The Lamp of Darkness

With a sly grin, he pulled the flask away. “A drop of this is worth more than one of your reeking sheep, and it would be worth my head if the King found out. I’ll let you smell it only.” I reached out to take the bottle, but Seguv tightened his grip. He uncorks and only holds it under my nose when I drop my hands. The essence flooded my senses, overwhelming the smell of dry grass and stone with the sweetness of wildflowers. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Deeper notes of the scent—mineral, earth, spice—unfolded as Seguv pulled the flask away. A hot breeze carried the sheep odour back under the tree, and I opened my eyes, confused.

“If it’s so precious, why are you carrying it?” Seguv’s eyes widened, “My father wants the first batch to go directly to the King.” “But why are you taking it?” The roads were safe and had been ever since the last civil war ended years ago. Even so, who would send a kingly tribute with a boy selling dates, even if he was of age? I could tell from how he smiled, with his tongue flitting between his teeth, that he was waiting for me to ask. “It’s early.” He raised his thick, dark eyebrows. “This is the first batch of afarsimon oil ever produced in the Kingdom. The King isn’t even expecting a crop this year. My father says there’s no better time for my first appearance in Court.”