Fire Master Part 3

At dusk, the temperature dropped drastically. The dry climate had made me realize, since my 

first hours of consciousness, that we traveled through desert areas. Later, Tommaso confirmed 

my assumption. He explained to me that we were following the Silk Road, still within the territories of the dynasty 

Han. The colossal snow-capped peaks of the Qilian Mountains, which I had first seen upon arriving in 

Wu-Wei, were slowly falling behind. During most of its Chinese route, the Rota da 

Silk permeated the slopes of the highest Tibetan mountains, but along the way it diverted a 

little to the north, penetrating the so-called Turfan depression, towards the city of the same name. All of 

The region is incredibly arid, but not inhospitable like a sandy desert. The soil is uneven and 

stony, which explained the sound of the wheels on the gravel. 

Finally, after a long day of pain and dizziness, night came, and the two-car convoy 

He stopped, moving a few meters away from the road. According to the driver, we would have dinner and then sleep 

in tents, as only hemp canvas, covered with sheep skins, would ward off the hostility of the cold. 

The time was approaching when I would meet Tommaso's boss - who was now also my boss. 

owner. 

I remained alone in the cart for a while, while the Sicilian and the Chinese girl prepared the 

camping. After setting up the tents and lighting the fire, Tommaso and the girl came back to take me 

close to the fire. They were preparing, in a sturdy bronze pot, some kind of soup, with rice, 

vegetables and poultry meat chips. They also offered me a woolen cloak, which, although dirty, I accepted. 

willingly. 

Thales and Polyx, who sat around the fire, were two typical Greeks and dressed as such. The look 

it denoted a degree of superiority, common among so-called civilized men. Thales was the oldest, a 

man in his 50s. His nose, like his son's, was triangular, describing a line 

straight to the forehead. He had little hair, and the sparse strands clumped together on the sides and back of his neck. Polyx, for 

On the other hand, he was a strong young man, who considered himself the very incarnation of the god Apollo. 

Tales helped himself to some soup and then walked towards me. The heavy tunic, adjusted for the cold, went from 

feet to his neck, but I noticed that beneath it the merchant was wearing sandals, standard footwear adored by 

Mediterranean peoples. 

— Eat as much as you want — he warned, somewhat coldly, indicating a ceramic plate. I needed 

Eat plenty to boost recovery. 

— Very good — I thanked him with a nod. I spoke in Greek, but simulating an accent 

Germanic. The old man thought I was a barbarian, so I put on the disguise I had previously worn. 

assigned. 

He paid no attention to formalities. 

— Tommaso must have already explained it to you. I am the commander of this caravan — he said, bitterly. — 

We saved your life and rightfully you are our slave now. We will market it when we arrive 

a Alexandria. 

— I appreciate your sincerity. 

Polix intervened. 

— This barbarian probably doesn't have the slightest idea where Egypt is, father. 

I ignored him. The old man too. 

Yes — I amended. — Me and the girl. He hopes to sell us to the Romans. 

- Exactly. And my intention. 

— Then I must warn you that you are wasting your time. 

— How did you say? — shouted the old man. Pólix got up, looking for a knife. Tommaso smiled, but 

He hid his amused expression in the dark. The girl flinched. 

— Civilized origin, barbaric customs. That's how I see most Greeks these days," I said. 

— There will be no such trade. 

Pólix advanced, with the knife raised. 

— How dare you? I should kill him right now. 

— It would be unwise to try such a thing. In fact, I don't think I could actually kill myself - 

I turned to Thales. — I have a better proposal to make, advantageous for everyone. 

Upon seeing that his country did not finalize the attack command, the young man continued to scream. 

— You are a barbarian! What can a barbarian do against a legitimate son of Athens? There is no discipline 

in their skirmishes. There is no glory in your wars. 

— Don't give me that. The glory of Hellas ended after Alexander's campaigns. 

Alexander the Great, of Macedonia, was one of the greatest monarchs of Antiquity. During your 

reign, between 336 and 323 BC, had extended the borders of his country from Greece to western India. 

— And that's where you're wrong — Thales intervened. — Our culture has never before achieved such 

expansion. 

— To Hellenic culture, yes. But what is Greece today if not an endless slave industry 

intellectuals, destined to provide qualified labor to Roman aristocrats? That's what your 

glorious Athens has become. Just another Roman province. 

Furious, Pólix launched the attack with the knife, but Tales pulled him by the shirt. 

— No. Let's hear what he has to say. Perhaps your proposal is truly irrefutable. I hope 

it is. 

— I think you can profit more from our services than from our heads. Let's stay more than 

four hundred days together, traveling this endless route—that was the estimated time it took one 

caravan, at that time, to travel the six thousand kilometers from the Qilían mountains to the capital 

Egyptian from Alexandria — then we must help each other. Isn't this the Greek democratic spirit? 

He remained unshakable in the face of the comment. 

— Continue. 

—When we leave the borders of China, we will enter the territories of the Yu-chi tribes and then 

we will walk towards the Parthian Empire, an extensive region administered by officials who did not 

have no knowledge of the Greek language and are encouraged to charge abusive fees for 

crossing. 

— Yes, I've already traveled this route dozens of times — agreed Tales, neutrally, 

— I am fluent in Aramaic, the language of Middle Eastern merchants, as well as knowing some 

desert dialects. I can help them with intermediation and get relief on fees. 

