The Thief of Kalimar; Captain Sinbad; Cinnabar

by Graham Diamond

  A fellow who called himself Og lost no time getting into his act. Spittle flying from his mouth, he chanted ancient verse, then tapped the crystal prism seven times with a seven-feathered wand. The sultan and Aladdin marvelled when the sparkling quartz actually began to shimmer, but the spell came to nothing at all. Then another master of magic stepped forward and called upon every supernatural power known and unknown to release a genie from the netherworld. As he tossed crackling powders into the air, a wispy haze of indigo clouded the hall. Alas, when the haze had dissipated, the crystal prism remained intact upon its velvet pillow. Hooted by his peers, the master of magic huffed and left hastily.

  Aladdin and the monarch were beginning to despair. Next came an aged hag devoid of all but her front teeth, who danced inside a circle of chalk. She yowled for Beelzebub and the grim forces of Hades to intercede, then, when that didn’t work, urged the ghosts of the biblical prophets to lend a hand. When that failed, she kicked the crystal with her foot, fuming. Fortunately, Christóbal came to the rescue in time; while the crowd roared in delight, he swept her up forcibly, still kicking, and boldly shoved her out the door.

  A holy man of India said the answer to the dilemma lay in deep meditation. A monk from the faraway mountain temples of ancient Lhasa offered to take the crystal by yak to Tibet where the wisest priests could study the princess and eventually, perhaps, find a solution. Another wizard said he would wed the miniature Fatima himself, thus freeing the sultan of the burden of having such a tiny wife. And another worker of wonders gave a magnificent performance in which thunder rolled and lightning struck. But when his spell was complete and a drenching rain had soaked the palace grounds, nothing had changed.

  Dejected, the sultan whispered on the sly to Aladdin, “I fear we are wasting our time.”

  Aladdin, too, was growing short on patience. Like his friend, he was appalled at the lack of talent. This wasn’t a bit like the old days when sorcery flourished and a man of magic could indeed work miracles.

  After a comedic wizard told jokes to “coax the walls of the crystal to shatter from mirth,” the sombre regent of Basra rose from his throne.

  “Enough of this,” he called.

  The buzz of activity turned to stony silence.

  “I thank you all deeply for coming, but now it is time to put an end to the demonstrations. The day wanes and I am weary.”

  Mumbling among themselves, they turn to leave. As the hall began to empty, Christóbal sighed with relief. Like his companions, he was pleased to see the farce come to its well-deserved conclusion. Any more fakery would make him explode. “Nice try, capitán,” he said remorsefully. “It was a good idea, I suppose...”

  Aladdin nodded; the chances of finding a true practitioner of the secret arts seemed remote indeed. As the imposters filed out slovenly under the watchful eyes of the palace guards, he groaned with fatigue. His plan was a total failure. A disaster. What could be done now?

  “Perhaps we can try this venture again tomorrow,” said Christóbal. “By the cross, there must be one capable magician left in Basra!”

  “I can save the princess Fatima,” came a dreadful voice.

  Aladdin rose from his seat and stared across the voluminous hall. It was already evening, and the burning braziers cast their gloomy pall of shadows across a solitary figure who stepped from behind the columns.

  “Who are you?” asked the sultan, squinting at the hooded visitor.

  The figure remained stiff. “I am here to save the princess,” he repeated.

  “Our audience has left,” called Aladdin. “You should have gone with the others. Go home, man of magic. We’ll send for you if we have further need of your services.”

  “Then you do not believe me?” demanded the would-be saviour of the entrapped girl. He flicked his middle finger in the direction of the closest brazier, and dancing flames were ignited in a flash. Close by, servants cringed.

  “A common trick,” said Aladdin.

  The mysterious figure laughed. He turned, and with a flourish of his hand, tossed some small pebbles into the air. As they hit the floor they turned into tiny rubies and emeralds. Nearby courtesans gasped and scrambled to pick them up. The sultan looked on with widened eyes.

  “I am still unimpressed,” said Aladdin.

