Standard disclaimer: Fiction, highly inspired by Aladdin and I Dream of Jeannie. I wasn't a witness during any of the empires that existed thousands of years ago, so all the research on the net couldn't inform me all the details of who speaks how and assorted etiquette. So please bear with me…
Prologue
Nearly three thousand years ago…
"Get out of my sight!" a male voice bellowed throughout the palace walls.
Nassir cringed as he gathered his robes closer before making his way down the hall that led to the palace's throne room. He nearly jumped as a musician left the throne room, barely noticing his presence, obviously in a hurry to escape.
It was understandable. No one ever enjoyed entering the throne room. As beautiful as it was, with its hanging tapestries and finest drapery…the floors and walls decorated with slivers of gold…it was not a welcome location.
And the reason?
He stood by the window, looking down the streets of his city.
Nassir knew better than to ask the sultan what troubled him. Instead he made his way inside the throne room and bowed, waiting for his ruler to acknowledge him.
For over a hundred years he and his forefathers had served the Kadin family. With the wisdom and gift of sight from Nassir's family, the Kadin family had ruled a very prosperous kingdom…until recently.
His lips twisting sadly, he recalled that Prince Altair had only been sixteen when he took the throne. Young, naïve, hot-tempered, and very spoiled. While many young men at his age were more than ready to rule, he had not been.
Eight years wasn't enough to change a man. It had been Nassir's fondest hope that the prince would take after his father, but he wasn't foolish. He'd had visions of an unhappy public. People who had high expectations of their new young sultan…and they had all been disappointed.
Twenty-four years old, and Altair had done very little right during his reign. People were starving in the streets. His fortune was spent providing himself and the palace with unnecessary luxuries.
"Why are you here?" the sultan asked quietly, his deep voice holding authority in spite of its low volume.
"I had a vision during my stroll through the gardens," the advisor began.
The sultan arched a brow. "Then explain to me what you saw."
He cleared his throat. "Beware of he who wanders from the east, for he has the power to build and destroy."
The sultan frowned. "A wanderer will cause disaster in my kingdom? I find that impossible to believe…"
"I speak the truth, my liege. It is you who shall be tested…"
The sultan crossed his arms, his golden eyes hardening. "Tested? In matters of what?"
"All things shall be revealed in due time, my liege," he said quietly.
"What kind of advisor are you? Tell me exactly what I want to know. Now."
"I am telling you all that I can…"
"All that you can, or all that you wish?"
At his advisor's silence, the sultan scowled, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"Guards!" the sultan bellowed. "Take him to the dungeon…several days in darkness will loosen his tongue…"
Two hefty guards dressed in black pants and white vests approached, seizing the vizier by each arm.
"My liege, you are making a grave mistake," the advisor warned.
"I am the sultan! You will not question my judgment!"
"My family has served your family for years. I have been your teacher since you were born…I beg for mercy…"
But the vizier's pleas were deaf to the sultan's ears. "Take him away and cut his water supply in half!"
"Yes, my liege," one guard spoke up.
They began to drag the vizier away.
He struggled slightly, anxious to make the sultan understand the severity of his actions. "Altair…you are making a mistake…you will be on trial…and your behavior will be your downfall…"
"Silence him and take him away." The sultan turned to look out the window, ignoring him.
One guard clubbed the vizier over the head with a short wooden stick, rendering him unconscious.
"If after several days, he decides to share useful information…" the sultan narrowed his eyes, "Bring him back here. Now leave."
The guards bowed and dragged the vizier away.
000
Orien stroked the hair of the horse that moved beneath him. "Just a little further, my friend. Soon enough…my purpose here will be fulfilled…and we shall move on to the next kingdom…"
Orien was a wanderer so it was no surprise that he enjoyed traveling. He found it to be exhilarating…and educational. For many years, the sorcerers in his family had traveled all over, seeking to gain knowledge of different cultures. It had been rumored that in the villages and kingdoms those of his family had visited, if hospitality was given by hosts who expected nothing in return…their people were given prosperity.
As he wandered into the streets of one particular kingdom, he stopped abruptly, noticing that two men were sitting outside. One was a young man, the other was much older…and many of his limbs were covered with bandages. His head was wrapped as well.
Orien cautiously moved forward on the main road that led to the palace.
"It is tragic…" a younger man said to another in conversation, the next building down.
"I knew it would happen. The sultan is not known for his mercy…" the other said.
Orien frowned before edging his horse towards the younger man. "Excuse me," he spoke up. "May I ask what happened to the elder man back there?"
The two men glanced at each other after assessing his clothing and supplies.
"Are you a friend of the royal family?" the first man asked.
"No."
"Are you connected to the royal family or his court in any form?" the second asked.
"No."
"Ah. Well…a week ago when the sultan was leaving to visit his uncle in the next kingdom…the elder accidentally tripped and fell in front of a horse, causing all the horses in the sultan's caravan to stir. The sultan told the guards to beat him out of the way," the first man said just above a whisper.
Orien's eyes widened. "I see…Thank you for the information." As he moved along, he patted the horse's neck. "Amazing what one discovers within several minutes in a city. Let us discover for ourselves if this ruler seems as cruel as hearsay declares…"
000
"Has he surrendered?" Altair asked a guard. "Is he willing to reveal to me the man that has the power to build and destroy?"