- Just that? 

— No. I know how to guide them along a shorter, safer trail to Alexandria, 

- He knows? — asked the old man, suspiciously. — Tommaso! — he called, without taking his eyes off me. — 

Bring the map. It's in my transport. 

The Sicilian obeyed. 

The planisphere, drawn on resistant parchment, was certainly created by an academic 

Greek, such was the precision of details. It showed cities, towns and roads that spread out from the 

extreme west of the Mediterranean to the confines of the East, ending at the latitude that delimited the capital 

Chinese, Chang'an. 

Thales stretched out the map in the light of the fire. 

— What trail do you suggest? — and pointed to the depression where we were. — Let's see if 

Your knowledge is really useful. 

— We will leave the Silk Road at this point — I indicated a landmark in the central area of ​​the Iranian plateau — and 

we will descend through the lands of Parthia to Persepolis. From there we will cross the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, 

we will cross the great Arabian desert towards Sinai and then head directly to 

Alexandria. 

The Parthian Empire, or Parthia, occupied, in the 1st century AD, the regions that we now know as Iran, part of 

of Armenia and the ancient kingdom of Mesopotamia. At that time, conflicts with the Roman legionaries 

became common and ended up bringing the two sides into direct confrontation. Romans and Parthians would come 

later to face each other in the famous Battle of Talons, which culminated in a humiliating defeat of the 

latinos. 

— This path you point out — argued Thales — obliges us to travel through the heart of Arabia 

Deserta — and he used the Latin term. — It doesn't seem like a very smart option to me. 

— The other option, that is, the route you initially traced, passes through the middle of two provinces 

novel. 

—And what's wrong with that? 

— How much do you think you will spend on informal fees and bribes? 

— This loss has already been calculated. 

— I dare say it amounts to an eighth of the total value of the products. The Greek did a quick calculation of 

head. Didn't answer the question. 

— From what I could see — I continued — you carry bronze objects, a metal especially prized 

by the Romans. 

Thales and Polix, at the same time, shot Tommaso with rapacious looks, thinking he was the informer. 

They preferred to keep the cargo secret, so they took everything with them in their own transport. But 

I had smelled the metal as soon as I got out of the wagon, and I was never mistaken about its chemical composition. 

of these minerals. 

— I didn't say anything — the driver defended himself, upon noticing the disapproval on his faces. 

bosses. 

"It's true," I explained. —He didn't tell me anything. I saw the shine of the metal reflecting in the starlight. 

There really was, inside the Greeks' cart, a piece of bronze that the Hellenics had forgotten 

to wrap. The second transport, used by the merchant and his son, was entirely made of wood and more 

it looked like a carriage. The walls and roof formed a solid, unique body, very different from the 

auxiliary driving, covered only by a canvas covering. 

The old man shrugged and turned his attention to me. 

— The trip through the desert could cost us much more. The immensity of sand is inhospitable, desolate and 

dangerous. Furthermore, we would be vulnerable to Bedouin attacks. 

Polix added: 

— Some nomadic tribes live exclusively from banditry, and we do not have an armed escort to 

defend ourselves. 

— This is all true, the desert is treacherous. But I know many reliable routes, from the ruins of 

Persepolis to the borders of Egypt. The secret route I suggest can be taken west of the ancient capital 

lost. 

—Secret way? — Thales was surprised. 

— In the past, Babylonian spies used secret roads to travel throughout the Middle East. 

They are fast, hidden paths with underground layers. 

— Do you have a map of these roads? 

— It's all in my head — I replied, confidently. 

— Hmm... — pondered the old man. — It's a pretty fantastic story. But if it is true it will be a 

invaluable service. From the outline you made, I would say that we would save almost a hundred days of 

trip. 

— The indicated route works as a shortcut. Furthermore, the entirety of your merchandise will be 

preserved. Thieves are unaware of this trail. 

— Yes, that was already understood. But there is one issue that remains unclear. Why me and my son 

Should we believe you? 

I took a deep breath before answering and swallowed a dry groan. The cold began to contract the muscles, and 

my arm hurt again. I tried to bend him, but the damaged bones weren't ready to handle it yet. 

a complete maneuver. 

— There is no one in this caravan who wants to travel as quickly as I do. I need to get to 

Alexandria as soon as possible, and from there take a ship to Rome. I have urgent business in the city 

Eternal. Unfortunately, my health condition prevents me from proceeding alone. I need you to 

reach my destination. 

Thales remained silent, crossed his arms and looked at the stars, seeming to search the sky for an answer to the question. 

situation. Polyx, devastated, sank his head between his knees, affected by humiliation. Tommaso, more 

Once, he hid his expression of satisfaction — the Sicilian was rooting for me. 

— What if you're lying? — asked the old man, suddenly. It was a test. 

— I see no reason to deceive them. If he tried, what would stop his son from sticking his dagger into me? 

heart? — I looked at the boy, but he looked away. 

The merchant slightly moved his head downwards, 

— And the Chinese girl? You said you would find use for it too. 

— The girl knows medical techniques that are incomprehensible to Westerners. See, my arm is 

resuming life — I removed the woolen cloak to show them the progress of the treatment. — In cities 

Where we stop, we can offer her services in exchange for gold. Many would pay for one 

consultation. 

Tommaso ventured a statement. 

- And truth. What the girl did to his arm is fantastic. 

