500: An Anthology of Short Stories

The sandstorm appeared as if by sorcery, blasting those who had taken some rest at the oasis as if they were trespassing on sacred ground. The air was heavy with dust and grains, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Leo fled into the nearest tent for shelter.

“Apologies for barging in uninvited,” he hastily exclaimed upon seeing the gathered folk inside. “The storm … it caught me unawares,” he explained, pointing towards the tent’s entrance flap, beyond which could be heard the distinct keening voice of the desert wind.

“Maa mushkila,” said a man seated furthest from the entrance. “No problem. Everyone’s welcome in everybody’s home today,” he added, displaying a toothy smile.

“Alhamdulillah,” Leo said. “Praise be to God. I felt I was about to die outside.”

“Come, sit. Jamila will give you some water to wash down the sand caught in your throat; then we’ll have some qahwa, yes?” Toothy-Grin responded.

“Ah, yes. Coffee would be wonderful right now. Shukran.”

The man waved away Leo’s thanks, pointing to a comfortable pillow for Leo to use. Once Leo was seated, a maiden with deep, dark, wide eyes like a doe’s approached him with a glass of water, which he gulped down gratefully. Before he could thank her, another woman, this one with a green-eyed gaze that stared brazenly at Leo, brought him a steaming cup of black coffee.

“The coffee’s bitter, so have some tamr to sweeten the taste,” Toothy-Grin suggested, extending a shining silver platter towards Leo.

The platter transfixed Leo. The design of whorls and inlaid stones he could discern under the dates hypnotized him, enchanted him so much that he felt incapable of lifting his gaze from it.

“It’s the plate,” he thought in wonder, his heartbeats suddenly jackhammering. “I can’t believe I’m literally being handed the silver platter I’ve been searching so long for,” he silently shouted.

Taking the tray from the man, Leo placed it carefully next to him on the carpeted floor. He was trembling slightly with excitement. His mind tumbled around like a Rubik’s cube in an attempt to offer the means through which he could possess the salver without losing his head.

“These dates are delicious,” Leo said, taking two at once, chewing feverishly while his brain spun crazily from whimsical idea to ridiculous plan. He suddenly wished he had brought his knapsack with him, but it was lying outside the tent, in all probability covered by now in tons of sand.

“You may have all the dates if you wish, sadiqi,” Toothy-Grin proclaimed magnanimously, calling Leo ‘friend’ to indicate the offer was genuine. “Jamila will box them for you.”

“The silver platter though… that’s another matter,” the green-eyed woman said unexpectedly. “To have that, you’ll have to fight me first.”

She slowly removed her veil, revealing a tattoo of the Warrior Guild on her left cheek.

Bowing deeply in defeat, Leo said, “I think I’d like my head to remain attached to my body. The dates will do just fine.”