The sweet smell of honey and spices tickled Blueblood's nostrils, rousing him from his sleep. He rubbed his eyes groggily, half blinded by the mid-morning sun streaming in through the open window. He squinted, cupping a hoof across his brow to see better in the glaring light. The room faded back into focus, and he saw Twilight seated at the low table on a velvet cushion, nibbling pensively upon some fire roasted vegetables. She glanced over to the waking prince, stifling a chuckle at his bedhead mane.
"Good morning sleepyhead." Twilight said, swallowing a mouthful. "Want some breakfast?"
The prince nodded, rolling out of bed and tossing his mane. It fell sloppily to one side, and his lip twisted into a scowl, as though he could somehow force his mane to right itself through sheer force of will. He rose to his hooves and stretched his back before walking over to the brass washbasin in the corner of the room, splashing the water upon his face and drying it with a nearby towel. He stepped over to the table, preparing a plate for himself and taking a small, dainty bite from it, gently dabbing his mouth with a napkin as he chewed silently.
"So." Twilight mused as she swallowed another bite of her own. "What's on the agenda for today?"
"We're going to want to meet with Caliph a bit later." Blueblood replied as he munched on a bit of honey glazed squash. "Probably around 3, during the time of rest. To show up earlier would be extremely rude."
"And why is that?"
"We're considered guests in this country, Twilight. Our needs are considered to be less important than those of his people and advisers. To show up early would be extremely presumptuous of us."
"Well, what do we do until then?"
"Personally, I'm planning on doing a bit of shopping while I'm here. A suit and tie are going to get terribly stifling in this heat, so I'd prefer to pick up something a bit more comfortable. You might do well to take some time to brush up on your Sarabic manners, or perhaps you should brush that tangled mess of your mane instead." Blueblood said as he daintily prodded at his cheeks with his napkin.
"It just never stops with you, does it?" Twilight sighed, her face showing more exasperation rather than insult.
"It's a part of my charm." He replied, rising from his seat and gently fixing his mane in the nearby mirror. "Combined with my natural charisma, I'm quite hard to resist."
"I'll believe it when I see it." Twilight lay back on the bed, opening the knapsack she had packed and grabbing a book from the small stack within. Customs and Etiquette of Saddle Arabia seemed like it would be a good place to start. She smiled as she cracked open the obviously well worn volume. It felt like forever since she'd last had a chance to sit back and curl up with a book, and within seconds she was pouring over the pages with great gusto.
Chapter 1: Greetings!
When greeting another pony, camel, or horse in Saddle Arabia, offer your hoof to shake. Touch their hoof only lightly, and use your other hoof to clasp their foreleg at the joint. This is a sign of respect between the two of you, and if you refuse a hoofshake from somepony of high social standing, it can be seen as a snub or insult. Always remember that the proper spoken greeting in Sarabic is "Shalom" or "Salaam" depending on the region. When greeted in this manner, respond with...
"I'll be back later." Blueblood spoke up, having spent enough time for now fixing up his appearance. "Please do remember Twilight, we're guests in this country. So for Celestia's sake don't do anything stupid."
"Uh huh." Twilight nonchalantly replied, barely even glancing up from her book. "See you later then."
Blueblood walked solemnly through the paved streets of Sutaf, turning away street peddlers attempting to con him into paying exorbitant prices on jewels, feathered turbans, spices, rugs, and Celestia knows what else. This wasn't his first time visiting the capital, and he already knew that if he wanted the best of the goods, it wasn't going to be from a horse on the street. He needed to find an established firm, preferably a tailor, who could quickly get him a change of garments. Wearing a full business suit in the sweltering midsummer heat of Saddle Arabia was already taking its toll on him, and he swore that his mane was beginning to droop from the sweat alone. On top of that though, he wanted to blend in with the locals as much as he could. After all, word traveled fast among diplomats, and word of his imprisonment and subsequent escape had probably already made its way through the ranks. It was only a matter of time then before somepony got wind of his location, and the Royal Guard would be hot on his hooves, and that was something he couldn't risk. Especially not when Alhazred's manuscript was nearly within his hooves.
The Prince spied a small stall in the market, where a large, rather rotund looking horse stood, flanked by a pair of heavily armed guard steeds. The trio was collecting gold from a long line of subjects, none of whom seemed all that thrilled to be there. Blueblood smiled as he realized what this was. It was a tax collector, and one with quite a bit of worth, judging by his obviously well-fed body and powerful royal escort. If anypony knew where to find things in this city, it would be a tax collector. After all, he had to have met any operating businesses in the city, or they certainly wouldn't stay open very long. Blueblood stepped around the column of horses, cutting his way to the front of the line with a confident stride.
"Shalom, adonim." He said, waving courteously to them. "Ayfah emtzo chayat?"
The tax collector quickly muttered something to one of the guards as he continued to focus on his work. The guard however grabbed a small sheet of paper and a pencil from the stand, scribbling down an address and passing it off to the Prince.
"Todah Rabah." Blueblood gave a slight bow as he tucked the parchment in his jacket. "Shalom!"
"Shalom. Khol tov." The guard responded, as he returned to the task at hand.
With the address of a local tailor now safely in his pocket, Blueblood set out through the labyrinthine streets of the city to locate his quarry. A short trek through the streets and into a cramped and crowded residential district lead him to the doorstep of one "Abd Al-Quadir" apparently a capable sewer by trade. As the Prince knocked, a tan colored and rather scrawny and bookish looking horse answered, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses as he stepped into the door frame.
"Can I help you?" He said, looking over the Prince with a curious eye.
"I'm looking for a new outfit." Blueblood said, prodding the obviously out of place suit jacket he currently wore. "I was hoping you might be able to help with that."
The tailor gave a slight nod, stepping aside and allowing the Prince into his shop. "So tell me, what were you thinking?"
"Something regal. Preferably in white." Blueblood removed the jacket of his suit, setting it on a conveniently placed rack.
Abd nodded, grabbing his tape measure and starting to take his customer's sizes, working with a swiftness that only came from years of nigh monotonous labor. He didn't even pause to write down the measurements he was talking, but seemed to just be working from memory.
"You came at a good time, adon." The tailor talked as he worked, stretching a tape measure across the Prince's back. "White is usually our most popular color, especially from well paying clients."
"Sounds like I lucked out then." Blueblood loosened his tie, hoping to free up his movement as he was forced into strange and odd positions for another round of assessments. "Any reason white isn't selling lately? Has it fallen out of fashion?"
"No no." Abd shook his head, wrapping the tape measure around his neck and stepping to the side to begin to meter out a roll of white fabric. "Just a lot of orders coming in lately for different colors. I had to order another roll of yellow linen just to fill all the orders for it this year."
"Yellow?" The Prince swallowed hard, trying to mask the obvious discomfort in his voice. "Seems a bit of an odd color to suddenly go off the shelves."
"I thought so too, but its a living."
Blueblood could feel a cold sweat beginning to trickle down his back. He moved to the side, taking a seat on a wooden stood, taking in a short, deep breath. Celestia's sake, just mentioning the color now was enough to slightly upset his mind. When all of this was over, he needed to take a good long vacation; preferably to a place that had nothing yellow for miles around. The color had once conjured up images of warm, sun soaked beaches, of fields of sunflowers in bloom, and of glasses of lemonade on a hot summer day. Now all it reminded him of were those robes, and the mask, and the yellow that lay behind them. It drudged up memories of pus, jaundice, and infection. He swallowed hard, hoping for keep himself from physically retching at the recollection.
"I'll be done with your robe in a few hours." Abd chimed, turning around from his work for a brief second. "Maybe take the time to get some fresh air, adon. You're looking a little pale."
"Sorry, I must just be adjusting badly to the heat." Blueblood was practically lying through his teeth. "I'll be back then. You accept Equestrian bits here, right?"
"Of course. Provided you have enough of them."
Blueblood gave a bow before exiting into the streets, where he took a deep breath of the dry desert air. Perhaps a light lunch would do him some good. He did his best to put the thoughts from his mind, and began to trot off down the street, seeking out a cafe.
Twilight on the other hand, had spent most of her day in their hotel room, tearing through the books she had brought ravenously. However, her ability to speed read was both a blessing and a curse, and before she knew it, she had completed the small stack she had packed. She neatly stacked the books and returned them to her knapsack with a sigh. It had been a nice distraction while it lasted, but unfortunately, she couldn't remain absorbed in such things for too long. After all, it was difficult for her to forget that she and the Prince were on the run. But, for the time being, it was nice to lose herself in a series of pages once again.
Slowly Twilight rose from her sprawled out position on the bed, stretching her back with a satisfying crack. She strode over to the window, taking a look out over the seemingly endless greenery that surrounded the palace. Everything seemed so lush and lively here, not at all how she would have pictured a desert. The greenery faded the further her eyes wandered, and soon she gazed upon the infinite orangish yellow sand beyond. Then again, most of her knowledge of Saddle Arabia was second hand, coming from books or by word of mouth. Facing it now, in the raw rather than behind the shield of a book, she couldn't believe just how vast it all was. It seemed so strange to her, who had for so long been on top of the world, to look out and feel so small.
Twilight decided that a short examination of the palace wouldn't be out of order, and pulled her gaze from the window, heading out the door of her room. She began to wander down the halls, admiring the handwoven rugs and tapestries that lined them. She had seen a few Saddle Arabian rugs in the homes of extremely wealthy ponies back in Canterlot, but never had she seen them in such volume before. they practically carpeted the floors, with only small gaps in between them through which the marble tiles could be seen. The tapestries too were massive and detailed in ways she had never thought they could be. Images of horses clad in armor, of Sphinxes prowling the desert, and priests performing ancient rites stood out in brilliant hues of red, gold, and navy blue.
The pictures began to depict images of the sacred, with the more heroic images tapering off. Soon no knights could be seen, but priests and hierophants became all too common. Tapestries of burials and ancient, pyramid tombs stood out especially, as Twilight could practically feel the gloom and sorrow flooding from the woven portraits. The likenesses of strange, grotesque gods loomed over processions of white robed worshipers, leering out upon the halls with glares of malevolent glee. These gods were at first equine in appearance, but the further down these dimly lit halls Twilight trod, the more they began to twist and change. Soon they were standing upright, on two hooves rather than four. Then, their faces began to contort, soon taking on animalistic features. Fangs protruded from mouths, trunks hung down from faces, and hooves twisted into strange five toed claws. Soon all sense of form seemed to be lost, and both the gods and their worshipers devolved into strange masses of abstract lines and shapes and angles the likes of which Twilight had never seen. Then finally, she came across an image at the end of the hall that chilled her to the bone.
There, among a swarm of queer swirls of color, was a portrait of a white, featureless face. Yet somehow deep inside, Twilight understood that this was no face. It was a mask, and a mask she knew all too well. She had seen that mask in Carcosa, and there too had she seen what the mask concealed. Her blood ran cold at the sight, and she stepped back away from the tapestry, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"Is everything alright, Nasichah?"
A voice from the other end of the hall pulled Twilight out of her terrified state, and glanced over. The Sultan stood at the end of the hallway, with a few of his aides standing beside him. He strode carefully down the hallway, stopping beside her and following her eyes to the tapestry.
"What... What is that?" Twilight said, her voice slightly trembling.
"An old god from an old time." Caliph spoke quietly. "Saddle Arabia is an ancient land, with legends that have been developing over countless generations. This particular legend is Hastad. He was a god that was worshiped in the oldest days of Saddle Arabia, long before the nation was ever unified. Nowadays however, he's merely mythology."
"Then why would you want a tapestry of him?"
"Its a part of our history, for better or for worse. There are very few who still offer their prayers to Hastad, but nevertheless, our legacy is worth preserving." Caliph gave her a polite nod, turning to walk back over to his waiting aides. "Enjoy your stay, Nasichah. I'm looking forward to our meeting later."
Even after the Sultan had left, Twilight simply couldn't take her eyes off of that pallid mask. It was terrifying, yet at the same time alluring. What lay behind that mask had shocked her to the core, and yet somehow, she felt an urge to look upon it again. She couldn't explain why, but she could feel it in the deepest depths of her mind, gnawing slowly at her rational thoughts. Something was calling to her. She had no idea what, but she could practically hear the rhythmic cadence.
"Car-Co-Sa. Car-Co-Sa. Car-Co-Sa."
Blueblood finished a lunch in a quiet little coffee shop, and returned to the tailor to pick up his robe. He changed into it, already feeling the difference as he stepped back out into the streets, the hot sun beating down on him once more. He looked almost like a Saddle Arabian native, though his short stature would have betrayed him to any observer. He fastened the included headpiece with a black headband, helping not only to keep the glare out of his eyes, but to help keep the sweat off his brow. His hooves clip clopped along the cobblestone roads, weaving his way through the crowds with ease. Soon, the gleaming electrum minarets of the Palace came into view, their jutting spires piercing the cloudless sky above.
The Prince passed through the outer gates, past the green gardens of hanging plants, and into the Palace itself. He traced a path through the marble halls, finally pushing open the massive crimson and gold trimmed doors into the Sultan's throne room. Caliph was seated at the opposite end of the room, amid a pile of soft velvet cushions, with two smiling female horses seated on either side of him. The room was filled with a low buzz of activity, as court mages, guards, advisors, and other officials busied themselves with work or conversed quietly. Blueblood spied Twilight amid the throng of horses, seated along the wall at a low table, currently snacking on a plate of dried, honey glazed fruits. He sat down opposite her, and she glanced up, blinking a few times as she took in the new outfit.
"What are you wearing?" Twilight said, her eyebrow raising quizzically.
"Its called a thaub." Blueblood responded, adjusting his headdress with his typical flair. "Its a traditional male robe worn in Saddle Arabia and her tributaries."
"It looks like you're wearing a dress." Twilight chuckled, a smirk playing across her lips.
"Its a thaub you uncultured little-"
Before Blueblood could unleash his string of prepared insults, a loud clap from the Sultan called everypony's attention right to the throne. He issued a few commands in Sarabic, as his many advisors, as well what Blueblood assumed were his two wives, slowly filed out of the room. Soon, it was only the two ponies, a few guards, and a rather old, wizened looking camel. Caliph beckoned to them with his hoof, and both Twilight and Blueblood made their way over to the throne. The Prince dropped to his knees, bowing his head and touching the floor before rising again, and Twilight followed his example as best as she could.
"Ore'achim," Caliph said, his voice strong and deep as it echoed around the opulent marble chamber. "I am very glad to see you all are well. Now, Blueblood, you had asked me earlier about looking into the Kitab Al-azif?"
"Yes, Sultan." Blueblood replied with a nod.
"I cannot imagine what sort of terror might have caused you to seek this book. You understand that those who seek it do not do so lightly. It is a thing of great evil, and is often sought after by wicked equines."
"I understand, Sultan."
"I will allow you to read Alhazred's book, Nasich, but understand that I do not do this lightly." Caliph's face grew hard and sullen as he spoke. "There are things in that tome that ought never to be seen by mortal eyes. Take care with the book, and do not read a word of it aloud. Do not read more than you need to. Read what you must, and no more. Understood?"
"Yes, Sultan. I understand."
"Good. Please, Nasich, in honor to our friendship, do not read too much of this book. It has warped the minds of better stallions than the both of us, and I would hate to see you go mad from what you uncover." The Sultan, pointed over to the Camel, who stood towering over Blueblood. "This is Shihab. He's one of the only ones alive in Sutaf who can still trace the path to Alhazred's work. Its hidden away, deep within the desert where it must remain, lest a wicked horse or pony get their hooves on it. I turn you over to his care, as well as the captain of my guard."
Caliph motioned to an armor clad, scimitar carrying horse, with a dappled grey coat and piercing green eyes who stepped forward with a bow.
"This is Husam, one of my personal bodyguards. He will be escorting you on the trip."
"Its a pleasure meeting you." Twilight chimed in, smiling faintly.
"The pleasure is all mine princess." The guard nodded, taking her hoof and planting a kiss upon it.
Shihab stepped past the two ponies with an elongated stride. He didn't look back as he made his way towards the doors, his voice booming as he spoke, despite not facing his charges.
"My caravan will be packed tonight. We will be leaving at the crack of dawn, with or without you two." He opened the door, letting it close with a loud slam behind him as he exited the room.
Blueblood and Twilight soon retired to their palace chambers, packing away what few belongings they had brought with them. Twilight had stuffed the knapsack she packed with as much as she could, trying to remember to be prepared for any eventuality. Blueblood on the other hand had packed lightly, with a few changes of clothes and other amenities rather than anything too large or cumbersome. Twilight plopped on the bed as she finished, laying and staring at the ceiling with a sigh.
"What do you think we'll find in that book Blueblood?" She said, rolling over onto her stomach and glancing in his direction.
"I'm hoping we'll find answers." Blueblood replied as he took a sip of the wine he had ordered. "But other than that, who can say? Alhazred was mad when he wrote the Al-azif, so who knows. We could get a truly horrifying tome, or a diary of mad ramblings."
"What if we do find answers? Do you think it will prove anything?"
"Maybe. It would lend credence to our theories, yes, but proving anything we say is going to be a Herculean task. After all, we're effectively banished from Equestria. At this point, everypony there thinks I've gone mad." Blueblood swallowed another sip of his wine, sighing softly. "Maybe I have."
"Well, if you're mad, then so am I." Twilight replied, snuggling up beneath the blankets. "And I know for sure I'm not mad. I saw everything you did with my own two eyes, and I'm inclined to believe that if we both saw it, then it had to be real."
"Can we even really trust our eyes at this point?" Blueblood mused into his glass. "Can we trust anyone anymore?"
"Maybe, maybe not." Twilight yawned, her eyelids fluttering as she flicked the lights off with a quick spell. "Either way, its too late for us to be getting this deep. I need my rest, and so do you. Goodnight Blueblood."
"Goodnight." Blueblood replied, sitting in the dark and watching out the window as the moon rose over the desert sands, casting a pale light over the room. Twilight was snoring within minutes, but the Prince scarcely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere. His thoughts were beyond their palace bedroom, beyond the borders of Saddle Arabia, and far beyond the furthest star in the sky.
Blueblood's thoughts were somewhere yellow.