The Red Jinn

by Palmer, Mildred L. rtf

  “I don’t blame you,” agreed Boag, coming up with Taggle. He motioned to the men; they entered the cell and laid the sleeping Lion gently upon the cot. “Gip will never know where we put them unless somebody tells him.” He swung around to face the soldiers. “And if anyone does tell, he’ll have me to reckon with.“ There was a chorus of agreement from the men. “Why lock them in at all?” asked Hob. “They can’t get away, and they may as well have all the freedom we can allow them.“ Boag chuckled. “I didn’t intend to lock them in. They can’t do any harm down here.”

  Dorothy smiled at him gratefiilly. The cells looked very small and uncomfortable; she did not relish the prospect of being confined in one. “As a matter of fact,” Boag continued, “I hope they will spend their time looking through the entire basement. You see,” he turned to Dorothy, “actually, this is the basement of the castle. Gip put in the cells and called it a dungeon. The dungeon takes up only a small part of it, but the rest of the basement has been blocked off, and no one but Gip knows the entrance to it.” He paused for a moment, but as Dorothy only looked hopelessly confused, he went on.

  “Some of us believe that Prince Rory is imprisoned somewhere in the secret part of the basement. With your magic, perhaps you may find and liberate him.“ Before Dorothy could answer, he turned and left the dungeon, followed by his men. Dorothy shrugged her shoulders as she turned to Taggle. “They all seem to think that I’m some sort of magician,” she said hopelessly. “If I were, you can be sure that I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t think you’re a magician,” answered the old counselor gently. “But obviously there is some power protecting you— something stronger than Gip’s magic.

  The very fact that you are here in Cumuland proves that. Before the King disappeared, he gave me the seeds of the flowers that brought you here and instructed me to throw them down to Earth if the kingdom were ever in danger. The day after Rory’s disappearance I did so. I have been expecting them to bring someone to help us ever since.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you,” answered Dorothy, shaking her head in perplexity. “I don’t know a thing about magic.”

  “I know that,” agreed Taggle. “But, as I said, there must be some power protecting you. If we can find a way to use that power, we might be able to rescue Rory and overthrow Gip.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” cried Dorothy in despair. “I haven’t any magic power or anything else.”

  “No charm to protect you?“‘insisted Taggle.

  “You can see for yourself,” returned the little girl, plunging her hands into her pockets. “All I have is a handkerchief, and a…“ Her voice trailed off, as she withdrew her hand from her pocket with the little cart clutched in it.

  CHAPTER XIV

  JINNICKY’S’ MAGIC

  “I knew it!” cried Taggle exultantly. “What’s that? Let me see—it looks like a tiny cart,” he remarked, as Dorothy placed it in his outstretched hand.

  “It is,” explained Dorothy eagerly, “and it’s filled with all of Jinnicky ‘s best magic. I had forgotten all about it.”

  “Who is Jinnicky?”

  “He’s the Red Jinn of Ev. You see, he was coming with us to rescue Ozma because Faleero had enchanted her and was taking her place and nobody knew but the Lion and me, so we had to save her. Understand?“ The old Counselor did not understand; he was completely baffled by the recital, as would be most anyone.

  “Wait a minute,” he begged. “Start at the beginning and tell me all about it. Who are Ozma and Faleero, and how could anyone take the other’s place without anyone knowing about it?“ Patiently Dorothy told him the whole story, explaining the reason for her having Jinnicky’s magic. He was much interested, and insisted on hearing all of her adventures since Ozma’s disappearance. At the end of the story, he asked, “Aren’t you afraid to fight against Faleero’s magic? She must be a very powerful fairy to conquer the three most important persons in Oz.”

  “She is,” returned Dorothy grimly. “And to make it worse, now she has all their magic too. Unless we can take her by surprise, we won’t have a chance against her.”

  “You must love Ozma very much,” said the old man softly.

  “Oh, I do!” choked Dorothy. “Everyone does. That’s what makes it so awful.”

