every single piece from the heart.” Like two pools of water, his slitted blue eyes shone with pride as he gave a small closed ceramic pot full of ice fruit to Grace. “Share the delicacy with your family. I hope they will all find them delicious and will enjoy the fruits of Crystana,” the trader added kindly in farewell.
“They surely will. Thank you very much for sharing these appetizing fruits and your amazing story, good man,” Grace bowed her head respectfully.
The temptation was great; she wanted to eat just one more of these fruit, but she knew if she ate one there was a good chance that all of them would slowly disappear before she joined her family. She resisted and tried to distract her thoughts from the ice fruit.
Fluid music like the beautiest of waterfalls, teased her ears as she searched for her next destination. A few musicians from the water world of Atlantia played nearby. Unlike the traditional music of Odess’iana that always reminded Grace of freedom and sometimes the flight of an eagle, the Atlantian music was softer and slid around her like the flow of water. In due time, Grace felt the love and respect that flowed through the water music. Of course, none of these musical styles compared to the music of Serenata Merida, which was the land of music and she felt a bit disappointed that she hadn’t met any musicians from that province thus far.
A Sanayra craft passed over the street where she was, as it gracefully flew toward the port of Odess’iana. The craft looked like the majestic mythological firebird it was named for; its wings glowed bright yellow and the metallic hull shined dark orange.
“Fly Aamir, fly your magic carpet,” she whispered and waved with a giggle to the craft. Grace picked up this habit last Prosperous when they were in Seriana and a trader from the borders of Hijaz showed them his firebird from the inside. Just like the Anshara and other craft, the Sanayra’s interior was transparent, but instead of the comfortable cushions, a large elegant Hijazian wool carpet covered its floor. Grace’s mother read many tales of the Hijazian Thousand and One Dreams, which told stories about a brave man, who flew a magic carpet. And now as she knew what the basis of those wonderful stories really were she wanted to believe that her brave hero flew above her to get to and gain the heart of his beloved princess.
A sudden massive burst of flame rocketed up toward the sky between Grace and the passing firebird.
Curious, she looked for the source of the flame and noticed a strange black skinned man, who was surrounded by the crowd. The mass of spectators watched his show with awe. The black skinned man wore only pants; he held a flaming stick and a small vial in his hand. He carefully held them in front of his mouth, and then breathed a beautiful orange flame up into the sky.
Grace was enchanted. She slipped between the standing adults and other children to pop up in the front line. The black skinned man spun the stick in his hand while he danced, and then once again breathed a stream of fire into the sky. Everyone clapped enthusiastically as the man finished his performance. The fire breather searched the crowd before he looked at Grace.
“What is your name, little lady?” the fire breather asked.
“Grace Sessa Aredia of the outskirts of Odess’iana, land of myth and forgotten knowledge,” she respectfully nodded to him.
“My name is Ashan Al-Karim of Jizan, outskirts of Hijaz, the land of spirits and dreams,” he bowed with equal respect. “Do you wish to learn this trick, Lady Grace of Odess’iana?” Ashan asked while he began to spin the fire stick in his hand.
“Is, is it safe?” Grace asked shyly.
“If you know how to master the fire, yes, it is safe,” he smiled as he stopped the stick. He lifted the stick and the small bottle to his mouth, looked up, and breathed a large flame into the air. After the flame burned out, he looked back at the little girl.
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