Ibrahim

[Eulalios]

Tower of La Zuda; 13th of Truces, 268 H
It is an early summer afternoon and you are kneeling at a low table, reading aloud to the Lady Deirdre and the Lord Rafal ibn Qasi (it is her week to host her bed-ridden husband in her half of the family apartments) a letter. The letter, written in Arabic by a talented calligrapher, opens with a traditional formula of salutation, first extolling the accomplishments of Banu Qasi, then humbly beseeching the Lord Rafal, steward and warden of Saraqusta, master of La Zuda, to hear the words written by "your humblest of correspondents, the one called Abjel, vizier of his Magnificence, Commander of the Faithful, Amir Muhammad, namesake of GOD's Prophet, peace be upon him, pacifier of Tulaytulah, etc., etc."

Lady Deirdre sighs gently and sways just a little among the cushions that cover her divan, a platform of wood elegantly carved and positioned in the cross-breeze from the western windows through the glass beads obscuring the wide central arch that leads into Lady Serendib's apartments. The movement might be meant to draw attention to the shape of her body; at least, the Lord Rafal glances over with an appreciative grimace from his gently inclined platform nearer to the arch. She banters with her husband in Castilian:
(Deirdre) "A bit much, I've always thought. Ibrahim, skip to the point if you please."
(Rafal)"Wife! Let the Amir have his titles - and note his courtesy, he omitted Saraqusta from his list of deeds."
The old man gestures for you to continue reading, and in Mozarabic adds "... but a bit quicker, please."

Racing through the remaining half-page of honors, you arrive at the part of the vellum scroll that gets to the point(s) of the letter:

• trade and travel are poor between Córdoba and Saraqusta, due to the arrogance of petty lords
  Muhammad's son, al-Mundhir, therefore will traverse the route to bring his father's greetings to Lord Rafal
  he of course will be glad to receive the gifts of vassalage, so long delayed by the regrettably poor travel conditions
  the Defender of the Faithful of course understands his loyal vassal's reluctance to send such gifts along a doubtful road
  but as al-Mundhir will be traveling with several thousands of well-armed men, to be sure, there need be no fear that the gifts will be lost en route back to their grateful recipient
  the Commander of the Faithful remains solicitously, your gentle and generous master, etc., etc., with all best wishes for your continued health and the successful futures of your children

When you are finished you look up to see the Lady Deirdre staring grimly out the western window. Lord Rafal's eyes are closed, but his jaw is set like a clamp, his nostrils are flared, and his sword-hand lightly clenches and relaxes in a way that makes his arthritic knuckles sound like castanets. Again in Mozarabic, he orders you, "Go get my sons."

Lady Deirdre adds in Castilian, "... and Walenty." In the same tongue, Rafal answers, "He's my son, also. The smart one." (This might be taken as a slight of Bleithhad, who despite his pretensions, lacks the older son-in-law's accomplishments as a poet and historian).

In Mozarabic, Deirdre tells you, "Go on, Ibrahim. And thank you. Leave the letter, please."

please narrate a couple of places you would look for Haroun, Walenty, "Blaise," and possibly Dafytth (who's not that often in town)
Here's a quick key to the street map (ignore the stuff outside the big brown walls):

