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Part 3B
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(Yusuf)

Cairo, 12th century


This hour, the markets teemed with shouting and haggling, the smells of warm cinnamon and the bite of spice thick in the air. It smelled of activity, of a life he once knew, before the snick of his scimitar sliced through bodies and the shouts were battle cries.

"You miss this."

Yusuf glanced over at Nicolo. His friend looked fairly better, brightening under the generous light of a morning sun.

"Not as lively as the docks, I am sure. They kept you busy, but look!" Yusuf flung his arms wide, waggling his brow as a vendor's daughter giggled at his antics. "There is nothing more wondrous than a market!"

Nicolo chuckled, a rare sound and more delightful to hear than the vendor's daughter's. He ducked his head to avoid Yusuf's enthusiastic gesture. His brown hair covered his eyes briefly before Nicolo huffed and pushed it back from his face.

"It is indeed full of color." Nicolo agreed. He glanced about with curious eyes. "I did not realize there was so many things."

Yusuf's cheer dimmed. He was either bent over scrolls and ink, or hunched over texts in the various libraries. Nicolo's grasp of Arabic and the smattering of Greek was passable for conversation, but his reading was still poor at best. It took Nicolo time. Time they both have plenty, but time that also require coin.

Between Yusuf's work and Nicolo in the docks from sun rise to moon rise, Nicolo never ventured further than the outer circle of the markets, purchasing what they needed and nothing more.

"Come," Yusuf announced. He dropped an arm over Nicolo's shoulders. Nicolo was almost his height, yet his friend was hunched over these days as if fearing notice. A habit born from his fair skin and light eyes. And his paleness branded him after the failed attack of Damascus. There were vendors who would not sell to Nicolo, not when he was alone.

Yusuf gestured towards the entirety of the market. "Let me show you so much color, you will be blinded by it."

"Sounds painful," Nicolo returned dryly, but let Yusuf steer him into the inner mazes of market.

If Yusuf tucked Nicolo a little tighter to him as they walked, it was only because he feared Nicolo would get lost.





"We should not have get it." Yusuf shook his head even as he curled his hand tighter on the purchase. He walked faster, but not too fast he left Nicolo behind.

"You said it was good for fine line work," Nicolo reminded him, ever sharp with memory if not also dull in understanding what Yusuf was trying to say.

"It is, but it is also too much coin." Yusuf shook the wrapped pen towards Nicolo.

"I still say we should have gotten another blanket instead." Yusuf shook his head at Nicolo's blank expression.

"We already have one," Nicolo said slowly as if Yusuf was the one who did not understand. The vial of ink secured carefully in Nicolo's belt sloshed gently against his hip as he twisted towards where they came.

"And that's another thing, we do not need so much ink or such quality. What he charged, the ink should write itself!"

"We forgot the oil for the lamp," Nicolo said distractedly. The only indication he heard Yusuf was his hand curled around the vial of ink, guarding it from the jostling. Yusuf's mind stuttered at the gesture.

"The what? No, no. We will get it next time," Yusuf was starting to feel weary. The ink will be compensated once he is paid for his work.

The pen, however, was an expense he did not predict. The coin was to be added to the fund he carefully constructed to support their journey to find the two women. He dreamed about them again last night. Nicolo was too deep in his exhaustion that he did not remember any dream when he woke.

"The women were in greenery, wet and thick, like places in the East." Yusuf held up the package and turned it round and round. "We need to find a ship willing to take us as far East it could. We would also need supplies. We need to buy gems and silver because we do not have their currency."

Yusuf sighed. "What we do not need are pens."

Nicolo stared expressionless a few paces from Yusuf. He was still half turned to return to the previous stalls.

"I will get more coin," Nicolo uttered. His throat worked as he swallowed. "Keep the pen. I will get more money."

Yusuf shook his head. "Take me to whom you work for in the docks. If they are so busy they require help at night, they will want to hire more hands."

"I will get more coin," Nicolo repeated, ignoring what Yusuf said.

"Nicolo--"

"I will get the oil." Nicolo sun around sharply and started back to the stalls they visited.

"Get the blanket instead," Yusuf called after him.





Nicolo did not get the blanket.

