Genie of the Lamp

Chapter 1 ~ Rohab

Many years later, after a new sultan had been put to power, chosen by the villagers, someone finally decided to search the ruins of the old palace. 

It was a young beggar. A man of 17 with no more to his name than the threadbare clothes on his back and a lucky one piece coin he kept in his pocket. The last of his savings had dried up like rain on the hot desert sand. He worked an assortment of odd jobs, and made a little money that way. But every coin he earned, he lost the same night to his addiction. 

Every night, he and the other men who suffered his fate gathered round a pair of wooden rods with four flat sides, sanded smooth. A number was etched into each face. A man tossed the rods and all waited to see what face they landed on. The lucky few made money off of this game. The unlucky only lost it. And on the rare occasion Rohab, for that was the beggar's name, won a bit of money, it was soon lost to another round. 

If only he could find a wife. One who was kind, but firm. She could put an end to his gambling. This was part of the reason he did gamble. To afford the dowry. He wished to win the heart of the baker's daughter, for she was fair and gentle but stubborn with her morals. Every day as he past the bakery, just before it closed, he peered inside the shop, hoping to catch her eye. Sometimes he did, and then she would smile and blush. But as soon as her father noticed, he would chase Rohab away, beating a broom over his head. What would she ever want to do with him, a penniless beggar?

Now, with his assets gone, Rohab needed a new source of income. So he turned to the rubble of the old palace. It was said to be haunted by the spirits of those who had died in the Great Fire, but Rohab did not believe in such old wive's tales. 

Rohab checked to see if anyone was watching before hopping over the fence that kept children and animals from wandering into the ruins. It wasn't illegal, but... distasteful to enter the old palace. The bodies had never been removed from the palace and their shining skeletons still lay among the ruble. Rohab would have to be careful to avoid those.

Few walls stood standing, arches, where doorways had been, their doors long burned away, somehow stayed intact. Old tapestries and carpets, their colors faded with the years lay pinned under chunks of stone. Rohab tugged at a few of these, but could not free them from the ruble. 

Slowly, Rohab picked through the rock, carefully climbing over crumbling stone structures to get to the next chamber. He kept his eyes peeled for anything that shone, but found no treasure. The place must have been raided long ago by tomb robbers. Once or twice, he saw something white in the corner of his eye, but found only bones, worn smooth over the years. Rohab shuddered.

He sighed, he would have to find another way to make enough money to secure his supper. He vowed for the umpteenth time to himself that after this, he would quit gambling, but knew that as soon as there was weight in his pocket, he would be back with the others, placing bets on those accursed wooden rods. 

As Rohab began to leave, something caught his eye. There was  glint of metal in the sunlight. Rohab looked closer, shielding his eyes from the harsh sun with his hand. He assumed he just imagined the flash, or else, it was reflected off of the sand, but no. There, among the ruble, was something silver.

Rohab dug through the rocks, scraping up his hands on the rough stone in his excitement. Soon, he had dug out a hole in the ruin that was wide enough to put his hand in. He reached in up to his elbow and felt something cool and smooth among the baked rock. Rohab closed his hand around the small object and wriggled it out of it's place.

Drawing it out, Rohab's heart fell. 'Twas nothing but a common oil lamp, it's silver metal tarnished and worn. Maybe he could pawn it, but it would be worth nothing more than a few coins. Rohab sighed. It was just his luck. No wonder the tomb robbers left it, it was worthless.