1. the Grand Masjid
2. the Tower La Zuda (where you at)
   Between the Mosque and the Tower is a big flat narrow plaza, about a quarter mile long and forty yards across. At either side are merchant buildings, two or three stories high with open-fronted shops at street level, storage behind and above them and attic apartments as well. Near the Tower at the left side, looking toward the Mosque, is la Iglesia de Nustra Duena de Pilar - the dhimmi shrine to the mother of Jesus. In afternoons it is deserted. It's mostly of interest to Banu Qasi because the Christian bishop has for centuries held authority over several Roman towers behind and flanking la Iglesia. Those towers, overlooking the River Ebro, are used as granaries, which in good years store as much as 400 tons (15,000 bushels) of dried sorghum brought in from the surrounding fields. That's grain enough to feed the town's 12,000 people for about seventy five days - you've helped Blaise and Walenty work the calculus on this.
3. the Bridge Gate (where farmers and merchants from the north bring in their wagons to the Plaza)
   Haroun, as Captain of his father's guards, will often roam here to "inspect" (throw his weight around).
4. the Inner Gate Tulaytulah (where farmers and merchants coming in from the western hills, south of the River, wrestle their wagons through a difficult turn)
   No-one knows why this gate has this name, as the road from it actually runs straight northwest up the Ebro River, never going anywhere toward Toledo.
5. the Fountain Gate
   Blaise likes to watch the fountain, and the girls coming from the surrounding shops to dip water in big jars that they carry at their hips and on their shoulders.
6. the Quince Gate { I recently learned that orange trees had not yet been brought west to Spain, until about 1000 AD }
   Walenty often can be found under a cabana just inside this gate, watching the sunlight cast shadows through the quince leaves, and composing poetry.
7. the Outer Gate Tulaytulah
   Busy place with lots of shops and stall vendors. Good place for purchasing animals and animal products. Still no idea why it's named for a city to which its road does not run.
8. the Gate Portillo
   Opens onto the pasture lands between the Tulaytulah road and the road south toward Tulaytulah. Beyond the miles of pasture, are the steep hills. If you find Dafytth anywhere in town, most likely he'll be in one of the dhimmi wine shops here.
9. the Gate Built by Baltax
   Also opens onto the pasture lands.
10. the Gate Christian
    There is a shrine to various Christian martyrs just outside this gate. Beyond the shrine, the Roman road runs straight southward toward Tulaytulah.
11. the Tanners' Gate (the downwind part of town, where the pisswagons dump their vats into the bleaching pits; all the heavy industries of Saraqusta are in this end of the town)

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim bowed to the lord and lady and made his way down the tower. He scanned some of the rooms briefly in case the errant children were staying nearby, perhaps in secret tryst right under their parents' noses. Then he made his way to the fountain gate first, watching the women coming and going and the sunlight shimmer and shatter in the flowing water. He thought Blaise would be the easiest to convince to come anyway, and the pleasing sights in the area certainly didn't dissuade him from searching there first.

After the fountain gate, he would go to the Walenty gate next. Haroun was likely to be the hardest to convince, and he'd rather hear poetry than pointless boasts. Not to mention that making Haroun arrive last would embarrass him before his parents.

[Eulalios]

It's past the time of mid-day prayer (angelus or zuhr), not yet the time of afternoon prayer (asr), and so the plaza and the streets and alleys toward the Fountain Gate are busy with commerce. You nostrils savor the stenches of horse and camel dung, of sweating and perfumed women and men, hot tallow in a chandler's open shopfront, wood shavings a few shops along where an artisan shapes a cabinet. Two sitarists are having a contest. A silversmith's hammer tings and tinks. People shove through the crowds but look at your bearing and clothing, and give you room.

At a cross street you notice the Gaul, a relative newcomer toward whom Haroun, that big lout, has shown ... the kind of condescension that he might mean to be friendly. The Gaul nods to you, and continues southeast toward the Piss Ward.

At the Fountain Gate you pass under the horseshoe arch that Andals built into a torn-down section of the twenty-foot-thick Roman wall. The "newer" arch is roughly square, twenty feet high and fifteen across - big enough for two wagons to pass with gaps around them. Five guards lounge their backs against the curving wall in the shade, inside the arch of the gate, casually gripping their spears and occasionally calling out at the girls who dip their vases into the fountain pool under the hot mid-afternoon sun. The water from the aqueduct overflows the knee-high wall of the circular marble pool, and wets the thick square stones of the plaza, trickling to the grates that open down to the ancients' sewers.

Though many dozens of people are here, you see nor Blaise nor any other son of Rafal.