  The magician pivoted and faced a homely servant girl. With another rhythmic pattern of gestures, her tunic of common cloth turned into a luxurious gown of velvet, her stringy hair into coiffured silken waves. The servant girl flushed as she saw her new self. The guards looked on in stunned amazement.

  “Now do you believe?” the mysterious figure called out.

  The sultan gaped. A ripple of spontaneous applause erupted from those in attendance.

  “I should think this fellow has earned a go at it,” muttered the sultan.

  Aladdin, however, reserved his own acclaim. Having seen many in the past, he knew how easy it was for a man with good sleight of hand to accomplish just such tricks.

  “I can see by your expression that you are not convinced,” said the cowled man, his face hidden within the recesses of his hood. He came a few steps closer. “Have you still not learned your lesson, adventurer?”

  Aladdin froze in his place, his heart thumping wildly. He stared at the cold face of his tormentor, shuddering at the sound of the familiar voice; a rasping voice, which raised the hackles on his neck.

  “Do you know this fellow,” asked the sultan.

  Turning to him, Aladdin replied, “We have met, yes. But don’t you know him, as well, sire? Isn’t he one of your foreign guests, invited for the nuptials?”

  “Why, I’ve never set eyes upon him in my life. What goes on here, Aladdin?”

  Not answering for the moment, the adventurer confronted Shaman again. The unexpected appearance of the sickly stranger unnerved him. The recollection of his brief encounter with Shaman came rushing back; the curious offer for his service, his own rejection of that offer, and the bitter words that followed. More than anything else, Aladdin remembered Shaman’s dire warning. Suddenly he saw the connection between these recent events — and it made his stomach curdle.

  “Why have you come here today, Shaman?” he called.

  “To give my services to the sultan,” came the cryptic response, tinged with sarcasm.

  “You are not welcome in this court, Shaman... Leave at once — or pay the consequences.”

  “Aladdin!” cried the startled monarch, upset by his friend’s inexplicable insistence on turning away the first real magician they had seen all day. “Let’s not be rash, old friend.”

  “I do not trust him, sire. Not for a moment. I say this man is devious — ”

  A flurry of gasps arose in the hall. The soldier-of-fortune was speaking with unmasked contempt, openly insulting the lone individual who might possess the spell to release the princess from her prison.

  “Surely we should show him a little hospitality/’ said the sultan.

  Aladdin shook his head firmly. “Send him away, sire. Now. While we can. Before we find ourselves enmeshed in his schemes.”

  There was incomprehension in the sultan’s face as he said, “I do not understand this attitude, Aladdin. First you convince me to convene this assemblage, and now, when at last it might bear fruit, you insist we desist.”

  “It would be a bitter fruit, sire.”

  “Even if this man can set my beloved free?” He frowned deeply. “Aladdin, do you mock me?”

  “No, my liege! Exactly the opposite. Precisely because of my deep love and respect, I urge you to send him away with all haste. He is not a wizard of good, sire, but a man poisoned with evil. I fear for you, sire — ”

  Shaman smiled thinly. “Then I assume my services are not required?”

  The sultan was in a quandary. On one hand, Aladdin’s lifelong love assured him that the adventurer had good reason for his inhospitable behaviour. On the other, he also had a responsibility to poor Fatima, languishing in her gilded dungeon. How could
he permit her to go on suffering in her prison when this man — whatever the bad blood between him and Aladdin — was capable of countering the spell?

  Shaman turned to leave.

  “Wait!” cried the sultan. He lifted himself from the throne and confronted the stranger. “Are — are you certain you can release the princess from the prism? Restore her to her natural state?”

  Shaman bowed deeply. “The antidote is known to me, yes, O sultan. It is a small matter really.”

  “Then do it, magician! Earn your reward. Give me back my bride and my gratitude shall be boundless.”

  A broad smile, unseen inside his cowl, parted Shaman’s lips. “You do me great honour, O sultan. But I seek only a pittance for my reward.” His feverish eyes moved toward Aladdin. “I ask only that the life of the adventurer be handed over to me.”

  “What? What say you?” rasped the sultan. “The life of Aladdin in return for Fatima?”

  “More than a fair trade, my great lord. No?”

