Mahtab Moon-Maker took out a portrait of Amar Ayyar from the chest. When he saw not the least difference between it and the prisoner’s face, Mahtab felt certain that it was the real Amar. He tied him up in a corner of the room and felt most pleased with himself.
Now hear of the real Amar Ayyar, who watched these events from far away. After Burq was captured, Amar disguised himself as a beautiful girl whose world-adorning beauty would make even the full moon shrink to a crescent from embarrassment and shame. She resembled a brilliant flame of light, a marvel of God’s handiwork. To compare her to a houri or a fairy would have been an injustice to her beauty. No one had ever seen or heard of such splendor. Her coquettish manner and airs and graces were pleasant and becoming.
Her forehead was like the full moon but outshone the moon in the sky in brightness. Her gazelle-like eyes lined with collyrium darted like the fearful deer of China. Her carmine lips were like a box of ruby, her luminous cheeks like the Mirror of Sikander,50 and her teeth like a string of pearls. Her delicate arms looked crystalline, and when her wrist appeared out of her sleeve, it was as if a burning taper was disclosed from under the glass tube of the chandelier. Her bosom was the incarnation of light, her abdomen was like a crystal slab, and her breasts were entirely inestimable. In short, her body from head to waist seemed made of light. So luminous was her leg that even if her seekers had forever remained engrossed in thought, they could never have reached its proximity.51 It seemed that her thighs were kneaded with powdered stars. The delicacy of her feet was such that if the toes seemed carved of sandalwood, the heels would be fashioned from fragrant aloe-wood. Such was the comely shape and appearance Amar took on.
From head to toe her allure
Attracts my heart, and claims it for its own
Then the false damsel adorned herself with a red dress, put on gold jewelery, a bracelet, and tore the skirts of her robe to shreds. She screened her luminous aspect by covering it with dark ringlets, and it looked as if the bright moon had been eclipsed by black clouds. With these preparations, she headed out from there crying bitterly like a spring cloud. She hid herself in the bushes in front of the room where Mahtab Moon-Maker was engrossed in admiring the beauty of the forest and set up crying and wailing.
The false damsel made loud plaints and protested the fickle ways of the heavens. She denounced the ephemeral world, saying, “O wretched sky! O heavens that revolve askew! Tell me my crime for which you punished me thus? Alas! Alas!” Amar worked his persona into such a frenzy of tears that even the hearts of stones would have turned to water. When her wailing and lamentations reached Mahtab Moon-Maker’s ears, he looked into the bushes. There he saw a bride of the first night and a bright moon of the sky of beauty sitting, eclipsed by grief and sorrow. With her dress in shreds, her hair in tangles, and her chest lacerated by the dagger of grief, she sat alone, crying and lamenting her state.
Mahtab Moon-Maker desired to learn her story and ordered his magicians to call the woman over with great kindness. The magicians walked over to her but that delicate creature ran away at the sight of them, stumbling and falling. The magicians importuned and solicited her on their master’s behalf that he only wished to hear her story, but she made no answer. They returned to Mahtab and told him that she refused to hear them.
Mahtab was smitten by her beauty which made the resplendent sun envious. He went himself, and when that rose-like beauty tried to run away from him too, he caught her hand. The rays of her radiant beauty blinded Mahtab’s eyes as he regarded her comely face and shapely body. He lost power over his limbs and his heart pulsated violently. Mahtab almost fell into a swoon and neared losing consciousness but regained his senses and said to the false damsel, “O envy of the sculpted beauties, I plead with you in the name of lord Sameri to share your tragic tale with me. Tell me which sea of beauty produced this lustrous pearl and which precious shell held this inestimable gem. Why do you look so wan and anguished? What affliction do you suffer, tell me?”
