can see,” I continued at last. “And I have travelled the world, but I still hunger for new sights and new knowledge. To my poor wife’s annoyance, I decided to take a detour on my way to the new world. I wanted to see the Far East, as this may well be my last journey before I settle in a new country to live out my latter years.
“When I heard stories of this strange desert community, I could not resist a journey here.” I smiled at him again. “It was not easy to arrange this trip, but I suppose you know about that yourself.” I offered my hand. “My name is John Greenway,” I said.
The sorcerer returned my smile, obviously glad of a friendly face and a potential companion in his lonely vigil. “I am called Brengazi,” he said. “I am what they call a sorcerer in my own land, so you should know that at once, in case you see strangeness in my ways.”
I peered at him in some surprise, but again avoided looking into his eyes. “A sorcerer?” I repeated slowly. “Wizards, witches, alchemists and black magic, that sort of thing? I thought that stuff had died out about two hundred years ago – I mean, we are into the second half of the eighteen hundreds, after all.”
The sorcerer laughed lightly. “I know,” he agreed. “And it has died out for the most part. But there are still dark corners of the world where time has stood still for centuries, and my people are of these lands. Much of the magic lies in illusion, in what we can release in the other person’s mind.
“The darker their minds and the deeper their superstitions. the easier is our task,” he grinned. “But we are moving into a more complex and modern world, my friend, and even my own country is coming into a new age. People like you who are well-travelled and educated are unlikely to fall under the spell of a sorcerer. We must therefore ply our trade in the darker corners of the earth while we are still in demand. My father feared the new age, and he was full of regret that much of his life’s work had been spent working for evil rulers. He wanted a better role for me and my children when they come, a chance to use what powers I have for good. That is why I am here in this strange land.”
I nodded, wondering what mysterious mission had led my new friend to this place, but I was reluctant to ask just yet. We sat together and talked for hours and, as we got to know one another better, we began to relax and openly share the experiences of our lives. It was then that he began to relate a fantastic story that eclipsed even my wildest thoughts of adventure. The things he told me as we sat quietly under the date palms had taken him two years to discover, but he was now nearing the end of his mission. Like his forebears, the sorcerer told me he could create the illusion of fire with a sweep of his hand, or instill images in the minds of his enemies that appeared real and frightening. As long as he could see his foes, he could create fearful monsters or waves of attacking troops with just the power of his mind; or he could conjure up desert storms, or plagues of imaginary insects, or hundreds of squirming and hissing snakes to confuse and terrify his opponents. Many of these powers had had their origins in the darkness of ancient times, when evil rulers retained sorcerers to help protect them from their enemies.
‘It was two years ago when my father sent me on this quest,’ he explained. ‘He was on his deathbed at the time, but he insisted that I go into the desert to find a mysterious white maiden who has been blessed with special healing powers. This maiden had been revealed to him by the winds and in his dreams.’ The sorcerer soon settled into his tale, and I sat in silent wonder as he spoke in his quiet way.
* * *
His father had believed that this desert flower was the woman destined to marry his son, and that any child of the union would be born with new and wonderful powers that would be greater than the sum of the parts.
Sorcerers were becoming out of date in a modern and complex world, his father had said. He wanted his son to take the powers that had often been used for dark purposes and join them with the healing powers of the white princess, and then to use those powers for good rather than evil. Already this maiden had become a legend in her own land, rising to cult status with the people. From the day she was born, however, she had incurred the wrath of her father, the chief, who had been outraged to see that she was as white of hair and pink of skin as a new-born lamb, while he was as dark and rugged as the desert night. He had his wife put to the sword at once for her suspected infidelity, and he vowed to watch the child closely to see what manner of evil she would bring. The child was denied her birthright as a princess and forced to live with the servants and slaves.
The chief had ruled his household and his people with an iron fist, routinely robbing and pillaging the desert settlements and any caravan that dared stray near his territory. With the great wealth he acquired for himself, he built a huge castle on a large and fertile oasis in the middle of the desert. The people came daily to the great castle to pay taxes or to bring gifts and offerings to the chief. Those who failed to pay their taxes were visited by soldiers who would seize their possessions or stock. If there was nothing of value to steal, the people were taken into slavery or brutally killed as a warning to others.
Shuddering, Brengazi paused for a time in his narration. At last he continued, explaining how the desert ruler liked to strip his enemies naked and then peg them out on a meat-ants’ nest. He would then watch in morbid fascination while they died in slow screaming agony as the ants stripped the flesh from their bones.
Because he did not really believe her to be his own, the chief never bothered to give the girl a name. But the desert people called her Nan – the white princess – and it was as Nan that she soon became known throughout the desert communities. As the girl grew into a beautiful young woman she began to make daily visits to one of the many wells in the oasis with the other servants, to draw water and to bathe. As word of her presence spread, the desert people began to gravitate towards the strange albino girl, believing her to have magical healing powers. Even though her father had denied her, the people accepted her as a princess who had been sent by the gods to help them. Crowds of people from far and wide would gather at the well each day for a glimpse of the girl, the very same well that I could now see in the shadows under the towering palms. The people believed that if she looked kindly upon the sick, or weak and infirm, they would soon be cured of whatever ailed them. One day a woman with leprosy had come to the well to meet the girl, pushing through the crowd and begging for help. The girl had smiled at the woman and beckoned her to come near, and then she had poured her pail of cool spring water over the woman’s sores. A month later the woman had returned to the well, her sores healed and her voice raised in praise of her benefactor.
The sorcerer had heard this story and many more as he searched for the girl, and now, at last, his quest had led him to this great oasis. Like me, he had posed as an innocent Bedouin with few real possessions or wealth; for to do otherwise would have attracted the attention of the desert chief. But for a long time no expedition had gone into this part of the world, because the desert chief was known to attack and rob any passing travellers, murdering the people and stealing their camels and goods. I nodded as I listened – for I had experienced the same problems in finding passage to this place myself. At last, however, he had found a shrewd man who enjoyed a special arrangement with the desert chief, bringing in much-needed trade supplies in safety in exchange for a share of the profits. After much bargaining, the man had agreed to take the sorcerer to the edge of the oasis. Once he left the protection of the supply caravan, however, his life would be in his own hands. It had taken him a long time to reach this point, Brengazi explained, but soon he hoped his quest would be over.
* * *
It was just after dawn when the sorcerer finished his story; and others had begun quietly to collect at the oasis, waiting as we were waiting. Then he suddenly fell quiet as Nan, the beautiful white princess we had been discussing, appeared with her entourage.
We sat in silent wonder and watched the girl draw water from the well. Her movements were gentle and delicate in the soft light of dawn. A faint