Yusuf glared at Nicolo, but did not toss the basket of breads and cheeses at his friend. He haggled congenially with the maternal vendors of the bread stall. The two women took pity on Yusuf's distracted state as he kept glancing over to spot Nicolo with hopefully an arm full of thick blankets. Alas, the fool returned with a vessel of oil large enough to keep the darkness away for two weeks.

But this is the first time in many days his friend smiled, even if it was for purchase Yusuf thought should have been reserved for Nicolo instead. Nicolo looked so pleased with himself. The oil vendor never filled the vessel full but charged him for one anyone.

It must be the vendor's wife today. Nicolo was oblivious to how many's ire crumpled under the gentle and respectful tones of Nicolo's voice. Some, like Yusuf, found his stilted Arabic charming as he stumbled earnestly for the proper word to say.

Yusuf swallowed his disapproval. He thanked Nicolo, possibly more profusely than warranted. Nicolo was like a seedling under water. His lingering lethargy was gone, his posture straighter. How could Yusuf destroy this? It was sunlight in a break of clouds.

Still...

"A blanket would have been nice," Yusuf sighed as they walked.

"Are you still cold?" Nicolo frowned to himself.

"Am I, no, Nicolo, I was thinking the blanket be for--"

"Spiced meat," Nicolo said and he was steering for the stall faster than Yusuf could curse after him. He put his foot down on the spiced meat, insisting they get the plain fist size of goat's shin instead. The blander meat should be a friendly option for Nicolo's current stomach pains. Nicolo rolled his eyes--a new gesture Yusuf found inexplicable delight to see--and bought the shin.

They have been in each other's lives long enough to pick their battles. If Nicolo insisted on wasting coin on pens and ink, then he will have to tolerate Yusuf's determination to buy the least flavorful and blandest of food.

"I told you I am fed in the docks. I am not there often to choke on your horrible cooking," Nicolo muttered as he tugged his hair that refused to stay behind his ear.

"Not fed enough," Yusuf retorted as he craned to spot the stalls for fruit. "Your cheekbones can cut deeper than my scimitar."

Nicolo was about to say something more but a breeze riffled through, sending hair into his mouth.

"You should have tied it back like before," Yusuf snickered. He reached up and cupped the ends of Nicolo's hair. "But this is an improvement. You only look half as disgruntled."

Nicolo scoffed. He swatted Yusuf's hand with little heat. He tugged another strand of hair again, sighing when another breeze fluttered past and destroyed his efforts. He shot Yusuf a rueful look, a shy smile tilted up at the corner as he shrugged.

Yusuf's mouth went dry. The dark tea in the other stall left him unusually parched after trying only a sip. The vendor promised the tea soothed any stomach of a weak disposition. He tried it while Nicolo wandered off. He returned with a small plain wooden box filled with thick textured sheets. They smelled slightly damp, a clean scent of freshly cut grass.

Nicolo insisted the paper was not expensive, but regrettably, this was all they have. Far more than Yusuf ever had at once, Yusuf tried to reassure his friend.

Yusuf wasn't sure why Nicolo considered it a personal failing; he didn't like how it made the smudges under Nicolo's eyes darker. Like a cloud robbing light from the bright moon.

"Are you all right?" Nicolo frowned, stopping in his tracks.

It was then, Yusuf realized he himself had stopped walking. He shook his head and out of the corner of his eye, he soon became glad he stopped.

"Come here," Yusuf beckoned with a wave of hand to the stall of spiced fruits. "They are rarely here." Dirar must have returned. Yusuf hoped it meant the merchant would be in need of more script work.

Nicolo peered at the wooden bins of apricots and figs floating in thick speckled syrups.

"...those are figs?" Nicolo said doubtfully as he pointed to the apricots.

"No, no, but they are very good. Apricots." Yusuf repeated the word, nodding as Nicolo repeated the word in Arabic.

"No, no, Nicolo," Yusuf groaned, not unkindly. "You pronounce it like a sneezing cat! The last part should be sounding like--"

"Are you now a teacher as well, Yusuf?"

"Dirar!" Yusuf exclaimed. The merchant stood a head than Yusuf and he needed to stoop under the canopy hanging over his wares. His unusual height, the solid thickness of his build plus his dark skin made him a striking figure against the pale fabric of his robes. He laughed deep from the belly as he clasped Yusuf's forearm in greeting.

