Rani Ricked Meets Saudi Prince

He’d been home barely twenty four hours when a new thought struck the cogitating old man. He’d been so focussed on following up on his leads that he’d forgotten he had promised to help a friend out. He cursed at his forgetfulness, quickly ate his muesli and made haste. Two hours later he was sweating profusely but their task had been successful. The Mule affectionally known as Nuix had been rounded up and tethered. His reward was a cold beer which he supped gratefully whilst gently stroking a playful kitten.

“I have a favour to ask. A big one” he said without preamble.

“Fire away, you know me, if I can help I will” she replied.

As he retold the key events of his extraordinary affair his friend’s concentration gave way to a quizzical stare, at the end of which she looked hard into his dark eyes and asked “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She looked at him with genuine affection and replied “In which case I will do all I can. Of that you have my word.”

He gently placed the kitten on the floor, stretched his aching limbs, kissed her on her perfumed cheek and made his way home.

After unlocking the two dead bolts and entering the eight digits required to turn the alarm off he made his way to his bedroom, fell onto his bed and was asleep in seconds. He awoke sometime later feeling refreshed after his morning’s errand, microwaved some anonymous lasagne and ate it whilst perusing the local paper. It never ceased to amaze him that the local mayor featured so heavily. He couldn’t help thinking it was because the mayor was in a prior life a popular army Preacher by the name of Grin Short. A likeable fellow who was a real softie at heart. Funny how apt his name was he chuckled.

He turned to the page containing the local crime figures. He was a careful, nay meticulous man in such matters, and shook his head as he read. The local sergeant, a man known as Clappers Clarke for reasons he could not fathom, was bemoaning the lack of help in solving local crime. Two of the reports in particular caught his eye. The first was the theft of some rare Mandarin ducks. The second involved a hot air balloon which had been taken in the dead of night, and Sergeant Clarke was asking everyone to crane the skies at every possible opportunity. A few pages later Rani couldn’t help the corners of his mouth curling as he read that the owner of the local Chinese takeaway, a certain Lay Vast Xi, was strenuously denying rumours that the missing ducks had featured in her special’s menu.

After checking the lonely hearts column he started packing for his next trip. The leads he’d chased down in Mama-Whets Town were coming to fruition, and with the help of Ed Blubber and his gang he was making real progress. He wondered what he should pack, as the only thing he knew was that it was going to be hot. Very hot. He decided to pack light, secured his home and set off for the airport. This was going to be some adventure.

He awoke to the sounds of strange chanting cutting through the still warm air and prized his eyes open. He could see the tall minarets against the dawn light and a tremor of excitement pulsed through his aged bones. His friend had been as good as her word, and despite the difficulties had pulled enough strings and called in enough favours to arrange the meeting with the Saudi Prince himself. They’d agreed to meet thirty miles south of his five star hotel which was located in a small town on the edge of the desert called Palm Tau Pun. It was obvious to even his untrained eye that it was the oasis which allowed this place to survive the ravishes of fifty degrees heat and sand thicker than rock.

He enjoyed a leisurely sumptuous breakfast in a deliciously cooled room overlooking the edge of the baking hot desert. He had thirty minutes before he would be picked up and enjoyed his time looking through local tourist guides on a place called the Tuwaiq Escarpment. He’d been promised that he would find what he was looking for and couldn’t wait to get started.

It was pitch dark when he arrived back but he glowed with satisfaction as he relaxed in the cool pool with a rare glass of orange. He’d thought Saudi Arabia was just sand upon sand. Instead he’d seen the most amazing rock outcrops, ridges and natural arches. But the best part of the day had been his visit to Graffiti Rock. And it was here that he’d found what he’d been looking for. Yes, the rock had contained images which looked as old he was. Hunters, Ibex and Oryx purported to be thousands of years old. But it was what the Saudi Prince had shown him in a secret shaft that had captured his full attention. His heart had filled with raw unadulterated joy as he’d seen the key images he’d travelled this far to see. The Floating Peach and the Migaloo were very special, yes, but what he spent the most of his time looking at was the ancient rock carving of what the Prince called the Sand Tree. The Prince had spent a generous ten minutes explaining the various legends associated with this most mystical of pictures.

As he drained his glass and made his way back to his room he sighed with contentment. Yes, he thought, for the first time it was starting to make sense..

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Tags:

arabia, rani, ricked, sand, saudi, story and tree