Jafar al-Sharif was sitting on a bench by the fountain in the central courtyard, practicing his art. The dust of the day’s traffic had settled and the fountain murmured softly, adding welcome moisture to the cooling air. As the sun set, the torches began to provide more of the light, and the intimacy of the flickering glow aided Jafar’s task. People had come to splash water on their dust-lined faces and stayed, captured by the artistry of a master storyteller. Gradually they crouched, sat, or leaned on walls around the courtyard, turning from traveling strangers into an audience. Street urchins also came to be hypnotized by the tales. It was a small audience, to be sure, but Jafar was hoping one of the merchants from the less “sophisticated” cities where storytelling was still revered migh