  “Ah, yes; her subjects think that this imposter is Ozma,” nodded Taggle understandingly. He stepped into the cell and looked at the Lion. “Well, I guess the first thing to do is try to wake up this fellow.”

  “But how? Hob said that only Gip could do that.” Dorothy came to his side and gazed at her sleeping friend.

  “You forget your magic,” chuckled Taggle.

  “Jinnicky’s magic?” exclaimed Dorothy. “But I don’t know how to use it. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Neither do I,” returned Taggle cheerfully. “We’ll have to learn together. Let’s unpack your wagon.“ Giggling a little in spite of herself, Dorothy began to remove the tiny jars from the miniature cart. “Just hand them to me,” directed Taggle, “and I’ll set them up here on this shelf.” When the cart was empty and the jars arranged to Taggle’s satisfaction, they examined the assortment. “There’s writing on this one,” remarked Taggle. “But it’s so small I can’t make it out.“ Dorothy took it from him. Squinting earnestly, she tried to decipher the tiny letters. Finally, with a shake of her head, she handed it back.

  “How did Jinnicky make it small?” Taggle asked.

  “He just blew on it,” explained Dorothy.

  “Let’s try it,” proposed Taggle. “Maybe it will get big again.“ Dorothy shook her head. “What if it gets still smaller? There wouldn’t be anything left of it at all.”

  “That’s true,” mused Taggle. “Isn’t there anything left in the cart?“ Dorothy picked up the little cart again. “That’s all,” she replied. “It’s empty—No! Wait a minute. There’s something under the seat. It’s stuck; I can’t get it out.”

  “It’s probably nothing important,” Tagale dismissed the matter.

  “Maybe it’s your lunch basket.”

  “No, it’s shiny.” Dorothy tried to insert her little finger under the seat. “I know what it is; it’s the dinner bell!”

  “That’s all we need in a dungeon—a dinner bell,” laughed Taggle.

  “Leave it there. It can’t help us.”

  “Oh, yes, it can,” replied Dorothy. “This is a magic dinner bell; and Ginger will come if I ring it. He should be able to help us.”

  “Who is Ginger?” Taggle took the cart.

  “He’s Jinnicky’s servant—he’s magic himself, so he ought to know how to use these things.“ They worked together and separately to dislodge the tiny bell, but to no avail.

  Taggle turned out his pockets in search of something to pry with. “I don’t even have a penknife,” he remarked unhappily. “How about you? Don’t you have a hairpin, or something like that?“ Dorothy touched her short locks regretfully. “You don’t use them when your hair is short,” she told him.

  “Isn’t this tiresome?” grumbled Taggle. “The one thing that could help us, and we can’t get it out.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dorothy muttered, taking back the cart.

  “Even if we can’t get it out, it should still ring.” She shook the cart vigorously.

  Immediately Ginger appeared in the center of the room—but what a changed Ginger!

  Less than a foot high, he carried a tiny tray. His eyes rolled mournfully at Dorothy as he set it down.

  “Oh, Ginger,” she cried. “Have you shrunk too?“ Ginger nodded pitifully. Then he began to laugh, doubling up with mirth.

  “What… what’s so funny?” faltered Dorothy, in amazement.

  Ginger straightened up, grinned and shot up to his normal height.

  “I made a little joke,” he explained gleefully.

  “Well, thank goodness you’re all right,” sighed Dorothy, too relieved to be annoyed. “Wait, Ginger; don’t go. We�
�re in trouble, and we need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Who is this man—and where is my master?”

  “This is Taggle; he’s our friend,” Dorothy explained. “I don’t know where Jinnicky is—that is, I know where we left him,” she added hastily, “but I don’t know how to get back to him. The King here is a wicked magician, and he won’t let us go. We have all Jinnicky’s magic, but it’s shrunk, and we don’t know how to use it anyway.”

  “The magic, where is it?” asked Ginger.

