In the midst of our uncertainty in Tangier, a thought struck me like a beacon of hope. I remembered Juan, a merchant friend of Waqas who often traveled to Granada to sell his goods. During one of his visits, Juan had mentioned that if I ever found myself in Tangier, I should look him up. At the time, it had seemed like a casual offer, but now it felt like a lifeline.
I turned to Elara, who was busy trying to keep Lily occupied. "Elara," I said, my voice tinged with a mix of hope and urgency, "I just remembered something. Waqas has a friend here in Tangier—his name is Juan. He's a merchant, and he offered to help if I ever came to this city. We might be able to find some support from him."
Elara's eyes brightened at the mention of Juan. "That could be a great help," she replied, a hint of relief in her tone. "Do you know where we might find him?"
I nodded. "He mentioned that his shop is in the market district, not far from the port. If we can find our way there, we might be able to get in touch with him."
With renewed determination, we gathered our belongings and made our way through the winding streets of Tangier, heading toward the bustling market district. The city was vibrant, with a mix of scents, sounds, and colors that were both overwhelming and comforting. It was different from Granada, yet it had its own charm that made me feel a little more at ease.
As we entered the market, I kept an eye out for any sign of Juan's shop. After some searching, we finally spotted a familiar emblem—a sign with a ship and a bundle of spices. It was the same emblem that Juan used on his goods in Granada. My heart leaped with recognition.
We approached the shop, and as we stepped inside, the familiar scent of spices and herbs greeted us. Behind the counter, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and kind eyes looked up from his work. It was Juan.
He blinked in surprise when he saw us. "Roy? Is that you?" he asked, setting down the ledger he was holding. "What brings you to Tangier? I never expected to see you here!"
I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of a familiar face. "Juan," I said, my voice filled with gratitude, "we've run into some trouble back in Granada, and we had to leave in a hurry. I remembered your offer and thought you might be able to help us."
Juan's expression grew serious as he listened. "Of course," he said without hesitation. "Any friend of Waqas is a friend of mine. You're welcome here for as long as you need. Let's get you settled in, and then we can talk about what happened."
He led us to a small but comfortable room in the back of his shop, offering us a place to rest. As we settled in, the tension that had been gripping me for days finally began to ease. We weren't out of danger yet, but at least for now, we had found a safe haven in Tangier.