The Djinn Garden Read online

  ***

  Bin Abou came to their suite early the next morning. Though he greeted them with pleasant words, his expression was anything but cheerful. He looked more like a conscientious prison warden who knew he was escorting an innocent man to the executioner but was nonetheless bound to his duty.

  Prince Ahmad acted as the group’s spokesman. “Your master has been most gracious and generous toward us,” he said. “But we have tarried here much too long already. We must return to our ship so we may continue our urgent voyage.”

  A succession of emotions crossed bin Abou’s face, but fear was obviously paramount. “My master would not want you to leave on your journey without a farewell meal,” he stammered. “Please come with me to the banquet hall and have breakfast before you take your leave of us.”

  “Your master has already done far too much. It would be an abuse of his hospitality to take more from him.”

  “I assure you, my master would hate the thought of your leaving with empty stomachs.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Leila spoke up. “My cooking is renowned on two continents. Why don’t I do the work of preparing this morning’s meal, thus doing an honor to he who honors us?”

  “But the meal has already been prepared—” bin Abou began.

  “Then let the servants feast on it,” said Jafar al–Sharif grandly. “They have labored hard on our behalf; let them reap the rewards their efforts deserve. I myself am looking forward to food prepared by Leila’s own delicate hands.”

  Jafar had doubted he would ever see Leila blush, but her face reddened at his compliment. She covered her mouth and coughed a few times before continuing with her role. “Then it is settled. I shall prepare the morning meal, and perhaps your master will partake of it with us.”

  Bin Abou was silent for a minute, then said, “Very well. If you will prepare the meal, my master will join you at some point, though you may have to start without him.”

  “Then lead us to your kitchen, O noble chamberlain,” said Leila, “and my friends and I will prepare a meal the likes of which you have never before seen.”

  Fazil bin Abou led them through the maze of twisting corridors to the kitchen they had visited the previous morning. It was again deserted, but the tables were clean and the fires burning. All was in readiness to prepare whatever meal Leila chose.

  The tall blonde woman turned all the way around, slowly examining the facilities in painstaking detail. Finally she faced bin About and said, “Where do you keep the larks’ tongues?”

  “Larks’ tongues?”

  “Yes, a halfweight of larks’ tongues. Surely you don’t expect me to prepare my greatest dishes without larks’ tongues!”

  “I don’t think we—”

  “And peahens’ eggs,” Leila continued, warming up to her subject. “Five dozen should be an adequate start. And saffron for seasoning. A bucket of it will do quite nicely—”

  “O noble lady,” bin Abou moaned, “I don’t—”

  “And flour,” Leila said.

  “Flour we have,” bin Abou said, sighing with relief. “In that barrel over by the corner. But the other things—”

  “Lots and lots of flour,” Leila went on. She walked over to the barrel and lifted the lid to see that the barrel was nearly full. “Ah, this will do nicely. If my friends can help me, I’ll need several handfuls.”

  Jafar and Verethran joined her at the barrel and grabbed great handfuls of flour. Then, at a nod from the prince, they all tossed the flour into the air, reached back for more and tossed that as well.

  The air was suddenly filled with flying flour, which sifted slowly to the ground like warm snow. Bin Abou stood uncomfortably as the cloud of white grew around him, uncertain what to make of this sudden outburst of lunacy.

  But as the flour settled to the ground, an outline formed in the air, the outline of a monstrous creature. The apparition was taller than El–Hadar, with a head larger than a dinner platter and a snout like a crocodile’s. Its skin was covered with scales, and it had enormous, sharp claws at the ends of its two batlike wings. It was hovering in the air above and behind bin Abou, but as it realized the flour coating had made it visible it surged forward toward its prey.

  But Prince Ahmad and El–Hadar were standing now with their swords at the ready, and slashed relentlessly at the creature as it came toward them. A thick white liquid oozed from the monster’s wounds, and it bellowed so loud that the entire island seemed to shake. Verethran the monkey abandoned his post at the flour barrel to leap into the fray and claw at the creature’s eyes while the prince and the captain hacked at its body. Jafar al–Sharif stood back, holding Leila behind him with his flour-covered hands to protect her from the fiend.

  The monster was strong, but it had been totally unprepared for the sudden attack and the expert thrusts and slashings from two strong men proved too much for it. It lost the ability to stay in the air and sank rapidly to the ground. Objects being pushed off counters and tables indicated the lashings of a still-invisible tail. The creature struggled to defend itself, and its claws and teeth were formidable weapons; it had grown so used to having the advantage of invisibility, however, that its skills were too rusty to deal with its adversaries’ expert swordplay. After little more than a minute, its body convulsed in a violent spasm and then lay still on the floor.

  For a long moment there was silence, and then things began changing rapidly. The walls, furniture and fixtures, the entire castle around them, began to waver like a mirage seen across hot desert sands. A loud creaking and groaning reached their ears and, in the next instant, the copper castle vanished, leaving them standing in the middle of a large wooden barn bare of any furnishings whatsoever.