The old man didn't bother to look at the servant. He had already made his decision. 

— We will accept your plan, but be aware of the risks. If it's some kind of trickery, Pólix and Tommaso 

will have the order to execute it. 

— We have a deal, then — I said. 

— Yes — he replied, with the usual seriousness that characterized him. — Now, everyone to the tents. 

Tommaso, keep the fire crackling to keep the snakes away. We will leave before dawn. 

Thales walked around the fire, already burning, and headed for his shelter under tarpaulins. Before retiring, 

He stopped at the entrance to the cabin and looked at me. 

— What will we call you from now on, stranger? 

I was always surprised by these types of questions. 

— I think "barbaric" would be appropriate. 

- He is well. Take the Chinese woman to your tent. From now on, you are responsible for her," he noted. 

on my wounded arm - and she for you, I believe. 

I nodded, wishing the merchant good night, but he didn't move. He continued to stop 

entrance of the tent, analyzing me from head to toe. 

— There's something strange about you — he commented, a minute later. — Will you ever tell us? 

your real story? 

I returned the question with a calm look. 

— That's the kind of thing you'll never know — I was honest. 

— That's what I thought — he smiled briefly. Then he disappeared through the opening. 

Flower of the East 

As soon as the day dawned, we were back on the road. We headed northwest, away from the 

colossal Tibetan slopes. The Silk Road, at that point, sank down dusty trails and took 

a diversion into a mountain depression, called the Turfan depression. It resembled 

a gigantic valley, where many tongues of water descending from the mountains met and flowed 

to a lake, in the heart of the ravine. On its banks, stood the city of Turfan, an urban center for 

where nine out of every ten merchants passing through those surroundings passed by. 

The lake and springs alleviated the aridity of the desert. Vegetation flourished on the stone slopes, but not 

it was just the bushes that made up the image. Beautiful trees showed their flowers, birds 

they hummed, and the pleasant noise of a stream completed the sequence of wonders on the road. THE 

Turfan depression was like an oasis, a magnificent jewel embedded in the heart of a barren road. 

As we walked down the avenue towards the city, the Chinese girl, next to me in the freighter, 

was preparing the application of yet another of his special techniques. This time, he left the needles aside and 

He took a bundle of herbs from his backpack. With a stick, he crushed the plant inside a gourd. 

clay, and in another pot he prepared to light the fire. At the same time, he placed five 

wide leather straps. When the fire broke out, it burned the herbs and placed the flaming ashes on the 

bandages. Then, he fixed the straps on my arm, squeezing the boiling herbs tightly, which caused 

superficial burns to the skin. The technique, although painful, pushed the medicinal vapors from the 

substance into the body, which absorbed its beneficial properties. This treatment, 

Known by modern medicine as moxibustion, it is very effective in combating several 

illnesses, even simple headaches, and had been used by the Chinese since ancient times. 

remote. 

The girl kept the straps pressed for an hour. In the middle of the process, while the burning of 

herbs slowed down, I had an idea. 

—Tommaso! — I called, while the Sicilian drove the cart along the avenue. 

— We're an hour from the city — he replied. 

— No, it's not about that. This is the car where you carry your superfluous items, isn't it? 

- Why? Do you need anything? 

— Paints and pen. Do you know where Tales keeps his note-taking material? He pondered for three seconds. He was 

too focused on the road to give an immediate response. 

— The documents are all with them in the second car, but there is plenty of ink and quill in a small 

chest right under that basket — and indicated a straw basket hidden in a corner of the freighter. — 

Unfortunately, I believe the parchments have run out. They were all used to discriminate the objects of 

bronze. 

— I don't think it's necessary — I thanked, putting the basket aside. In the small chest there was paint for 

writing, enclosed in two copper pots, and two brushes with different tips. The material was Chinese, 

superior quality, and had probably been purchased in some store in Chang'an. 

I opened the pot and dipped the tip of the brush in the dye. 

- What is your name? — I asked the girl, offering her the greased brush. 

She grabbed the stem of the instrument, still a little shy, and scribbled 

some Chinese characters on the wooden floor. Flower to the East. wrote, in Mandarin language. 

Flower of the East. What a beautiful name, I thought, and precisely appropriate. That's what she was, in fact - fragile 

like a flower, and endowed with an innocent beauty. It was the bud of the East: calm, unshakable like the 

plant that blooms in the mountains and survives even the worst storms. 

— Flower of the East — I murmured, more to myself than to her. 

- What? — asked Tommaso, thinking that the whisper was directed at him. 

— Flower of the East — I repeated, in Greek. 

—Flower of the East? — he was confused. 

— Yes. Flower of the East. And her name. The girl's name. 

The driver craned his neck and noticed the ideograms drawn on the ground. 

— Ah, the young lady knows how to write. I see that they have finally established a form of communication. Put 

that you don't teach her Greek grammar? Nobody here knows how to speak Chinese. 

— I hadn't thought about that. But it's still a good idea. What do you think, Flower of the East? 

She let out a smile. She was an ordinary girl, but throughout her childhood she was scolded 

for expressing your emotions. Chinese women underwent rigorous training during 

adolescence, which taught them to be perfect wives — submissive, disciplined and condescending. 

The cart's wheel hit a rock, and the whole cart gave a stomach-churning jump. The pot of 

ink turned and the dye smeared the name written on the floor. 