The Venus-faced, false beauty now heaved a cold sigh from the bottom of her sorrowful heart and cried so inconsolably that Mahtab Moon-Maker found it difficult to hold back his own tears. When he implored her again to tell him of her sorrows, the false bride replied, “What should I tell you of my sorry plight? How could I enumerate my many afflictions? The one whose comely face I wish to behold I will now only see in the Future State. Alas, he left me and become one with clay. I had not yet cooled my eyes by his sight before he left this world. Surely the narcissus will sprout from my grave to mark one who died for love!52 Know O dear friend, that I am the daughter of an illustrious sorcerer who was a merchant by profession. I fell in love with my cousin, a mere boy in the prime of youth. The down of adolescence had yet to grace his face when my father learned of our love. We were affianced, and my father prepared to hold the nuptials. A Zanzibarian had long been infatuated with me, although I never returned his advances. Upon hearing of my impending marriage, the tyrant raided our house with scores of marauders on the day planned for my wedding procession. Before my husband could drink the sherbet of union, he was served the bitter cup of death. My parents and my uncle were killed while I escaped into the wilderness from that calamitous terror. Now you know my whole story. I will be a guest briefly in this ephemeral world, for my sorrows will soon carry me away to the Future State.”
Mahtab Moon-Maker’s eyes welled up with tears listening to this heart-wrenching account. He tried to console the false damsel whose narrow mouth resembled an unopened bud, and said, “O charming beloved, one must not forever grieve for the departed! You must accompany me to my humble abode and bring it to life with your joy-bestowing feet. Spend the rest of your life in the company of this true lover and happily bide your time. I have the honor of being one of Afrasiyab’s counsellors. I am the master of a tilism myself, and have all kinds of powers at my command. I shall forever remain your slave and look after your happiness.” That dainty false beauty replied, “A crazy-minded and accursed person such as myself is unfit to take up residence with anyone.”
Mahtab Moon-Maker made vows, prostrated himself before her, and entreated her ceaselessly. Then that charming beloved said, “What is your name O friend, and what is your occupation and trade?” He replied, “I am the sorcerer Mahtab Moon-Maker. My dominions extend from here to the frontiers of Mount Azure.”
She touched her earlobes and said, “A sorcerer! Heaven’s mercy! I am afraid of their very name. The trappings and working of magic scare me to death. The sorcerers are thousands of years old and change their form from man to woman and woman to man in a trice.”
When Mahtab Moon-Maker heard her reply, he said to himself, Why did I have to declare myself a sorcerer! I have now ruined all my chances. He said to her, “O beloved, may I sacrifice my life to protect yours. I shall never perform magic in your presence. Moreover, I am young – a mere stripling of three hundred and twenty-five years.” That false beauty, the destroyer of faith, declared, “Make a vow that you will never perform sorcery.” Mahtab Moon-Maker immediately swore in Jamshed’s name and promised he would not revert from his word.
Finally, the false damsel accompanied Mahtab Moon-Maker to his house.
The moment that rose-like creature stepped inside, a magic sparrow flew down from the ledge and cried, “Amar comes!” and burned up. Mahtab Moon-Maker said to himself, I have captured Amar once already. I also verified his face with his portrait and that, too, confirmed it. This magic sparrow must be lying. While Mahtab Moon-Maker was engrossed in these thoughts, the false damsel said, “It was for this reason that I did not wish to accompany you. Now I shall leave. I told you that magical devices will be the death of me.”
Smitten with her beauty, Mahtab Moon-Maker replied, “O darling, the tricksters keep attacking, and I made these magic sparrows for my protection to alert me of their presence.” She replied, “I cannot bear it. This magic sparrow just called me a trickster. Now I suppose you ought to avoid me because I am a trickster and could
kill you!”
As she headed out, Mahtab Moon-Maker stopped her by holding her in his embrace and, after much flattery and praise, persuaded her to return. As she stepped inside another magic sparrow flew down from the ledge, cried, “Amar comes!” and burned up. That false beauty asked Mahtab Moon-Maker, “Now tell me, who did the magic sparrow alert you against?” Mahtab Moon-Maker replied, “It seems that some fault has occurred in my magic. And since it also frightens you, I shall eliminate it altogether.”
Mahtab Moon-Maker recited an incantation and struck his hands together, which caused all the sparrows to fall to the ground and burn up. Mahtab Moon-Maker said, “Now you may settle down here in comfort.” The false damsel sat down on the golden couch and noticed Burq lying tied up in a corner. Their eyes met and Burq realized it was Amar Ayyar in disguise.
