It’s a terrifying night. A moonless African night. You’d think the sun had never shone on Earth. And there’s such a din. Panicked cries, flashes of light splitting the darkness in every direction, followed by a series of explosions: just like the night when Blue Wolf was captured. Then comes the crackling of flames. Black shadows are cast against the walls in the red glow. This is war, or something close to it. Everywhere you look, fires are blazing and houses are crashing down…
“Toa! Toa!” a woman calls out as she runs. She’s carrying something in her arms and shouting out to a man who’s sidling along the walls. He’s leading an enormous camel by the reins.
“Toa the trader, please listen to me!”
“This is hardly the moment for idle chat.”
“I haven’t come to chat. It’s for the child’s sake, Toa. Take this child and lead him far away from here. He doesn’t have a mother any more.” She holds out the bundle in her arms.
“What do you want me to do with such a tiny child? He’ll just drink all my water.”
The flames suddenly leap out of a neighbouring window. Toa can smell his moustache getting singed. “Oh, Africa! Curse Africa!”
“I’m begging you, Toa, save the child. When he’s older he’ll become a storyteller; he’ll tell stories to make people dream.”
“I’ve no use for dreams; I’ve got enough problems on my hands with this idiot of a camel who does nothing but dream from morning to night.”
The camel, who has been making his way through the scene of destruction as calmly as if it was an oasis, comes to a complete standstill.
“Toa!” shouts the woman. “I’ll pay you.”
“I’m not interested. Are you going to get a move on?”
“Lots of money, Toa, lots!”
“Stupid camel, every time I tell him he’s an idiot, he refuses to budge. How much money?”
“Everything I’ve got.”
“Everything?”
“Absolutely everything!”