  At the same time, the monster’s reptilian body became totally visible. Between five and six cubits long, it had a large, bloated belly and a thick tail that added to its crocodilian appearance. It was covered with the wounds inflicted by Prince Ahmad and El–Hadar, and its golden brown eyes were already glazed over with the veil of death.

  “What is it?” Selima asked.

  It was bin Abou who answered her. He had stood motionless during his master’s struggles and now spoke timidly, afraid the prince and the sea captain would turn their swords on him. “It is a scarouche, or perhaps the scarouche, since I don’t know if there was more than one. I am eternally grateful to you travelers for freeing me from its bondage, and I pray that you will not hold me responsible for any of the evils my master may have done.”

  El–Hadar turned toward him with a fierce expression on his bearded face. “That all depends, O treacherous chamberlain. Explain yourself and exactly why we should not punish you.” He waved his sword menacingly.

  “That is a bit of a story,” bin Abou said, a trace of hesitation in his voice.

  Jafar’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Take your time,” he said. “We have all day.”

  Bin Abou looked around the room at each person’s face in turn, then looked modestly down at his feet before he spoke again. “You would not think it to look at me and the sorry figure I have become, but I was born a prince of Bann.”

  Prince Ahmad looked startled and El–Hadar snorted with scorn. Jafar looked over to Leila, who simply nodded to verify the statement.

  “My older brother was set to inherit the throne,” bin Abou continued, “so I was left to the tasks delegated to younger princes. One of my main responsibilities, and one I was quite good at, was foreign trade.” He straightened his spine a bit and, as the feelings and the memories grew stronger, he stood up straighter with all the dignity of his former position. “I led delegations to a number of our neighboring countries and managed to secure reasonable trade treaties with them. My missions grew in importance, and eventually I was put in charge of an important legation to Libayy.

  “I was in charge of a small fleet of four ships, each of full merchant class. With honor guard and escort, our complement was greater than two hundred men. We set sail from Bann on a beautiful spr
ing day eleven years ago, and never did I realize I was looking at my homeland for the last time.

  “We were eight days out to sea and everything was fine, when suddenly a storm sprang up the likes of which not even my ship’s captain, a veteran of more than thirty years, had ever seen. For three days the winds howled and the rains battered and the waves tossed us fro and to. When the storm ceased its rage, we found we’d lost two of our ships with all hands—”

  Here El–Hadar bowed his head and murmured a quick seaman’s prayer.

  “—And our other two ships were in such poor shape that we needed to make an immediate landfall. We sailed desperately for three days, looking for land. Finally our lookout spotted this island, and we thought we were saved.” His eyes welled up with tears. “How much more merciful lord Oromasd would have been to simply let us drown in the storm with the rest of our companions!

  “We landed and began exploring, and soon found the copper castle. When no one came to greet us and our hails went unanswered, we entered through the open door and found the place deserted—but there was a banquet prepared for us, and a note telling us to help ourselves. After the hardships we had faced at sea, that was too welcome an invitation to pass up. When we had finished eating, we found another note inviting us to explore the castle and stay overnight—and again we accepted unquestioningly.

  “We ate and slept the next day in the castle, too. But after we had breakfasted on the morning of the third day, the castle was suddenly filled with the echoes of demonic laughter. I heard the voice of the scarouche for the first time, telling me that since I had eaten of its food for three consecutive days, my soul and those of my companions now belonged to it. And indeed it was so, for neither I nor my men could disobey any order it gave us. We became its total slaves.

  “Over the last eleven years it has killed and eaten all my men, one by one, and I was powerless to stop it. For some reason it chose not to eat me; perhaps the thought of having a prince as its servant was too amusing. Whatever its reason, it left me alive and at its mercy. When you arrived I tried to warn you away, but in the end I could not resist the scarouche’s commands to offer you the same hospitality that trapped me and my men. Please believe I was in anguish over what I was sure would be your fate—and I hope equally that you can believe how overjoyed I am that you’ve saved me from this hideous servitude.”

  “Everything he’s told us has been the truth,” Leila said when bin Abou finished speaking.

  “Then El–Hadar feels true pity for you,” said the sea captain. “Having had equally harrowing adventures on similarly accursed islands, he knows the danger and treachery that breed in these Oromasd-forsaken locations.”

  “We came here with a specific goal,” Jafar said, a knot of cold fear in his stomach. “A magical servant of mine, a young female Jann, came to explore this island and never returned. We need to know what happened to her. Did the scarouche—” He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t know specifically about your Jann,” bin Abou said, “but knowing the scarouche’s habits I can hazard a guess. Please follow me outside and I’ll show you what I think became of her.”

  As bin Abou led them to one side door, Leila took Jafar aside. “Thank you,” she said, “for the great praise you gave my cooking, but realize it was all part of the game to confound the scarouche. Brave Selima has taught me to prepare trail rations, but as you value your life don’t try my cooking for real.”

  “You mean you’re not a great cook?”

  “I honestly don’t know. After the second fire, my late husband wouldn’t let me try again.”