How fresh were the autumn mornings of adolescence when everybody met near the fountain in the garden, how brilliant was the sunshine adorned with girls' laughter...

"Oh, please, tell me, smartest of us all, what should I do?" Yuna sighed and turned to Shirazad. Yuna was a young girl of fifteen but very flirtatious and this set the pattern for the type of problems she usually had... yes, love problems. Who knew whether her words were merely a joke, the reflection of the spontaneous emotions of a young mind, or they were provoked by true feelings? Yuna was a person who very easily fell in love, so even though she pretended to be joking, Shirazad bet that Yuna sincerely wanted to know her opinion and hear her advice.

Yuna was rich and good-natured, and therefore the perfect friend to spend the afternoons together with in the garden of the Grand Vizier's manor, Shirazad's home. Now there were some other girls there as well, playing near a big fountain in the garden, but Dunyazad, Shirazad's younger sister, was absent. Dinnara, Shirazad's wet-nurse, came from time to time to observe the girls.

"I admit that I may have had a crush on more than one person," Yuna said. "But really, ever since I remember, I have been madly in love with Lord Yasin Lhasa – and really I've told no one, and I've been hiding this truth even from my own self. Perhaps because I don't want to like him. I've always been most kind to him, and all I seem to receive in return is his contempt. But here, I capitulate. Worst of all, I recently told him how I feel and still nothing has changed."

Shirazad listened carefully and calmly. Yuna often whimpered while describing her own wonderful behavior and his cold indifference.

"Perhaps, you have made some miscalculations," Shirazad replied. "You shouldn't have confessed your feelings to him for this has caused him to put up defenses against you. Thinking that he doesn't love you, he is ready to fight with you, and as they say, 'supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting'."

"Oh, I have never thought about this. But now, isn't it too late to change my approach?" Yuna exclaimed.

Shirazad smiled,

"Since you feel weak now, then you must pretend to be strong. As they say, 'all warfare is based on deception; hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near'..."

At that moment, someone came into the garden and shouted out,

"Shirazad, quoting some ancient war strategy books again? Can't you come up with your own thoughts?!" It was Dunyazad.

"My mind is empty," Shirazad retorted.

"Joke as much as you want. I will still listen to you," Yuna said.

"Yuna, forget about this Lord Lhasa of yours," Dunyazad exclaimed. "Are you still fighting for him, or rather, with him? It's incredible how obstinate women can be when they are rejected."

Yuna felt bitter, "I hope no one ever regards your feelings in such a way."

"I am saying this for your own good, Yuna. Just leave this Lord Lhasa alone," Dunyazad said.

"Yes," Shirazad agreed. "Retreat when your position is weaker. We must not waste our resources if we cannot ensure victory. The next time you see him, don't speak a word to him, ignore him, and hope he'll forget all about you. Only then can you act again."

"Shirazad, let people make their own decisions!" Dunyazad almost scolded her.

"Actually, I am quite an indecisive person," Shirazad explained. "I am unable to make any decisions, even when it comes to my own life. Otherwise, why would father be organizing a banquet in order to find a husband for me? I assure you, I am only suggesting ideas."

"Please," Dunyazad retorted. "The banquet is not because you are indecisive, but because you are capricious. Have you ever said a single good word about any of the noblemen?"

"I don't know them well enough to praise them," Shirazad shrugged. Who could guess that soon those biting, harmless conversations would be just a pale memory in her mind?

Now Shirazad was carefree. She was thinking about Yuna, who was prone to constantly falling in love by nature but claimed that Lord Lhasa was something special. Shirazad smiled, somehow glad because she knew her smart advice was greatly appreciated by her friends. Yuna had been interested in this Lord Lhasa for a long time, and she considered herself to be madly in love with him. It was high time Shirazad resolved this complicated situation. Indeed, this lord was obviously selfish, rich and overly proud. He never appreciated Yuna, though she was very nice. He was begging for someone to give him a lesson.

***

Shirazad lived in her father's manor; her father, the Grand Vizier, was one of the richest people in the kingdom. She was a beauty and like every wealthy lady had been taught math, writing, reading and geography – and excelled in all of these subjects.

When she had been younger, her father had allowed her to come and go out of the library whenever she wished. Hardly did he realize what a mistake this was when combined with Shirazad's almost infinite curiosity.