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim approaches the five guards stationed at the gate. He moves confidently, but calmly. He has served around the ruling family of the city long enough to understand how to move around guards and his body language before he said a word was already telling them: "I am no threat, but I possess authority." When he did approach them, he spoke calmly but respectfully, asking them where to find Haroun, Blase, and Walenty, if they knew the whereabout of any of them. It was, of course, not a matter of any particular importance, but it was a task given to him, and so he would carry it out faithfully.

[Eulalios]

Soon before the afternoon prayers; the Fountain Gate; clear hot summer skies; the 13th day of the Month of Truces, 268 H
Ibrahim, five guards armed with spears, numerous pretty girls and laborers passing by

The guards are unimpressed by the names of Blaise or Walenty but straighten to more ordered postures when you mention Haroun. "The Captain was here before noon," says one, a short gutty man with a helpful face and tone. "He came from the west, and rode on toward the east, on his regular tour."

In the blue-white southern sky, east of the sun, you notice a single dark bird distantly gyring, then swerving to plunge. It plummets past the roofline, out of view, beyond the outer wall. Perhaps a golden eagle striking a rabbit.

"Here, sir, don't you work for the Younger Lady?" asks another of the guards, unremarkable aside from the earless scar down the left side of his head and neck. His tone is not quite confrontational. "What you want with the Captain, then?"

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim. 10 hp, 13 AC

Ibrahim gives the guard a polite, but very shallow bow, and begins melting himself back into the crowd, heading to the Quince gate, where Walenty was often to be found. As he departed from the guard's question, he smiled amicably and told the man, "surely, if that information was necessary for you, you would already know it." He nodded, and slipped into the crowd before the guard could try to detain him, moving amongst the laborers easily and fluidly.

[Eulalios]

The call to prayer; edge of the Tanners' Ward; hot summer afternoon, long shadows; 13th of the Month of Truces, 268 H
The one-eared guard just chuckles at your comment. "Right you are, lad."

Outside the inner wall, the buildings of the town are more spread out and tend toward low mixed-use buildings that surround and open mainly onto large courtyards (as much as half an acre large) with small vegetable gardens and orchards visible through the pillared breezeways. Thus, aside from passing a few shop fronts, you walk the street between blank walls no more than eight or ten feet high, with small windows set high up near the eaves of the tiled roofs.

It is near half a mile along to the edge of the Tanners' Ward, where all the smoky, stenchy, dangerous, or otherwise unpleasant work is done. Just as the head of your long shadow crosses from the swept stones of the outer residential / commercial district onto the packed dirt of the workshop district, you hear a muezzin echo across the rooftops from the minaret overlooking the plaza. The other people on the street hasten to your right down a side street, where you remember that a local imam maintains a musalla next to his tailor shop. It is certainly too far to reach the Qasi family's preferred place at the Great Mosque, before the second call.

What do you do?

[Anarion55]

The best place to find the children and inform them of their parents' desires was surely at the great mosque where they would come to prayer. Ibrahim hastened that way, though he might have preferred a prayer in relative anonymity at the local tailor's, it was not his duty to satisfy himself, but to pass on the missive that he had been given.

[Eulalios]

asr; Quince Street; hot and cloudless; 13th of Truces
Hastening through the reeking industrial Ward, you approach and might pass by a forge in which the fire flames and the hammer clangs against the second calling of the trumpet from the muezzin tower. The burly smith and his assistant oblivious continue their labors, heaving the hammer for delicate drops, hauling the bellows to pump the flames hot. Glancing away from the open shop the afternoon sun seems dim.

The rest of the way toward the Quince Gate is quiet. At the gate the guards are in the midst of watch-change. Those handing off their spears thump fists to chests to acknowledge your status as one of Lord Rafal's retainers. They fall in with your hurried pace; they, also, are after the first flood of prayer from which their reliefs just came. Yet you are within the acceptable time; you have until sunset to complete the obligation. Your "lateness" is only unfashionable, not a matter of sin.