In the meanwhile, Mahtab Moon-Maker sent for food and said to the false damsel, “You are hungry. Eat something. Thereafter we will seek pleasure from each other and rest.” The mouth of that rosebud opened to say, “I haven’t had a sip of wine in many days. My senses are in disarray. Now I feel neither hunger nor thirst. I long only for wine. Before you lay this sumptuous feast for us, give me a cup of wine.” Mahtab Moon-Maker immediately brought a tray of wine. He put it before her and said, “Here! Drink to your heart’s content.” This rose-like false creature filled a goblet with roseate wine and offered it to Mahtab Moon-Maker, who said, “You haven’t had wine for some time. I would that you have a sip first.” She answered, “I will have it in my turn. This cup is for you.”
While they were having this exchange, Afrasiyab remembered he had not heard from Mahtab Moon-Maker since he sent the note. Wondering why he had not captured Amar Ayyar yet, Afrasiyab decided to look into the Book of Sameri to see what passed with him. He learned that Amar sat beside Mahtab Moon-Maker disguised as a woman and was about to kill him.
The emperor recited a spell and a magic slave sprang up from the ground. Afrasiyab said, “Rush to Mahtab Moon-Maker and tell him that the woman sitting beside him is Amar Ayyar, and the one lying tied up in a corner is Burq the Frank. Tell him to arrest both of them and bring them here.” The magic slave left immediately with the emperor’s message.
The false damsel had filled her mouth with drug powder and also mixed it in the wine she gave to Mahtab Moon-Maker. The sorcerer had not yet taken a sip when the ground trembled and the false damsel reckoned that some calamity had arrived. The next instant the magic slave dispatched by Afrasiyab sprang up from the ground. With a frightened cry, the false damsel threw herself into Mahtab Moon-Maker’s arms, and he said to her, “Don’t be afraid!” She pressed her cheek against Mahtab’s and blew the powdered drug from her mouth into the sorcerer’s nostrils. He sneezed and fell unconscious.
The magic slave cried, “O Mahtab, this is Amar Ayyar. The emperor has ordered you to arrest him.” But by then Mahtab Moon-Maker lay comatose and deaf to his cries. The magic slave stepped forward to deliver the emperor’s message into Mahtab Moon-Maker’s ears. Seeing him approach, the false damsel threw the Net of Ilyas and caught him. Then leaving him in a corner tangled in the net, she released Burq and killed Mahtab Moon-Maker. A commotion of thunderous noise broke out and darkness fell over everything.
When the magicians appointed by Mahtab Moon-Maker rushed into his room, Amar and Burq beheaded them with dagger blows. A blaze arose, killing many a sorcerer. The few who survived were too terrified to set foot indoors and ran away to escape the calamity that had struck inside.
After some time, when things returned to normal, Amar released the magic slave from the net and said to him, “Go tell that clown Afrasiyab that I shall soon behead him by the grace of my majesty and glory.”
The magic slave took off immediately. Amar looted all the goods and riches of Mahtab Moon-Maker and stuffed them into his zambil. Then Amar and Burq headed for the forest.
Burq said, “Tell me O master, what your plan is.” Amar answered, “I will go my way dear boy and you should go yours, but do come to me in my hour of need.” Burq made a salute and went leaping and bounding in one direction while Amar Ayyar took another.
SORCERER AZAR OF THE PORTRAIT TABLET
The magic slave reported Mahtab Moon-Maker’s death to Afrasiyab and the news of Amar Ayyar catching him in the net. The emperor was seized with rage and fury.
As he prepared to capture Amar himself, his courtiers humbly said, “O Emperor of Hoshruba, it does not become your dignity to go to capture one of Hamza’s tricksters. Among your slaves are many who are capable of bringing even Hamza captive. A common trickster like Amar Ayyar is of absolutely no consequence. You are the Master of the Tilism. To arrest Amar you should dispatch one of your servants after teaching him magic that helps him recognize the tricksters no matter what disguise they put on.”
Afrasiyab realized they offered wise counsel.
The Emperor of Hoshruba now cast a fiery look toward a flowerbed in the garden that started to burn from the heat of his gaze. Afrasiyab himself became a flame and disappeared inside that blazing flowerbed. A moment later he emerged carrying a gemstone tablet in his hands, painted with the portrait of a beautiful maiden.