— Your world is being left behind, Flower of the East. This is the last city within the borders of 

Han Dynasty — I daydreamed, watching the snow-capped peaks disappear into the horizon. - It is not necessary 

fear anything anymore. The nomads are gone, and the Greeks will not harm you. 

She looked at me a little embarrassed as she removed the leather straps tied to my arm. THE 

limb recovery was spectacular. 

— You're going with me to Rome, girl. I know a woman who will be happy to meet you. Maybe she 

can help you locate your living relatives. 

Shamira had connections, was smart, rich and wise. Perhaps you would know how to board Flor do Leste from 

returns to China and returns her to her family clan. Large caravans departed every day from the Eternal City, 

and at least one of them would agree to escort the young Chinese woman back to her homeland. The task would not go away 

grace, but the sorceress's monetary reserves would be more than enough to cover all 

expenses, 

The girl signaled an affirmative and began to collect the material. He put the herbs in his backpack and 

He placed the gourd in a corner. He folded the leather strips into rolls and threw away the plant ashes. 

Turfan 

The town of Turfan was not defended by walls or gates, but a wooden portal, carved with 

The shape of two dragons that swallowed each other guarded the entrance to the city. The monument, 

according to Taoists, it stopped the assault of evil spirits and protected the valley against the fury of the gods. No 

I felt no mystical shock when crossing it, but my senses continued to be weakened due to the 

my precarious state of health. 

Despite the natural beauty, Turfan did not reserve great luxuries. The dwellings standardized a 

homogeneous coloring, between beige and gray, a type of building that is more Tibetan than Chinese. 

I noticed that many houses were made of stone and adobe, differing greatly from the traditional design. 

Chinese architecture. There were also, close to the lake, an excessive number of tents, which 

they housed hundreds of camped merchants. 

Tales opened the rear curtain of the wagon with a violent pull. I realized, therefore, that we had 

parked amid the intense commerce of a border stop. 

— How are you feeling today, stranger? Think you can walk? — his interest was purely 

professional. 

— Yes, I can walk. I'm not fully recovered yet, but my leg joints have already healed. 

they fold perfectly. I wouldn't risk a race, but I have no problem going out for a walk. 

- Excellent. Pólix and I thought you could help us with the supplies. If you will be our guide 

From now on, I think I should take part of the responsibility for the caravan's bills. 

— Of course — I agreed, ending with a positive sign. The old man turned around and headed towards the square. 

market. 

Inside the car, I covered the body with the deplorable set of rags I had been wearing since being removed from the car. 

I laugh and try to hide my injured arm by throwing the cloak over it. I remembered that both Flor do 

You read how much I needed new clothes. Unfortunately, we didn't have a single dollar in our pocket. 

I jumped out into the street and the glare of the sun irritated my eyes. Flor do Leste pulled me by the arm, indicating the 

place where Tales and Pólix analyzed the carts. The merchant had at hand a board covered in wax, 

where he took notes with a bone stylus. 

Looking at the caravan, I calculated the expenses. The convoy consisted of two cars. The first, 

where the Greeks traveled, it was pulled by two horses, both pack horses, unsuitable for a race 

fast. The second transport, the servants and trinkets cart, had mules in front. 

Pólix stopped next to me, but didn't say anything. The old man guessed: 

—I saw a man selling camels at the entrance to the city. What do you say we trade cars for a 

dozen of these ruminants? Twelve healthy animals should be enough to carry all the merchandise 

through the desert. 

— It wouldn't be advantageous — I replied. — Fine sand can damage the bronze. I think it's better to preserve the 

wrapped metal and inside the closed environment of the freighter. Let's continue with the cars. 

— You must be joking — said Pólix. — It is not possible for us to cross a desert of sand on 

wheels. This is absurd. Cars cannot climb the dunes. We need animals to carry the 

cargo, otherwise we will get bogged down. 

— It's an interesting question, barbarian — reinforced the old man. 

— I said I knew an auxiliary route. An underground layer runs beneath this trail. THE 

The result is a road with sandy but rigid soil. The carts will not encounter any difficulties. 

The boy looked at his father, demanding action. 

— Are you absolutely sure that this route exists? — said Thales. 

— You have my word, although I have the impression we've discussed this before. 

He analyzed my look. 

— I trust you, stranger — he concluded. 

I walked back to the supply cart and counted the amphorae and baskets. I shook some containers, 

to test the content. There was still plenty of water, but the food was running low. 

— We're going to have to stock up on a lot of food if we want to continue our journey without long stops — I proposed. — 

Fortunately, our water supply only needs to last until the ruins of Persepolis. 

— Don't you think that a large amount of food could end up rotting during the journey? 

— poked the old man. 

— Yes, I think so. There are some villages in the desert where we can resupply, but to do so we would have to 

stray too far from our route. I honestly still don't know what to do. I will try to think of 

something. 

Pólix poked. 

— Then your plan starts to show flaws. 

— Maybe you can help me solve them. 

The boy mumbled something, but my attention was diverted to the Chinese girl, who was pulling me 

insistently by the arm. As he could not speak, Flor do Leste risked a mime sign, imitating the 

circular movement of a spoon stirring a cauldron. 

— You could prepare a preparation — I guessed. She nodded. — What kind of 

prepared? 

