1001 Starry Knights: The Seven Voyages of Sinbad, chapter 17


“How did you figure it out? I didn’t think that we left any hints.” Brie sat in the command chair, a frown on her face. Her head was lowered as she leaned against the chair’s plush seat, frowning unhappily. The spilled tray still lay on the ground, food scattered, as I stood next to her.

“It was a guess, more than anything else. The Captain’s a dragon; That doesn’t happen without doing something impressive, and I can’t imagine there are many medals for pirates.” I leaned back on the console, as her eyes ran over the sun. A great prominence rose and fell from the burning sphere. “So, you knew her while you two were still Fleet.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, I didn’t meet her until after she became a Dragon. She was already a captain when I became her gunner. She was a pirate-hunter. Tracking down those who broke the law, and bringing them in. She was famous. In fact, there was a bit of a scandal about it. See, her mother was in the Fleet, too. A Dragon, which says something about that bloodline. But her mother did something. I never found out the details, it was buried awfully deep. When it was over, the mother had her rank as a Dragon stripped from her, and her daughter was given the rank and noble holdings in her place. I never had the courage to ask her, but I think that she was responsible for her mother’s disgrace. You have to understand, it’s damn rare that a Dragon has their rank taken from them. Whatever she did, she allowed herself to be punished for it.”

“She never talked about it?”

“No. She’d get real quiet if anybody asked her about it. If they kept arguing about it, chances were good she’d give them a beating for their curiosity. I got a magnificent shiner, once, because I was so curious.” She shook her head. “I can’t say exactly what happened. But it hurt her. Badly. I hope you’re not thinking of hurting her, too.” I frowned, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re not wild about the idea of being sold off. But I have faith in the captain. She wouldn’t be selling you to someone if she wasn’t sure you’d be safe and happy, there. And even if you forget every one of us with the mind-wipe, we won’t forget about you.” She grinned. “Life’s gotten really interesting with you around.” I was silent. I didn’t tell her that I desperately did not want to wind up sold to someone, no matter how kind-hearted that someone was. And I certainly did not want to be mind-wiped, a procedure which sounded both ominous and deeply philosophically terrifying. Instead, I stood up.

“I understand if you can’t help me. But how did the two of you become pirates? If the captain was as dedicated a pirate-hunter as you say, it seems like a hell of a career change to suddenly begin plundering ships.”

“That? Well, it’s a funny thing. We were on a long patrol, traveling around the border of the Reptile Kingdom, watching for any signs of invasion or other threats. One of those real-long journeys, months-long deployments. And near the end, the captain calls me into her cabin, and she tells me she’s tired. She asks me whether I’ve ever broken the law. And to be honest, I never had. Not that there are that many laws to be broken, but I’d always lived a blameless life. And she asked me… ‘Aren’t you sick of being the only one who’s not being bad?’.”

I frowned. “That’s a hell of a statement to make. What did she mean by that?”

“I’ll be damned if I know. But I’ll tell you this: She was right. I was tired of being good when everyone else was being bad.” She looked out the window. “I’m nearly three thousand years old. I spent most of my life being told that there was no point in much of anything, because my species was going to die. It was considered undignified to mope or whine about that fate. It left me damn sick of being told how I should respond to a bad situation. So I agreed. Most of the rest of the crew left, not wanting to be wrapped up in it, but I stayed on. We soon picked up Toralee, and then the rest.” She smiled towards me. “So, I hope you’ll keep your spirits up, but I understand if you don’t. You know, though, if you keep up these stories, maybe you’ll wind up working for us! We’d love to have you here, as a storyteller.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.

“Yes, I would enjoy spending the rest of my life telling stories on a pirate ship until they get bored and sell me off,” I remarked dryly. The sarcasm seemed to go right over Brie’s head as she beamed.

The next day, I sat in the mess, drumming my fingers. “The city of Firdaws. Paradise in the midst of desolation…”

Firdaws was perhaps a mile across. Its towers and spires were vaguely organic, every building made of the same brilliant black glass. It was polished to a deep luster, until reflections were visible in the stuff. They stood starkly contrasting with the pure white sky, a chiaroscuro city. The buildings seemed half-melted, giving them a flowing, organic shape. And yet, despite the black glass, the city was cool. Unlike the baking oven of the desert, or the humid clinging air of the jungle, it was pleasant and refreshing. This was almost certainly because of the canals. Channels were cut into every street, broad and filled with flowing water. The city was arranged in a series of steps, almost like a set of stairs. Frequently, waterfalls fell from the tops of buildings, creating a fine mist that fell onto the ground below, and cooling the air. “Have your people mastered space-travel? How advanced are you?”

