📍 Scene: Village of Al-Qarah, Morning — Preparing for Departure
The sun had barely risen when ZAYD IBN SULEIMAN packed his leather satchel with dates, dried meat, ink, and parchment. His mother tucked a wool scarf into the folds.
MOTHER (softly):
"Be careful, Zayd. Mosul is far… and the world is not always kind."
ZAYD (gently):
"I will return stronger, Ummi. I promise. And one day, you'll never have to worry again."
His father placed a hand on his shoulder.
FATHER:
"Don't return with just coins. Return with character."
Zayd kissed their hands and left with the caravan headed north.
📍 Scene Change: Caravan Trail to Mosul — Day Three
Zayd walked beside the camels, listening more than speaking. He observed how the guards scanned the hills, how traders counted coin discreetly, how animals reacted before a storm.
One night, a Kurdish caravan leader named HAJI RASHID invited him to share bread.
HAJI RASHID:
"You ask more questions than a scholar, boy. Why?"
ZAYD (with a smile):
"Because I want to become a scholar… of people."
Haji Rashid laughed, impressed.
HAJI RASHID:
"Then listen closely — every man has three faces: one for Allah, one for the world, and one even he cannot see."
📍 Scene Change: Outskirts of Mosul — Sunset
Mosul rose like a jewel on the banks of the Tigris — domes, spires, markets, and smoke from evening ovens. Zayd's heart raced.
He had never seen so many colors, languages, or types of wealth.
He paid for a bed at a cheap han (inn) and slept with his bag clutched close.
📍 Scene Change: Mosul Market — Next Morning
Zayd roamed the spice market, watching closely. He saw a Turk sell glass from Aleppo, a Persian man trade silk dyed with indigo, and a young Jewish merchant expertly debate a Christian trader over Syrian olives.
Then he saw a familiar sight — fake saffron being sold to a group of foreign buyers.
Zayd stepped forward.
ZAYD (firmly):
"That is not saffron. It's marigold dust and dried onion skin."
BUYER (suspicious):
"And you are?"
ZAYD:
"A merchant in training. But I know a scam when I see one."
The buyers hesitated. The seller scowled.
ZAYD (calmly):
"If you don't believe me, steep a pinch in hot water. It won't turn golden. It'll smell like soup."
They tested it. The water turned murky brown.
BUYER (grateful):
"You saved us coin, boy. What's your name?"
ZAYD:
"Zayd ibn Suleiman."
The buyer handed him a silver dirham and a folded letter.
BUYER:
"Take this to the merchant guild near the Blue Mosque. Ask for Ustadh Faruq. Say Aaron sent you."
📍 Scene Change: Merchant Guild Hall — Afternoon
Zayd entered a domed stone building, filled with shelves of scrolls, bales of trade goods, and stern-looking men.
USTADH FARUQ, a tall man with a clean beard and ink-stained fingers, opened the letter and studied Zayd silently.
USTADH FARUQ:
"Hm. So you exposed a fraud, did you? And you want to learn commerce?"
ZAYD (with conviction):
"I want to learn everything. And I will repay every lesson with loyalty."
Faruq narrowed his eyes.
USTADH FARUQ:
"Then start with sweeping the courtyard and listening. That's how real merchants begin."
Zayd smiled.
ZAYD:
"I came to sweep knowledge, not just dust."
Closing Narration
Zayd had arrived in Mosul as a stranger. But before the week was done, the city had begun to remember his name.
From the dusty corners of the market to the polished halls of trade, a new thread was weaving itself into the city's future — a thread called Zayd ibn Suleiman.
End of Chapter 4