  Dorothy pointed to the shelf. Ginger crossed the room and stood examining it. He picked up one bottle, set it down, picked up another, looked at it thoughtfully, and set it down. Then, with a wave of his hand, he apparently dismissed the whole matter and turned away. “Big help, isn’t he?” muttered Taggle.

  “Look!” Dorothy clutched his arm. The jars were full size. “How did you do it, Ginger?“ Ginger shrugged deprecatingly. “It is nothing,” he answered. “The bell and cart I leave small so you can keep them in your pocket. Now I go.”

  “No, wait! Tell us how to use the magic.“ Ginger shrugged again. “I do not know. It is Jinnicky’s magic; I am only a small part of it.”

  “Please Ginger, at least help us to wake the Lion, anyway,” begged Dorothy.

  “Is the lazy fellow sleeping? Why don’t you shake him? Then he will wake up.”

  “Oh, no, no. You don’t understand,” insisted Dorothy. “He’s been enchanted; the King did it.”

  “Oh.” Ginger’s round face became serious. “He must be a wicked man, that one.

  Let me see if I can waken him.” Bending close to the Lion’s ear, he thrust two fingers into his mouth and whistled a blast that made Dorothy and Tagglejump. But the Lion lay quietly; not even a whisker twitched. Ginger looked thoughtful.

  “I go now,” he told Dorothy. “When I am gone, count five and ring the bell again.

  Then we shall see.” He disappeared, to the amazement of Taggle. Dorothy counted five slowly, and again shook the little cart. Instantly Ginger was back; this time he carried a strange instrument which he waved proudly at Dorothy. “Jinnicky’s re-animating rays,“ he announced. “I had to go all the way back to the castle to get it. That is what took me so long.“ Taggle’s eyes popped. Ginger stepped quickly over to the Lion and focused the instruument on his head. For long moments nothing happened. Then the Lion moved restlessly and opened his eyes.

  “I’ll tear you to pieces if you touch Dorothy!” he roared, springing violently to his feet, and knocking Ginger clear across the room. “I’ll—where is he? Dorothy, where are you?“ Dorothy ran to him quickly. ‘‘It’s all right,” she soothed. “It’s all over now. You’ve been asleep.”

  “Asleep? Me? I never closed my eyes for a minute,” protested the Lion. He caught sight of Ginger scrambling to his feet. “What’s Ginger doing here? Where are we anyway?“ Dorothy explained quickly. As soon as the Lion had grasped the situation, he quite embarrassed the little boy with his thanks.

  “It was nothing,” insisted Ginger. “There is nothing I would not do for my master’s friends.“ To change the subject, he walked over to the shelf full of Jinnicky’s jars, and regarded them thoughtfully. “This I do not like,” he muttered. “If the magician so wicked should come down here, he might steal Jinnicky’s magic.” He stretched out a hand to Dorothy. “Give me the cart.” He took the little cart in one hand and a bottle in the other.

  Quickly he brought his hands together, the bottle shrinking as it approached the cart.

  “See, it fits now,” he beamed. He took the bottle out of the cart; it promptly regained its former size. “You try it,” he offered, handing the cart to Dorothy. The little girl obeyed doubtfully. The bottle grew smaller until it nestled in the cart.

  “That is better,” nodded Ginger. “Now you can carry it with you so you will have it when you need it. Take it out.”

  Dorothy did so and found herself clutching a full-sized bottle. Ginger nodded with satisfaction.

  “Is there anything else I can do for my master’s friends?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so, for now,” returned Dorothy. “We have to find the young prince. We think he’s locked up somewhere down here.”

  “Locked up….” repeated Ginger thoughtfully. “Do you have a key?” As Dorothy shook her head in surprise, he reached into the folds of his turban and triumphantly produced a small key which he placed in her hand. “This will fit any lock,” he assured her. “Goodbye!” And before they could answer, he was gone.

  “He’s very sudden, isn’t he?” murmured Taggle dizzily. “These appearances and disappearances are very upsetting.”