“Why would we need to travel through space? We have Firdaws. All our needs are provided for, in this place. All of our food is available to us at all times. There is no need to labor in farms or seek trade except for luxuries and fulfillment. There is no need here, only desire. Why, then, would we bother to travel through the sky?” Rahma laughed softly, her voice ringing like a bell. Sinbad nodded, frowning, as he looked around the square. People congregated by the waterfalls, cold water streaming down their bodies. They all looked like the sisters, night-black skin contrasting with brilliant white starbursts. A few of them were dressed like Zahad, wearing full robes, silk and fine garments that concealed them, veils over their faces. He saw both men and women like that. Curiously, however, none of them were dressed like Rahma, with her bare body and her collar. He did his best not to stare at her swaying hips as they approached the palace, standing at the highest step of the city.

It reminded him, immediately, of a lotus. Great curving petals of obsidian rose from the base, curving upwards around a circular tower in the center. The massive petals reflected light upwards, towards a central point above the tower, a point of white light so brilliant that it stung. He raised a hand, covering his eyes, as they approached. Between two of the petals, at the base of the tower, there was a doorway. Three men stood before the door, carrying glass spears. They crossed them as Zahad, Rahma, and Sinbad approached, but Rahma spoke, and they bowed deeply, unbarring the way, and flanking them.

Sinbad marveled at the walls. Where another palace might have had tapestries, or paintings, this tower’s walls had been etched. From a distance, they seemed like little more than a mass of incoherent lines. As they approached and drew level with the carved walls, however, the lines resolved themselves into vivid scenes. The white light that radiated from the ceiling caught on the edges of the carved glass, bringing the artistic images into sharp focus. It was strange, walking down the hall, and watching random scratches briefly become gorgeously detailed scenes, before returning to meaningless visual noise as he passed.

There were a few common motifs. Winged figures, rising into the sky, to face blocky, angular creatures that fell like meteors towards what looked like the city of Firdaws, but much larger and grander. Three feminine figures standing together, one much taller than the other. He would’ve stopped to study them in greater detail, but they were being rushed along. He watched as the corridor spread out, growing wider, until it opened into a great hall. Food was laden on tables in great heaps of fruit, unfamiliar animals roasting on spits, and magnificent loaves of dark bread steaming in the air. Dozens of the strange-skinned humanoids filled the circular hall, and the ceiling was bright white, as though it was clear glass rather than smokey obsidian. At the head of the massive banquet table sat a man wearing a band of white glass around his head. He stood, and began to speak, and Rahma translated the musical language as he did.

“Fine traveler. You have risked your life to preserve my daughters, sweet Zahad and brave Rahma. My guards have told me of the story, that you slew one of the Golems with a blade of fire, and have brought its head.” Sinbad could recognize a leading question when he heard it, and raised the metal head into the air. There was a raucous cheer from the crowds. “Brave warrior! I welcome you to the city of Firdaws! You are one of us, for as long as you wish to stay, and we shall always make room for you, at our tables, and in this palace! Three cheers for Sinbad!” The roar of cheer filled the air, and Sinbad couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

The banquet was magnificent. Rahma translated for him as he told stories of his adventures, sharing tales of his life. There were toasts drunk, and beautiful women all around, although none more beautiful than Rahma. The king was fascinated with every story, eagerly asking questions and listening as Sinbad explained his life in great detail. The party continued on for hours, late into the night. As midnight approached, Rahma rested a hand on his shoulder. “The hour of night approaches. The celebrations must end soon. I will take you to the library, and show you your quarters.”

The library was beneath the palace. Great shelves of obsidian held many thousands of white crystals, square and sharp-edged. He picked one up, and ran his finger over the unfamiliar text on the front of the crystal. It shifted, flowing, changing into English. As he continued to move his finger, the text scrolled, like an old-fashioned tablet. He grabbed half a dozen crystals, and followed her, as she led him along. “If you wish it, you can have any woman in the kingdom. They would all be more than pleased to spend time with you. My sister, I imagine, more than most. I hope that you will enjoy your time here. If you leave, we will understand, but please be cautious. The great desert spreads out in every direction, and no two paths lead to the same place. It is difficult to find your way back to where you left.” She smiled apologetically, as she led him to the bedroom.

