He stirred not from his faint…Nor did he awaken from his slumber until the sun's sharp rays stung his skin the following morning.
He opened his eyes and gazed about him as though rising from a nightmarish dream of calamity. His glance wandered, and he beheld the high walls enclosing the courtyard. For a moment he thought he was in his own home, accustomed each dawn to wake beneath a roof—but no roof was there, only the towering stone.
He muttered to himself in bewilderment:"What has changed in our house? It was never like this before."
His eyes drifted upward into the void, filled with the astonishment of one who questions yet finds no answer. He struggled to rouse his weary limbs from the dust, but his strength failed him, drained utterly by the labors of the day before.
Suddenly—memory struck him. In a flash he recalled all that had passed.
He leapt to his feet, pressing his back against the wall, his gaze fixed unblinking on the chamber door, thoughts racing one after another.
And then—from beyond the unseen eye that had watched him silently with uncanny calm—a hand extended, pointing toward a small opening in the wall opposite him.
But poor 'Amer saw nothing, understood nothing of what moved around him. A few moments passed…
From that narrow crevice burst forth an innumerable swarm—great white ants, vast and ravenous, that devour flesh and bone in moments. They poured out with furious haste, like a spring of living death unleashed, surging in waves that flooded the chamber, crest upon crest. They piled upon one another until the mass rose taller than a man. The tide swept toward 'Amer, encircling him as a bracelet encircles the wrist—leaving only the narrowest gap, a fleeting chance of escape.
And the wretched youth, frozen in horror, lifted his hands to shield his eyes. He squeezed them shut, then opened them, then shut them again, as though darkness could banish the terror. But nothing spared him from the dreadful sight.
The waves completed their rush, and in that instant, 'Amer hurled himself toward the gap. He ran, desperate, squeezing through as the walls of writhing insects narrowed upon him. He burst through into the first chamber, then the second—the very chamber Al-Ameen had entered the day before. Behind him, the seething horde collapsed upon itself. The moment 'Amer crossed the threshold, the creatures withdrew, retreating as swiftly as they had surged forth, vanishing back into their fissure as though nothing had ever happened.
And so 'Amer remained in the chamber, his throat parched, his body trembling. He fell to the floor, sobbing, moaning in grief and terror.
Then—from beyond the eye that observed—there stretched a strange hand, long and terrible, with countless fingers. It crept toward him in silence, like a serpent slithering through the grass. The many fingers fanned out, each seeming to bear its own grim purpose.
'Amer, poor soul, knew nothing of it. The hand, supple and strong as the arms of an octopus, glided nearer. At last its palm hovered but a finger's breadth from his back. Then, in the blink of an eye, it closed upon him. The fingers tightened, each performing its own cruel task: his arms and legs bound fast, his mouth sealed by one constricting finger, silencing his cries.
A silence fell—deep, deathlike, like the hush of a tomb. The hand lifted its prey, rising higher, higher. It bore him to the corner of the chamber where a dark stone sat embedded in the wall. Two of its long fingers extended, probing the stone and those about it with deft precision. Then, with subtle strength, they pressed. The dark stone slid inward.
The hand stretched longer still, slipping into the narrow, shadowed passage now revealed. Down, down it carried its captive, hissing like a serpent, until the corridor widened into a vast underground vault. There it descended from the ceiling, lowering 'Amer gently to the ground, and withdrew the way it had come. The stone closed behind it, sealing the vault once more.
'Amer lay unconscious. When at last he stirred, groaning, the entire chamber seemed to echo his sorrow, the very stones trembling with his sighs. His eyes fixed upon the ceiling, unblinking, unmoving.
Then—upon his chest—he felt gentle hands, soothing him back to himself. He turned his head slightly and met Al-Ameen's eyes, brimming with longing and compassion. From the other side came a voice:
"Praise be to God for your safety, 'Amer."
It was Hisham's voice. He turned and beheld Hisham himself, smiling with a sweetness more beautiful than words.
'Amer could scarce believe. He raised his head, whispering:"I seek refuge in God from the accursed devil… Praise be to God, praise be to God." Then he added:"It was but a nightmare."
Al-Ameen asked:"What nightmare?"
"I saw dreadful things in my sleep!"
Hisham replied:"What sleep, 'Amer? Calm yourself. This is no dream. It is real."
"The truth?"
Al-Ameen: "Yes. But you are safe, and so are we. Rise, and let us see how we may free ourselves from this place."
'Amer roused himself, and lo—he was indeed between his two companions, in a vault dark as night save for a single thread of light seeping down through a narrow crack in the ceiling.
He rose and embraced them both, gazing into their faces as though a starving man had found food after long famine. And truly, hunger gnawed his belly, thirst parched his throat. Yet it was not food nor water that had tormented him most—but solitude. For being left alone had filled him with a terror far greater than hunger or thirst.
And now, he had found solace in the company of his two companions, just as they found comfort in his. At that moment, their reunion was sweeter than the most delicious food and cooler than the coldest drink.
… The three of them began to feel along the cellar walls, testing every stone with their hands, hoping one might give way to an escape. Hisham was examining the ground when he noticed a narrow hole through which light streamed faintly. He dropped to his chest, peering into it, and called out to his companions with cries of astonishment, his words tumbling over one another in wonder, while the others urged him to explain what he saw. But he remained fixed, muttering nothing but phrases of amazement and bewilderment.
Ameen pushed him aside, eager to uncover what this hole revealed. The instant he placed his eye upon it, his astonishment exceeded even that of Hisham—his exclamations more vivid, his words more shaken with wonder.
This stirred Amer to leap with joy, sensing that hope of deliverance was near, desperate to behold what his companions had seen. Ameen beckoned him to look. And as soon as Amer's eye fell upon the sight, he too broke into cries of amazement, his voice echoing with marvel and disbelief. Then Ameen pressed him back with his palms, and took his place once more. He raised his hand to silence them both… and began to describe, with utmost precision, what lay before his eyes.
"It is a vast marketplace," he whispered. "Its squares are wide, and its streets teem with strange creatures, all moving about with haste and vigor.
Behold—one among them, taller than his peers, walking upon three legs!"
Hisham cried out,"Three legs, Ameen?!"
"No—wait—two legs, and a long tail! At first, I mistook it for a leg… Ah! All these creatures are carried by their mothers, just as humans carry their children. And their mothers—each has a short tail.
Strange… their gait is peculiar! They dance and sway as they walk, greeting one another in a curious manner: whenever two meet, each thrusts his hand into the other's mouth, then they begin to bite! After a moment, they cry out and pull away… Yes! This is their greeting—a bizarre ritual repeated so often that the whole marketplace bursts with laughter.
Ah! A grand procession approaches, making its way toward the great square. And as it passes, more and more join until the entire host gathers in the center. They form a perfect arc, and from their midst, their leader steps forward and raises his hand… Instantly, melodies rise from all the creatures present.
But what wonder is this! The sound is not harsh—it is sweet, harmonious, enchanting. Their words are not intelligible, yet their chant flows like a living stream of beauty, a hymn that soothes the troubled heart as balm soothes a wound.
What bliss to hear their voices, their wondrous song!
So powerful was their chant upon Ameen's soul that he pressed his ear close to the hole, longing to drink deeper of that melody.
Yet when he turned his eyes aside, terror struck him—for there stood his companions, pressed against the wall, stricken with dread. He turned the other way—and there, before him, loomed a monstrous beast. Its head resembled that of a savage leopard, but its body was like that of a great bird. Its eyes blazed, hurling sparks, and with one wing it gestured for him to join his companions in silence.
The creature stood beside a wide fissure that had opened in the wall, spreading its wings to assert its dominion over the three, baring its fangs in a terrifying snarl. Then it folded its wings before its eyes, as though holding up a scroll to read.
And what astonishment gripped Ameen, Hisham, and Amer when the beast began to read! Its voice was dreadful, uneven, a resonance that chilled the marrow of the bones.
The winged beast proclaimed:
"The Prince has decreed your trial. You have trespassed into his kingdom without leave. You are spies, and shall be judged for this grave crime. The court is now in session. I have come to take you before it."
