'That is me: Abu Sharma, Champion of the Bazaar!'

Otti laughed out loud. 'He is crazy, this one.'

'That may well be,' agreed Cait, removing a handful of coins from the chest.

'But this is wonderful, Cait,' said Alethea. 'Do you not think so?'

'I am delighted.' She counted out coins amounting to eight thousand dirhams, put them in a leather bag which she tied, and returned the rest to the box. To Abu and Haemur she said, 'I might have been more delighted if you had accomplished the task in good time.' Taking up a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, she said, 'Close the box and bring it.'

Abu's face fell slightly. 'You do not wish to hear how the Mighty Abu wrestled the demons of avarice, greed, and desire in the marketplace?'

7 do,' said Alethea.

'Later,' Cait said, moving to the door. 'I wish to secure the release of the captives before they close the palace gates.'

Motioning Otti to help him, the young Syrian took up the casket. 'I know,' he said, brightening once more, 'I will tell you on the way. It will pleasantly pass the time.'

'Excellent,' said Thea happily.

Cait turned and handed her the bag of coins. 'You are staying here.'

'Ohhh,' Thea whined in frustration. 'Cait, please, I want to go.'

'And keep the door closed until I get back.'

Thea frowned.

'I mean it, Thea. I will not have you wandering around outside alone.'

'Otti could come with me,' she suggested hopefully.

'I need Otti with me.'

At Caitriona's command, Abu hired a small carriage from among those waiting outside the inn. She and Haemur rode in the carriage guarding the box, while Otti and Abu walked alongside. Abu, eager to aggrandize himself in the eyes of his patroness, embellished his story shamelessly. However, the tale that emerged bore at least a passing resemblance to what had actually taken place.

As directed, the three men had taken the precious objects Cait had given them from among the items in her father's store, and they had gone to the marketplace, where, in the street of goldsmiths, they sought out the expert valuation of one of the more highly respected craftsmen there. The fellow had examined the items, expressed interest and, when he asked the reason for the sale, had been told the simple truth: to raise funds for the ransom of prisoners. 'Fifteen thousand,' offered the goldsmith, upon receiving this information. Abu duly pointed out that the objects were far more valuable than that, but the fellow refused to barter. The offer remained firm. 'The walls of Damascus would be easier to move than that pinchfist,' Abu declared.

Undeterred, they took their business to another goldsmith across the street, who welcomed them with small glasses of spiced wine, sat them down, and proceeded to spend a considerable time examining the items they had for sale. They were fine pieces, exceptional pieces, he told them. The finest materials and craftsmanship, beyond the shadow of a doubt. 'Why are you parting with them?' he asked, and was told, as before, that the money was needed to ransom captives of war. 'Fourteen thousand,' replied the gold dealer. 'Each?' asked Abu Sharma. 'For both,' sniffed the dealer. 'And I am doing you a favour at that.'

Nor would he improve the offer. 'A rock in the sea would have more compassion,' Haemur asserted with a sorry shake of his head.

The next goldsmith they visited offered a slightly improved sixteen thousand – but only when told they had already received an offer of fifteen from a nearby competitor. This is when Abu grew angry. They went out and walked along the street for a while to give Abu time to consider the situation. Haemur was all for going back and letting Cait decide what should be done, but the young Syrian had the bit between his teeth now, and he was determined not to be bested.

They walked to the end of the street, and then down another street, and yet another, coming to the less respectable dealers of gold, gems, and precious objects-places where formerly wealthy people often found buyers for treasures acquired in more prosperous times. Abu chose one of the most disreputable-looking of these, and told Otti to stand across the street and stare very hard at the shabby little shack and not to move. Next he instructed Haemur to accompany him, but to stand by the door and say nothing. It was agreed. Abu drew a deep breath and held it until Haemur feared he would burst, and then, gathering up the box, he darted across the street and into the dealer's dwelling.

'This fellow looks up to see Abu rushing in all red-faced and out of breath,' said the young Syrian, 'and it is "Allah help you, my friend, what has happened?"' So, Abu explained that he had something to sell, but was concerned that nothing should be known of his visit-not to anyone, not ever. The dealer said that he himself could not imagine any reason why anyone should learn of any transactions they might undertake. He took special pains to point out that his customers often required sympathy and understanding. Ask anyone, he said, they would tell you that Faraq Irbil is the soul of discretion and silent as the tomb.

Apparently satisfied, Abu opened the sack and agreed to allow the dealer to examine the goods-but first would he mind going to the door and looking outside, please? 'This he does,' said Abu, 'and as the fellow peers out he sees Otti standing across the street glaring at the door of his hovel. "Oh, no!" I cry. "We must vanish at once!" I close the sack and jump up to leave.

'The dealer is not content to allow his opportunity to disappear so abruptly. "Wait a moment," pleaded Faraq, "there is nothing to fear. Let me see what you have. Maybe I can help." "But no," I said, "It is too late! Too late! I am sorry. I had hoped to raise a little money, but now… Allah help us, it is too late! Forgive me for troubling you."'

Abu chuckled at his own shrewdness. 'I close up the sack and rush to the door. "Please do not leave," the dealer cries, clutching at my sleeve. He has glimpsed the golden bowl with the gem-edged rim, and is loath to let it vanish as quickly as it has appeared. "I can see you are troubled," Faraq says to me. "Perhaps events have overtaken you, eh? Yes, I thought so. But there is nothing to fear. You are safe here. Come, sit down. You say you wish to raise money. You have come to the right place. I am a dealer in fine gold, jewellery, and precious stones. Let me see what you have brought."

'"Very well," says Abu, "I may as well show you-but remember: no one must ever know I was here. A woman's honour is involved. She is a wealthy woman, you see? The fault is not hers. Forgive me, I wish I could say more." So, Abu brings out the sapphire-and-ruby rimmed bowl, and says, "It is worth sixty thousand. You know it. I know it. Alas, the time for bartering is past. I will take forty."

'"Forty!" Faraq pretends to be shocked. "If only that was possible. Alas, my purse is not so capacious as those in the upper street. I am a man of more slender means. Twenty is the best I can offer. You think it over while I go and see if that belligerent fellow is still waiting for you across the street. Oh, yes, he is still there. It seems you must choose between us now."

'But, Abu Sharma, slayer of demons, is not finished yet. He brings out the crystal dagger, withdraws it from its sheath of gilded leather, and lays the pearl-studded hilt beside the golden bowl. "I see that sacrifices must be made," says Abu. "But it is forty thousand I must have. So: twenty for the bowl, and twenty for the knife."

'The dealer's eyes grow round. This is a most auspicious day, he is thinking. "Truly, my friend, these are exquisite pieces. Therefore, against my better judgement, I will give you fifteen apiece. More I cannot do."

'"O, woe, woe! Doom and woe! Why did I ever stray from the paths of righteousness? Alas, I am undone! Cursed was the day of my birth. I must have been fathered by a scorpion!"