sniff and a lift of his immaculately trimmed beard.

"Barakeh bin Idris, out of respect for your father, may Jisan the Bountiful bless him with success in all his dealings, for one hour will I delay the fire." Khafaz looked around at the gathered spectators. He motioned for the workers to stop and called out authoritatively to the approaching Fahd, "Search for the child's body. Success will earn you the mother's gratitude, and that of great Fahad himself."

Fahd continued forward and disappeared into the tent.
The sobbing Dhiba grasped the pudgy merchant Ya'qub by his arm. "Please bring my Iyda," she pleaded.

To Dhiba, Ya'qub flashes a warm, comforting, gapped-toothed smile. "Please take comfort, gentle mother, that my friends will do all that they can to find your daughter and recover her to your waiting arms."
The physician Fayiz grasped Ya'qub's other arm. "I have patients elsewhere in the city or I would search the tent with your companions - it would be irresponsible to risk my life, of course you understand this, a man as wise as yourself." He lowered his voice and pulled Ya'qub away from the distraught mother and toward Barakeh.

"You must know the child's treatment required a salve made from wasp eggs and rare herbs from the High Desert. But I had only a small amount of salve and I had to cover her entire body. So two days ago I gave the girl a special elixir that caused her to shrink."

"Of more immediate importance, you should warn your companions that I've been developing medicines from snake venom. I had three baskets of serpents for my research, but apparently the evil spirit released them," he said. "A black serpent had slithered from the front of the tent about a half-hour ago. Two of the workers killed it with stones. I fear some of the serpents still may be loose in the tent."

To Fayiz, Ya'qub flashes the same warm smile, but adds a little edge to his voice. "Then perhaps, Good Physician, you should stay. After all, we might need your skills to both restore this small child to her true strength (whispers) and height. Also, should the need arise, my friends might have need of your services.”<br>Ya'qub then hails Khafaz. "Noble Sayyib! If it be not too much trouble, please arrange it so that our good doctor is present when we return. We might have need of his skills!"

With that, Ya'qub draws his dagger, then, after several deep breaths, slides into the back of the tent, planning to be of support to the warriors in the group, but preferring to stay out of the way.

As he lifts the tent flap, he feels to his dismay that the nervousness he feels in the pit of his stomach is staring to make its presence felt in his tongue. He will attempt to concentrate so that he can make his announcement to his comrades without lisping!

Lum, Fahd, and Amin stood inside the large entryway. On the floor before them was a faded brown rug, 10 feet square made of several layers of burlap. Under the rug was a lump, about 3 feet long and 3 inches wide.
In the northwestern corner were two baskets, about 3 feet in diameter and 4 feet tall, laying on their sides, their lids off. Along the eastern wall was what was once a small wooden shelf, but is now a pile of debris: ceramic fragments, shredded rope, and torn bandages and cloth. A gray clay pot, about half the size of the wicker baskets and sealed with a clay cap sits in the southeast corner. A dipper fashioned from a turtle shell lies beside it.

The closed entryway into the next partition is 20' in front of them in the northeastern corner.

The tiny djinni Tonic was still shouting when he landed in the tent, "…and die there a thousand and one." On the rug, Tonic stopped dusting off his clothes. He stared wide-eyed up at the at the menacing warriors. "Hasim? Oh, mighty master whose wisdom and courage knows no bounds! Why have you abandoned me here with these…noble gentlemen? " He smiled weakly. "Hasim!"
Skiz slid down Fahd's swirling robes, stopping just short of the floor. His nose sampled the air tentatively. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he shot upwards, disappearing deep into the robe's folds, his tiny claws heedless of Fahd's tender skin.

Fahd's first course of action was to try and locate Skiz and pull the creature's claws away from his more delicate areas.

Once that was accomplished, he 'eyed' the tent carefully. He saw the djinni.

"Are you the servant said to be inside?" he asked. If not, the poor fellow must trapped under the rug.

If his conjuration works and he gets 2 mongoose shaped bits of air to form, he'll send them in snake hunting.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

As Fahd awaited an answer from the tiny dancer, he heard some chanting, something about ‘serpents and spam.’ Not always the quickest study, he finally put certain events together – the rats claws, the missing ‘servant’- and he began to slowly back away from the rug as he drew his blade.

Somewhere he had read, was it the “Cookbook of Great Deserts?” that snake and spam made an excellent mix.

Zhalum, ever wary of any threat, cautiously called out for Dhiba's daughter, "Iyda, we are here to rescue you, please make yourself known!" Treading lightly under foot, Lum was ready for action as he glanced back at Amin, he novice, and was glad to see the young lad had followed his orders.

A hush spread over the multitude outside the tent at Zhalum's cry.

No response.

An odd mixture of smells hangs in the warm heavy air; acrid medicines, nervous sweat and camel.

Amin gripped his scimitar tighter, sweat beading on his forehead.

Lum, with scimitar and jambiya at the ready, cautiously made his way to the far right doorway, ever wary of the enemy unseen.

Hasim, on hearing Fayiz's account of the serpents, begins to chant:
"Abra Kadabra, Alakazam
"I need 2 mongeese"
"To make serpents into Spam."

As Hasim speaks the final word of summoning a pair of cracking sounds are heard. The assembled crowd is thrown into confusion as those closest move backward and those in the rear struggle to see what’s going on. Two small shapes pop into existence in front of Hasim and drop a few inches to the ground, landing confusedly on their feet.

Hasim calls out to his camel, "Achchchmed, guard the door, my friend, and let no one enter." He holds open the flap and orders the snake eaters inside. After a moment they obey, scampering in.

He then proceeds to join the folks inside.

Inside the tent, confusion has just erupted. At Ya'qub's mention of serpents, the small dark djinni looked down at the long shape laying beneath the rug on which he stood. "Aaaheeee!" Tonic yells, dancing up and down as if his feet were on fire.

Lum and Amin stand before the tent flap that leads into the next room of the tent.

Fahd had drawn his blade and stepped backward which effectively put him just inside the main tent flaps, the same flaps that were now being opened to let in the conjured creatures. No expert on snake eaters, he viewed them as more serpents, and here he was the filling in closing pitas.

He jumped, urged on by the rat now even more delirious in his blousing pantaloons, across the tent to the area occupied by Lum and Amin. Somehow the interior was of great interest to him suddenly.
Ya'qub hopes that his request for the physician to be closely watched and strongly "encouraged" to remain nearby was heeded. Just inside the tent, and working his way to the left along the back wall, Ya'qub notices the strange bulge in the carpet, and nervously scans the tent for more such "bulges".

"Therpenths. Why did it have to be therpenth?"

He keeps his dagger at the ready, to slash and stab at the first sign of slithering.

Hasim speaks to Tonic, "Calm down, little one, that's probably our missing girl. She's been shrunk as part of her treatment. Dive under and get her out, would you?"
The mongooses capered about the entrance room of the tent, wagging their bristly tales and calling out in high-pitched chirrups. They ignored the lump beneath the rug- one mongoose pausing momentarily to sniff in the direction of Fahd's pantaloons. The little creature rose up on its short hind legs, met Fahd's eyes briefly, then scampered off to join his companion.

As they approached the two tipped over baskets in the northwestern corner, the mongooses assumed more cautious demeanors.

Lum peered into the next room, slowly pushing the tent flap aside with his scimitar. He discovered a large treatment room. A cursory glance showed several beds and cupboards. No spirit.

Fahd drew up behind Lum and Amin.

Ya'qub, from his position near the door could hear bits of conversation between Barakeh and the administrator Khafaz. They seemed to be discussing the strangers and their motivations.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

"Hasim, my master most noble and wise!" Tonic dashed forward and leaped onto Hasim's robe, hooking an arm into the sash. Hasim was not surprised to find the flask had already returned to his possession.

Tonic's manner was no longer that of terrified child. "You but test me, wise master," he exclaimed with a knowing nod of the head. "Little girls, even small ones, do not have the shape of serpents. Now shall I demonstrate, that I, humble Tonic, am worthy of your service!"

He spoke words of magic, something about "death by fire", then thrust his small arm dramatically at the rug. A tendril of smoke swirled up from the rug... but no flame.
Suddenly, the tendril swirls and expands, thickening into expanding cloud of fog.

Barakeh looks at the tent flap his friends have just gone through, and turns back to Khafaz.

"My lord," he says, "I thank you in the name of my companions for your compassion in delaying the fire." He casts around his mind for the appropriate language. "I have no doubt that my father would expect nothing less of those in his employ than that they would risk themselves to save a child in distress."
As he hears the sounds coming from inside the tent, Barakeh feels a pang of regret that he did not enter it with the rest of his party.

As he looked into the next room, Fahd's mind leapt with anxious anticipation. Here he was in this stranger's tent, with this stranger's stuff, and no stranger to see what he was up to.

Alas, a treatment room did not scream out for his attention, did not present a challenge to his quick fingers.

He turned sadly back to the main entry room, his nostrils attracted by the smell of smoke.
"Where there's smoke . . " he told himself. And sometimes that led to cooking. Not that the rug seemed all that appetizing, but one never knew.

Ya'qub watched, fascinated by the long, furry animals. Then he begins to move along the outside of the tent, his dagger in hand, checking the crockery, both intact and overturned with the point of the dagger. He planned to call out to his companions if he discovers either the girl or a serpent (or a spirit, for that matter).
Barakeh was the first to spot the white fog. It roiled from the vent holes spaced high along the tent walls. He pulled back the tent flap and peered in just in time to see his companions disappear in the odorless, obscuring fog. The fog did not obscure with darkness but with a bright whiteness from the sunlight passing through the vents.

As Barakeh too was enveloped in the fog, he heard the disembodied, repentant voice of Tonic. "...forgive me noble master. Let me just clear this up..." then the crowd outside erupted in shouts of confusion and excitement, drowning out the djinn's sentence. After a moment Barakeh could see a hazy shape that was perhaps Hasim.

As the smoky fog began to fill the tent, Ya'qub thinks to himself "Oh no! What has that annoying little whiner done now?"

Fahd's eye did not water and his nose quickly pointed out the lack of smoke smell characteristic of, well, smoke. His companions near the main door where quickly enveloped and disappeared. Beside him, the hazy, cursing shapes that were Lum and Amin slipped into the treatment room. The heavy cloth flap closed behind them.

Ya'qub had made his way to the southeast corner by the time the fog had filled the entry chamber. He was crouched before the upright clay pot, dagger in hand. He didn't have a get very close to identify its contents. Any caravaneer with a nose could have identified the contents- camel urine. The liver-brown liquid's medicinal properties are well known: treating wounds, killing head lice, and inducing vomiting. Ya'qub continued forward, sliding one hand along the wall until he saw the ghostly shape of Fahd standing before the door into the treatment room.

Two small shapes flashed past Fahd and Ya'qub in a swirl of fog, disappearing into the treatment room.
Lum called out for his companions to join him, his voice rising to be heard above the crowd's collective voice.
Fahd and Ya'qub moved into the next room, wisps of fog rolling about them as they entered. With the flap shut, the treatment room was only a slightly hazy- no vents graced the shared inner wall.

In the southwest corner to their left, is a barrel-sized haudh (leather container). Beside it are several clay cups and small ceramic basins. Along the west wall are a closed wooden cupboard and a stack of three wooden shelves, 1' high and 10' long. A clay jug rests on each shelf along with an assortment of clay bowls and glass containers.

In front of them is a child-sized hammock (hababa) made from sheepskin stretched between four wooden poles. On it is a handkerchief and a sock stuffed with feathers. Next to the hababa is a small table with a bowl of water, a clean rag, and a clay dish holding a smear of yellow salve.

Beyond the hababa are six identical beds (mattrahs). The beds are feather mattresses on wooden frames, with feather pillows and white linen sheets that hang over the frames and touch the floor.

In the far wall on the left side, a flap covers the entryway into another room. On that same wall another set of shelves- The bottom shelf has a clay jug full of dirty rags, the middle holds clean linens and pillows, and the top supports a wooden box.

The mongooses are stealthily approaching one of the mattrahs.

Fahd was singularly disappointed by the lack of aroma in the ‘smoke,’ but he was quite happy to be enveloped in it. It offered some comfort in these trying times.

“I am but a poor servant of the winds of change,” he said, not really caring if anyone were hearing him.
The room in which he now stood displayed nothing of any real value, nothing worth risking a hand for, so he directed his attention to the mongooses, ‘The mongooses seem to have the direction of the gods,’ he told himself, and so he followed them, about two steps behind. He moved with the stealth of, well, one with stealth, and one with a sharp blade in his hand. For, if they found the alleged serpents he had every intention of slicing said serpents into little bits.

The rat wriggled within the folds of Fahd’s robes, not wanting to be involved in these actions, and unable to dissuade his master from this course at the present time.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Barakeh turned for a moment and stuck his head out of the fog, saying to everyone and to nobody in particular "My companions - I must - in there-" before pushing the fog ahead of him and walking into the tent, aiming for the Hasim-shape somewhere in front of him. Somehow, he didn't feel fear until his third step inside.
Ya'qub slipped back into the fog of the entrance room, disappearing from sight.

As lightning from a clear sky something sleek struck at the mongoose in front of Fahd. The mongoose twisted aside faster than Fahd's eye could follow. Finally, Fahd too reacted heaving himself backward. Seconds later, he was able to clearly identify the serpent because the mongoose drove it out from under the bed in a blaze of teeth and claws. Dune viper. Poisonous.

As Lum maneuvered around Fahd, intent on giving each room to work their weapons, he thought he heard a faint voice. Then he was distracted by a ball of mongoose and six feet of venomous serpent intertwined at his feet. A sudden noise. A shout from Amin. Lum spun in time to see a rapidly swelling jug teeter and fall from the shelf behind him. It broke in a crash of clay, spilling out an annoyed black sand adder.
Hasim felt Tonic drop from his arm, disappearing in the fog. The rug at Hasim's feet was but a dark outline. He lifted up the rug with the point of his cutlass revealing not a serpent, but a twisted pole.

Tonic materialized, grabbed a corner of the rug and began to pull it out of the tent.

Hands outstretched, Barakeh continued toward the shape of what perhaps was Hasim. Suddenly Barakeh's foot caught on something and he stumbled then fell with a small cry of fear. From his knees he grasped a handful of sand and with a word of magic, flung it in a wide arc.

"Oh..." was all Tonic could utter before he collapsed.
Hasim physically shook away the heaviness that had descended upon him momentarily. Before he could speak, a wave of heat swept through the room.
From his position on the floor, Barakeh watched the colorful stab of flame fade away. It was as if a street entertainer had expelled a long breath of flame. While he had been unable to see very far into the heavy fog, Barakeh was sure the flame originated in the northeast corner of the room.

In an effort to repair the results of Tonic's help, Hasim takes a stab at another conjuration, this time for an elemental, "Being of air, defog this lair, and while you're at it, keep Tonic out of my hair."

A wiry fellow of medium height with short black hair covered by a keffiyeh and agal steps out from the crowd. He is wearing simple pale blue trousers with a drawstring waist, a loose-fitting linen overshirt, and a sand-colored aba with a black sash at the waist. He wears very worn low leather boots that seem almost ready to fall apart.

A small djinnling flits around nearby, occasionally coming to rest on one of his shoulders.
Having just arrived on a caravan from the High Desert, the young sha'ir Ali Kasim was tired. But tired or not, he knew that he could not rest. The caravan master who had rescued him from wandering in the High Desert had agreed to take him to civilization. And Ali realized that as close as they were to Tajar, he must soon leave the caravan. That meant that he would need to find new work soon or go hungry. And the best way he knew to find work was to impress upon the locals the extent of his abilities.

He had heard the physician, Fayiz, talk of his haunted tent. And he saw how Khafaz wanted the place burned down, despite the fact that a young girl was trapped inside, despite the protests of the girl's mother. Ali knew that it might be smarter to side with the administrator in this conflict, but he couldn't do it. Too many times in the last several years he had been downtrodden, and Ali could not stand by and let the woman suffer the loss of her daughter when he could do something to help. And besides, if it there truly was a spirit haunting the tent, this would be a good opportunity to show how he could be a help in dealing with such troubles.

"Yakhil," he said quietly to the small air gen that flitted through the air nearby, "I think a small wind would be in order. It would be just the thing to clear the air inside the tent." He then gave a short bow to the djinnling, who quickly vanished into thin air. Having sent his gen to fetch a spell, Ali walked over to the tent flap and opened it up.

After a few moments Yakhil returned to his position hovering above Ali. And as he winked back into this world, a wave of power passed between him and his master. "My thanks, as always," Ali said with a smile and a nod, as he began moving his right hand in a mystic gesture. "Take a look at the show. I think you'll appreciate the result."

Ali then spoke a few words of power and gestured with his hand. As he did, a stiff breeze was suddenly called up and began to pour into the tent. "With luck," Ali said to the onlookers, "this will clear things up inside significantly."

[Zaim al-Daleel]

The tent walls bulged and strained against the rope tie downs as the fog thinned and dissipated through the vents. Suddenly, the tent flap was blown from Ali's hand and he was pushed aside by a large, spinning air elemental. Above it, floating limply, lay the sleeping Tonic. In a whirlwind of stinging sand the pair disappeared into the desert.

The crowd’s stunned silence didn't last long. A tremendous cheer erupted!

Ali stepped inside and found Hasim, Barakeh, and Ya'qub wiping sand from their eyes amidst the debris of the tent's entry chamber.

From the next room someone began shouting loudly.
Lum approached the black sand adder, slowly raising his scimitar to strike. Something was happening in the other room, but Lum's attention was on the large serpent drawing itself into a tight coil. The adder's strike came so suddenly Lum's defensive swing was a clumsy hack at empty air. Lum's left boot now sported two fang-sized holes.

Amin moved to flank the black adder, waving his scimitar and shouting loudly.

Fahd had been apparently been lost in the confusion of all that had suddenly occurred. But he did have his sharp scimitar in his hand and a black adder striking at Lum before him. Hoping to not be just ‘anadder’ failure, he calmly watched the snake’s movements, studying its rhythms. He felt in tune with the snake because so many times he had been called one or compared to one in his short existence. Fahd began to sway with the snake, still not getting within what he judged was its strike range.

He knew Lum had called the others, he assumed they’d respond. He hoped that when others entered, the snake’s attention would be diverted, and he could get a quick slash in. He hoped there would be food, drink, and grateful women available after this performance.
Before he could extend a hand in greeting to the newcomer, Ya'qub hears the shouts of alarm from the next room. He rushes to see what he can do, seeing as he was the closest to the room. He still has his dagger, and aims to slash at anything that slithers. He will also pick up an empty basket or pot, and use it to preferably place over a serpent, so that he won't have to get close enough to use his dagger. However, he is prepared to hack away, if necessary.