Afrasiyab struck his hands together and the earth cleft asunder to disgorge a sorcerer of hideous aspect and form, who was named Azar.
Afrasiyab handed the tablet to him and said, “O Azar, go and bring me Amar Ayyar prisoner. He lurks in the Flashing Wilderness after killing Mahtab Moon-Maker. I give you this tablet to help you recognize him. You must look at it whenever you come upon anyone along the way. Although it currently displays the portrait of a woman, if a trickster appears before you the picture will change to the true face of that trickster. You will be able to recognize him in any disguise. If the person is not a trickster, the portrait will remain unchanged.”
Azar left and began searching for Amar in the Flashing Wilderness.
In the wilderness, Amar Ayyar was saying to himself, O Amar, who knows what fate holds in store in this adventure. It is an enchanted land, hundreds of thousands of sorcerers abound in this tilism, and it is impossible to kill all of them. Who knows where the tablet of tilism is hidden, or what passed with Prince Asad. God alone knows whether he is still alive or dead!
Amar sat engrossed in these thoughts when he sighted a sorcerer searching for someone in all directions. Amar said to himself, I must kill this wretch so that the number of sorcerers is reduced at least by one. Amar put on a sorcerer’s disguise himself and approached the sorcerer who was none other than Azar.
Azar saw a sorcerer of terrifying aspect coming toward him spewing flames from his mouth, nose and ears.
Azar accosted him and said, “Who are you?” The false sorcerer answered, “You must give me your name first.” Azar introduced himself and described his search for Amar Ayyar. The false sorcerer said to him, “I am on the same mission. I have been searching for Amar since I heard of my relative Mahtab Moon-Maker’s death.” Azar said, “Let us then search for Amar together.”
The false sorcerer readily accompanied Azar and remained on the lookout for an opportunity to overpower and kill him.
Azar suddenly remembered that the emperor had instructed him to look at the tablet with the portrait whenever he met someone on the way. When Azar looked at the portrait, it had changed into Amar’s real face – someone with a head like a dried gourd, eyes the size of cumin seeds, ears like apricots, cheeks resembling bread cake, a neck that was thread-like, and limbs akin to rope. His lower body measured six yards and upper body three. Azar’s senses took flight when this marvellous vision unfolded before his eyes. He realized that in the sorcerer’s disguise was a trickster whose real shape and form were depicted in the portrait.
Azar recited a spell by which Amar lost the use of his limbs. Azar produced a chain from his sorcerer’s bag and tied Amar with it. When Amar protested, saying, “Why do you torment me in this manner, brother?” Azar replied, “O wily man, don’t try your tricks on me. You are the one k
nown as Amar Ayyar, and I know that for a fact.”
Enraged, Amar said, “I would not bet on your living too long. You’ll be dispatched hellward in no time. One hundred and eighty-four thousand tricksters have entered the tilism and soon one of them will put an end to your life.” Azar replied, “I will kill all of them and not be frightened by your words.” Then Azar led Amar away.
Zargham saw from far away that a sorcerer had taken Amar prisoner. He tried to find some way of securing his release. He overtook Azar by two miles, where he saw a cowherd grazing his animals. Zargham went before the cowherd in the disguise of a local man and said to him, “A wolf is creeping up on one of your cows in the bushes.” As the cowherd turned and ran toward the bushes, Zargham threw his snare rope and tightened it around the cowherd’s neck so that he could not make the slightest noise. Zargham then pulled him down to the ground and drugged him unconscious.
Zargham disguised himself as the cowherd by putting on his garb, tying the kerchief on his head and wearing a waistcloth and doublet. After hiding the real cowherd in the bushes, he began grazing the herd.
Presently, Azar arrived, leading Amar. Because it was sunny and he had travelled a long distance, he said to the false cowherd, “If you have a rope and a bowl, fetch me some drinking water from a well.” The false cowherd answered, “You have come from far it seems. If you wish I can bring you some fresh milk. You may drink that instead of water.” Azar replied, “Very well, bring it!” The false cowherd whistled to a cow and milked her in a brass pot, drugged the milk and handed it to the sorcerer.
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