My empty stomach clenched as Crown Prince Akram spat another succulent date into the dust of his city. "These dates are like old leather filled with straw. I should have you flogged for selling trash disguised as food." Dates are still my favorite food. I would have treasured them, but to him, and everyone else, I was just sixteen years of hungry vermin.
The noise of the marketplace filled my ears. Bleating animals awaiting their fate next to the butcher shop. The hammer of the blacksmith. The western caravans coming through the Sunset Gate. The smells were there too. Bread baking in the ovens. That biting smell of desert sand burning in the sun mingling with the smell of fresh water bubbling down the aqueducts. I looked towards the butcher shop as the butcher's assistant threw the beloved marketplace dog, Sandy, a bone with a trace of meat left on it. The dog yelped with joy as it hauled the bone off to a secluded space to work on it. If we'd had the wood, that bone alone could have given us better soup than we'd had in months.
The bar holding up the two large water jars dug into my shoulders and I continued the wending my way past the Dawn Gate refilling my merchant customers' water jars along the way. At the end of a month, I'd get a small parcel of fruit, vegetables, or bread from each merchant. If I was very lucky and they were in a good mood, they'd pay an iron coin with the King's face on it.
"Morning, Master Yusuf," I began, tipping my jar into his, "Hope you and Sarhia are well."
"Business is ticking along, margins thin as always. But boy, you need to pick up the pace. My jar was dry an hour ago. Time is coin."
"Sorry, Master." I couldn't keep my eyes off the sandals on his display table. If Dalia and I didn't need to eat, I could buy her a pair next season. But alas, bare feet were all we could ever remember and there was no possibility of better on the horizon. "I'll try to do better next time." My eyes returned to the rust-colored sand at the base of his stall.
There was a crack in the beam that held up the stall. It would certainly collapse during the next sandstorm. It might collapse on someone sooner than that if a freak wind gust came by. But with additional bracing it could last several more years. "Master!"
"Yes, boy?" Yusuf raised his eyes from his stitching, no doubt angry at being bothered.
Who was I to advise a merchant? Last time I suggested to grain merchant that haggling was costing him more in time than it was worth in money. He hit me so hard, my shoulder ached too much to work the next day. "When I want advice from gutter trash, I'll ask for it."
What did I know that wouldn't have been obvious to a fifty something year old man who owned a home, had a family, a successful business owner? I was no one, nothing. Certainly he was well aware of the issue and had made a careful decision based on a wise assessment of the risks combined with his own particular circumstances. Yusuf had never hit me, but I was way out of line. "Sorry Master, never mind."
"Very well." He went back to his work.
As the shadow of the white-capped southern mountain shaded the marketplace, I loaded my shoulders back up and went on to the next stall. The afternoon wind was picking up.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and my heart skipped a beat. I spun around to see whose attention I had attracted, half expecting retribution for a late delivery or some other slight. Just as I had done so, I was accosted by a girl whose long flowing black hair was tossing carelessly in the afternoon wind. "Oh Nadim, something wonderful." She was out of breath.
"Dalia, sister, you gave me a scare. What happened that you needed to abandon your duties and visit me?"
"Lady Hamil came and said she wanted to hire me to help wash the family laundry and that of the inn's guests."
"The caravan hostel?"
Dalia nodded.
"Another job..." I slowed down. "How could you bear that? You're already carrying the weight of two on shoulders designed for one..."
"Oh, no. Two irons a week, Nadim. Two! Can you imagine? I won't need other work at all. I can focus on just this one. We'll be able to afford the leftover food that the prison sells."
My imagination began to run wild. Could they be this lucky? A second income that would exceed his own? They might be able to afford a couple of dates once in a while. Like before Dad died. We could buy fabric for clothing by next season instead of stitching together old rags scavenged from the dump. And thread too.
As if reading his mind, Dalia continued, twirling around as if dancing. "And new clothes every year. Picture clean fabric, bright colors! I get my first set next week. She said her workers need to sparkle to make a good impression on her guests."
Nadim smiled and a tear began to well up in his eye.
"Oh, and if I work hard and do well, Master Hamil might even promote me to cleaning and serving the guests after a while."
She hugged me again. "Oh Nadim, I just had to tell you. I couldn't wait. I ran all the way here."
He couldn't pry her off. "It's wonderful news, Dalia. A strong foundation for our future. But I have to finish my duties and I'm already behind."
"Of course, Nadim..."
Just then the wind whipped up wildly as it sometimes did in the afternoons. A whirlwind was sweeping over the marketplace. I looked over to Yusuf's stall. The spinning cloud of dust was heading right towards it. Yusuf didn't even bother to look up from his stitching. My heart was pounding. I willed it away from his stall, but it didn't alter course. People scurried out of the way and sought cover. You could easily get hurt from flying debris and you would definitely get sand in your eyes that would be hard to wash out.
It reached the stall, and I saw Yusuf look up, just as the roof was lifted up and then collapsed right on top of the poor man. "Master Yusuf!" I screamed reflexively as I put down my water jars and began running over to the man's stall.
His torso was free but his legs were caught. Blood trickled from his forehead as he feebly struggled to lift the collapsed beam. I tried lifting the beam. "Help!" I shouted to the crowd.
The baker rushed out his door. "Careful with his legs," I said. And once he arrived customers and merchants alike joined us. "One, two, three, LIFT" I shouted instinctively.
Master Yusuf groaned and winced in pain as the beam came off. His leg was clearly bent wrong.
"I'll get the healer!" The lady from the spice stall shouted.
My face suddenly flushed red. Who was I to be giving orders to successful merchants? To customers wealthy enough to buy their wares? Is it the grasshopper's place to order the sun to hide behind a cloud? The embarrassment flooding through every fiber of my being threatened to knock me off my feet.
"My stock!" Yusuf moaned. "My customer base, my livelihood... How do I rebuild what took decades to establish?"
"We'll sort that out later," the baker said as the healer arrived and began carefully cutting off the fabric covering his wounded leg.
Young men began picking up his stuff and others began organizing his possessions. Some offered to rebuild his stall and coins were allocated for the healer's fee.
With the sun beginning to set far below where we could see it, blocked as we were by the white-capped mountains, the wind died down and Dalia and I headed home to our loft in the barn.