  “We’d better put everything back in the cart,” sighed Dorothy wearily. “It must be pretty late at night by now.”

  “I’ll do it.” Taggle took the cart out of her hand. “You can sleep. I’m sorry there’s nothing to eat, but Gip probably gave orders not to feed us.”

  “I still have the dinner bell,” smiled Dorothy, “but I’m not very hungry now. I’ll just have cookies and milk.” She took a blue jar from the shelf and set it on the bench.

  “Have some?” she invited.

  “Did you say milk, too?” asked Taggle, as he reached into the jar. Her mouth full, Dorothy pointed to a grey pitcher. “No cups, though,” she mumbled around a large bite.

  “How very careless of the Jinn,” chuckled Taggle. “Here.” He detached a tin cup from a hook over a basin in the corner and handed it to her.

  “Just pour some milk in the basin for me,” requested the Lion. Taggle set the basin on the floor and filled it. The Lion crouched over it, lapping the milk like a great tabby.

  When he was through, he rose and stretched himself. “I think I’ll look around a bit,” he remarked. “Maybe I’ll find Rory.”

  As the Lion sauntered off, Taggle turned to Dorothy only to find her slumped on her face, sound asleep beside her empty cup. He picked her up and gently laid her on the cot, covering her with his coat. Then he turned his attention to the various jars, bottles, pots, and vases on the shelf. He examined them carefully, shaking his head over sone and nodding wisely over others. At last he packed them all into the cart and slipped it into his pocket. Stretching out on the floor, he was soon fast asleep.

  CHAPTER XV

  THE SEARCH FOR RORY

  When Dorothy awoke, she wondered if it could be morning. The vast corridor, with its dim lighting, seemed as dull and cheerless as before. The Lion poked his head in at the door.

  “High time you were waking up,” he greeted her. “Hurry up; we’re waiting breakfast for you.” Taggle had already summoned Ginger, and when the little girl joined them, she found her breakfast waiting. While they were eating, the great gate clashed open and Hob stepped in. “Gip gave orders not to feed you,” he whispered, “but I brought some food for the little girl anyway. I knew she’d be hungry.“ With a wave of his hand, Taggle indicated the steaming trays of food. Hob’s jaw dropped. “Where did that come from?”

  “Nothing to it,” remarked the Lion, who was enjoying himself hugely. Then Hob looked, if possible, even more astonished. “How did you manage to wake up?” he asked.

  “Oh, it’s very easy, if you know how,” returned the Lion airily.

  Dorothy jumped up and took Hob’s hand. “It was nice of you to bring us food, even if we don’t need it,” she told him. “Thank you very much—and don’t worry about us any more. We probably get better meals than Gip.“ Hob sighed. “I wonder what Rory gets.“ They were all silent for a moment, thinking about the unknown fate of the boy King. Then Dorothy declared confidently, “If he’s down here, we’ll find him. Then, if all his subjects stand by him, we’ll conquer Gip and put Rory on the throne.”

  “We’ll stand by him,” promised Hob enthusiastically.

  “Hob,” interjected the Lion, “I went through this whole prison last night. There’s no one here but us. If Rory is a prisoner, Gip has him somewhere else.”

&nbs
p; “Oh, he’s not in the dungeon,” explained Hob. “The dungeon is only a small part of the castle basement. We’ve been all through it many times. You see, when Gip took the throne, he put in these cells and closed them in. We used to have game rooms and swimming pools, a ballroom and a dining hall down here. Why, the downstairs used to be the most popular place in the castle—and look at it now,” he finished bitterly. “Could you believe that we used to have parties down here?“

  Dorothy looked around at the dingy walls and shook her head. “How are we supposed to get through to the other part?” she asked.

  “There’s a door at the back of the prison,” replied Hob.

  “I saw it last night,” put in the Lion. “I suppose it’s locked, though.”

  “Oh, you can open it, I’m sure,” smiled Hob. “With your magic powers, it should be easy.”