At the east end of the plaza, as you start to your right hand up the steps toward the mosque door, you see Haroun and his Gaul proceeding down the steps to your left toward the Tower at the far end of the plaza. The Gaul has his head stooped toward Haroun, who is about six inches shorter and broader. Indeed the Gaul is about midway in height, between yourself and Arpad, with Haroun being even a little bit shorter than you. This is not something that usually has occurred to you when dealing face-to-face with Lord Rafal's eldest son. He has an imposing presence.

As you enter, the acolytes are draining the troughs and have only small bowls of fresh clean water to offer for ablutions. Your prayers are respectfully swift, burdened by the knowledge that you have not in fact sent a single one of Lord Rafal's sons to see him. Doubtless he might already have spoken with them all after prayers.

When you exit the mosque, the Gaul is waiting. "Ibrahim?" he asks. "Lord Rafal's sons have gathered but for one. The one called Brigand is not of the town." he grimaces. "Lord Haroun command I should ride with you, out the Gate that Baltax Built, past the pasture, up into the craggy hill. We must find Daffythh. Here is a message from the Young Lady his mother." He gives you a sealed scroll.

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim grimaced. The task had not been an easy one: like rolling dice on a game of chance with only a few favorable outcomes. Still, he had expected to find at least one of his charges, and he hoped the Lady did not think him useless after such a failure. He gave the Gaul a nod, then opened the scroll to read its message. Ibrahim resolved at that moment that he would not return without Daffythh in tow.

[Eulalios]

The scroll is written hastily, in Castilian, with a thin and scratchy Greek script, which you recognize as that of Lady Deirdre's own hand. Dearest little monster, a messenger passed your road to us, with news from Cordoba. Go look at the road and send your own word how it is. When your father is better we maybe can picnic on the hills above town like when you were little. Your Mother.

[Anarion55]

I never got an email that this updated. Sorry!

Ibrahim grimaced again at the contents. Such cruelty and demands. He could see why the young man didn't much want to be home. But it was his lady's place to give out cruelty if she felt her children were not living up to her expectations, and it was always her place to give commands.

"Are you coming then?" He closed the scroll and shouldered his pack, making haste for the stables, unless the Gaul had been considerate enough to bring him a horse of his own.

[Eulalios]

"Assure yourself, I alongcoming," answers the Gaul in his pidgin Mozarabic. He has been in al-Andalus barely longer than you have been in Saraqusta, and seems to have minimal skill or interest in learning languages. "Here the boy bring the horses." He stretches his clean hand toward the plaza, where a boy of ten or eleven stands holding the halters of two horses brought already saddled, and a third already packed, from the stables by the Tower.

It is an easy ride out of the plaza to the Fountain Gate, then to the Gate Built by Baltax, and out into the pasture lands under the steep southern hills. Then in the afternoon sunlight you'll be riding up among sheep, past the pasture edge into the scrubby woodlands where the rocky and ravined land won't carry good grass. You've seen it all from the south window of the family apartments.

On the way toward the Fountain Gate, Ogier the Gaul asks, "What you think, how we find him Dafythh?"

[Anarion55]

"I'm no tracker" said Ibrahim's, "but we know where he is often found, and there are men who live and work outside the city walls. Farmers, soldiers, travelers. They see the comings and flings from the city. We have but to to ask in the proper way. We'll begin by riding out near where Daf was last supposed to have been and go from there." And he did so, spurring the horses onward to see what or who was to be found.

[Eulalios]

[5d6s6] = 1 The guards at the Fountain Gate merely blink at you, except for the earless one, who chuckles. "First the Captain, now the Brigand," he says to you. Nodding to Ogier: "Hello to you, north-born." Giving you back his attention, "Out past the Gate That Baltax Built, up into the hills. He owns the fourth village down the main track; ask there for his now-abouts. Have a safe evening's ride, cavaliers."