She brought her empty hand to her mouth, replicating the gesture of a person eating. Then he gave two 

patting one's own belly, simulating an expression of contentment. Flor do Leste released my 

arm and ran back to the wagon. Thales, Pólix and I followed her, intrigued, and noticed that the girl was 

He hurried to get his herbal book from his backpack. Satisfied, she pointed me to one of the pages, 

scrawled with ideograms and drawings of plants and roots. Despite my lack of knowledge about the 

herbal matter, I read the first words and quickly understood the suggestion. 

— I think we found the solution to the impasse that bothers you, Políx. That is, Flower of the East 

it found. 

—Flower of the East? — asked Thales. I had completely forgotten that the Greeks had not yet 

They knew the little girl's real name. Tommaso helped me: 

— Flower of the East is the girl's name, sir. 

— Poetic — replied the old man. —But what does she mean by all these signs? 

I showed him the drawings on the pages of the book. At the same time, the girl pulled out some herbs from inside 

out of the bag and shook them in the air. 

— It's a type of substance, a mixture of olive oil, salt and special herbs. The girl believes that this 

prepared can preserve food for a long time. The recipe contained in this book is very specific. 

— And what is your opinion on this? — asked Thales, impartially, 

— I think we should give him credit. Your knowledge has already proven to be very useful. If the 

If the herbal preparation works, we will be able to reduce travel time even further. 

— But what if it doesn't work? — urged the merchant. As owner and responsible for the train, he had 

to think about everything. 

— THEN we will do as I previously planned. We will buy a strong horse and use it to 

look for food in the villages close to the road. 

The old man marked notes on the wax tablet. When he finished, he turned to the servant. 

— Tommaso, you will be responsible for choosing the horse — and he handed a bag of money to the 

Sicilian. — Do it well. I want a young, healthy animal. If he gets sick in the middle of the trip, 

we will deduct the amount from your payment. I want you to also buy the pair of camels we agreed on. 

You have experience with this type of exchange. 

— Okay — he agreed, a little disappointed by the clause about compensation. 

— Polyx and I will take care of the supplies, including the salt and oil. 

— It would be good if we had more ceramic pots to store food — I intervened. —Three craters 

they would be perfect. 

Craters were large cup-shaped vessels. The Greeks and Romans normally used them to 

mix water and wine. 

— You will stay here, barbarian, with the girl — concluded Tales. — Take care of the caravan. This is the 

definitive proof that I trust your judgment. When Tommaso returns, you can walk around the city, if 

is that this type of walk pleases him, 

— I don't intend to go very far. Just enough to find new clothes for Flor do Leste. I think 

which is the least we owe her. 

— You owe her much more than we do, outsider, that's why you should be her patron, not me — 

he argued, setting aside a few more denarii. —But I understand the situation. The girl is important 

for all of us — and threw three denarii and four sesterces into the air, which I promptly caught. — Buy 

clothes for her and for you too. But wait for Tommaso to return. Cities and thieves are 

nouns that go together. 

Son of Danger 

Tommaso returned to the caravan, riding a magnificent reddish-brown steed. Few times 

In my life I had appreciated an animal of such beauty. He was Arab, and from his haughty appearance I deduced that he was born 

wild and had probably been removed from the herd as a foal and trained by skilled trainers 

Bedouins. This mixture of boldness and discipline made him a unique, invaluable specimen. 

The Sicilian couldn't hide his satisfaction at having found, arguably, the best steed in the city. 

— Hurrah! — shouted the servant, pulling the reins and dismounting. A cloud of dust rose 

each time the horse sank its hooves into the ground, to the beat of its majestic trot. I approached the 

animal, always supported by the staff. 

— So, what did you think? — asked Tommaso, proudly. 

— And beautiful. Definitely the most beautiful horse I've ever seen — I replied, stroking the red fur. 

— It's also very fast. The previous owner let me ride him before selling him. I don't see 

the time to dart across the desert on your back, 

— It's Arabic, isn't it? There's something wild about him. 

— Yes, as well as its previous owner. The guy sold it to me cheaper because I assured him it would be good. 

treated. He said that the steed was trained and went by the name of Ibn-Hatar, which in Arabic means son 

of danger. 

— A trained steed that goes by its name. It should be worth a lot more than fourteen denarii. 

How did you manage to acquire it for that price? 

He smiled. 

— I only paid him twelve denarii and ten sesterces. The man needed the money to replace his 

camels that died in the desert. Come, climb on it, see how it is disciplined and responds to commands 

of the knight. 

— I'd love to, but I'm not in a position to ride yet. I need rest urgently. 

— You haven't eaten anything since last night. 

- And truth. I don't think I've ever been this weak. So it's justifiable that I'm a little 

confused. 

- I understand. Uselessness is a less than admirable condition. 

I returned to the freighter, where Flor do Leste offered me a piece of salted fish. I drank a little 

of water and coughed a few times. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I saw that the Greeks were returning. Node 

At the same moment, Tommaso got out of the cart, ready to help his boss. Thales and Polix came down the street, 

followed by a skinny, toothless Chinese man who, with difficulty, pulled a small cart 

crammed with bags, baskets and ceramic containers. There was all the food we would need. 

to complete the journey to Alexandria. 

The Sicilian took what was in the cart into the servants' cart and gave the salt and oil to Flor. 

from the East, who mixed them with special herbs. After heating, the preparation would be ready, and would arrive 

the moment to grease the food with it. Finally, we could keep food palatable for 

enough time. The supply issue had been definitively resolved. 

