Capítulo 3: Qureysh tribe.
The tribesmen gave me a spear. The man dismounted his camel. He had a ridiculing expression on his face. He was going to try and make a bitch out of me. He was going to avenge his son, easy-peasy.
The fight started, and we circled each other a bit. He pretended he was going to lunge at me and started laughing when I got scared. He smacked my spear out of my hand with his spear. I'm outclassed in spearmanship. I remember what the priest taught me. I've been learning the ways of the golden sand.
I pretended I was trying to throw sand into his eyes. He dodged the handful of sands. Believing he thwarted my last-ditch effort, he continued to walk toward me, Spear in hand. A couple of golden sand particles were mixed in. He kicked me in the chest, and I fell on my back.
I guided the golden sands into his eyes. The golden sands drilled into the soft flesh of his eyeballs.
The gods are still looking out for me. They know I'm not really defecting to this false god, Manat.
Taking the chance when he was screaming and holding his yes, I picked up my spear. The Quraysh people started yelling about my location to him. It was easy to dodge the strikes of a blind man. I pushed my spear into his neck the same way he killed the merchant.
The Quraysh tribe fell silent. Their leader was dead. He died in a trial of Manat. Their false god, Manat, had favored this boy over the leader of their Quraysh tribe. Another man walked forward.
"What's your name, brother?"
I scratched my neck while answering. The fact that I was so calm after killing their leader ticked some of the tribesmen off.
They, however, didn't dare to say anything since God Manat decreed my righteousness through the trial by combat.
" My name is Nazhotep."
His face soured a bit.
"That's a pagan name, boy. You are now a worshipper of Manat. Your name will be Zaffer from now on. It means victorious in our language."
How condescending. They would even try to take away my name. It's decided. I hate the Quraysh tribe with all my heart. They guided me to their village. It wasn't as good as the village I came from. Everything they had was stolen. It was humorous how they used luxurious goods in ways that didn't match their purpose. They were so ignorant, that they used a silk tapestry as a rug, its intricate design trampled under their feet, oblivious to its value beyond mere decoration.
I was brought in front of an old man along with Aisha. She had been cladded in a cloth in such a way that only her eyes were visible.
"So, you killed my son."
I nodded.
"That I did."
He gnashed his teeth.
"You killed my grandson."
I nodded again.
"I did that too. He tried to rob me. I didn't have a choice."
He turned toward the crowd.
"Why didn't you kill this bastard? Why is he standing before me with his head held high?"
A skinny-looking Quraysh man stepped forward. "He has proven himself before Manat! He has succeeded in Manat's trial.
The old man looked at the Quraysh man with baleful eyes.
"Why does this non-believer know about Manat's trial? Who told him? If he were a non-believer, he wouldn't be equal to a worshipper of Manat under Manat's law."
Aisha unveiled herself.
"I did, father. Do you remember the time you sold me to a passing merchant?"
He looked at Aisha in surprise. He didn't expect her to turn up like that. He quickly collected himself and spat at her. There was a wet spot on her veil.
"Shut your mouth, lass. You are a woman and born of a slave."
Aisha is bowing her head down. The old man may not be seeing her, but her face depicts something between rage and grief. She is gnashing her teeth.
"So, what if he believes in Manat? He killed my son. In fact, fuck Manat and his decree. I will kill this bastard and avenge my blood. You close-minded assholes. You ignorant fools. Why would you support this murderer over the leader of your tribe? You all got your minds muddled by Manat. I'm sick and tired of this! Every time I wanted to do something, your Manat was there to stop me. I wanted to stop robbing caravans; you bastards yelled Manat. I wanted to have friendly diplomacy with the Pharoah, you guys yell Manat. Now my son and grandson are dead. You guys still yell Manat. Fuck your Manat. Fuck your Manat!"
The crowd was shocked. They've never heard of such a nasty sacrilege in their lives. One person within the crowd yelled out.
"For Manat!"
As if a fire had been thrown into dry weeds, the fervor of zealotry took over the crowd. They rushed at the old man and pulled him off his throne. They grasped what they could and struck him wherever they could. His garments were pulled off him, and he was reduced to his cloth underwear in humiliation. I tried to cover Aisha's eyes to discover that she wasn't terrified but excited.
Her father was bruised all over and screaming. The crowd was pulling his wry hair out. Someone pulled out a knife and sank it into the man's gut. A wild shriek reverberated through the cruel sands of the pharaoh's desert.
The man who was holding him reached into the incision and pulled on the old man's knife wound. He chewed the piece he pulled out but failed to swallow it. He then spat it out. The old man fell dead to the ground not long after.
Fucking savages.
After the dust settled down, the man with a bloody mouth approached me.
"Brother Zaffer! Come and eat with me at my home. I insist." My blood runs cold. He still has dark red liver blood around his mouth.
"M-my pleasure."
I didn't know what to say. I pulled Aisha away from the scene as the bloody man guided me to their house. I couldn't leave her there. After the emotional high resulting from the fact that the man who sold her into slavery died, the reality of her father dying in front of her will come down on her. Preventing her from seeing this atrocity further is a mercy for her.
We sat across from the man. Women in veils served us grapes. Aisha had to sit in the next room when we men were talking.
"Brother Zaffer, tell me how you killed Mahmed."
I looked the man dead in the face and said:
"Which one is Mahmed?"
The man started laughing.
"Mahmed is the grandson. Faruq is the father, and Hamd is the grandfather. Their accursed bloodline has been ruling the Quraysh for decades. My father failed to take control, and I was allowed to seize the throne of Sheikh. You killed the son and the father. You even helped me kill the grandfather."
He leaned in.
"I don't truly believe in Manat. But I'm smart enough to recognize the value of the belief. To those who hold it in their hands, it's a resource of infinite wealth, power, and sex. Don't you agree with me, Nazhotep?"
He might be lying to me to catch me denying Manat so he could kill me.
"My name is Zaffer. I'm a firm believer in Manat. If sir would let me, I want to buy medicine for my sick father in the pharaoh's capital."
He lifted his nose and gazed upon me inquisitively. His predatory gaze is sending shivers down my spine. I'm lying through my teeth and he might have picked up on that. However, I don't intend to give him any evidence with which he could prosecute me.
"You are smart, Zaffer. I like that. Go, buy your father his medicine... HAH HAH HAH! I'll assign you some protection. If we ever meet again, remember. My name is Zahir. New shadow of Manat, revered by his worshippers."
I faked reverence.
"I salute the shadow of Manat."
***
Against all odds, Aisha and I left the Quraysh tribe with our lives and wealth intact. We are traveling with a five-person team of Quraysh tribe members, but we will part at the beginning of the zone that is firmly held by the pharaoh's forces.
Aisha was a bit silent during the ride back. Zahir had gifted us two camels as a thanks to me for assisting his regicide. After we parted ways with the Quraysh people, I asked Aisha:
"Are you alright, Aisha? You didn't say anything the whole time."
She turned her head toward me and sighed.
"This is all I ever wanted, but I don't feel any better. The only difference is that my worries are gone."
I smiled at her. The fact that she is a full-fledged and free person hasn't sunk in for her yet.
"Give it time. When the dust settles, and you start a stable life of your own, happiness and peace will seep into you.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
Divinationelder
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