It was richly appointed, a large mattress filled with the softest down. Pillows like clouds and blankets made of satin covered it, with a small bell. “If you need anything, just ring.” She smiled, and waved a hand, as the ceiling grew dark, leaving only the dimmest of light illuminating the room. Sinbad paused for a moment. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t all. She had been brave when she had faced the Golem. She had been welcoming. She had helped him more than words could say. He knew he had a weakness for falling in love quickly, and easily. It had caused him pain before. He almost opened his mouth, to ask her if she would stay, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. A flash of memory ran through his head, of all of those who he had left behind. He closed his mouth, and sat down on the bed, lifting one of the crystals. She bowed her head, and closed the door.

The Folk have always lived in Firdaws. The children of the Celestial Dynasty, the Folk are the greatest and most magnificent of sapient life. Lesser sapience, when confronted with their true forms and beauty, is unable to keep its sanity, rendered senseless, blind, or even dead by the majesty. The Folk are not heartless beings; They do not crave this adoration, and they do not enjoy seeing those who are lesser hurt by their glory. To avoid this tragic fate, the Folk live in Firdaws, at the great Crossroads of the Endless Desert. There, only the strongest creatures, with the greatest will to survive, could ever find them.

Life in Firdaws is idyllic, for the Folk have the blessing of the Celestial Dynasty. Yet, it is not perfect. Of all the Celestial Dynasty, there is one who loathes the Folk. Chal, the God of Envy and Jealousy, refused to participate in their construction. Unlike the rest of the Celestial Dynasty, he was of earth, not of the sky. He did not wish to allow himself to be diminished for the sake of the Folk. When they were created, and he saw their great beauty, he was filled with rage. His siblings had tricked him, he was sure, so that he would not receive any of the credit that the rest of the Celestial Dynasty received for their creation. He hatched a plan, and reached deep inside his own heart. He made the Golems, giving them skin of steel, bones of iron, brains of clay, and hearts of copper. These gifts made them powerful, and deadly; But most of all, he made them to be greater than the Folk.

This is not a simple thing. The Golems were stronger, faster, smarter, better fighters than the Folk. But they lacked the soul, the animating force that made the Folk beautiful. And so they yearned to learn more about the Folk. They hovered in the sky, and on the edges of the desert, and watched. And as they watched, they developed their own souls, becoming beings, rather than simple automatons. Unfortunately, they were made by Chal, God of Envy and Jealousy, and they were envious creatures. They wanted to be loved as the Folk were, and so they taught themselves how to steal the power of the Folk. They lurked on the edge, and swept down to devour the Folk. They came in great waves, and were fought off, at great cost.

It was thus that the Folk were forced to call upon the power of the great ancestor, so as to remain whole. The Golems continued in their pitiful half-life to raid and attack the Folk, and so, gradually, the Folk were cut off from all other worlds. Travelers became rarer, and rarer, and the Folk began to feel that they might never again be freed. It is said, though, that if the great ancestor should ever be invoked, she will return to stop the Golems, forever. But in doing so, Firdaws shall fall, and the damage wreaked shall be catastrophic. So it is that the attacks are endured, as the price for preserving their city, for a flawed paradise is better than no paradise at all.

Sinbad frowned, as he finished the night’s study. He’d gone through half a dozen books over the last few hours, studying relentlessly. They were mostly historical texts, or stories. Even a few fables. There wasn’t a single mention of the Path to Victory. The discussion of Golems had made him curious, however. He lifted the head off of his belt. It was the size of a bowling ball, but surprisingly light. He stroked his chin, and then began to examine its design. The components and style were strangely familiar. As he continued to study, checking the wiring and gently prying it open, it became more and more clear. The design had to be from the Construct Kingdom. He looked back at the book, and wondered what on earth could have resulted in the Construct Kingdom attacking these people. They hadn’t even negotiated. Perhaps they were damaged, malfunctioning. If he restarted the thing…

He thought of Rahma’s words. But then, he had to know. “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back…”

He worked on the metal dome, long into the night. He was awoken in the morning by Rahma, who brought him to the great hall, where another feast was in progress. He spent the day wandering the city with her and Zahad, carrying a handful of the crystal tablets, meeting the scholars of the city. Each one was wiser and more sage than the last, but all of them, on being asked about the Path to Victory, responded with confusion. None of them had ever heard of anything like it. That evening, as night fell, Rahma led him back to the palace, and he was again secured in his room for the night, where he worked tirelessly on the Golem, trying to reactivate it.

