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Original:
Mahatheb was the greatest vizier the city of Ankrahmun had ever seen. His counsel was prized and his wisdom legendary. He served the pharaoh Ashmunrah dutifully and faithfully. The wise Mahatheb had ever been wary of the studies of the pharaoh’s dark son, Arkhotep. But Arkhothep whispered lies into the ears of the pharaoh and poisoned his mind and heart. In his wisdom, Mahatheb saw the futility of his attempts to destroy the mists of treachery that clouded the pharaoh’s vision. Instead, he planned to help his liege in another way. Knowing that Arkhothep was using dark sorcery to gain power, he decided to gather more might himself in order to fight him. Being no sorcerer, the vizier looked to the powers of the legendary djinn, and studied ways to bind them to his will. After long research, he learned that even the djinn had to bow to someone who knew their true name. He pondered his options, when seemingly fate smiled upon him and provided him with an opportunity too good to pass it by. The well-known king of thieves, Qual'Jehari, had fallen in love with Xetharis, the beautiful daughter of the vizier. When he asked for her hand in marriage, Mahatheb presented him with a condition: to steal the true names of the djinn and give them to him. Qual'Jehari, love-stricken and blinded by arrogance, accepted without hesitation. He left the court at once, promising to return soon. Years passed, and the thief was not seen or heard again, while the vile Arkhotep grew in power and assembled his co-conspirators. Running out of time and options, the vizier tried other ways to stop the pharaoh’s son, but to no avail. When Mahatheb was desperate and almost ready for a deed of desperation, a ragged pauper appeared in his chambers. The vizier was about to call the guards when the pauper revealed himself to be no other than Qual'Jehari. He was gaunt and marked by his quest, having lost both his eyes and his youth. With shaking hands he presented Mahatheb some scrolls of paper that had the names of numerous djinn written upon them. But the vizier’s joy was cut short when he recognised that in truth only a tiny fraction of all the djinn names had been acquired. In his anger he had the thief flogged and thrown out on the streets. He studied the names of the djinn he had acquired and wondered how to put them to best use. But luck is a treacherous lover, and it had already betrayed the good Mahatheb. The thief had withheld one of the djinn names, and used that djinn to steal the beloved daughter of Mahatheb. This caused so much attention that the evil Arkhothep became aware of the vizier’s actions and put his own plans into motion. Mahatheb however was wise enough to see the threat coming, and used the powers of the djinn to flee Ankrahmun, to a foreign land, taking all of his servants and riches with him. But he had underestimated the great heights of power that Arkhothep had already climbed to. The vile prince used his sorcerous might to cast a death curse on him, and all the might of Mahatheb’s bound djinn was not powerful enough to protect him. All he could do was to prolong the inevitable. He used his remaining might not to build himself a palace as he had intended, but a tomb in which he planned to endure the passing of time until the one day he would rise again. His djinn erected the tomb, and Mahatheb was embalmed by his servants, who were then put to death by the djinn so they could join their master in the afterlife. Only I, his chronicler, was allowed to live a little longer to tell his tale. When this book is finished, I too will drink the poisoned wine that the guarding djinn will serve me to fulfil my destiny. May we all one days rise again by the power of the wise Mahatheb.
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