The stranger sat below the palm tree which stood in the courtyard and spoke not a word to her no matter what she said. He took some water and some sweet meats, yet never taking off his wrap or speaking to her. She teased and tempted, trying as best she could to get him to say some words. Then in a fit of temper, she stomped her foot and cried out, "Curse of the Shifting Sands on you then you dog! I'd rather have given the dead roses at the gate your water than have fed it to you"

At this, the stranger nodded and in a voice rich as chocolate, returned with "As you say, so it will be done Lady." and he rose and emptied the rest of his glass on the brown earth then mounted his steed and rode away.

When Fasimar was let out, she spoke to her sister kindly saying, "You must not have heard my cries, for somehow the bar fell over the door blocking me in. I see though, that our visitor has left."

"Yes, and he emptied the rest of our water onto the brown earth at the gate. So you will have to go to the village and get more," rejoined her sister.

The eldest daughter took up the pail and left by way of the front gate. And as she passed, she spied a shadow at the base of the stones there. She bent down in curiosity thinking, "someone has dropped something for the water has long since soaked into the ground." And there, above the roots of the plant, she found a small gem, black as blood and with the warmth of the sun. She picked it up and put it in her pocket then continued on her way.

The next week, at the first of the week, the two sisters sat at noon on their stoop. Matil swearing up and down at a small puppy her elder sister had just rescued and who insisted on attempting to be her friend, and Fasimar silent and working on her younger's shifts. While Fasimar leaned forward to gather up the straying pup, Matil spied a blood colored stallion making it's way sure and carefully up the path to their home. Not willing to frighten off her suitor, she called for her sister to go into the house and put the babe into his bed in the cellar. Fasimar, who had seen their visitor's approach yet did not wish to make for harsh words, rose and without a word left into the cellar's depths. When the door had closed behind her, Matil slipped in and dropped the lock-bar.

This time, the stranger was garbed in a silver turban and the silk which covered his face was whiter than waterfalls. On the edges, was embroidered slight intertwined roses, peach and so light they seemed to not be there until one saw closer. His steed was dressed in silver with camel skin over the high backing of his saddle and white silver wire was wrapped into the braid of his bridle which was bleached white rope.

When he came, Matil met him at the gate and offered him some water and some sweetmeats (the last of which were given them by her sister's husband days before) under the shade of the palm tree. There, she attempted to speak to him and yet he said not a word. She had thought before that he must be dumb and therefore did not try too hard. Yet this time, she desired to see his face. So she teased and tempted, trying as best she could to get him to reveal his face to her. Then in a fit of temper, she stomped her foot and cried out, "Curse of the Shifting Sands on you then you pig! I'd rather have given the dead roses at the gate your water than have fed it to you"

At this, the stranger nodded and in a voice light as the spring rains, returned with, "As you say, so it will be done Lady." and he rose and emptied the rest of his glass on the brown earth then mounted his steed and rode away.

When Fasimar was found to be locked in the cellar, she spoke to her sister kindly saying, "You must not have heard my cries, for somehow the bar fell over the door blocking me in. I see though, that our visitor has left."

"Yes, and he emptied the rest of our water onto the brown earth at the gate. So you will have to go to the village and get more," Matil growled. And being in a foul temper, took advantage of their close quarters and hit Fasimar in the brow with her open hand.

The eldest daughter took up the pail and left by way of the front gate. And as she passed, she spied a shine at the base of the stones there. She bent down in curiosity thinking, "someone has dropped something for the water has long since soaked into the ground." And there, above the roots of the plant, she found a small gem, clear as water and hard as ice, like a dew drop. She picked it up and put it in her pocket with the darker, then continued on her way.

Days passed and then one day at the beginning of the new moon, Matil looked up as dawn touched the tops of the mountains and noted a flash at the base of the mountain. She left her older sister to finish the makings of her breakfast and went to the gate to watch the stranger ride up the path toward their door. He wore all yellow silk and the silk the covered his face was embroidered with gold flowers that glinted but otherwise were lost in the fabric to one not close enough to see them. His blood colored steed was covered in a goldenrod colored blanket and the saddle was adorned with gold trappings. The rope bridle glinted, having been braided with gold wire mixed in with the yellow grasses. When she saw his clothing than she knew him to be richer than she had ever seen any man and ran in to tell her sister.

"Sister! He is coming again. Quickly, run to the cellar and grab the sweetmeats. I hid some under the wine flask for fear you would eat the last of them."

Fasimar did as she was bid. But this time, she stopped just inside of the door and heard her sister close the bar over it and leave out the front door to meet with the handsome stranger. And when Matil returned, her face stormy and black, she said again, "You must not have heard my cries, for somehow the bar fell over the door blocking me in. I see though, that our visitor has left."

"Yes, and he emptied the rest of our water onto the brown earth at the gate. So you will have to go to the village and get more," Matil grumbled in response. For this time she had tried to be allowed to touch his horse and the gold in the bridle. And no matter how she teased and tempted, trying as best she could to get him to take her up onto his horse, he only sat silently, drinking his water. Until, in a fit of temper, she stomped her foot and cried out,"Curse of the Shifting Sands on you then you stupid cow! I'd rather have given the dead roses at the gate your water than have fed it to you"

At this, the stranger nodded and in a voice cold as the winter hearth, replied to her "As you say, so it will be done Lady." and he rose and emptied the rest of his glass on the brown earth then mounted his steed and rode away.

When Fasimar stole past the gate, carrying the water bucket from which to draw from the well with, she gazed down at the rose bush and the ground at the base of the stones there. Not seeing anything, she was about to pass by. Yet, she realized until now, there was always something there. And so, she knelt to see what might have been lost this time as the stranger passed the gate. Still seeing nothing, she reached past the roots of the rose and dug her fingers along the dust of the ground, searching. And there, under a brittle fallen leaf, sat a small gold button set at the center with a diamond and smooth to touch as swan down. She picked it up and put it in her pocket before continuing on her way.


When dawn fell the next day, the stranger had left the land and began to travel back toward his own across the shifting sands. He had traveled alone as he had not wished to be known as the man he was. The city in which he lived, was set far to the north of the mountains, deep in the sands and nearest to the sister river of the well which was known to go to the depths of the earth. He knew that his stones had been discovered and felt it was unlikely that the raven haired woman had been the one to find them. So he would return home and wait for what must transpire.

~~

She breathed softly and looked down at her hands, then back at the Caliph’s vizier, the man whose home she had graced now for a week or more by way of her adventures, the traveling unspoken. "And so begins the tale that goes on to this day. I have knowledge of the three that Fasimar holds in her purse and hides from all, as well as her identity, and I wish her best." Wish myself best, ah Matil! If only you’d done differently by me, perhaps we might have found our way from our small cottage. Even as she considered it, her heart longed for the small garden plot and the scent of jasmine wafting upwards as it must have been doing then.

The Vizier clapped his hands and looked at his companions. "Surely a story teller would be worthy of a token or two. I’ve kept her many a day and she as always, entertaining. Sheherazade cannot boast so great a talent."

The woman, her veil covering the brunt of her face as it had all her life, bowed low, touching brow to the rug beneath her knees in silent humble thanks for the boast, but she would not consider it so herself. She remained prone until her face was no longer flushed with pleasure. Not that any could know for she had been in the sun so long in this adventure, her skin hid such displays of emotion. Her mother, flowers be strewn for her, would have cried in horror at seeing such skin so marred.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis