Avrat, caravanserai,

Slowly awareness crept in with the sounds of the busy life down on the streets. He took a moment to take them in. They helped grounding him. He was in Avrat … again … but this time things were different. There was hope. His family was safe. Tamina was …for now. He sighed finally opening his eyes and sitting up. He had a task to accomplish to keep them that way. First he needed to locate Zolm and his acolytes…

It didn't take him long to get ready. Years living as a soldier had ingrained him with the habit to be ready to leave camp at an instants notice. Thankfully there wasn't any hurry now. Not really. So he took his time to get to the hall downstairs listening to the discussions filling the rooms. Nothing interesting caught his ears.

As he crossed the dining hall, he saw Kazeem sitting in a corner. The man watched him approach, carefully studying him. Wordlessly, he pushed a plate toward him. Dastan shook his head, grabbing some dates from a large dish nearby.

"I need to get going."

The older man seemed to ponder what to say. "Still searching for those black demons?" Dastan's gaze held his.

"It's what I came here for …"

Leaning forward Kazeem whispered: "It's suicide… and you know it."

"It's my mission. You've fulfilled yours. Go back to the Valley of the Slaves"

"I can't."

Grabbing his arm, Dastan held his gaze.

"Go!"

"I promised."

With a defeated sigh Dastan released him and turned to the door. "Don't follow me. Please…"

Life milled around him in the streets as he strode in direction of the market. Memories of his own childhood surfaced unbidden. He quickly pushed them aside; there was no time for this now. Stepping through a large stone arch he set foot on the brimming marketplace. His gaze scanned the crowd. He didn't know exactly what to look for, but he knew this was where he needed to start. His steps took him on a stroll through the crowd. All around him people went about their daily business. Merchants shouted to sell their goods, trying to attract as many customers as possible. There was the delicious smell of fresh fruit mingled with the more pungent one of new leather, further down the street enticing spices and perfumes tickled the nose.

Again Dastan felt himself set back to his childhood days. Suddenly something barrelled into him making him almost lose balance. Instinctively his hands grabbed the culprit. Then he heard shouting: "Stop the thief! He stole from me! He stole my precious apples…"

His hands kept a steady grip on the struggling form trying to slip past him. His gaze went down to take in the thief he had involuntarily caught. He stared into a pair of wide brown eyes brimming with tears. The thief was a mere child! A scrawny one to boot… The apple was nowhere to be seen. Resignation materialized in the gaze and the boy held still bowing his head in acceptance of the severe punishment that was surely coming his way.

"There he is! Call the guard! He must be punished."

Dastan's frown stopped the screeches. "… but … he stole … he's a thief", stammered the man as Dastan released his hold on the boy. Wordlessly he grabbed some piece of money from his shawl and gave it to the merchant. The man bowed low as he realized the money he'd gotten by far surpassed the value of the fruit he'd lost.

"May Ormazd reward you for your kindness, sir."

"He won't reward yours," came the harsh reply. Ashamed the man disappeared into the crowd. Dastan took in the figure by his side. Unbidden the memories flared up again. As their gazes met the boy turned on his heels and disappeared in the crowd that had gathered around them.

"Wait!"

It was too late. With a sigh Dastan realized that the attention they had drawn had ruined his plan to remain invisible in the shadows. With a sigh he continued to wander the market for a while until he found a side street he could vanish into. So much for making progress…

Marketplace, some days later,

Since the incident with the young thief, Dastan had come out to the market every day, lurking in between the market stalls trying to overhear conversations that could give him some clue about the Hassansin hideout. So far to no avail.

He was getting restless. Sure his family was safe for now, but how long until their leader decided to take action? He needed to get some lead to follow. Today, he had chosen to stay closer to the palace. There was even more movement there. Leaning against a stand, he carefully scanned the crowd.

Suddenly his eyes caught movement to his left. His eyes widened as he recognized the boy he'd saved days before. The boy seemed concentrated on something. Straightening up Dastan could see what held his attention. Right in front of him an old man was looking at tack. His purse wasn't fastened well so the leather strap had loosened and if the metal glint was any indication its content was gold. The temptation was apparently too great to resist. Dastan could relate. How many merchants had he relieved of a few gold or silver coins before Sharaman took him in? He felt the need to repay some of his debt by helping those in need.

In a few strides he was close to the boy grabbing his extended arm, as he was about to grab into the purse. The young thief froze mid movement as Dastan turned his palm upward placing some gold in it. With a nod he told the boy to leave, but not understanding what had just happened the young urchin stood rooted to the spot.

"Go!" Dastan insisted more forcefully making instinct take over as the boy leapt away. Turning toward the old man still absorbed in some leather goods he said: "You should be more careful, showing your gold might not be a good idea on a market. Startled by the address the man's hand flew to his pouch and he noticed the straps had come loose.

"Thank you for your help, sir."

Recognition flared as Dastan took in the man's face. He knew him from somewhere… The man vigorously shook his hand as the glint of a ring caught his eye. He felt drawn back into the past. The man worked for his uncle Nizam! He had seen him at his hunting ground as he spent some days there years ago…

The old man scrutinized his face and his eyes widened. "Prince…" Dastan cut him off. He didn't want to attract unnecessary attention, so he dragged the old man to a side street.

"Have you heard from my uncle recently?" Dastan hissed. Fear marred the venerable face as he violently shook his head.

