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the scarecrow
carving. People had also
never seen any as skillfully
crafted. Thus his renown
spread in a short time, and
the oasis’s nobles—who had
never lost their yearning for
the traditions of mounted
warriors—and other real
cavaliers, who were leaders
of tribes scattered through
neighboring deserts, headed
to his workshop. Traders
from passing caravans also
flocked to his door to buy all
the saddles he had in stock.
Then the merchants carried
them to the deserts of the
South and the cities of the
North. So the cunning artisan
offered evidence to slothful
tribesmen and slugabeds of
the oasis that anyone who
perfected a task while alive
would inevitably be rewarded
by the Spirit World, which
would convey his fame to the
farthest corners.
The secret behind the smith’s
renown among far-f lung
peoples was his expertise, but
it was a different story inside
the oasis walls. Clever men
have long realized that there
is no honor for a soothsayer or
diviner in a land where people
do not recognize prophecy
and that a product does not
succeed in a land where local
people view it dismissively or
disdainfully. So if merchants
and mounted warriors from
neighboring tribes had not
purchased the clever artisan’s
saddles, the man would not
have enjoyed any share of the
respect he deserved. Indeed
the market for his products
would have remained tepid
for a long time in a land where
people hid their past and piled
their old saddles in the corners
of their houses, allowing them
to be destroyed by moths and
grit. They had also traded in
their purebred Mahri camels