Ali moved quickly into the tent’s antechamber. “Salaam and hello,” he said with a quick bow to those already inside. “My name is Ali Kasim,” he added, “and this is Yakhil.” He gestured at the djinnling following him through the tent flap. “We are both at your service.”<br>“I do apologize for the wind,” he continued with a shrug. “But at least it seems to have flushed out what might well be the ‘spirit’ that haunted this tent. Have you had any luck finding the --” He broke off as the shout came from the other room.

Hasim blinks. Twice. "You apologize for my summoning? How very odd. Would you like your own genie?" Hasim offers the newcomer his flask.

Ali looks appraisingly at Hasim and with some surprise at the bottle. “Ah, forgive me,” he says. “I had not realized that the creature of air was not an inhabitant on the tent.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but instead glances with some concern at the flap to the other room in the tent. “What was that?” Ali exclaimed, turning towards the sound. “I should dearly like to continue our conversation, but are your friends not experiencing some trouble in the far room?” He takes a couple of steps inside the tent.

Ali follows quick on Ya’qub’s heels, Yakhil a figurative step behind hovering over Ali’s shoulder.

Barakeh is still a bit dazed by everything happening around him, and he follows a few steps behind everyone else into the next room. He's slightly weakened by the toll of unthinkingly casting the spell a moment before, but now the magic is on top of his mind, ready to be used again.

As the last wisps of fog clears away, Ya'qub sprints across the antechamber and grabs an empty wicker basket. Barakeh, Hasim, and Ali join the others in the doorway of the treatment room.

Fahd, seeing an opportunity slashes at the black adder - thwarting the serpent's venomous strike.

As the black adder coils for a second strike, Lum lunges forward, his scimitar cleaving it into several writhing sections.

As the mongooses continue their blurring strikes against the vipers, Ya'qub arrives with a large wicker basket. His path is blocked by those in the doorway.
Ya'qub stands behind those in the doorway, quietly content to not be in the thick of the fighting. He stands on tip-toe and strains his neck to see around his fellows in front of him.

The nervousness is too much for him, and he knows what will happen, yet, it all comes out anyway: "Look at thothe mongootheth go!"

Fahd was energized by this minor scuffle. What were three venomous snakes to him? ‘Lunch’ he thought. With Lum so successfully dispatching one of them, he was ready to wade in at the other two. ‘One snake will never feed all of us,’ he reasoned by what passed for reason in his unique form of reasoning.

He raised his blade for another strike when he heard a voice, Ya'qub's voice.

Fahd hesitated, then stepped back. For the idea, suggestion, command struck him as a good one. ‘Why not look at those mongooses, or was it mongeese? He was never sure, but then there was little he was ever sure of, except, of course, his way in the desert, at least most of the time, when his one eye was clear and Skiz was giving good directions.’<br>
He shook his head hard to escape his own digression, and stepped back over to Ya’qub, content to watch the mongoose show their stuff. ‘Maybe it is mongoose, no matter how many of them there are?’ he wondered.
Hasim, having set the mongeese/mongooses on the snakes and disposed of Hasim (for now) will stand back out of the way and let the others mix it up. This tent is a tad more cramped than the desert he's used to fighting in.

Barakeh's mouth forms an O as he freezes, watching the rapid movement inside the room. Part of him wants to keep rushing inside, and no doubt he will as soon as the danger inside is eliminated.

Everyone crowds around the doorway of the treatment room, fascinated by the fatal dance of the mongooses and the serpents. Suddenly, Ya'qub shakes himself -- The Girl!

"Motht Noble Comradeth!" He cries. "That cowardly wretch of a doctor has given the unfortunate little girl an enchanted potion to shrink her to the thize of a doll. She may yet be prethent in thith room! Thearch everywhere, but carefully!"

With that, he begins to gingerly prod at the tops of crockery and baskets with the tip of his dagger, ever mindful to watch for any more slithery dangers.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Seeing that the mongooses seemed to have matters in hand regarding the snakes, Ali turns his attention to the question of the missing girl. He takes a step to the side to free the doorway into the treatment chamber, and begins to scan the room, looking for places that the now-shrunken girl might be hiding – or worse, trapped. Above all, he knows, she must be protected.

In a gapped-toothed grimace the short, balding caravaneer Ya'qub stepped past Ali and advanced into the treatment room. He grasped the wicker basket in one hand, his dagger in the other. He edged past the beds on the far side of the fighting and approached the medicine cupboard.

Harried by the mongooses, the dune adders appear to be trying to make an escape under the tent wall. Perhaps neither Fahd nor the mongooses will have serpent for lunch.

Ali scanned the room. He noted that the sheets of the six beds hung to the floor- six possible hiding places. Another, the medicine cabinet that Ya'qub was carefully wedging open with the tip of his dagger.

To Ya'qub's profound relief, nothing slithered in the cabinet. Three shelves are before him, holding flasks, jars and bags, along with a mortar and pestle, and a bundle of white rags. Most of the bags and jars contain herbs and minerals. Among the more unusual items: a jar of black paste; a scrap of hide with a list of strange terms; a 6-inch diameter bowl made of red crystal.

“Gentlemen,” Ali said to the increasing crowd inside the healer’s tent as things appeared to calm down. “I do not wish to cause alarm. And so I inform you that I too have been asked to look for the unfortunate young Iyda.”

As he spoke, Ali took a few steps towards one of the beds. “My name is Ali Kasim,” he added, “and this is my companion Yakhil.” He gestured to the air gen that flew beside him. “I would say more,” he continued, “but I think we should find Iyda first, lest she fall victim to one another of these terrible serpents. Proper introductions can wait until she is safe.”

“Yakhil and I shall check for her under the beds,” Ali declared. “I’ll take these three,” he said more softly to Yakhil as he gestured at three of the beds. “You look under those three.” He gestured at the remaining three beds. “And may Fate grant that she is safe,” he added under his breath.

"Exthellent!" Ya'qub lisps, still excited from the combat. He continues his examination of the cupboard, intrigued by the pile of rags. He gently probes the pile with his dagger, still mindful that the pile would make a comfortable nest of vipers or their relatives.

