10 — The Priest
The lamps of Duali had already been lighted when Sulleiman, priest of Sullam, heard a knock at the side door. He stretched and rose from where he knelt in front of the altar. He went bare-chested to the door and opened it.
There were two men standing outside on the stoop in the alley. The older man was bald and heavyset. He had clever eyes and a golden ring swinging from his nose. This was Mahmoud, who Sulleiman knew to be a devout and holy man. The priest had heard he was an alchemist. Or had been, before the sultan outlawed such things.
The younger man had the light skin of the desert people and a way of standing like he was about to run away. Perhaps this was Mahmoud’s apprentice?
“Good evening,” the priest said. He gestured for them to enter and said in ritual greeting, “The sun is hot. Won’t you come inside and refresh yourselves?”
But Mahmoud shook his head. “It is with great sadness that we must decline your generous offer, O friend of all people. I regret to say that we do not have the time to spend in your exalted hall. We leave tomorrow on a journey into the desert, and we come seeking the blessings of the beloved before we go.”
Sulleiman noticed that the man said “into” the desert and not “through,” but did not press him. He simply nodded and bowed his head.