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and,  even  how  much  I  screamed  and  cried,  nothing  seemed  to  affect  my  captors  who  were
               running now, faster than before.

                      A moment later we arrived to destination. Even though I couldn’t see, I understood the
               Arab perfectly and comprehended then that the fanatics were calling with loud voices someone
               to whom they denominated Naassen Master.

                      Finally, they liberated me from the bundle cap that was blinding me, depositing me over
               a smooth cushion of silk, of regular size. When I accustomed the sight to the penumbra of the
               place, I realized that I was in a wide lounge, dimly illuminated with oil lamps. The floor, covered
               with rich carpets and cushions, counted with the presence of a dozen of kneeled men, with the
               brow on the floor, who once and again lifted their sight up to me and then, clasping the hands
               upon their heads, elevated their lost eyes to the sky claiming Ophis! Ophis!

                      Of  course,  all  these  frightened  me  because;  even  though  I  suffered  no  harm,  the
               remembrance of my parents, and the fact to be prisoner, produced me great grief. Seated on the
               cushion, surrounded by so many men, was impossible to think in an escape and this certainty
               drew out painful sobs. Suddenly, a kind voice sprouted from behind me bringing momentary
               hope and comfort to my sufferings. I turned back and saw that an oldman of white beard, with
               a turban, was coming to me.

                      –Fear not son –Said in Arab the oldman to whom they called Naassen–. No one will hurt
               you here. You’re an envoy of the Serpent God, Ophis-Lucifer to whom we serve. The Sign that
               you carry marked proves it for His Glory.


                      He indicated in an affectionate gesture to let him to be taken in his arms, to «show me
               the image of God». I was really necessitating an affectionate treatment because those fanatics
               didn’t stop to think that I was a child. I embraced the oldman and he began to walk to the end
               of the hall –That resulted to be basement– Where a column was elevated in which pedestal
               shined a small sculpture of very poliched stone. It had the form of a cobra elevated over itself
               with  refulgent  eyes,  maybe  due  to  the  incrustation  of  stones  of  a  more  intense  green.  The
               image fascinated me and I’d have touched it if the oldman not moves backwards in time.

                      –Have you liked the image of God, «little envoy»? –Said the Master.

                      –Yes –I replied without knowing why.

                      –You have the right to possess the jewel of the Order. –Continued the Master who was
               rummaging in a little bag of fine leather that he had hanging on his neck.






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