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim nodded at the guards in thanks and spurred on his horse. It was not a short ride, though he hoped it would be an uneventful one. He rather liked being on horseback. It represented freedom and strength. So long as you were on a horse, you could go anywhere, never fearing that you couldn't make it to the next stop on your route. The roads had been built for messengers on horseback, after all.

After a while riding, he turned to the Gaul. "So, what brings you to this small part of the world?"

[Eulalios]

Baltax Gate, early late afternoon, hot and clear, 13th of Truces
Ogier smiles. "Son born last," he says, "small house. Learned weapons and horses, no like for writing. No place in church me for. Thus, year wandering years turned wandered. Better weather south of mountains. I over come." It is the most Mozarabic you ever have heard from his mouth at one bout. He rides easy, dust puffing from his mount's hooves striking the dirt road that strolls from the Fountain Plaza southwest among the high-walled villas toward the Gate That Baltax Built.

The few guards at the Baltax Gate lift hands lazily to the rims of their helmets. The gate has no traffic. The street goes through into a dusty acre before the wall, and then from the edge of the acre grassy slopes rise smoothly south til they hit the scrubby-treed knees of the brown and red craggy hills. The wall stretches left and right, unmanned, curving more than a mile each way, pierced by other gates as it goes. "Hard to defend," says Ogier looking back over his shoulder, then up toward the crags a league distant. He shrugs. "Hard to attack. Easy to siege."

There is a track through the pasture up toward the hills, but up close it's harder to see than from the tower window. You pass a dozen different herds of sheep along your half-hour ride to the treeline. The trees themselves - olives, almonds, lemons, oleander, cedar - stand barely higher than your head in soil too poor for grass. They are clumped by species, and somewhat aligned, like remnants of an ancient orchard and woodlot grown together.

Ibrahim Perception [1d20] = 6

Ogier Perception [1d20+1] = 15+1 = 16

"Oh look," says Ogier as you near the trees. "A hawk."

Southeast from you, over the main road from the Christians Gate toward Toledo, a distant bird spirals upward into the blue-white sky.

The horses find it tricky getting up the part of the trail that goes sidelong to the hillside, then ducks into a gully. After another twenty minutes you ride at the hilltops, amid bare dirt and pebbles and bushes with their roots dug into rock. The sun is hot in your eyes as it slides down the sky to your right. Ahead, the trail wiggles down the hillside, crosses a stream at a ford, and pauses in a village of a dozen huts before continuing up the next hillside. Hundreds of goats graze the valley. A half-dozen herders watch them. A pack of several dogs, apparently guarding fruit trees from goats, lie under the shade of an orchard above the village.

You could probably reach the top of the next hill before sundown.

[Anarion55]

"Let's stop in the village" Ibrahim says, reining in his horse. "My skills are best with men and weakest with horse and dog tracks."

He reins the horse in and turns into the little road, knowing the Gaul will follow. It isn't steep once he's among the huts, and he slows the horse to a walk as he looks around to see whether anyone in the village is present to freet him. Sheep herders probably didn't see a new man on horseback everyday, but neither was the town so distant that he should appear entirely unknown to them. He took care to direct the horse on a broad path so that it would not harm the huts or people's goods and pottery if it were startled, and he allowed the dogs to follow at a safe distance without trying to shoo them off.

[Eulalios]

No one of the people in the village greets you. You count ten mothers, six grandmothers, and give up on counting the fast-moving children, who have made a game of hiding from you and peeping at Ogier. They all are shy of you. When you look over the roofs of the lower huts, you see that their husbands (the goat herds) have eyes on you from the hillsides.

"Foreigner I," says Ogier in his poorly-accented Mozarabic, "if I ask a question they won't speak."

[Anarion55]

Ibrahim spoke loudly, so the men could hear too, and in the native accent. "Be not afraid. We are but messengers, sent to find prince Daffythh, who rides through these hills. Surely you noble goatherds, who travel the land to graze, can speed is on our way. We would remember your aid."