"I did not expect to see you until week's end." Yusuf's eyebrow rose when he realized Nicolo hung back, almost lost in the crowds. He supposed Nicolo was being cautious and did not want to offend any of Yusuf's acquaintances.

"Alas, a storm steered my ship back to Cairo." Dirar's obsidian eyes drifted to the shadow off Yusuf's right shoulder. "Truly unfortunate."

Yusuf's stomach sank. "Ah, then you were unable to deliver the scrolls to the buyer."

Dirar grimaced. Wrinkles formed on his smooth forehead. He swept a broad hand over his sleek shaved head.

"No, I am sorry. Here, I can purchase one of them if you wish. I do not have much, but allow me to--"

"That is not necessary. Perhaps another would be interested." Yusuf shook his head, but his posture must have betrayed him. Nicolo stepped closer, his eyes questioning.

"Hello," Dirar murmured. He offered a tight-lipped smile. "Nicolo, is it, not?"

Yusuf shook himself out of his calculations spinning in his head. "Where are my manners? Nicolo, this is Dirar. He has been helping me find buyers for my work."

Dirar's smile widened. "We've already met."

Nicolo tensed next to Yusuf.

"Yes," Nicolo said stiffly, "At the docks."

Yusuf nodded. He mock scowled at Dirar.

"So you are the one keeping my friend up so late at night." Yusuf wagged a finger at Dirar. "The moon rises first before he returns."

"Not just me," Dirar said. His eyes drifted up and down Nicolo. His mouth curved, his eyes gleaming with humor.

"He is a hard worker. I recommend him to many of my friends...at the docks." He abruptly clapped his hands.

Next to Yusuf, Nicolo twitched, unnoticeable if he were not standing close to Yusuf. He felt the jolt against his arm.

"I am being a rude host," Dirar boomed. "I bring many sweets from afar. These are my favorites." He speared a dripping apricot with a thin dagger that hung over his meaty hip. With deft fingers, he sliced a golden wedge dripping with syrup. He offered it to Yusuf on the flat of his blade.

The stewed mishmish was tasty, not too sweet, with a hint of cinnamon and cardamom.

"It is good," Yusuf agreed. He waved a hand on his nose. "However, they reek like you."

Dirar laughed and it shook his entire frame. "I am in ships of fruit and spice all day. I piss cinnamon and cardamom by now."

Yusuf snorted. "Better than ink." He ruefully gazed down at the barrel. The coins from the sale would have been helpful.

"Perhaps next time," Yusuf said with regret.

"Would Nicolo like a taste?"

Yusuf frowned when he realized Dirar has sliced a thicker wedge of fruit. He stood over Nicolo, a hand opened palm up in offering.

The taste of cardamom clung to the back of Yusuf's throat. He shook his head.

"Better not. He would not like it."

Dirar canted his head, his dagger dripping with syrup. He plucked the wedge with a surprisingly delicate touch and held up the fruit.

"I can not imagine," Dirar rumbled, "someone would not enjoy this once it is in his mouth. A taste is all I ask."

"Fine," Nicolo said, near snapping and he reached for the fruit.

"No, no, allow me."

To Yusuf's surprise though, Dirar did not offer the apricot on his blade like he did with Yusuf. He pressed the apricot to Nicolo's lips. With a murmur only Nicolo could hear, Dirar pushed the fruit into Nicolo's mouth with a thumb.

Nicolo locked colorless eyes on Dirar, craning to look up because Dirar towered Nicolo and suddenly Yusuf did not find the height difference amusing.

Dirar tsked. "Not good? You do not swallow, Nicolo."

Yusuf frowned. "Nicolo, you should not--"

With a loud gulp, Nicolo swallowed the fruit.

"Good?" Dirar murmured.

Nicolo looked away, his jaw clenched.

"It is late in the day," Yusuf said. He looked at Nicolo and Dirar with narrowed eyes.

"We will see each other again, Yusuf," Dirar said, but his eyes were on Nicolo. "You, too."

No, they will not. The thought popped into Yusuf's head fierce and startling. He did not reply. He nodded curtly to Dirar, liking Dirar's small smile less and less but did not know why. When he turned around, Nicolo was gone.