Chronicles of Lymond, copyright estate of Dorothy Dunnett. No harm or
disrespect is intended by this piece of fanfiction.
Liquid Arabic syllables words form with the flare of the lantern, a halting metre of madness. He speaks of love, this man, "Kifa, nabki, min zikra habibin oua manzili, ala sikkat el'liqua..."*
Binding cloth fallen away, his eyes are blue and blind, and his blond hair spools on the dull patterns of the carpet bright as silk in sunshine. Unlike the other men, his hands are undemanding, and the sound of his voice telling stories shutters the monsters away.
"Tell me, have you known love?" the Meddáh asks, in English.
"I am not afraid
of the dark," Khaireddin answers, lying.