It was spring, and the trip was estimated to take at least ten months. With luck, 

we would complete the route in record time. 

Predestined at Delphi 

As dusk arrived, we set up camp on the banks of the lake. It cooled quickly, and the Greeks 

They lit a fire, ready to welcome Flor do Leste's delicious meal. Tommaso returned 

with the camels and clothes, thus completing the items listed on the shopping list. 

My new clothes were comfortable, resistant and fit me perfectly, without the need for 

of adjustments. The pants were made of stiff cotton, good for riding, the boots were long, made of hard leather, 

and the shirt was sewn in two layers—one of linen and one of quilted cotton. The colors 

they were neutral and blended well with the rocky desert landscape. Together came a pair of 

armbands and knight's gloves, which left the fingers exposed, precisely to facilitate handling 

of the reins. 

Flor do Leste won a simple, beige and gray kimono, without drawings or ornaments, but much more 

warmer and cleaner than his previous attire. 

At the beginning of the night, with the preparation bubbling on the fire, the Chinese girl signaled for me to 

uncovered my arm and gave me a new moxibustion session. With joy, I realized that my 

fingers were already bent halfway. Upon touch, the pain of the burning herbs increased, and that was good, as 

It meant that touch and sensitivity gradually returned to normal. 

After dinner, I sat on top of a rock and covered my body with a blanket from there. When the 

Total silence fell over the camp, I realized, with my sharp hearing, that inside the tent Polix 

He called his father to the discussion. I rarely used my senses to listen to other people's conversations, but 

understanding that I was the target of the comments, I paid attention to the dialogue. 

The two silhouettes moved inside the tent, reflected by the light from the brazier. 

I strained my ears. 

— Dad, there's something I still don't understand. I'm your son and I know I owe you respect, but I think 

You trust this barbarian too much. We've only been with him for two days, and you blindly follow his 

commands. 

The old man smiled, as if he had already expected that reaction. 

— I understand your concern. In your place, I would have the same attitude. Sooner or later this would have to 

be discussed, and I think the time has come. 

— This what? —Polix was scared. I was confused myself. Would he know something about me that I 

Did you not know it yourself? 

Thales paused, got up and walked away from the brazier. 

— I already told you that, when I was your age, I served in the army. That was a long time ago, and when it ended 

military service I had to choose whether to continue as an officer or to ask for discharge, to live as a 

merchant. I had already traveled a lot, I knew distant lands, and so I felt safe to 

continue traveling, but as a merchant, earning my own money. 

— Yes, I know the story. 

— But you don't know that, to make this decision, I turned to the oracle's advice. 

— The Oracle of Delphi? — exclaimed the boy, — Support's speech! — I thought I should ask for help. 

of the gods to carry out the sentence that would change my life. 

The temple of Apollo in Delphi, Greece, was for the Hellenics the center of the universe. Kings and rulers 

from all over the world came from distant lands to sacrifice goats and listen to the advice of the oracle, who 

it was, in essence, the sublime voice of the gods. A priestess, assailed by divine ecstasy, listened to the 

whisper that came from the depths of the earth and transmitted the message to an acolyte, who wrote it down and 

passed on to the visitor. For the Greeks, Delphi was more than a location — it was also a 

inspiration, a pride, a living representation of higher power. 

—And what did the oracle tell you? — asked Polix, excited by such a fantastic story. 

—What does this conversation have to do with the barbarian we removed from the river? 

— That day, among other things, the god prophesied my death. 

The young man swallowed, without reacting. Thales continued: 

— The oracle's message said that, on one of my trips back to Athens, I would be murdered 

by harpies. 

My improved vision didn't allow me to see through the tent canvas, but it wasn't difficult. 

to conclude, from the frightened groan, that Polyx had trembled at the mention of those creatures. Harpies are figures 

mythological, a kind of winged women with vulture legs, derived from popular imagination and 

portrayed in half a dozen ancient Hellenic poems. As a connoisseur of occult matter, I had 

I'm sure there were a lot of strange things in the world, but harpies, pegasi and jellyfish never really existed. 

fact. 

—Harpies? But are these monsters real? 

— Well, you can be sure of that. The voice of Support warned me that I would be warned of the proximity of this 

day, and the alarm would come in the form of a walker from the heavens. A man who would pretend to be people, but 

who would actually be an emissary of the gods. 

Pólix took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead and calmed down. His unconscious prompted him to ironize the 

situation, which was so absurd it seemed funny. 

—Are you saying that barbarian is an envoy of the gods? 

— I found him in the river before Tommaso — revealed the old man. 

— You what? — muttered Polix, leaving aside family discipline. — Why didn't you tell me? 

before? 

The answer was evasive. 

— I watched him for half an hour and even remembered the words of the oracle. He wasn't sure, 

but I imagined he might be the figure mentioned in the prophecy. Fearing for my life, I gave my 

I turned back to my destination and returned to camp. Shortly afterwards you informed me that Tommaso had 

taken from the river. No one would have survived that long in the water. Only a god or a hero would have this 

capacity. 

— He is neither a god nor a hero, he is just a criminal. 

— No, the evidence is clear. I also resisted believing it, but listening to him speak I noticed that his 

knowledge far exceeds the information common to guides, generals and philosophers. AND 

I finally convinced myself that there is no escape from destiny — the voice dropped an octave, — And now 

I have reached enough age and wisdom to understand that I should not question what is written by 

gods. 

