Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

the scarecrow

donkey also belongs to your master!” The wily strategist prostrated himself till his turban touched the naked land’s dirt and asked reverentially, “Does a mamluk in our desert own anything besides his dreams, master?” So the fools chuckled together for a long time. Then the advocate of hatred remarked, “You’re right, wretch. We’re sure a slave doesn’t even possess his tongue, because his master can rip it out by the roots the moment he feels angry.” They guffawed together again. Then the emissary announced, “My master provided me with the gold bridle as a sign for you.” Doubts dissipated in hearts that had never known anythingbut doubts, and these master sorcerers raced each other to attend the leader’s banquet on the neighboring

plain. The wily strategist seated them on a carpet of incomparable beauty, served them dishes more delicious than any people had ever tasted, and poured them a beverage so ambrosial they sang ecstatical ly. They became excited with desire and embraced each other according to banquet etiquette. When the wily strategist determined that the Day of Retribution had arrived, he rose to address them with a vengeful tongue for which these fools were totally unprepared. “Does the advocate of anger recall the day he approached my tent as a traveler and I gave him shelter, fed him, and supplied him generously from my stocks? Does the advocate of blamewor thy anger remember how he returned the favor before leaving my

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