Fahd patted his stomach. Perhaps he was not as hungry as he had imagines; perhaps there would be other foodstuffs as a reward for his bravery. Seeing that the serpents were anxious to escape he did what he could to aid them. Were there a long stick, a poll, or some other object that would give him leverage from a safe distance, he would lift the lower portion of the tent to allow the Adders to get under with relative ease. If not, he would still give them wide berth, while looking for the missing girl.

Fahd grabs a support pole from the hammock and hastened the escape of the serpents. The mongooses scampered in close pursuit. After a moment a scatter of cries outside as the creatures were noticed.

Ali finds nothing under the beds of interest and joins Ya’qub in examining the contents of the cupboard.
The rags held nothing of interest. The scrap of hide however does. Unfortunately its text is in an ancient script.

Ya’qub was about to speak when a faint sound caught his ear. He looked at Ali and Fahd questioningly. Ali heard it too. Something was moving around in the rooms beyond the northern tent wall.

“If I might suggest some haste,” Ali said as he moved towards the tent flap in the northeast corner of the treatment room. “That noise may be the girl, or it may be another snake. It would be a terrible shame if something happened to the girl when we are so close to a rescue.” He waited a moment to allow anyone interested to join him near the door, and then opened the flap to peer inside the adjacent room.

Ya'qub moves to the source of the strange sound heard earlier. He is still wary, but somewhat relieved that there have been no more "serpent sightings"

With the serpents safely scurrying away, Fahd turns his attention to the tent once more.

Seeing some moving in a particular direction, he follows. "Right behind you, Ya'qub," he says in an authoritative voice, as if he is actually backing the others up. In reality, by being last to the source of the sounds, he should be the first to flee. Not that Fahd would flee.

The room beyond appears to be the living quarters of the physician Fayiz. It appears to be half the width of the tent. A tent flap hangs shut on the dividing wall to the east.
Along the northern wall, a cooking area- a brick fireplace, a few pots and pans, some cups and plates, and an assortment of eating utensils. The stove has been tipped over, the pots dented and bent, the plates shattered. Above the stove is a 3' square cloth flap, closed, used to ventilate the tent while cooking.

Nearby, a wooden barrel lays on its side, its contents, jalla, spilled. [dried camel dung used for fires]
In the southeast corner, a wooden desk lies on its side next to a shattered chair. Documents are scattered everywhere. Two books lie amidst the debris.

Before anyone has a chance to do more than give a cursory glance around the room, a feeble voice, perhaps that of an elderly woman calls out: "Help! Somebody please help!"

Her cry seems to have emanated from beyond the eastern wall.

While the other items might prove interesting later, Ya'qub's main concern is for the little girl. Hearing a female voice, he quickly moves toward the eastern wall, still treading carefully, not convinced that all the serpents have vacated the premises.

Ali nods in agreement with Ya’qub’s actions and follows his companion to the eastern wall. “Yakhil,” he adds over his shoulder to the hovering air gen, “watch our backs. I don’t want to be surprised by any snakes or worse.”

Fahd heard the cries for help. "Blessed Sands," he cried, "what did these people do before we arrived?" for it seemed to him that all they needed was help.
Seeing no food in this area of the tent, he figured that the cries might be emanating from the kitchen.

He picked up the pole he had used earlier to allow the serpents to escape. As Ali opened the tent flap, Fahd, used the pole as a lead, and slowly crept through to the next area.

"Help! Save the little girl! In the cabinet!" The weakening cries came from an enfeebled elderly woman, buried up to her neck beneath the sheets of the room's single bed. The cries must have exhausted the last of her strength because her wispy, gray-haired head collapsed back to the pillow.

This is Fayiz's private quarters. To the left of the tent flap is the qahwa [coffee area]. A small stove and ceramic kettle; shelves holding a few cups, spoons, a coffee grinder, and a sack of coffee beans.

Beyond the qahwa, a 5' square wooden cabinet stands 6' tall. The door is closed. In the northeast corner, clothes have been piled haphazardly next to a basket. The bed and its occupant are across the room from the entryway, along the eastern wall. No other exits are noticed.

“Fazhad,” Ali shouted over his shoulder, “Mind the doorway here. I may need you close.” Turning back to his new companions he added, “If I may be so bold, we should be careful. I would suggest one of us approach the cabinet while the other two mind for trouble. I shall keep watchful. Perhaps you,” he gestures towards Ya’qub, “can look in the cabinet.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

Ali then steps farther into the room and begins to look for trouble. He will pay careful heed to the pile of clothes in the northeast corner. No telling what is hiding beneath that heap of cloth.

Fahd was immediately attracted to the woman in the bed. It had been a long time, to long a time, since he’d spied on, er, seen one, much less been in the same room with one.

“Yes, I can keep my eyes on her,” he readily agreed. He used his pole to measure the distance from her, so coquettishly debating whether he should use the pole to ‘uncover’ her hidden beauty.

Ya'qub steps to the right side(as he faces it) of the cabinet. Still holding his dagger in his right hand, He slowly reaches for the handle/knob/pull of the cabinet. When he feels that he has a solid grip, he jerks the door open quickly.

Ya'qub jerked the cabinet door open. Sunlight from vents along the tops of the tent wall pierced the shadows of the cabinet, glinting off a large bottle atop a shelf. Inside the bottle, bound and gagged, a miniature girl stares at Ya'qub with wide, pleading eyes.
Fahd felt little claws climbing up his back. His companion Skiz ventured a whiskered nose from the folds of Fahd's robe, sniffed and disappeared.

A ripping sound. In the southern wall a Jambiya blade sliced open a wide arc in the tent fabric, revealing Lum's questioning face.

"I heard some shouting," he said.

“I don’t want to speak for you all,” Ali says cautiously. “But I can see that you all are as puzzled by this as I. Something is clearly not right here. Someone has imprisoned that girl in a bottle, and the only ‘someone’ around here is an apparently infirm old woman. How convenient that the bottle is placed where to rescue the girl one would have to place their back to the bed that this ‘woman’ rests on.” He pulls out a jambiya from his belt and watches the bed carefully.
Ya'qub nods solemnly his agreement with Ali's assessment.

“Sir,” he says to Ya’qub. “Might I suggest that you see to the girl while the other three of us make certain that our ‘host’ doesn’t make any sudden moves?” As he speaks, Ali takes a step closer to the bed. He tries as best he can to mind both the bed and the pile of clothes, figuring that if an surprise attack will come, it will be from one of those two places.