It gestured with the tip of its wing, commanding them through the fissure. They obeyed, walking a dark corridor, the beast driving them forward, until at last they entered the court.
What a sight! A vast hall, at its head a grotesque swine seated as judge. At his right sat a rat, wild-eyed and sly; at his left, a black serpent, like unto a cobra. Along the sides were assembled other hideous beasts, of no known kind or kin.
The hall itself was thronged with a multitude of monstrous insects, swollen to the size of beasts. The air reeked with a stench so foul it turned the stomach, making the breath catch in the throat.
The three wretches stood at the entrance, paralyzed by fear. The beast that summoned them drove them forward toward the front, ordering them to stand before the swine—the president of this ghastly tribunal.
They shuffled forth, heavy-footed, and stood with bowed heads before the grotesque judge, unable to meet the gaze of such dreadful creatures.
The swine spoke:
"This court, having examined your case and found you guilty of spying upon the realm of our Prince, sentences you to death—by fire, in the great furnace of the kingdom. Yet, for the sake of justice, we shall hear your words after the sentence has been carried out."
He looked to his right—the rat nodded in agreement.He looked to his left—the serpent swayed in approval.
At once, a beast with the head of a wolf and the body of a donkey stepped forward, followed by three enormous insects. Each insect bound one of the three captives—Ameen, Amer, and Hisham—and led them to the furnace for execution.
The guard, ape-like in form, flung open the furnace door. Within yawned a pit of dreadful depth, its fires roaring, flames leaping like thunderous tongues.
The three trembled, drenched in sweat, their faces pale as saffron. They looked upon one another with eyes of farewell, sorrowing for such a fiery end. Ameen's grief was the greatest, for it was he who had urged them forth on this ill-fated journey.
The beasts prepared to cast them in, beginning with Ameen. As they dragged him to the edge of the blazing pit, he spoke to the wolf-donkey:
"The judge will have you slain."
"What? Slain? And why?"
"Because you have not carried out the sentence."
"But we are carrying it out! We shall cast you into the fire!"
"Precisely. And for that, he will kill you—for you have misunderstood his judgment."
"What do you mean?"
"The decree, as spoken by the judge, is in your hand. Read it well, lest you make a grievous error—and pay with your life for misinterpreting his command."
The beast snarled, "I have heard such judgments before, when the serpent presided, and we executed them as we do now. No protest was ever raised."
"But now the swine is chief. He will tolerate no disorder in the execution of his orders. If you err, his wrath will fall upon you."
"There was no disorder in the serpent's reign."
"You were then in charge of execution—do you fear your past mistakes might be revealed?"
"No! I say what I believe and do as I understand."
"I warn you—the judge will not forgive a gross error in carrying out his sentence. The decree lies before you. Read it again, carefully."
The beast drew forth the scroll and read aloud, pressing upon each word, as though to prove his comprehension. When he had finished, Ameen said:
"Do you now understand?"
"The right course is mine," said the wolf-donkey, "and I shall cast you into the fire."
But Ameen cried, "O wolf-donkey! At the end of his decree, the judge declared: 'And in the fulfillment of justice, we shall open our hearts to hear your words after the sentence is carried out.'Now tell me—if you cast us into the flames without recording our words, how shall the great judge fulfill his promise of justice? To hear us is essential for justice to be complete."
"After the execution," muttered the beast.
"True," Ameen pressed, "but what the judge meant is that our words must be spoken first and recorded, and only then is the sentence to be carried out. Afterwards, the judge will hear what has been written, and thus he will indeed have listened to us after the punishment. That is justice."
The wolf-donkey fell silent, troubled. Fear gripped him—lest he mistake the judge's order and be slain himself. He looked upon the furnace and shuddered, imagining his own body hurled into it should he err. His resolve faltered, and at last he chose to lead the three prisoners back before the judge, that he might be certain of his duty.
When they returned, he sought leave to enter, and was admitted—for the court sat ever in permanence to hear weighty cases.
Standing once again before the grotesque swine, Ameen spoke swiftly:"Great swine, this wolf-donkey has defied your command."
"How so?" demanded the judge.
"You ordered that we be heard after the sentence. Yet this beast refuses to record our words to be presented before your noble ears after we are cast into the fire. This is clear defiance of your decree."
The judge turned to the wolf-donkey."Is this true?"
"My lord, I sought only to confirm your will, that the execution be rightly done."
But Ameen pressed on:"This donkey would have flung us into the fire at once, thus casting doubt upon your justice by failing to preserve our words before execution."
The judge's eyes narrowed with wrath, sparks flying. Ameen saw the anger in them and seized the moment:"And more, O President—this wolf-donkey boasts that such decrees were often pronounced in the days of the serpent's reign, and that he carried them out then as he intended now. I warned him that your age tolerates no chaos, that yours is the reign of justice. But he defended the serpent's rule, saying, 'There was no disorder in his time.'"
At this, the swine struck the ground with both hands, his voice thundering as he cried out against the wolf-donkey, declaring his folly and casting him out. Then he turned to the assembly:
"My reign is the reign of justice! Never again shall I suffer the chaos that marked the serpent's rule!"
But these words stung the serpent seated on his left. Enraged at the slight, he leapt upon the swine, sinking his fangs deep into his neck and pouring forth his deadly venom. The swine, bellowing, struggled and crushed the serpent beneath his weight. Yet in his thrashing, his massive hand struck the serpent's head with such force that it slew him instantly. Soon after, the swine too succumbed to the venom, and both lay dead.
Pandemonium filled the hall. Giant flesh-eating insects swarmed, devouring the corpses of swine and serpent alike, for it was their custom to feast upon any that fell.
In the chaos, the rat seized his chance, leaping to the presidential seat. And no sooner had he sat upon the throne than order was restored, for the beasts, seeing the chair occupied, hastened back to their places with uncanny speed.
The rat, weak and alone, knew he could not command by strength. He resorted to cunning. He ordered all to stand, and then addressed them:
"Obey me, for I am your ruler now. I sit upon the seat of judgment, and he who sits here is President."
He gave them no time to ponder but dismissed them quickly to their tasks. They obeyed at once, marveling at his wisdom and firmness.
The rat, emboldened, devised yet another scheme. He would move the seat of judgment into an inner chamber, hidden from covetous eyes. There he would sit alone, unseen, issuing decrees through a narrow opening. Thus, the seat would remain secure, beyond the reach of any ambitious beast.
He called the executor of judgments before him. "Carry the chair into the inner chamber," he commanded, "and from now on, I shall govern behind closed doors. Each morning you shall bring me petitions through the opening, and I shall send forth my commands in writing. This shall be the way of my reign."
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And for your loyalty, I grant you a title. You were once but a fox. From this day forth, you are the Great Fox. This rank shall raise you above all others."
The rat swelled with pride, strutting toward the chamber, elated by his swift triumph. He knew the beasts would bow to any who held the seat—even if it were but a rat. And with the chair hidden, no creature could usurp him.
But before he entered, Ameen spoke:"O President, we rejoice in your reign of wisdom and firmness. The subjects of the Prince's kingdom, whom you now govern, trust you will grant true justice. Unlike the previous reign, which gave us no food nor drink, leaving us to starve, yours shall be a blessed reign, long and prosperous. We ask, therefore, that you judge us rightly, for the charge of espionage is false. We are but visitors, too young to be spies."
The rat's heart swelled at this flattery, especially when Ameen called his reign blessed. Delighted, he ordered the Great Fox to bring the captives food and drink, while he retired to his chamber to write their sentence.
When the fox returned, laying before them baskets of fruit and a skin of water, the three ate ravenously. Yet as they ate, they watched the fox pace restlessly, muttering to himself.
Ameen hushed his companions: "Listen!"
The fox spoke aloud, scorn in his voice:"Foolish creatures! This rat who seized the throne so easily—what is he above me? Nothing! I am wiser, craftier, more cunning. I am more worthy of the seat than he. But how to oust him? Ha! He fears to face the beasts. I shall frighten him daily, keep him hidden, and cancel his decrees, issuing my own instead. Thus shall I command all, without ever needing the chair!"
He laughed aloud. But just then, the rat pushed forth a decree through the opening. The fox seized it, read it, and turned to the captives:
"The President decrees: you are sentenced to life imprisonment."
The words struck them like a blow, yet still it was lighter than the swine's fiery doom.
As the fox prepared to lead them to their fate, Ameen pleaded:"Great Fox, have mercy! This sentence is cruel."
"I obey the President," said the fox.
"But you are kind. It would be unjust to treat guests so."
"I must carry out his will."
"Then the judge will strip you of your post and cast you into prison."
"What? Why?"
"Because we heard you! We heard you speak aloud, plotting to alter his commands and issue your own. If the rat learns of this, you will be punished most severely."
"You—heard me?"
"Every word."
"I beg you, do not tell him! I shall ease your fate. Accept but one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you accept the first judgment I pass upon you."
"We accept."
"Then I sentence you to depart from this kingdom—each by a separate path."
Their hearts leapt. "We thank you! This is the justice we long awaited."
"So, let each of you bid farewell to the others, for the road ahead may be long."
At the mention of the long road, fear seized their hearts, for each would be walking alone. They had given the fox their word and could not break it…
The Great Fox then led them to where their journey would begin. He took them down a long path until they entered a dark chamber.
"Wait here a moment," he said, and slipped out, locking the door behind him. A little later he appeared through a small opening high in the wall, gazing down at them with a mocking smile.
"Now you are in the prison where the sentence upon you is carried out. And let your companion—" he pointed at Al-Ameen—"not imagine himself more cunning than I, daring to threaten me with tales for the Mouse Judge."
Then he vanished from the aperture, while Al-Ameen called after him:"O Great Fox! O Great Fox!"
But the fox had already gone, pacing back and forth outside the chamber of the Mouse Judge, scheming as was his habit. At last he thought better of keeping them there. If they remained, they might one day reveal the secret they alone had overheard, and his plots would be undone. So on the following day, he came back and said:
"I shall carry out the sentence as I decreed, but I wished first to teach you a lesson: every trickster shall always find one more cunning than himself. Now, come—you must leave the Prince's kingdom."
He drove them before him out of the prison, down a passage that led to the very borders of the realm. There they stood before a number of yawning tunnels.
"Now," said the fox, "bid each other farewell."
Their eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of parting. They embraced, they clasped hands, and each prayed good fortune for the other.
The fox assigned Al-Ameen the first tunnel, Hisham the second, and Aamir the third. Then, stepping back a little, he pushed a stone with sly strength, and at once the massive gates of the tunnels fell shut upon the three.
Al-Ameen, swallowed by utter darkness, had barely taken a few steps when far ahead he saw small glowing specks, moving swiftly toward him with a tumult of sound and clamor. The lights grew clearer and closer, until he saw they were steeds of fire, radiant and fierce, their hooves scarcely touching the earth.
Upon their backs rode men of grim and savage countenance. They gave him no chance—seized him, bound his legs to two horses, each to one, and the cruel procession thundered forward. Al-Ameen groaned in torment as the steeds dragged him, spurred on by the harsh riders.
Wherever they passed, other riders shouted loud greetings, as though hailing a spectacle. At last they reached a vast open square, filled with those blazing horses. A path was cleared for the two steeds that bore the captive.
Before them stood a colossal giant, ready to give the signal: at his mark, the horses would each bolt in opposite directions, tearing Al-Ameen apart.
The boy cried out with all his strength, but his voice was swallowed in the uproar of the savage horsemen.
The giant raised his hand and gave the first signal. At once, the whole assembly began to dance wildly, reveling in the imminent slaughter.
The second signal—at once a mighty roar rose as one voice from the crowd, all eyes fixed upon the captive bound between the two steeds. A dreadful silence fell, for now only the third signal remained.
Then the giant brought down his hand a third time.
But to the astonishment of all, the two horses stood rooted, motionless, as if frozen by some unseen power.
The riders struck them, spurred them, lashed them with all their might—but still the steeds would not move.