I found it when I was doing my yearly “let’s look through all my stuff and see what I still care about and what I can let go.” Such a mundane activity. So, fathomable. I stopped to reminisce about a few of the photos, journals, letters and the like. There were some precious items that were worn from over three decades of existence and yet were keepers. And some items that I couldn’t remember why I’d kept and that I gladly put in the donate-or-recycle pile. But then, tucked away in a black briefcase bag I was clearing out for donation, I found a dried out stick. My lucky stick.
“We’re not looking for a fountain or waters, ladies and gentlemen,” Taryn said, clicking to the last slide in her presentation. She felt the nervous excitement caught between her stomach and her chest. She took a quick breath and took a dramatic half turn toward the image on the screen before she spoke again.
“We’re looking for a cup.”
Finden was a young man who wanted to go out into the world, to travel, find adventure, see spectacular sights, and meet all manner of people (especially lovely girls and heroic men). He worked at his father’s shop until he had saved up enough money to take his first trip beyond his province. Perhaps even beyond the borders of the kingdom. He told his father of his plans one day, and he respectfully declined his inheritance. His father accepted this, but he told Finden to wait a year before he set off. For there was another inheritance due to the firstborn upon reaching the nineteenth year.
Finden was insistent on leaving that very month. So his father took him aside and told him the secret of their family’s moderate yet certain success. His father showed him a pair of trousers.
When Azzam was a young man, so many moons ago, he was working as an acquirer of valuable goods when he stumbled upon a small, unremarkable bottle that changed the course of his life thereafter…