With a nervous glance at both the bed and the clothes-pile, Ya'qub reaches for the bottle.

Fahd paid no attention to the cabinet, he continued to aim his pole at the old lady.

A hiss and flash of pain. Ya’qub stumbled back, grasping his hand. His dagger fell unheeded to the ground. His curse of pain cut short by the tight band of fear that gripped him as he stared into the swaying, unblinking eyes before him.

The giant cobra, its hood spread and looming in front of the good-natured Ya’qub momentarily distracted Ali, Fahd, and Lum. Hysterical laughter quickly brought their focus back to the old woman in time to see her hurl two vipers. One toward Ali and Fahd, the other at Lum.

Ali dove to the side, holding his jambiya up to fend off the (likely) poisonous snake coming towards him. “Yakhil,” he shouted and glanced back at his air gen as a moment of wordless communication passed between them. “Now go,” he added, and the djinnling disappeared. Ali returned his attention to the viper that was thrown at him and Fahd, doing his best to keep his jambiya between him and the snake.

Staring straight ahead at the cobra, Ya'qub's mind races through his options. Very slowly, he begins to move back away from the cabinet, and when he judges he is out of the cobra's striking range, he drops to his knees, frantically searching for his dagger.

The cackle of the old woman reached a fevered pitch behind Ya’qub. His heart racing he began backing up... eyes locked on the swaying serpent before him... cold numbness slowly spreading up his arm. Blinking, Ya’qub broke the hypnotic stare and continued moving slowly backwards.

"Damn you woman!" Lum's jambiya spun across the room in a shiny blur, slicing through the heavy tent wall and falling outside. At his feet lay two twisting halves of the viper.

"Curses!" Fahd cursed. "I have seen more snakes today than in all my years in the desert." He hooked the other viper with the pole and flipped it to one side. It landed in the corner nearest to Lum.

Ali gave a nod to his gen and gestured towards the cabinet holding the cobra. The air shimmered as if from a great heat and a nice, juicy rat appeared to crawl out from behind the bottle holding the shrunken girl.
At the sudden appearance of the giant rat beside her, the small girl flung herself against the glass wall of her bottle. The movement and sound caught the attention of the cobra and in a blinding flash it struck, knocking the bottle from its shelf.

The moment the cobra had turned, Ya'qub dropped to his knees and glancing around, grabbed his dagger. Rising into a defensive crouch, he was just in time to see the bottle fall into the packed sand of the tent floor.
Before their eyes, the old woman disappeared. Laying on the bed where she had been was a large serpent,(6' long) its scales a mosaic pattern of mottled blue and green.

Having recovered his dagger, Ya'qub reaches again for the bottle, and then attempts to crawl away from the area toward the entrance "from whence they came" (IIRC, to the West). He is desperately racking his brain trying to recall where he had seen the various medicines that might be useful as a cobra anti-toxin...
Fahd gave himself a quick pat on the back as his toss of the serpent had been so successful. He turned to wink to the others, but . . .then the old lady transformed!

[Zaim al-Daleel]

He saw the bottle topple and was about to dive for it, or for cover, when he saw Ya'qub make the move for the bottle first.

He looked at his pole and then at the new snake, the new large snake, the new snake that was larger than his pole . . .

He looked at the exit, or what had been the entrance to them only moments before. Many thoughts went through his mind
hmmmmmm . . .
hmmmmmmm . . . .
[oh, all right]
He threw the pole at the former old lady and tried to grab Ya'qub by the shoulders and help him out of the room.

"Amin! With me!" Shouted Lum as he unsheathed his second jambiya and let it fly at one of the giant snakes eye's as he rushed and feinted to it's side where he had attacked it. Scimitar in hand, Lum attacked ferociously at the snake's head.

As Ali looked at Ya’qub being bitten by the cobra a look of concern passed over his face. Cobras were deadly, and it looked like the fat caravaneer had been bit hard.
“Yakhil,” he shouted at his gen familiar, “distract the cobra for as long as you can. The mirage should be a good start.”

As Yakhil moved to distract the snake, Ali rushed forward to help pull Ya’qub to safety. “Come, my friend,” he says in a calm voice, “I have seen men survive cobra bites. And so too shall you.”

When he gets Ya’qub to safety, Ali will cast his healing spell in an effort to purge the poison from Ya’qub’s system.

The giant cobra's tongue flicked in and out, tasting the air. Hood spread, the serpent swayed gently, tracking the rat mirage as it darted back and forth on the shelf.
Fahd heard Lum shout as he threw the pole, turning to grab Ya'qub without waiting to see if his strike was successful.

Lum loosed his jambiya with a speed and accuracy that only a serpent could dodge. The knife stuck in the bed as Fahd's pole skipped across and clattered to the floor. With a strange shriek, the serpent darted off the far side of the bed. (away from Lum & Amin)
Ya’qub clutched the bottle tightly, making his way toward the exit on his knees. He felt out of breath, an invisible hand squeezing his chest. He was startled as Fahd and Ali pulled him up and away from the danger.
Amin leapt through the tear in the tent wall, taking up a position beside his leader, scimitar drawn. Together they charged over the bed.

Perhaps finding no smell on the rat, the cobra whipped around. Its attention focused on the charging Lum when suddenly Ali's gen swooped in front of the venomous beast, distracting it momentarily.

Fahd and Ali gently laid the wide-eyed Ya'qub on a bed in the treatment room. As the hand that squeezed his chest clamped shut, Ya'qub's eyes fell upon the small child trapped in the bottle. She looked shaken and scared, but otherwise fine. Ya'qub tried to draw another breath, found none, then all was darkness.

"Please! Mercy! I meant no harm!" Coiled in the corner of the tent, the strange bluish serpent wailed and pleaded as Lum and Amin approached. "Jokes! Only jokes! Revenge for the theft of my children!"

Back in the treatment room, Ali finished his spell with a flourish of his hand. Ya'qub suddenly inhaled, impossibly deep. He sat up suddenly, eyes blinking, still clutching the bottle.

"Accursed creature," Lum spat out, "you have two choices. End your jokes and curses here and now and return the girl to her original state and leave never to return, or die by my hand."

With a quick glance in Ya’qub’s eyes, and a hand on his chest to feel that he was still breathing Ali declared, “I believe that the poison is gone, my friend. Its effects should trouble you no more.” Then, with a glance over his shoulder he added, “now I must see if Yakhil needs my help.”

With that Ali retrieved his jambiya from where he had dropped it next to the bed, stood from where he knelt, and moved back to the cut in the tent wall to give visible support to Yakhil, Lum, and Amin. He looked carefully at the situation before him and wondered what kind of creature this snake woman was.

Fahd was not so sure if Ya'qub was ready to be left alone. Nor was he sure that he wanted to return to the serpent woman's room.

"The blessing of the sands be with you Ali," he blessed. "I'll will sacrifice myself to the cause of guarding our weakened friend." He put his hand on Ya'qub's chest, and subtly added his knee, not really feeling his heart beat, but using the pressure to keep him from rising too quickly and rejoining the fray.
Ya'qub suddenly recalls the little girl, then reaches for the bottle. I must get this poor child to the doctor so that he may reverse the evil spell he placed her under, and then tell the most noble Khafaz ibn Dahz that we have identified the cause of the mysterious "evil spirits" of the tent.

With that, he tests the steadiness of his legs after his ordeal.

Reminded of the plight of the little girl, and assuming this means leaving the tent entirely, Fahd assists Ya'qub to his feet. "Yes, my friend, maybe in the clear dry desert air she will regain her former size. The sun has been known to work miracles."

In response to Lum's demands the creature emitted a series of sharp hisses. The cobra immediately calmed down and darted beneath the pile of clothes.

"The girl is as I found her!" the creature pleaded. "I only placed her in the bottle, I swear!" It glanced toward the hole in the floor beyond Amin. "I only wanted to scare the doctor, he had my children, I'm sorry!"

Ali joined Lum and Amin. Now that the situation had calmed down a bit, he thought back to his studies in Genie lore. He suspected that the creature was a Zin: an intelligent shape shifting spirit snake that delighted in elaborate pranks.

[Zaim al-Daleel]

“I believe it is a zin,” Ali said from behind the two warriors. “A snake spirit generally prone more to trickery than violence. But as we can see, capable of both.” He gestured Yakhil over. “Luckily she has caused little lasting harm. Your friend has been healed, and the girl is safe. In fact, her acts have harmed her ‘children’ more than anyone else. In defending ourselves from her tricks, we’ve killed four or more of the snakes she set after us. Far more, I suspect than the local healer would have.”

Lum squinted hard, not sure if she was telling the truth or not, but he escaped death once, and he didn't feel like tempting Fate again. "Swear an oath to me on the lives of your children that you will do me one favor, whatever it is, whenever I call upon it and I shall let you leave unharmed. Else, the consequences could be dire for you." Lum readied himself for combat, his stance well trained and prepared to attack.

Ali made eye contact with Yakhil and nodded a few times. “Take care of things, would you?” he said to the air gen.

Yakhil disappeared for a moment and then returned over the hole in the corner of the room. He flew around the hole and as if by magic it began to fill up until no trace of the hole remained, only hard-packed sand.

“I fear your means of escape is gone,” Ali said to the zin. “I would recommend surrender as your best option.”

***
Ya’qub and Fahd pushed back the tent flap and stepped out into the bright mid day sun. Several paces from the tent, the crowd waited breathlessly, straining to see. The young doctor Fayiz paused his nervous pacing. Astride his stallion, the stern administrator Khafaz was about to speak when Ya’qub gently removed the tiny Iyda from the bottle, his moon-shaped face breaking into a wide, gapped-toothed smile.

With a cry of relief and joy, Dhiba sprang forward and sobbing began to thank the men and console her daughter, who was visibly shaken and scared.

Fayiz dashed forward, visibly relieved. "She'll return to her normal size soon..." he began. An angry glance from the mother cut him off. "Well, she will," he muttered petulantly.

"In that case," Ya'qub begins by throwing a friendly arm around Fayiz's shoulder, "Perhaps we should discuss the matter of a reward, seeing that my friends are just about to put an end to the evil spirit afflicting your tent?"

Lum and Ali, with a mix of threats and trickery, secured a solemn oath of aid from the Zin. Should they call her name, Bahiefiddat, any Zin within hearing would come and render what aid they might.

They also learned that none of her children had been slain as she had released them while Fayiz was away from the tent. All the serpents in the tent where Fayiz's.

"We are spirits of the rivers and lakes," she'd laughed in a hissing voice, weaving her serpentine body rhythmically. As they'd left the room, she'd transformed into a veiled young woman and slipped away in the confusion that followed.

Ali, Lum and Amin Daoud had left the tent as groups of wide-eyed locals pressed forward, perhaps anxious to look for signs of the spirit, now that the danger had passed.

On the subject of reward, Fayiz look genuinely distressed that he had nothing of great value to give. Rushing into the tent, he went to the medicine cabinet and after a few sharp words at the curious locals wandering around, returned to present Ya’qub with the scrap of hide with a list of strange terms and a 6-inch diameter bowl made of red crystal.

"I purchased these items myself from a traveling merchant," he'd said. "Its not much of a reward, I know, but perhaps my master Fahad al-Zakir will show his gratitude..."

Dhiba had pulled a necklace from her neck and presented it to Ya’qub. "My father gave it to me on his deathbed. Perhaps I should have sold it long ago, but it was the only thing I had to remember him. Now I know that Fate guided me in saving it. Take it and my deepest gratitude."

She thanked each of the group in turn, apologizing for not having more to give. The necklace was a small green vile with an amber lid, sealed by an engraved brass band.

This, however was quite unexpected. Ya'qub had not considered the possibility of a reward from the young girl and her mother. His first thought was to hold out his hand to prevent her from giving the priceless (at least to her) gift. But then wisdom took its place and he thought that custom at least in this part of the world must demand he accept the gift, or risk insult to the very family he almost died to help.

Climbing down from his stallion, Khafaz approached the group smiling broadly beneath his beard. "Congratulations! On behalf of my employer, the most generous and wise Fahad al-Zakir, I invite you to spend the evening at the Golden Cutlass, one of Tajar's finest inns.

Tomorrow afternoon, my men will take you to Fahad, so that he may express his appreciation in person and speak to you of other matters."

As the group returned to their caravan, they where further rewarded with the cheers and applause of the spectators.