This is how months passed. Each day, Rahma and Zahad took him through the city, introducing him to sages, alchemists, wise women, and all manner of others. And, it must be admitted, he spent many evenings with lovely women, although he never connected to them. Never, however, with either of the two sisters. He was aware of his own desire for them, and that his feelings were more serious than he liked. He had left behind too many women before, and he had no interest in growing close to them, only to find himself once more forced to continue on.

One day, they had stopped halfway through the afternoon to eat their lunch. They sat in a garden of green vines and bright-colored flowers, underneath one of the waterfalls. The gentle mist rained down as they split and shared their fruit. Zahad spoke softly, and Rahma translated. “Tell me, Sinbad. You make time with many women. Why, then, have you not settled down with a wife? There are many who would be eager.” Sinbad tried to keep the smile off of his lips. Zahad was not subtle about her own interest in him. She was attractive, and kind-hearted. He certainly could be happy with her. And yet…

“You know my stories. Every time I find someone, I am forced away. The circumstances that cause this have not changed. I must find the Path to Victory. Save my family. Growing attached to this place…” He crossed his arms, frowning down at the food. “I do not want to be separated again. I have left enough pain in my history.”

“Life is about pain, and separation,” Zahad said, through Rahma’s translation. “Because these things show that we are living, and loving. Is it worth it to cut yourself off from the very feelings that drive you? What good would there be in accomplishing your duty, and then realizing that you have nothing to live for?” Sinbad did not answer.

Some time passed. Rahma sat with Sinbad, in the lush bedroom. She studied him quietly, as he read. It was nearly midnight. He decided to ask a question, even though he suspected he already knew the answer. “Why is it that you are the only one who ever stays here, past midnight? Even when I take a partner in the evening… They leave, before midnight arrives.”

She looked up from her sword, and smiled. “That is tied to one of the three things I told you not to do. Trust me, when I say that you should not go outside at night for good reason. The things you would see could sear your soul out. And believe me when I say that I am very happy with your soul where it is.” She paused for a moment. “Why do you look on me with such longing?” He dropped the book, and swore, fumbling for it. “You are not subtle about it. Your desire is written on your features. You clearly want me. It is… strange.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not bad, but… Look at me.” He did. She was perfection carved from onyx and marble. “I am maimed. To the very core of my being. I am scarcely one of the Folk, possessing none of what makes them grand. Why would I occupy such a place in your heart? My sister is the heiress. She can provide you with happiness, with love, that I am scarcely even capable of conceiving. Why, then, would you desire me, a simple…” She looked down. “I am damaged. I wonder if you can even understand how damaged.”

“I can try to understand.”

She smirked at him. “You have not answered. Why do you desire me?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose there are many reasons. Most of them embarrassing. You are beautiful, particularly to my tastes. You are brave, and strong, because you were willing to fight a dangerous creature to save your sister. You are compassionate, as you showed gratitude and kindness to me, when I was weak and unsteady. You are dedicated. I have never heard you complain about aiding me in my search, and you have always shown aplomb and grace. It is not in my nature to love weak or useless people. I think that I am attracted to you because you are strong, and yet, at the same time, it’s terribly clear that you are hurting. You are strong enough that you do not need my aid, and weak enough that my aid would not be worthless. And…” He smiled. “You are the only person in this city whose voice I can understand. If you are maimed, damaged, then it is in a way that allows us to connect. That isn’t weakness. That’s the basis for love. I suppose it comes down to a pain that you soothe.”

“I suppose… I can understand that. I know how it is to feel pained, and to know that you soothe it. You’re the first man who has ever looked at me without pity in his eyes.” She looked down. “Let me tell you, then, of the curse of the Great Ancestor… Antiqam.”

