"Craig Shaw Gardner - Arabian 2 - A Bad Day for Ali Baba" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Craig Shaw)

So it was that a certain poor woodcutter did eke out his existence in a
certain city in the most distant corner of Persia, ignorant of the great
events that were soon to shape his life in unexpected and even
extremely unlikely directions. And that humble yet industrious
woodcutter was named Ali Baba.

Now, Ali Baba was the younger of two sons, and when his father had
passed from this world, the elder bequeathed all of his earthly goods
upon the older of the two, whose name was Kassim. This was, of
course, the accepted custom in that place and time, as it remains today.
And the younger son did well to accept this, for his father was not a
wealthy man, and the humble should not become bitter because custom
should turn against them.

But this newfound wealth was not enough for Kassim, and the elder
brother squandered those coins like a man might pour water into the
desert sands, until he, too, was forced to seek employment. And even
in this regard was he none too prudent, for he fell in with certain bad
company, and began to run certain errands and perform certain
services for a certain house of extremely low repute. But still did Ali
Baba keep silent, and continue to go about his menial business without
complaint.

So it was that Ali Baba pursued his woodcutting, day in and day out,
collecting vast and back-breaking quantities of wood in the wild forest
beyond the city, receiving calluses upon his palms and splinters in his
fingers, facing constant threats from wild bandits and wilder beasts, so
that he might eke out the most meager of existences. And Kassim, who
appeared to do what little labor was expected of him in the middle of
the night, would loll about the house during the day and call to his many
servants for scented water to cool his brow. But Ali Baba thought little
of his brother's lot, even though his brother happened to live directly
next door to Ali Baba's poor hovel, and although his brother's actual lot
was far larger than the pitiful few feet of property that Ali Baba, his
wife, and the one single servant that they could afford were crowded
upon, and further that Kassim seemed to have loud and vociferous
gatherings that lasted far into the night, depriving Ali Baba of
much-needed sleep.

But still did the modest woodcutter not object. So humble and
hardworking was this man, in fact, that he barely noticed the dozens
upon dozens of petty affronts and nagging oversights on the part of his
less-than-perfect brother that might cause him to object. Of course,
should I dwell upon this unpleasant matter, there is one small example
that happens to come to mind. It is a certain incident concerning an
evening pleasant in all respects. At least it was pleasant at first, before
the actions of the jet-black stallions of Kassim's superior (whose true
name was Goha, but whom all called One Thumb, since the thumb
which once rested upon his left hand rested there no more, having been
separated from the remainder of his flesh by a particularly sharp