  Aladdin felt his palms perspire. “Listen to me, my liege. This man who calls himself Shaman accosted me yesterday morning in your garden. Before you are swayed by his glib tongue, know that he offered me priceless rewards to go with him upon a dark and dangerous adventure. When I repudiated him, he vowed to take vengeance against those I love — ”

  Puzzled, the sultan looked at the stranger. “Is this true?” he asked. Shaman nodded.

  The sultan burned with outrage. Locking to Aladdin, he said, “My friend, why didn’t you speak to me earlier of this threat?”

  “I would have, gladly, sire, but the awful fate of Fatima required more urgent attention.”

  The sultan cleared his throat, “Shaman,” he shouted. “Now I understand Aladdin’s loathing of you. You have come here to make fools of us both.”

  The stranger from Cinnabar seemed undisturbed by the tirade. “You are wrong,” he said flatly. “I came to Basra in good faith, beseeching the adventurer to give his aid, which he summarily denied. But I bear him no grudge.” The smile deepened. “However, I was left with little choice.” He paused, looking from the sultan to Aladdin, then back again. “Think, my lord. Give me your bond and the princess will again be yours. To caress, to hold in your arms...”

  The words brought back a vivid memory of the princess. How very much he did desire to hold her again, kiss her, laugh with her... And what price wouldn’t he pay? Nevertheless, he shook his head. “No, Shaman! Free Fatima and I shall heap riches upon you. Gold and silver for the asking. Half my lands, yes, and half my empire as well. But do not ask what I cannot give. I would rather die than sacrifice Aladdin’s life.”

  Shaman toyed complacently with his rings. “Ah, but you misunderstand. Aladdin is no good to me dead. I need him alive. My people need him alive.”

  The puzzled sultan glanced at an equally perplexed Aladdin. “Exactly what is your proposition?” he asked.

  With smouldering eyes, Shaman answered, “Only as much as I sought before: the services of your soldier-of-fortune for one year — ”

  “Willingly, I agree,” said the sultan. “But the decision is up to Aladdin, not I. He is a free man. I cannot force him.”

  “But you must force him, O sultan. Otherwise, Fatima shall remain precisely as she is.”

  The sultan arched his brows. “You dare threaten me, magician?”

  “Threaten?” Shaman lifted his own brows. “You misjudge my intent, my lord. I am too humble a man to dare to challenge the mighty regent of Basra.” He lowered his chin to his chest in a respectful bow of the head. “Nevertheless,” he added shrewdly, “those are my terms. You may take them or leave them.”

  A hum of discontent spread over the hall. What game was the magician up to? The haggard sultan, sorely troubled, looked fearfully at his boyhood friend.

  “Twelve short months,” said Shaman. “When the tasks I set for the adventurer are completed, he will be free of his bond to me. Fatima will be returned, whole and loving, unaware of her experience. This is what I pledge.”

  The sultan winced and dropped his jaw. “Am I hearing you properly, magician? Fatima is not to be given her freedom now — tonight?”

  “No, my gracious lord. Only at the conclusion of our bargain. This alone assures me that Aladdin shall remain true.”

  The murmurs turned to mutterings of dismay. This man, for all his promises, was intent on keeping the sultan’s bride a prisoner.

  Aladdin felt his anger stir and begin to boil beyond control; he confronted the assured stranger with rising fury.

  “You, Shaman!” he called. “It was you who imprisoned Fatima. Dare you deny it?” Among the outraged sultan, Christóbal, courtesans, guards, and officials, Shaman remained a calm and composed figure. Aladdin’s eyes darted to his friend. “I see it all clearly now, sire. This man has indeed played us for fools, manipulating us like puppets on a string.”

  The sultan’s face turned dark with anger. He thought of the ransom note, so cleverly worded. The affliction suffered by the Princess cannot be removed by any hand except my own. If and when my terms are met...

  “Blackmail!” he raged. His mind reeled with the realisation he now shared with Aladdin. The web of his despair ensnared him even more insidiously.

  “I accuse you, Shaman,” shouted Aladdin, pointing a finger. “Accuse you of all this, though I have yet to find a means of proving it.”