"No, he hasn't been back to his hunting grounds for quite some time. I wish I could do the same," he mumbled to himself.

"Why? It is a wonderful place. Always has been …"

The man sadly shook his head. "Not anymore…"

"What happened?" Dastan asked though he thought he knew seeing the terrified expression in the old servant's face. The man violently shook his head.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it… Your uncle …" his voice died. He wasn't sure he could trust the younger man facing him. How would he react? He remembered the young prince and how happy he had been when he spent time with his uncle far from the palace and its restrictions and obligations. And sure as hell he remembered Nizam's threat the last time he had seen him. Those demons still haunted the palace and were as fear inducing as ever. A shudder ran down his spine as he remembered what he'd seen in the caves beneath the hunting ground.

"Is it because of the black demons?" Leaning close, Dastan whispered next to the servants' ear.

The older man drew back in fear. Dastan raised placating hands. "I'm not going to hurt you!" he said in as calm a voice he could muster considering how the lead he'd finally found made him feel.

Looking frantically around him the old servant made Dastan follow him into a secluded garden. After closing the gate behind them, he observed the street through a crack in the wood. Dastan took in the friendly place sprawling in front of him. A lush garden with all kinds of flowers and date trees surrounded them. Somewhere a fountain whispered. Dastan felt his heart constrict, felt drawn to a different place in a different time. As he reminisced that encounter warmth spread through him, comforting. He shook his head to focus on his mission again. He had to protect his family… her. Turning he caught the old man staring at him, probably still unsure about trusting him.

"Please tell me what you know about the Hassansins. I need to find them and make sure they won't hurt anybody any more." His head slightly cocked to the side as if to hear him better the man now studied him intently.

"Your father said the same thing. And still, look at where we are now…"

"It is my mission…"

"… and if you die trying to fulfil it? Let me guess… so be it? And what will you have accomplished then, prince?" He shook his head. "King Sharaman didn't adopt you to lose you to those demons. He doesn't expect you to sacrifice yourself to show him gratitude…"

"I know." Dastans voice sounded small, even to his own ears. Looking up again he blurted. "Will you help me?"

The slight nod he got was all it needed to reassure Dastan. They agreed to meet at the gate farthest from their current location the same evening. After the man left; the prince roamed through the gardens for some more time making sure they weren't seen together and didn't raise suspicion. Dastan then quickly returned to the caravanserai. He needed to get his meagre

belongings. He briskly crossed the archway into the courtyard, but was stopped in his tracks as a voice to his left rose.

"Found what you've been looking for?" Kazeem pushed off the wall and slung an arm around Dastan's shoulder to drag him toward the stables. There he went to a stall at the back.

"Come here. I found you a mount. You might need it…"

in front of them stood a dark brown horse, Dastan let an appreciative gaze roam over it. Kazeem had chosen well.

"Can't let you ride around on a dromedary, can I? It would look strange and draw too much attention."

Dastan simply nodded, overwhelmed by such thoughtfulness.

"I think it's time for me to leave then. Don't worry, I'll take Sheik Amar's prized dromedary back to the Valley of the Slaves. Both our animals are waiting outside. I took the liberty to saddle them already…"

Kazeem marched toward the entrance, mounted his dromedary and made it get up. Leaning down toward the prince he extended his hand and the younger man shook it.

"Thank you for your precious help, again."

The merchant simply nodded. "Be careful with those demons." With that he clucked his tongue and rode off. Dastan lost no time getting back to his quarters. He'd make sure his gear was ready and then take a nap to gather his energy for his nightly expedition.

Hours later, after nightfall

It was a moonless night, one could barely distinguish the outlines of the buildings and in the narrow streets the light was even scarcer. Thankfully he'd roamed these streets as a boy and they'd remained mapped in his mind. Still he was holding his horse by the bridle and leading it towards the gate. The city gate would be closed by now, but since when did a gate keep him from getting where he wanted to be? A brief smirk stretched his lips. Turning the last corner he immediately spotted the lone figure waiting near the gate. Either the old man had more guts than had appeared or he was very naïve. Rapidly he crossed the square to join him.

"Where's your horse?" He asked, trying to spot the mount in the dark.

"Just outside the gate. Follow me!" He stomped to the large stone arch, closed off by a sturdy wooden gate without as much as a glance backwards to see if he was complying. Even before they reached the gate a guard stepped out and planted himself in the middle of the street.

"The gate is closed for the night! You'll have to wait until morning to pass!"

Without missing a beat the old man stepped up to him and countered.

"Will you explain to the vizier why his guest couldn't join him at his hunting ground? I'm sure lord Nizam will be very comprehending…"

He'd gripped Dastan's arm to keep him from intervening as he'd sensed the younger man's flinch of surprise. The guards' eyes widened and Dastan could distinguish the white of them. He followed the old servants play and kept his silence.

"Hurry now! We don't have all night …"

The guard turned hurriedly fumbling for the large keys as he led them to the smaller side door. It was large enough to lead a horse through so they wouldn't have to open the main gate. They'd barely crossed the threshold when the door clanked shut behind them, making the horse flinch. The old man marched toward a small shed at some distance and Dastan followed guessing that's where the man's horse was stabled.

Soon the steady staccato of hooves interrupted the quiet of the night…