A Persian Tale. Kevin J Todeschi

placed both palms upon his staff, shaking his head. He tried to appear stern, though he could not help but be delighted. “Perhaps again the question is, what does this mean?”

      Ravi watched him closely. He knew the answer was within his reach or it would not have been asked of him. Although he was only ten, he was no fool. He decided, rather quickly, that the answer dealt with the stone itself and not the throw.

      “Does it have something to do with the rock? There are now two pieces of the same stone on the bottom of the river?”

      “Excellent!” the old man was overjoyed. “You and I both know the rock was once whole, though the rock has now forgotten. In the same manner AHU knows that each of us is a part of the Whole, though we ourselves have forgotten.”

      The high priest bobbed his head proudly, for the youth was the quickest student he had ever trained. Ravi, in the meantime, simply stared in silence toward the water. When there was no further comment from the boy, Esdena inquired of him, “Do you have a question?”

      “Yes, Father,” the youth stared at him hopefully, “will you teach me how to throw?”

      Ravi was startled from these thoughts as Sumi reached out and touched his shoulder. He was swiftly brought back to the present.

      She looked at her eldest son and brushed back the hair from his forehead, “Is something wrong?”

      Ravi simply nodded and replied softly, “I truly miss him . . . my father who is not my father.”

      That very evening when women had already bedded children down for the night and fallen themselves into weary slumber; when tribesmen had drunk their fill; and while half-starved livestock enjoyed a temporary respite from the heat of the sun, the reality of desert life returned to the city. A sandstorm broke through the settlement and in its wake came the people’s realization that their ruler was not, unfortunately, the magician they had wished him to be.

      A woman’s solitary shriek as her home fell down upon her signaled the blizzard’s arrival. Winds howled with fierce anger and swept up countless grains of sand with a force moving entire hillsides in just a matter of moments. Tents not properly anchored disappeared into a blinding flurry that took tarps, rugs, poles and all before finally and forever being blown away—so mighty a force prevailed that even the smallest dogs and the newest-birthed goats were thrown from their footing as easily as woven baskets and squawking chicks. Behind the sturdiest of tent-chambers, whole fistfuls of granulated particles blew through walls and blanketed the rooms as though flaps and windows had been left wide-open.

      Aithea lay covered by darkness, for chamber lights had been snuffed out by the first intruding blasts. The howl of the winds caused her to reach out in fear, groping for the man who was not to be found beside her. Throughout the encampment, shouts and screams attempted to awaken those still in slumber—though the roar of nature proved much more substantial than even the most experienced of screamers. Between the harshness of winds and the people’s alarm for survival, an entire settlement was moved to action.

      Blinded by the gusts, Sumi walked through the camp, keeping her face wrapped tightly, while her eyes remained riveted upon the ground. She stumbled to stay upright as she searched in vain for Jenda who had disappeared. Ravi, Oman, and Midias ran between fallen tents and painful blasts of blowing sands with Chochi and a half-dozen others, making certain children were anchored to their mothers before ushering both towards what protection could be provided by Remai’s tents. The sounds of the storm were deafening.

      Having never witnessed such a force of nature, Ravi deferred command to his brother and instead followed close behind. He held his arm up before his eyes and fought his way through the winds, seeking out those whose tents had vanished or any who had been slammed to the ground in unconsciousness. He grimaced as the winds seared against bare hands and couldn’t help but think that it was the first time he had been unable to smell the stench of the city’s refuse.

      Oman shouted commands and dispatched men in every direction. The first concern was protecting everyone from the blinding fury, especially children and the aged but livestock were not easily replaced. Ropes confining animals to posts were quickly severed, releasing camels, goats and horses lest the wind’s force should find necks more pliable than desert braid. As he called out to other tribesmen the sound of his voice was often blown back in his face.

      Women who had braved many a similar storm gathered the smaller animals indoors and checked the anchoring of still-standing structures before trying to calm and comfort the children. Remai’s tents became the central gathering place (although Aithea refused to move from her own bedchamber) so that wind-swept faces could calm infant tears while children tagged one another in semi-darkness. All they could do was wait out the storm. Whether the winds lasted three days or an hour, the desert possessed a life of its own and attended to no one.

      While Oman moved the settlement to action, Chochi wasted no time spreading questions of Ravi’s fitness for rule. The warrior scurried from one place to another, raising concerns as he made a half-hearted attempt to assist his tribespeople:

      “He behaves as one who has never even seen a sandstorm,” his scar furrowed in hatred as he pointed out how Ravi cowered behind his brother.

      “Even this Egyptian has come to realize that it is Oman who should lead us.”

      “Look how he shields the softness of his face; the man’s skin has long been pampered by the Nile.”

      “If this Ravi possesses special powers, why does he not move to help us?”

      Even wind-whipped old women—struggling with lines that demanded to be secured in order to keep structures standing—were not allowed to forget their superstitions: “If the gods willed his rule, why do they send a sandstorm to defeat us?”

      To fellow warriors: “One who refuses the needs of his own wife cannot be much of a man.”

      To friends of Remai: “He has made our ruler’s grandson a companion of the Dakhyu.”

      To two different members of the Dakhyu: “This Ravi has seen fit to make you subservient to children.”

      As they carried on with their labors some of the people began to eye their ruler with a look much different than the sense of wonderment that had first crossed their brows. Though the task at hand was securing the village and providing safety for animal and child, the thoughts of many turned to the uncertainty Chochi had placed in their minds.

      Ravi and Oman continued to work harder and longer than any of the others. Aithea grew more tense because of the noise beyond her chamber and the shattered illusion of what it was like to be a ruler’s wife. Chochi continued to move from place to place with a greater speed than he had mustered in a very long time. Jenda was finally found in the company of the young girl, Treena, and tried uneasily—with broken sentences and red-faced stammer—to explain to his mother why they had walked away in the middle of the night.

      Just as quickly as they had started, the winds subsided.

      Meanwhile, at that very moment far away in the kingdom of Lydia, Bestreld, had secured the information he needed in order to carryout the emperor’s plans. After a great deal of trouble and enough gold to insure the truth of the facts, the exchequer had gathered rumors of a settlement that would perfectly serve their needs. It was a place where Croesus’s dreams for the future might begin to be realized—a place where the tribespeople would be all too easy to conquer. Rumors had traveled the three-day journey to Lydia of a desert tribe that continued to be divided. It was just such a place that Bestreld had been searching for.

      When calmness had returned to the desert, Ravi, Omar and others had time to assess the wind’s damage.

      “Life has returned to normal,” Midias,