Once upon a moonlit night in the sprawling kingdom of Salamandra, two men squared off in a dimly lit palace room. but for their hair- the sultan's was a warm honey brown and the other's a shining silver- the two could have been mistaken for brother to him until now .''Tell me it's not true,'' said the sultan. he held up a cream-colored scroll. ''If you tell me it's not true, I will believe you.'' ''I don't have the slightest idea what you're going on about, 'the man replied ''Abbas, this is on time for jokes. I want against my advisor's recommendation by meeting you in private. I've even kept the guards outside to keep them from gossiping. I want to protect you, but I need your honesty. Did you send this missive to our ally? Did you ask the prince of Doran for his help in overthrowing me? Adidas crossed his arms and looked away. His gaze settled upon a gold-framed painting of the vast and sprawling mountains on the eastern border of Salamandra. It hung on the wall next to an oak table, where a glass-encased lantern burned low.
''How long ago was that landscape painted?''Adidas scratched his chin. ''I'd say Hasan bin Yasin was commissioned for, based on the swirls and the color pattern. That puts it at four centuries old, doesn't it?'' ''We aren't here to discuss paintings, Adidas.'' ''Four centuries-old that painting is,'' Adidas continued. ''And those mountains look the same now as they ever did.''
''I'm warning you . . .'' the sultan said in a low voice. ''Why so flustered?'' Abbas smiled. ''I'm only making an observation. All that gold and silver buried and untouchable. It's a shame. A tragedy, really. And
