THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) Read Online Free PDF Page B

frown from Ramagar, and without speaking beckoned them inside. The very fact that they had come to him in daylight assured him that they considered their business important. Above all else, Oro was a businessman.
    The door shut, leaving only darkness. Black curtains covered the tiny window at the back, and the room was coated with dust and the dried dung which filtered inside from the courtyard beyond the hidden back door.
    As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Oro led them to his counter. There a burning candle cast an eerie yellow pall in which a moth danced.
    Mariana shuddered involuntarily and slipped closer to her lover. Oro caught her uneasiness and smiled inwardly.
    “So,” he rasped in his thick, accented voice as he took his place behind the counter. “What brings you here so early in the day?”
    The thief met his steely gaze. “We brought something for you to examine.”
    “Oh?” His dark brows rose malevolently. He had as much love for Ramagar as the thief had for him. “And what might that be, eh?”
    Ramagar hesitated before reaching inside his pocket and bringing out the scimitar. The dagger glittered in the candle’s light and the dealer in stolen goods stared. The thief closed his hand around his prize and held it tightly.
    “I cannot examine your merchandise unless you give it to me,” Oro growled impatiently.
    Ramagar shot a quick glance to Mariana and she nodded, although with much of the same apprehension that he was feeling. Then with a sigh and a look that promised violence if Oro tried any clever manipulation or sleight of hand, he handed it over.
    The merchant put an eyeglass to his eye and inspected it closely. His head bobbed up and down, and he muttered, “Yes, yes,” over and over. At last he took the glass from his eye and turned to his visitors. “Have you brought this to sell?” he asked.
    “That depends,” replied the thief. “First we want to know what you can tell us about it.”
    Oro shrugged. “It is a very fine piece of work. Indeed it is. But you know that as well as I, Ramagar …” In a gesture of good will he placed it down in front of the thief. “I am prepared to offer you a handsome price. In cash, of course.”
    “How handsome?”
    Oro grinned toothlessly. Mariana stepped back a pace at the smell of his hot, foul breath. The merchant rolled his eyes as if in some mental calculation, saying at last, “Fifty pieces of silver.”
    Ramagar laughed. The very offer he had given Vlashi! He shook his head and sneered. Oro looked at him suspiciously. His face remained blank, but inwardly he was annoyed that the thief obviously knew more of its value than he had let on.
    “Such a fine jewel as this will be difficult to be rid of,” he said, looking first to Mariana, then to the thief.
    “Perhaps so. But I’m not interested.” Ramagar put his hand to the scimitar and pulled it out of Ore’s reach. The rubies and emeralds scattered colored light in all their faces. Oro hunched in closer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    “How much do you ask, then?”
    The girl flashed her eyes, replying before Ramagar could answer: “Have you seen the engraver’s mark?”
    “I have,” came a slow, measured reply.
    “Then you know how rare it is. A true value would be more like a thousand pieces—in gold.”
    The beady eyes screwed in anger. Then Oro laughed, looking hard at the full-bosomed dancing girl with pangs of growing desire. For more than a year he had watched her from afar, watched her dance at the taverns. The single time he had approached her she had spit in his eye, caring nothing for the silver he offered in return for meeting his lewd cravings. And her arrogance had angered him as much as her spurning. But he blamed not the girl, no indeed, but rather he blamed the thief. It was her lover alone who was responsible, and secretly he despised Ramagar for it.
    “Your price is outrageous, dancing girl. Fit for princes with overflowing coffers. I cannot