As a result, she had read too many books that were inappropriate for young ladies, not to mention for a vizier's daughter. Her father had been too busy with court affairs all the time, and it was too late when he realized that reading seriously harmed her mind. ...Now, the only thing he could do was warn her not to argue with generals about their war strategies. ...Well, this was a joke, of course. Shirazad was intelligent enough to know what to say and when.

Shirazad was already seventeen years old and the vizier was determined to get her married. He had organized a banquet this evening, but she was a very stubborn person and wasn't enthusiastic about it. He liked to think that she was too young and she would become more mature in time.

The vizier welcomed the guests. He was pleased to discover that almost every young nobleman in the country who wasn't engaged had honored the invitation of Grand Vizier Azdavan and had come.

"Let us observe today's collection of local noblemen," Shirazad whispered to Dunyazad. The two of them were sitting at a special table apart from other people. They were both wearing veils, which showed their high social status, together with their intricately embroidered dresses.

"Is it on purpose that you speak of them as if they are vintage wines, or am I imagining things?" Dunyazad said. "Oh, please, sister, come to like at least one of them because I am younger and it would be inappropriate for me to get married before you, and I don't want to remain an old maid!"

"I am contemplating whether to allow you to choose instead of me," Shirazad sighed.

"Overall, I do have good taste," Dunyazad quickly complimented herself.

"Yes, and if you happen to make a mistake, I could reproach you for the rest of my life. And if I were to make a mistake, I wouldn't admit it to myself. But, seriously, Dunyazad, you are too young to understand."

"I am only two years younger than you..."

"I meant... you know how important family relations are, and our father is second in power and importance after the king. As long as you want to marry, believe me, you will never remain an old maid. Let's change the topic. I am waiting for suggestions made by your good taste."

Dunyazad turned to look around,

"What about that guy over there? General Gorbryad. He is the governor of the Kirdshah province. I have heard only good things about him. Victories in battles. Always keeps his word. He is self-confident and knows what he is doing. And he is a general – you could talk about war strategies before you go to bed."

"I doubt it. He has an arrogant air. If he deigns to say anything to me, it won't be his war strategies." Shirazad laughed, "Come on, the next one."

"What about the one over there? Prince Ottan, he is the governor of... I forget which province, because I read the whole list of guests this morning. But I've heard he is romantic and tender."

"This one?" Shirazad seemed shocked, "The fish in my aquarium have smarter eyes than him."

"You are impossible!"

"I am saying this only to you. Of course that I will silently give a chance to each and every gentleman to prove just how arrogant or stupid they are. Otherwise, I will be blamed for being prejudiced." She sighed, "Oh, now I am waiting for Prince Suraban to come, the one who is the most handsome."

"I saw him already," Dunyazad looked around and pointed at the other side of the room quietly. "The one over there, in black."

Shirazad didn't say anything.

"No comment?" Dunyazad raised an eyebrow, "Is he so perfect?"

"No, I just don't want you to scold me. ...He looks as if somebody hit him with a frying pan in the face."

"That's too much, really – it was too much even before that!"

"Now don't be mad."

"I think that only someone like the king will suit you," Dunyazad teased her.

"Honestly," Shirazad said, "I am telling this only to you. I can't understand why he is so universally liked." Shirazad was truly puzzled. "In my opinion, he is neither exceptionally handsome nor does he seem to be so very wise."

"Not wise?! Everybody says he's a great ruler! Now, you shouldn't distort the truth this much! And that's your king."

"I never denied that he's a decent king. It's true he's taken a lot of good decisions, and he does have a mind for strategies, I suppose. Despite that, I just somehow don't see him as truly, deeply wise."

And so the whole evening passed. Although Shirazad was at the time at the tender age of seventeen, her tongue was sharper than a knife, and its unsuspecting victims were many. At the end of the banquet, her father was tired.

Not everyone can marry well when young and then live happily for years like our King Shahryar," the great vizier thought. How much the king and his wife loved each other! Although they had married at the age of fifteen, they had been living long years in peace and harmony.

This banquet was a complete disaster for the vizier Azdavan. The noblemen were disappointed, and Shirazad's policy was to pay as little attention to them as possible and to speak endlessly with her sister, lest she gave them a chance to approach her. If only he knew that soon he would refer to this as the "good old times."