“I was wondering,” Ali asked Fayiz, “would you be willing to provide me with some medical supplies? I was recently shipwrecked and lost all I had. And while I am not by any means a healer of your talent, I have been known to mend a few minor injuries. Such tasks would be made much easier were I to have the proper supplies.”

Fayiz's face lit up. "Of course! How ignorant of me not to have offered the skills and knowledge fate has bestowed upon me." He hugged Ali and before turning to enter the tent: "I'll prepare your supplies and deliver them to you tonight!"

Fahd had stood idly by as Ya’qub received his rewards - the scrap of hide with a list of strange terms and a 6-inch diameter bowl made of red crystal and the necklace.

'Nice,' he thought, but they were of little interest to him.
It was only when Khafaz got to the heart of the matter that his attention was grasped.

"The Golden Cutlass?" he blurted in almost disbelief. "Heavens be praised. This makes the ordeal of the serpents all worthwhile." He began shaking the man's hand in thanks, repeating his praises over and over.

Meanwhile his mind raced ahead to the women, the food, the women, the drinking, the drinking with women, the drinking off of the women, the food, the women . . .

"Ya'qub," Lum said quietly as the fanfare of welcomers passed by, "I would be interested in the necklace as my part of the spoils."

[Zaim al-Daleel]

The party returns to their employer, Ashquar bin Fahesh, and unloads the merchandise collected on their venture. In payment, Ya’qub, Fahd, & Lum are given their choice of 2 camels, 1 camel and 40 dinars, 90 dinars or raw silk (2 - 10 yard bolts)

Ya’qub chooses the bolts of silk, with an eye to trading them in the marketplace. Lum accepts the payment of the two camels, in order that he and his apprentice may have something to ride. Fahd requested his payment in cash – he took the offer of the 90 dinars.

As Ya’qub, Lum, and Fahd returned to their caravan, Ali approached them respectfully.

“I do not wish to intrude,” He said as he neared them, “but Khafaz implied that I was expected to see Fahad al-Zakir as well tomorrow.” He bowed his head slightly in a motion of respect. “My name is Ali Kasim, and I am a wandering sha’ir.” His companion air gen landed on his shoulder and tugged on his ear. “Ah yes, and this is Yakhil, an air gen of no small talent. We have until recently been working on a trading ship. But alas, it was destroyed in a storm and we find ourselves on our own again.”

“I have no idea what Fahad al-Zakir has in mind to say tomorrow. But I suspect that he assumes we are a group and intends to employ us to perform a task. If you will have me, I would be happy to join you that we might present a single face to him. So that you might know my capabilities, I am trained mostly as a sha’ir, but circumstances have required me to pick up additional skills over the years. I know how to handle a jambiya, although not as well as a skilled fighting man, and I quite often was called upon to tend to injured sailors.”

“What say you three to that?” Ali asked. “Will you have us?”

Fahd was busy counting and recounting his 90 dinars. He occasionally removed his eye patch to fully inspect them. Skiz sat on his shoulder helping him count. Coins like these did not magically spring form the desert and it had been a long time, well, never actually, since he'd seen that many coins in one place.

Er, well, he had seen that many coins in one place before, but he was unable to get away with, er, remove, er, but never before in his hand.

Ali Kasim's introduction was almost ignored by him. Then, once he'd secured his treasure in his coin purse, he looked up with his one good eye and squinted. The rat which sat on his shoulder looked up with both his beady red eyes.

"Ali is it? I am Fahd. I guide people across this vast desert. You say you are a healer of sorts? Well, I have often found a need for that. Not for myself of course, but sometimes those with whom I travel do meet with mishaps . . ." His mind wandered off as he recalled the details of some of them.

"You certainly have my vote. Might was well accompany to the celebration tonight." He rose and but his right arm around the man's shoulders, Skiz skittering along it to look in Ali's ear.

"Pardon my little friend. I find he is a good judge of character," he explained.

"Yes, let us go to this place. I will let you buy me a drink or maybe even two to sandstone our new friendship."
Ali smiled at Skiz and offered it a piece of dried date from his belt pouch. “No pardon is necessary for him. I understand the value of a companion, however small he may be.”<br>
As for being a healer, I am more of a sha’ir – a scholar in djinni lore – than anything else. But as I have grown rather fond of eating regularly, and not everyone has need for a sha’ir, I have sometimes found the need to do other things. Serving as a ship’s officer is one of those tasks, and while on board, tending to the sailor’s wounds was given to me as one of my duties. I would not say that I’m a true healer. But I am familiar with a number of common injuries.”

“But why am I going on like this when we both have parched throats? As you say, let me buy you a drink – a prospect all the more appealing since I suspect Fahad al-Zakir will take care of the cost.” Ali laughed as he walked with Fahd towards the Golden Cutlass.”<br>
Fahd tried his best to stay focused as Ali went through the litany of his skills. Finally the word 'drink' came from the man's lips.

"Yes, yes, my friend, you are all those things and more I am sure. Now let us be off to the Golden Cutlass."
That night, the victorious adventurers enjoy a meal together at the Golden Cutlass. Ya'qub locates a seat near Lum.

As they laugh and share the stories of their triumph over the spirit of the tent, Ya'qub suddenly leans over behind Lum. As he straightens up, he takes Lum's hand in his own. "I believe you dropped this," he says quietly. As Ya'qub releases his hand, Lum notices that the necklace was pressed into it, unbeknownst to the others, lost in their revels.

"Thank you friend." Lum said with a smile. It was unusual to deal with people without threatening them, which was standard fare in the Mamluk society, and he was grateful for this small reprieve. Lum would be loath to return to his "life" when the mission was really over.
Over a breakfast of dates and bread, Ali approached Ya’qub and greeted him in a friendly manner. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, Ali brought up what he feared might be a touchy subject. “Honored Ya’qub, I was wondering what ever became of that necklace that the girl’s mother gave us. I know that I was a latecomer to your group, but she did give the reward to us all. I am curious that I have not seen nor heard of it since it was given to us. Have you been looking for a buyer in the markets?

The next day, Ya’qub will stow the silk amongst his other goods, and then will take a fact-finding mission to the Bazaar in Tajar. He is not interested in buying or selling at this point, only in discovering what "the markets will bear," i.e., what silk is trading for, and what other goodies can be had there.

He will keep a wary eye out for pickpockets and cutthroats, and will especially avoid dark alleyways.
When his little trip is completed, he will make his way to the Cutlass for light refreshment before bed.