The Folk were not made from whole cloth. They were a patchwork of the many gods. Chal did not provide any power, but many others did. However, none gave so deeply as Antiqam. Antiqam, warrior goddess of the Celestial Dynasty. She was the defender of the Dynasty, but she was Vengeance, Wrath, Hatred. She was the dark and violent impulse of the Celestial Dynasty, and she recognized that her own existence was more threat to the Dynasty than aid.

There was a time, in the primordial past, when the enemies of the dynasty- of whom Chal was once a part- had forced Antiqam to fight. She had been a glorious force in those days, striking back against those who were evil, and making the night safe. As time passed, and the enemies softened or joined the Dynasty, her attacks lost their moral fiber. She went from the Goddess of Justice to the Goddess of Vengeance, becoming a dark figure, crushing enemies who had become friends, or at least neutral. She could not stay as she was.

And so, the Folk were the solution. She would be sealed into the great city that was Firdaws, and held there by the weight of the descendants, living within the black glass, and providing the Folk with a home, and with the strength to protect themselves should they ever need it. There was only one caveat to this generous gift. The royal line of the Folk, the heart of their people, would be cursed. The second child of each generation would be the one to inherit the kingdom. The first child would be inflicted with all of the darkness of Antiqam.

It was not visible to the outsiders. But no one of the Folk could fail to see the maimed state of the first child’s soul. Bereft of the grandeur, the beauty of the Folk, they were doomed to a lonely life of service to their younger sibling, to live in servitude to the ideals of the Folk. Theirs was to be a life of isolation, with the understanding that at any time, any could break this curse. All they would have to do was speak the name Antiqam to the child, and the Folk would end. Their city would be destroyed, and the child’s loneliness would be banished, as she became whole once more, and threatened all. This was something they knew as they were raised, their own responsibility made utterly manifest.

This was how Rahma had grown. From birth, she was the only slave in the city of Firdaws. A slave not to one person, but to her own nature. She was the only one of the Folk who sought violence, and the only one who was not allowed to soar. After all, if she were to leave before the bloodline was ready to continue, who knows what might happen?

It was not a position she resented- much. It was simply the way things were. Whining about how difficult life was wouldn’t make it any easier. And she had her sister, who loved her in spite of her maiming. And now, she had Sinbad who thought, somehow, that she might even be called beautiful. Perhaps life was not as grim as it seemed.

And so the weeks continued, as Sinbad kept searching, although perhaps with less fervor than he had before. In Firdaws, it was difficult to focus on the threat to his family, and on the injustice. Something about the city soothed his soul. Perhaps it was the kindness of Rahma and Zahad. Perhaps it was the pleasantly relaxed atmosphere of the city. He was aware of the myriad temptations- To say the name Antiqam, to see what happened on the streets at midnight. But those temptations he could resist. They were mysteries, but he had encountered many mysteries. The one temptation he could not resist was the head.

It took the better part of a year, in total, to reactivate the head. But he could not let go of his curiosity. What the Construct Kingdom artifact was doing in this place, what it was for. He had to know, no matter what the cost. The library was vast, and he had not found even the beginnings of a clue to the Path to Victory. And so it was, one night, just a few minutes before midnight, that the head flickered to life as he tinkered with it. He stared at it for a few seconds. “State your mission.”

It spoke, in accented but recognizable Imperial cant. “Scouting drone. Sent to study major Imperial enemies. Programmed for close-range reconnaissance and attacks of opportunity.”

Sinbad frowned. “State your current location.”

“Current location… Unknown. Outside of known parameters. Multiple potential locations.”

“Who is your enemy?”

“Scanning… Eighteen-thousand, six hundred, and seventy-two life-forms within two kilometers of this unit. Energy readings consistent with Heaven’s Messages. Warning! Warning! Alerting nearby units! Power levels found are consistent with a Greater Shard of El! Warning! Full assault authorized! Scorched earth protocol-” Sinbad hit the deck moments before the head exploded violently, shrapnel scarring the walls of the room. He sat up, and stared at the burned sheets. Then he flinched as the sound of a massive impact rang through the castle like a bell. A tone of shattering crystal filled the air, as he sprang to his feet.

He’d been to the roof of the palace before. This time, it was easy to find. As he ran, the sound of ringing filled the air, as the palace shook. When he arrived at the top, he stared down in horror. The city was smoldering. Several towers had been visibly smashed. One of the petals of the palace lay in ruins. As he watched, a flash of light struck down from the sky, and crashed into the center of another of the petals, shattering the massive piece of black glass. Zahad and Rahma stood at the edge of the tower, staring down into the ruin that Sinbad knew, instinctively, was his fault.

It was night. Night under that white sky was strange. It didn’t change color, but the city was dark, lit only by fire and the Folk who glowed in the darkness. And in the night, he could finally see what Rahma meant when she said she was maimed. Six long, elegant, ribbon-shaped wings rose from Zahad’s back, slender and delicate. They were barely visible, transparent silver that was only just visible because of the darkness surrounding them. They moved and twisted, arching and falling. There were no feathers on them- They were more like glowing panes of light. They were beautiful.

Rahma had none. Six stumps were visible on her back, torn and jagged, growing only a few inches, a hint of what she could have had, and a reminder of the fact that she did not have it. She turned, her eyes dark. “Of course. Curiosity is ever the bane of lesser beings, isn’t it? You awoke the Golem, and now it has called down its allies, to destroy the Folk. You have come out into the open at night, and seen us as we truly are. I am impressed, though, that you seem to retain your mind. I suppose you are hardier than we gave you credit for, Sinbad.” She turned back, as Zahad held her hands over her face, sobbing softly.

“I didn’t know.”

“We told you that it would be bad. You just didn’t trust us when we said that. You had to experience it for yourself. You have done two out of the three things I told you not to. Why not make it a hat-trick?”

“You didn’t tell me this was Heaven,” he said, trying to keep the hint of accusation out of his tone.

“Did you think you lived through the desert? Did you think that you stumbled into the water out of luck? Where did you think that you would go when you died?”

He paused. He realized it was true. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to the oasis, but he’d been burning up. Dying. Ever since then… He hadn’t been hurting as much. He hadn’t been feeling the little pains that he should have. He had dismissed it as simply a part of this place. But… “What are they doing?”

“Wiping us out. Destroying us. Perhaps it will release the great ancestor. Perhaps it will annihilate her. It doesn’t seem to matter, now. The city will fall. My people will die. I would prefer they not die alone.” She turned towards him. “Say the name.” He thought of saying no. Of refusing. Of telling her that there was still hope. Of begging her to reconsider, because he loved her so. But all of those words seemed hollow and false.

“Antiqam.”

The cabbie frowned. “I thought no human has ever come back from Heaven.”

“In truth, I do not know, even now, whether or not it was Heaven. It was strange and wondrous, but it could have been the true Fae homeland. They are prone to pranks and stories. They could have faked it. They could have been responsible for the Path to Victory. Or perhaps, it was Heaven. That’s what Antiqam claimed, later. All I know is that it was a paradise. And humans are not good with paradise.”

I paused. “But now, it’s time to call it an evening, I think. Tomorrow may be the last time I get to tell you a story, so I hope you’ll all enjoy it!” I smiled, and took a bow, before standing up, slipping out of the mess. Tomorrow night, we would arrive at the station, and I would find myself up for auction.

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One thought on “1001 Starry Knights: The Seven Voyages of Sinbad, chapter 17

  1. I was told there would be smut.

    Oh boy, our protagonist has caused Hell to rain down on Heaven! Or wherever that place is, because he didn’t die. The witch’s curse is still in effect, and I’m sure Sinbad has wondered why the space Super Bowl can’t come to wherever he is – that’d be interesting, even if it’s almost certainly bad for the local economy. In addition, it’s neat how she cursed him to achieve what his heart desires but even he doesn’t know what that is.

    I’ve wondered just who the villain of the body-swapping voyage could’ve been – if it’s some shadowy figure who we haven’t been introduced to, all bets are off.
    If it’s someone we have it must be someone you wouldn’t originally think – the only antagonists I can think of are Shen, the General and maybe *Dio*, but the General is a bit too obvious and *Dio* should be floating around in space.
    So that leaves someone we supposedly left on good terms with – perhaps Dolly has snapped out of her senility and is mad Sinbad never came back? Perhaps Llewellyn’s initial appearance was more than coincidence? Perhaps there’s even more to Jaqim’s situation than we’ve heard?

    Anyway, I’m just waiting for the moment we find out that after the cabbie no longer has to work due to Sinbad’s money he decides to become a scholar.

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