Stormdragons

Chapter 17

Abdul the Merchant didn't seem such a bad fellow. He was a large, cheerful man with a thick moustache drooping beneath a bulbous nose. When he arrived, accompanied by three donkeys and four servants, he was all smiles and warm handshakes. He said how happy he was to be in the village again and how well everything looked. During lunch he greeted every course served up to him with expressions of joy and surprise, licking the fat from his fingers and cooing with delight at the goat's cheese and apricots. But later, as he pushed his plate away from him and folded his hands over his stomach, his expression became serious, almost sorrowful.

'Times are hard in the valley. Business is not good. The Caliph's taxes! The Band of Forty robbing left and right! I wonder how much longer a poor merchant like me can keep going.'

The village elder listened patiently.

'But life must go on and we must do what we can, eh?' continued Abdul. 'Have you anything for me?'

The village elder gestured with his hand. Ali and Ibrahim came forward each carrying a basket of dragon dung. Abdul the Merchant dipped his hand into each basket, crumbling a little dung between his fingers before lifting the tips to his nose. His expression became even more sorrowful

'Stale, old dung, I'm afraid,' he said.

'It was collected yesterday,' said the village elder gently.

'That may be so,' replied Abdul, 'but the dung itself is old. I can tell. The boys did not go close enough to get the fresh stuff.'

Joe saw the boys stiffen with anger.

'I can assure you they are brave boys. They went right into the lair,' said the village elder.

Abdul looked unimpressed.

'Anyway, there is no great demand for dragon dung at the moment. It is not as popular as it was. Someone started a rumour that its smoke gives people sore throats. If I buy this stuff from you, I might not even be able to sell it,' he said.

The village elder kept silent.

'I'll give you 50 dinars for the lot,' said Abdul.

There was a gasp from the boys. Ibrahim's fists clenched and Ali whispered

'Daylight robbery,' under his breath.

'One hundred and ten,' said the village elder.

Abdul laughed derisively and the bargaining began. How the village elder kept his patience and his good manners in the face of Abdul's lies and self-pitying whining was more than Joe could understand. But he did.

Eventually a price of 78 dinars was settled upon. Abdul would go no higher. He reminded the elder that he was the only merchant who travelled this far and threatened to leave without buying a single basket. The boys were furious but the village elder nodded and hid his disappointment.

As the deal was struck Joe had an idea. He fetched his jacket and took out the torch that he still carried in one of the side pockets. He demonstrated it to Abdul, switching it on and off. He showed him that it needed no flame to light it and told him that its beam would last forever.

Abdul offered him ten dinars. Joe put the torch back into his pocket and walked away.

'I'll not settle for less than 25,' he said.

Abdul pleaded but Joe just shook his head. The villagers looked on in delight. Abdul clearly wanted the torch but hated the idea of paying a reasonable price for it. Joe feigned indifference. He waited until Abdul was sobbing with frustration before he agreed to accept 20 dinars for the torch – but only if Abdul would let him travel with him to the nearest large town. Reluctantly, Abdul agreed. When he handed Joe the money, his face was a picture of pain and sorrow.