Dismayed, Polyx collapsed to the ground and took refuge in a cold corner of the tent, away from the heat of the fire. 

He covered his face with both hands and remained there, somewhat desolate, almost autistic, watching impassively the 

crackle from the brazier. Thales crouched down beside his son, placed his right hand on his shoulder and asked him to 

did not suffer, since his supposed death was "inevitable". He explained to him that all the documents had already been 

been passed on to the son's name and that he should continue his work, guiding the 

caravan to Alexandria. 

For my part, I was certain that I was not the prophesied wanderer. Did not question the ability 

fateful story of the oracle, but he knew that the priestess at Delphi always spoke in riddles. Once the king 

Croesus, from Lydia, asked the oracle whether he should go to war against the Persians. The Voice of Support 

he replied that if he did so, an empire would be lost. The monarch believed that the oracle referred to the 

Persian Empire, but he was wrong — it was his. Therefore, the message that reached Thales did not want to 

to say, literally, that he would be attacked by harpies, or that he would die massacred by them. In my view, 

they were all allegories, information that could be interpreted. Even the question of death could 

be just a symbolic figure. 

Furthermore, I was certain that I was not sent from the gods. I could have lost my glory and 

my army, but retained the absolute consciousness of the queen's identity. 

And one more thing: harpies don't exist. 

Tracks on the Road 

The caravan left the Turfan Depression the next morning and resumed its journey along the Silk Road. 

From there to the Mediterranean, the desert would be a constant companion. First, we would follow the terrain 

arid, mountainous, bordering the Tian mountain range heading southwest to the lands that today 

belong to Afghanistan, Then, we intended to enter the Parthian Empire, current Iran, and at a certain point 

we would leave the road to reach, to the south, the ruins of Persepolis, where the secret trail began 

traced by the Babylonians. 

For two months we traveled through dry valleys, deep gorges and rocky mountains, bumping into 

with Arabs, Parthians and Chinese, The terrain was arid, but we often found bushes on the way, and 

I collected the bark and leaves to use as a blackboard. On them, he scribbled Greek characters and, little by little, 

taught the Hellenic language to the Chinese girl. Flower of the East had a splendid ability 

intellectual, but the degree of difficulty in learning a Western language was extreme. The alphabet 

Greek was totally different from the Mandarin ideograms, and I had to explain it letter by letter, 

verbalizing the sounds and repeating the meanings. 

In the last month of summer, we were just a few kilometers from the border with Parthia, where, according to the map, 

there was a town called Bactro, made up of a fort, a checkpoint and half a dozen houses 

of shepherds and potters. 

With the treatment of Flor do Leste needles and her herbal elixirs, I had recovered almost completely, 

and the injured arm was already moving perfectly, with only a circular scar remaining a foot above the 

fist, where Mai Yun's stinger had penetrated. Recovered, I started working as a scout, traveling 

always ahead, riding the swift Ibn-Hatar. As a guardian, my role was to observe conditions 

of the road where the carts would pass, investigate the possible presence of thieves and return to the group 

with reports. I did this so many times that the steed became more attached to me than to anyone else, 

instinctively choosing me as its knight. 

Bedouins say that when the weather is calm and the blue sky reflects the magnificence of the cosmos, it is 

sign that a violent storm is approaching. 

And that's what happened. 

One hot and particularly sultry morning, a day's journey from Bactro, I noticed, on the bank of the 

road, a mound of dirt that caught my attention. In the blink of an eye my brain caught on 

sand human impressions, as if the place had been disturbed and forged to look like a work 

natural wind. Now, there was no reason for a merchant, a wanderer or even a soldier to hide 

its trail, especially on a route shared by so many people. So I took advantage of my ten minutes 

I had an advantage over the first car and went to investigate the strange elevation. 

Under the strong sun, I dismounted and crouched down in front of the site, stretching my oversized capacity to the maximum. 

human of my senses. I touched the ground with my fingertips, sniffed the environment and, by touch, 

noticed a variation in heat emissions below ground, which meant there was more than 

sand buried there. I thought about getting a shovel from the cart, but I didn't want to waste time and started digging. 

with your hands. Two minutes later, I found, sunk in a hole, a clay mug and a 

burnt stick. I deduced that they were traces of a camp, but why would they have been 

purposely hidden? 

Tommaso, seeing me kneeling in the desert, far from the trail, pulled the reins of the mules and the train 

stopped. Pólix, who was driving the second transport, also stopped and shouted to the servant: 

—What's going on up front? Why did the barbarian leave the road? 

— I don't know, the sun is against us — he replied in a loud voice, to overcome the distance and the amplitude of the sky. 

space. — I think he's looking for something in the sand. 

The Hellenic sighed impatiently. 

— Well, run over there and find out what kind of crazy thing he's up to. And try to bring him back. 

At this rate we will never reach Bactro. 

— Yes, sir — obeyed the employee, getting down from the driver's platform. Sticking your hand still 

deeper into the ground, I removed from the earth a 

scorched stone, which had certainly been used to enclose a fire. Then I saw Tommaso 

approaching. 

— Is there a problem? Did you find any treasure? — joked the Sicilian, when he saw me turning over the dust. 

—Someone camped at this place and then forged a mound of sand and stones to hide their 

ticket. Help me clear the perimeter. 