  “What say you to the charge, magician?” growled the sultan.

  The spade-bearded dying man smiled a thin victorious smile; he faced his accuser defiantly. “Yes. It was my doing. All of it. I lured her from the garden, and by tricks and powers known only to me, placed her inside the prism.”

  “Then by your own words you have condemned yourself!” riled the aggrieved regent. “Guards, seize him!” Scimitars flashed in the buttery light, as a squad of soldiers quickly surrounded the spiteful stranger.

  “Hold!” cried Shaman. The authority in his voice stopped the guards in their tracks. He shot out an arm and waved a crooked finger at the monarch. “Harm me at your peril, regent of Basra! Take my life and you condemn the princess forever! My knowledge alone can free her. Without me she is doomed.” He stared, unblinking, taunting the sultan to test his challenge.

  “Sire, do as he says!” called Aladdin. He knew Shaman was right. Killing or imprisoning him was the worst solution of all. Allah alone knew what other grisly spells he might cast, should he be forced.

  The distraught sultan stood by helplessly while his troops awaited instruction. He gestured for them to sheathe their weapons, then fell back onto his throne in a state of gloom. Shaman folded his arms and looked at him in triumph. The crystal prism danced with light upon the velvet pillow at his feet.

  Trembling, the sultan said weakly, ‘Take from my court anything you like, magician. It is yours. Half my riches and empire. But please,” tears fell from his eyes, “please, let the princess out. She is innocent of any crime. If you must, punish me in her stead. Place me in the prism.”

  “Sire, I beg you not to do this,” said Aladdin.

  The sultan waved him away absently. Like a man resigned to his doom, he sullenly regarded the magician. “Well?” he said. “Will you accept the trade?”

  Shaman shook his head slowly. “I fear it is too late for that. The spell has been in motion for too long. Trying to alter it now, even for me, is risky. The princess must remain as she is, but soon she will fall into a long and peaceful slumber.

  The sultan put his head in his hands and wept. “Then all is lost.”

  “No,” said Shaman. “My offer still stands. Give me what I ask and all will be made right. On that you have my word of honour.”

  Christóbal flexed his jaw in vexation. “The word of a deceitful maniac?” he snarled. Were it not for fear of putting the girl’s life in even deeper jeopardy, he would have taken this frail purveyor of magic and torn the limbs from his sickly frame, one at a time. But this was just a wish. Like Aladdin, he knew he could do nothing. Ne
ver before had he felt so impotent. Forced to submit without a fight.

  “I must have your answer,” Shaman told the sultan.

  With a breaking heart, the monarch looked up lachrymosely at Aladdin. Both were agonisingly aware of the consequences in store for Fatima if Aladdin failed to accept Shaman’s terms.

  “I cannot force my will upon you, old friend,” he said without emotion. The pain in the sultan’s eyes, however, was a heartrending sight, a tragic plea that Aladdin could not ignore. Only a man with ice water in his veins would not feel the overwhelming sorrow.

  Aladdin scrutinised the wrinkled face of the patiently waiting, robed figure. “You are lower than a worm for what you’ve done,” he hissed.

  Shaman pursed his lips. “A desperate man takes desperate actions, adventurer. I was forced into this with great reluctance — whether you believe it or not.”

  “You have ruined the life of a blameless girl,” countered the adventurer. “Your action is despicable, and you deserve whatever cruel fate awaits you.”

  “I answer only to Allah for my deeds. When that day arrives, He alone shall be my judge.”

  “And judge you He shall, Shaman.” Aladdin pushed down his rage and struggled for control. “You have given your oath that in one year the princess will be restored. If I agree to your terms, how can I know that you’re trustworthy; that you won’t renege on the bargain?”

  “A fair question, adventurer. I shall be as fair in my reply. From this day forward, until our business is concluded, you alone will possess the prism...”

  “You mean Fatima is to be taken with us?”

  “It cannot be otherwise. Should my promise prove unworthy, I openly swear that in twelve months, to the day, my life will be yours for the taking.” He held out his palms in the manner of a holy man vowing before heaven. “This I say before Allah.”