A day later, the sultan was still puzzled…and angered about the vizier's premonition. How was he to rule if obstacles were constantly preventing him from doing so?
"No, my liege," the guard replied obediently.
The sultan frowned. "I see…"
Another guard quickly rushed inside the palace room. "My liege…I have news…"
"What is it?" he asked irritably.
"There is a man who wishes to see you. A man of some sorts from a distant land…"
The sultan narrowed his eyes. "I see…Show him inside..."
The sultan frowned at the strangely dressed man who had entered the room. His white hair and weathered skin indicated his age…and yet his movements clearly showed that he had great strength for his age.
"What brings you here, wanderer?"
"I come bearing gifts to the sultan…with hope he will extend a generous hand to this struggling merchant…" the wanderer responded.
The sultan glanced at his guards, then sighed. "I see…what do you have to present?"
The merchant opened his bag and pulled out several paintings and other jeweled trinkets. "Here I have a-"
"Trash," the sultan stated flatly after glancing over the items. "That isn't even worth the sand you were just walking on…"
The merchant frowned. "But, Your Highness, surely you can see that-"
"Guards, take him away and put him outside the kingdom," the sultan instructed. "And get that trash out of my sight."
"My liege, I am sorry if these gifts from afar have not pleased you…"
The sultan scowled. "You will leave, return to your homeland, and never return."
The merchant's eyes widened. "But, Your Majesty-"
"Guards, throw him out. I will not have such a worthless being waste my valuable time," the sultan ordered, ignoring him.
The merchant's brows drew together. "If you can so easily turn away a stranger in need…then you are a fool."
The sultan's eyes narrowed. "You will not address me in that manner. Be glad I am being merciful…and telling my guards to throw you out…instead of lock you up…"
"You do not know the meaning of mercy, ruler. I have been out on the street…seen your tyranny over the people of this city. People are starving…and they look to you to guide them. But how do you respond? By taxing them per family member…by ignoring their pleas for help."
"It is my kingdom. I will rule it as I see fit."
"You are nothing but a spoiled, selfish child," the merchant declared.
The sultan rose to his feet. "Guards! Cut off his tongue…slowly…so that he sees the foolishness of his actions…"
Two guards moved forward to follow the orders. Suddenly, a flash of light from the merchant illuminated the room causing everyone to shield their eyes. When the light cleared, the merchant now wore a long robe of dark blue, his gray-black hair flowing down his back, his beard hanging down to his stomach.
"I am Orien…a visitor from the east…and you, Altair, have much to learn…"
"I will not have you causing chaos in my palace. Get out. Now."
"Your nearsightedness will be the cause of your downfall!" Orien exclaimed. Lightning began to crackle, forming around the wizard.
The sultan smiled wryly. "Is this what you came for? To show me your little illusions? As amusing as they are…I do not have time for this. Guards…"
Two more guards came but the wizard thrust his arms out, causing lighting to fly in all directions, sending the men flying across the palace floor. The sultan stared as one guard slid to a halt at his feet. He frowned.
"Very well, then. What is it that you want?" he asked. "Money?"
"Hardly."
"My treasury?"
"Fate has been kind to you…until now…" Orien continued.
Several of the guards began inching towards the door.
"Guards!" the sultan shouted. "Where are you going?!"
One guard bowed, placing his hands on the floor. "A thousand apologies, my liege…but I value my life…I cannot risk being in this room or I will surely die…"
"I am not after your life," Orien assured. "Only the sultan's…"
He held up his palm, and a white aura crackled in it. It floated up, hovering just above the wizard's shoulder.
Seeing the wizard was serious, the sultan swallowed fiercely, trying to stay calm. "Perhaps…my mines?"
The wizard's eyes flashed, turning their blue depths to pure white. "I will not make trades in exchange for your life! You are not fit to be a ruler…"
"What are you talking about?!"
"Your disrespect of the elderly…you show lack of kindness and generosity to travelers…and lastly…you threaten the life of another without regret whatsoever…" Orien listed. "As punishment…"
"Wanderer…" the sultan began, his heart beating erratically. "Spare my life…I…"
"It is too late!" Orien shouted. "There are far worse things than death…"
The sultan's eyes widened with fear.
"You are destined to serve several thousand years of servitude…"
"What?!"
The wizard raised two fingers, drawing an item out of thin air. A bottle made of fine ceramic decorated with precious metals appeared.
Before the sultan could blink, the floating white aura flew straight towards him, blasting him back several feet. He screamed in pain as he felt his body change. His blood pumped furiously in his veins, and he felt as if all his tendons and muscles were being stretched and torn. When the pain subsided, he looked down over his body. His eyes bulged. His legs, once clothed in dark blue silk pants, were now blue smoke. His robes had vanished, replaced by a wide yellow belt and pale blue vest. He gazed at his hands, noting that thick gold bands circled his lean wrists.
"What…What…has happened?" he looked at the wizard, puzzled.
The guards stared in amazement.
Orien stared at him. "To learn the err of your ways…you will serve the next several thousand years fulfilling the wishes of others. In three thousand years' time you will face judgment by my successor…then the decision will be made to grant you your freedom or eternal servitude...."