He did not mobilize immediately, trying to understand the relevance of the investigation. Without reaching 

no conclusion, he asked: 

— You unearthed some singular utensils — he was referring to the clay mug — but what 

Do we have interest in an abandoned stopping point? It's possible that it's been there for years and has been 

buried by desert storms. 

— No. They threw dirt and stones on the fire. Why do you think they would do that? 

— Maybe they didn't want to be tracked. 

— That's exactly what I thought. 

The Italian looked at me passively, but finally crouched down, separating some rocks. I was still curious 

regarding my attitude and fueled the dialogue again: 

— Are you looking for something in particular? 

— A clue — I said, bringing my face closer to the ground, to better capture the aromas. 

It was then that I felt, among the boulders, a disc-shaped object. It was a porcelain plate 

broken, ordinary, but with a characteristic smell. 

— Zamir! — I exclaimed, reflectively. The olfactory impressions that still clung to the dishes were the 

the same ones contained in the ceramic bottle from the Tín-Sen forest. 

— Zamir? What is that? asked Tommaso. 

— A name. The name of an old acquaintance. 

— Is this Zamir friendly? 

— Not at all. He was the one who tried to kill me last time. 

—Was it the man who pierced your arm? 

— No. He sent assassins to end my life — I confessed, observing the horizon 

desert. — And that naturally makes you as hostile as your contractors. 

I removed the armband and glove and, with the palm of my hand, tested the consistency and temperature of the sand. To the 

footprints left by travelers had long been covered by dust, but in certain 

points, there were variations in heat in the ground, one level below the layer of sand deposited by the wind. 

In these places, the grains were more united, compacted, crushed — this was evidence that 

they had been sunk under the pressure of a man's weight. They were footprints, without a doubt, and not 

only one pair of them, but five or six pairs, which led me to believe that Zamir had the help of 

porters, probably slaves. 

There were no signs of animals, which proved that the wizard was traveling on foot, with five companions. 

which, by weight, were all men. I followed the trail for fifty meters to the roadbed, when the 

impressions were completely erased, amidst the intersection of countless other marks of 

caravans that passed through there every day. The Sicilian accompanied me kindly, bringing Ibn- 

Hatar by the reins. 

"They're only six weeks ahead of us," I confided to Tommaso. The wind in that part of the 

The Silk Road took a month and a half to cover the ground with that specific amount of land, which 

it formed a level above the heat trail I had found. 

- Who? This guy Zamir? 

— Him and five other men. They all travel on foot and walk west. Maybe we can still reach 

them, if we continue at this accelerated pace. 

— You want to get revenge on him, don't you? Do you want to chase him? 

— No. I just want to stop him from carrying out his revenge. I need to neutralize him before he tries to assassinate 

others on your list. 

I looked once again at the horizon, where the Silk Road met the settlement of Bactro. 

Six weeks. 

Throughout the journey, the enemy was closer than I had imagined. 

The Beggar King 

From afar, the border town of Bactro seemed to house only one fortress, because that was the 

the only truly imposing building in the landscape ahead. Further approximation, however, revealed 

us the existence of not half a dozen, but dozens of small mud houses, which together formed 

a shy urban agglomeration. 

The first impression I had upon seeing the fortress, in the dazzling rays of dawn, was that we had 

finally arrived in the West. Unlike Chinese temples, made of wood, and huts 

barbaric, made of stone and straw, Bactro's fort had been built with sun-dried brick blocks. You 

The entrance portals were wide, arched, and the interior was richly decorated with mosaics. 

multicolors. In the center of the building, engineers designed an internal courtyard, similar to the atriums 

Romans, but much broader. The ceiling closed in a vault, imitating the celestial firmament. 

There were bushes all along the arid, stony landscape that bordered the Silk Road, but 

Large or edible plants were rarely found in the desert. Bactro, however, had 

diverse sources of water, which fed the life of palm trees, date palms and junipers and allowed the 

natural flowering of thin grass, which served as pasture for sheep. The temperature, although 

wetter, it was still scorching, and we decided to refill the craters, to continue calmly 

to the point where we would leave the road. 

No walls or fences delimited the small community, but a battalion of mounted soldiers 

he watched his limits, alert to any irregular movement beyond the hills. They carried bows 

long, spears and scimitars — curved swords, normally used with one hand by fencers. 

The armor had the appearance of long linen clothes, sewn together in several layers to 

Absorb the cut of enemy blades. 

The border guards demanded an exorbitant payment for the crossing — ten denarii — which, 

Their request was made in Greek drachmas. This would, however, be the last time we would be 

extorted, as we would soon leave the official road. 

In addition to the palm tree grove, we were able to see the fortress and its beautiful architecture. In your 

stairs, a man covered in heavy clothes, probably a leper, asked passersby for food, 

when a bunch of rheumy children started throwing stones at him. Nobody cared, until one 

soldier ordered the little ones to stop and, with the sheath of his sword, whipped the beggar and the 

led away from the fort. He was a pitiful figure. With long and dirty clothes, he walked with 

difficulty, hiding his face in a dark hood, The old tunic seemed stained with blood 

fresh, which, I judged, oozed from an open wound in the shoulder. 

In the afternoon, before the sun set, I walked to the center of the village to investigate any clues about the 

wizard Zamir. Flor do Leste accompanied me halfway, but stopped in a green area to 

collect roots from a juniper tree.