David Wise - Tales of Ravenloft

And so Abd-al-Mamat sent a third messenger to the merchant, this one bearing a metal box. And in this box were the heavy hearts of the two earlier messengers. This third messenger was told to make no demand, but to merely show the box's contents to the merchant and wait for his response. This merchant too returned with a long face and a heavy heart, for the merchant looked into the box, and shook his head. He did not laugh and neither did he offer the maiden.

There was no fourth messenger. Instead, abd-al-Mamat's guards arrested the merchant and dragged him before the vizier for judgment. An old man, toothless and blind, accused the merchant of stealing an apple from his stand. The merchant laughed, though it was a wary laugh, and denied knowing of the apple, the old man, or the theft. Abd-al-Mamat listened and then made his judgment, quickly. He found the merchant guilty of theft and dictated that he must be punished according to the harsh rules of the desert. The merchant did not laugh at all now, but merely said," If this is to be my Fate, so be it."

And the merchant was taken to the central square, and his left hand was chopped off, as befits the punishment of a thief. And the stump was burned and bound and the merchant sent back to his dwelling with the Hope that both he and others had learned from his example.

That evening the third messenger appeared again with a metal box. And in that box was the hand severed earlier in the day. The messenger made no demands, but reported back to his liege that the merchant still refused to abandon his claim to the maiden. But the merchant no longer laughed.

And so abd-al-Mamat's guards arrived at the merchant's dwelling again and arrested him and brought the young man before the vizier for judgment. An old woman, deaf and weak of limb, accused the merchant of gossip, of spreading foul rumors about her and her husband. The merchant did not laugh, but denied knowing of the old woman, her husband, or the gossip.

Abd-al-Mamat listened and then made his judgment, quickly. He found the merchant guilty of gossip and dictated that he must be punished according to the harsh rules of the desert. The merchant did not laugh, but merely said," If this is to be my Fate, so be it."

And the merchant was taken to the central square and the tongs and the awl and the curve-bladed knife were brought out, and his tongue was severed from its roots. And after the fleshy stump remaining was burned and bandaged, the merchant was sent back to his quarters with the hope that both he and others had learned from his example.

That evening the third messenger reappeared with the metal box, and in that box was the severed tongue. The messenger reported back to his liege that the merchant still refused to abandon his claim to the maiden.

And so once more abd-al-Mamat's guards came to the merchant's dwelling and arrested him and brought the young man before the vizier for judgment. This time the vizier himself was the accuser. The vizier noted that the merchant was maimed and lacked a tongue, and as such could no longer carry out the simple requirements of trade and barter. Yet he still intended to wed his maiden. To condemn such a beauty to apparent poverty, the vizier said, was the mark of a heartless man.

And the merchant said nothing in his defense, (for he had no tongue), and the vizier came to his judgment, quickly.

The merchant was taken to the central square before the great Hall of Judgment. And there abd-al-Mamat himself removed the heart of the man he found heartless, both as a punishment and an example to others. And if the people were shocked as their solemn leader held his bloody trophy aloft, none spoke out against it.

Abd-al-Mamat repaired to his hall and remained there, thinking, through the night. In the morning, he declared that the merchant's belongings had been abandoned by the departed merchant, and by the harsh law of the land were now the property of the vizier. Said belongings included the carpets, casks, and camels. . and the maiden.

Even with the laws against gossip, the news of this announcement spread quickly through the town, and by the time the vizier's guards arrived to claim the maiden, she was gone. Some idle voices said she was seen climbing the last spur of the Lost Mountains, and so it was that she was seen there as the last rays of the sun faded from the sky. And she spread her arms wide and leapt from that summit, a black mote streaking against the blood-red sun.

She never struck the ground.

Some said (quietly) that she was blown aloft by wind; others (more quietly) that she had been seized by a great djinn; still others (quieter still) that she herself transformed into a creature of the air and vanished; a few (the most quiet of all) that both she and the merchant were touched by genie blood, and as such neither could truly be killed.

And here is another possible end of the story, for both the young lovers had gone on to greater rewards, and abd-al-Mamat was left cold-hearted and alone, his frozen spirit broken in the face of a greater bond of love. But, alas, that is not the end of the tale.

Abd-al-Mamat brooded for seven nights and a night, neither speaking nor eating. At the end of that time, he resumed his judgments of his people, and he was harsher than ever. The guards who had arrested the merchant were beheaded for not arresting the merchant when he entered the city. The gossips who warned the maiden of the guards'approach had their lips sewn together in tight stitches and as such starved. The third messenger was accused of stealing the vizier's words, and so lost only a hand, as I have lost mine.

The judgments did not stop there, for abd-al-Mamat's eyes and ears were everywhere. And wherever abd-al-Mamat looked, he judged, and wherever he judged, he found the people wanting, and issued his punishments accordingly. Soon the city was filled with the blinded, the tongueless, the orphaned, and the lame, such that those who were whole were viewed with suspicion and soon found themselves under judgment as well.

So it went for a year, and the city of abd-al-Mamat became known as the Wounded City and was shunned by travelers and caravans. And there were none within the city who were whole, for all had been found guilty in some manner or another, and punished as an example to all. None within the city, save the great and wise vizier, abd-al-Mamat.

So it was on the dawn of the day after midsummer's eve. The first warning on that day was a darkening of the sky from the north, a direction from which no storms normally came. The darkness rose as a obelisk of azure smoke, and as it drove down on the city, there was a low, metallic buzzing, as if it were made of mechanical insects. And as the storm broke over the walls of the city, the people saw that the wind carried not insects, but swords — great scimitars and daggers, cutlasses and tenwars and all manner of blades, which sliced apart everything in their way.

The city gates turned to dust in an instant before this sharp-toothed onslaught. The steel wind cut down those of the vizier's guards who stood and fought, and pulled those who attempted to flee into the streets, slashing them quickly to ribbons. The storm of whirling blades surged into the central court of the city, and up the steps, reducing the marble facade of the Hall of Judgment into mere motes of stone. There was silence for a moment, then the buzzing resumed as the unearthly wind pulled abd-al-Mamat into the central court.

The whirlwind passed over the vizier time and again, and with each passing collected a bloody trophy at the end of one blade. Abd-al-Mamat raised a hand to ward off the blow and had it severed at the wrist. He raised his other hand and lost it as well. Then the arms, the legs, and the features of his face — lips, ears, nose, eyebrows, and eyelids. Great strips of meat were pulled from his torso, and the vitals of his body were gutted by the great steel wind as well.