"Hear, hear!"
"A sultan! A prince! Now even a Maharajah! What else will he come up with?!"
"Don't forget the sand-monsters…"
"…that was great, right!"
"Keep going!"
"Yeah! Keep going man, I wan to know what happens next!"
"Dear, that must be the longest tale that was ever told here…"
"Amazing! That time thing, simply amazing! You are the best!"
"Hey, what about the army?"
"Don't stop now!"
"Yeah! I'm gonna piss myself any second, but I wouldn't want to miss a word of it!…"
"…Ahmud, shut up, you old pig!"
"Three cheers and another round to the storyteller!"
"Put some coins on the table friends, he earned it!"
"Yeah, buy him another round. Even a bulldog would be hoarse by now!"
"Hah, a bulldog would be stinkin' DEAD after that much talking."
"Don't be stingy pals, I want to see a Dinar from each of you!"
"More beer!"
"Samir! BEER!"
The innkeeper had been sitting at the low round table, along with pretty much everyone else in the single room of the tavern tightly wrapped in a cheap camel-hair mantle against the nightly cold, and totally mesmerized by the stranger's words. Now that the sound of hard coins was being heard again he staggered to his feet and hustled for a new jug to please the few poor road travellers that had decided to spend the rest of the night at this godforsaken rat hole in the midst of nowhere. A mere couple of hours ago they had all been sipping hot cardamom tea and just silently stared at the fire like they usually did, but now that the storyteller was here the men ordered coffee and several rounds of old barley beer. One had even built up a water pipe, it's delicate flavour gently fought off the pungent smell from the nearby stable and almost made one forget that this was just a measly road inn, not one of the luxurious menhouses in the capital.
"What's this man doing here?" the innkeeper's wife hissed when her husband rummaged the pantry.
"Why, I don't care. The entire past month I didn't see as much coin as today," he growled in return and flicked his tongue appreciatively.
"Something's clearly not right about that man. When was the last time someone came out here on a horse? An then such a fine Arab stallion! What's a man with such a horse doing out here?!"
"You think he's a horsethief?"
Both of them glanced at the stranger, who was still sitting in the circle of men and calmly sipping his tea, but somehow provoked the strangest of feelings that he was indeed listening to their talking.
"I don't know." The innkeeper's wife toned her voice to a whisper, "But I briefly saw the armour he wears below that mantle. Tough ox leather, milled and riveted, like the best of the sultan's palace guards wear them."
"Really?…" he had curiously lifted his head only to hit it against one of the wooden beams holding the roof, now the innkeeper mumbled a curse and rubbed his head "You silly woman. What would a palace guard be doing out here telling stories all night…"
"Sure he's no guard," the woman folded her arms, slightly offended, but continued in a whisper "…but maybe he murdered one?"
"And even if he was one of Ahriman's demons and lord of a thousand sicknesses…" he spat back heatedly "if someone pays in gold he's always welcome here."
"In GOLD?!…" the woman quickly nabbed the coin her husband held high for her to see and bit on it, "Glorious Ahura! What are you waiting for, man? Quick! Bring him a drink! Just…" she held him back by his wrist, briefly looking troubled again "…just make sure we don't have to find out what's below that bulge the mantle makes on his back, well?…"
Cheers and a couple friendly pats on the back welcomed the return of the beer jug, and for a brief moment the innkeeper imagined he had seen the stranger smile quizzically, but the young man lifted his beaker to thank his auditors for their generosity, took a sip and pulled his mantle tighter around his body before he continued,
"Now, where was I…?"
…