THE DJINN GARDEN
by Stephen Goldin
Copyright © 2002 by Stephen Goldin. All Rights Reserved.
Cover image Copyright © Yusaku Takeda.
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THE DJINN GARDEN
The tale is told of Jafar al-Sharif, master storyteller, who was forced to impersonate a wizard to save his life. When the curse of a true wizard, Akar, caused Jafar’s beautiful teenage daughter Selima to become intangible and to fade gradually from the world of the living, father and daughter traveled to the oasis of Sarafiq to seek the wisdom of the prophet Muhmad. They were assisted on this journey by Cari, a young female member of the Righteous Jann—lowest level of the ranks of the djinni—who is slave to the magical ring Jafar stole from the wizard Akar.
At Sarafiq they met up with Prince Ahmad and Umar bin Ibrahim, the prince and high priest of the holy city of Ravan, exiled from their home by a treacherous plot to usurp Ahmad’s throne. The prophet Muhmad informed both groups that they had a common destiny—to unite the four lost pieces of the Crystal of Oromasd and defeat the insurgent forces of the dark god Rimahn. The prince and the priest believed Jafar was the wizard he pretended to be, and Jafar deemed it wise not to enlighten them.
They found the first piece of the crystal in the underground kingdom of Punjar, where they made the acquaintance of Leila, involuntary wife to the king of that unhappy land. Leila, a stately blonde whose Norge mother had been a witch and gave her daughter the ability to distinguish truth from illusion, helped them escape the maze of Punjar’s tunnels in return for being allowed to accompany the travelers on their quest. Leila was instantly attracted to Jafar, whom she knew not to be a wizard, and became his lover—much to the unspoken annoyance of Cari the Jann.
They acquired the second piece of the crystal from the King of the Winds and traveled toward the sunken city of Atluri where the third piece was hidden. Along the way they encountered Verethran, a small brown monkey who was, in reality, a prince under an enchantment, and El-Hadar, a sea captain whose ship, Hauvarta’s Shield, took them westward to the spot where Atluri sank beneath the waves many centuries ago.
En route to Atluri, they stopped at the Isle of Illusions, where Jafar needed to retrieve a vital implement to allow him to live underwater in the sunken city. To save her master from the trap of a demonic predator, Cari had to impersonate his late wife, leading to an intimate episode that later embarrassed both of them. Jafar ordered her back to her home so he need not be confronted by his guilt at using a female slave so shamelessly.
After retrieving the third piece of the crystal, Hauvarta’s Shield sailed eastward again, but encountered a ferocious storm which blew them into unknown parts with little fresh water left. Their best hope for continuing their journey was to find a source of more water—and to help them, Jafar needed to call once more on the services of Cari, slave to the ring he wore on his left hand.
***
Jafar’s right hand crept over his left, caressing rather than rubbing the ring as he spoke the invocation he’d uttered so many times in the past: “By the ring that bears thy name, O Cari, I command thee to appear before me.”
And as he waited, the familiar pinkish haze began to coalesce before him, bringing with it the pleasant aroma of ylang–ylang, and soon Cari appeared in the form that was most natural for her, a lovely young girl barely older than Jafar’s own daughter Selima. Her eyes were downcast, refusing to look directly at him, and she made a formal salaam as she said, “I come at your command, O my master.”
Jafar said, “Much has happened since you returned to your native land. I survived the ordeal of Atluri and recovered the third piece of the Crystal.”
“My heart rejoices for you, O my master.”
“Our ship has also been blown off its course by a storm and we don’t know precisely where we are. We’re in need of fresh water, having just a day’s supply. We need you to fly eastward ahead of us and let us know where the nearest land is so we can reprovision ourselves.”
“Hearkening and obedience, O my master.” Before Jafar could say anything more, Cari took off into the sky and flew eastward, moving in ever widening arcs to scan the horizon for signs of land.
Jafar pondered on her behavior. She’d been more formal with him than at any time since he first put on the ring. Of course, he’d scarcely been warm and open himself, but this behavior was not typical for her. For the first time, he truly began to consider the fact that she might have real emotions, the same as any woman, and that she might be reeling from their intimate encounter on the Isle of Illusions just as much as he was. He didn’t know what he could do or say to ease the situation, but he resolved to do nothing that would make the situation worse.
In but half an hour she returned, and at least there was a smile on her lovely face. “I bring good news, O my master. There is a small island just a day’s sailing from here, to the south and east.”
“What is the nature of this island?” the captain, El–Hadar, asked critically. “Is it rocky and barren? Is it inhabited?”
“I didn’t inspect it closely, but I could see there was plenty of vegetation, and a waterfall down the side of one cliff.”
The passengers cheered at this news, but their captain took the information more guardedly. Speaking of himself in the third person, as was his wont, he said, “El–Hadar has visited many uncharted islands in the Central Sea. Some of them are as innocent as they seem, mere rocks jutting out of the ocean in earth’s attempt to defy the waters. But there are others that harbor strange beings with mystical powers, far worse than your Isle of Illusions. The ones that look too promising are the ones to fear most. El–Hadar has lost many valiant men—and on a few occasions, nearly his own life—while venturing on such islands.”
“The point is,” Prince Ahmad said, “do we have any choice in the matter? We do need the water, and this island can provide it.”
“We do and it can,” the captain agreed. “El–Hadar does not dispute this; he merely advises caution to balance such unrestrained enthusiasm.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Jafar said. After his own experiences on the Isle of Illusion, plus the tales El–Hadar had regaled them with on the voyage to Atluri—plus his own knowledge of other stories of sailors in strange lands—he was inclined to believe almost anything could happen on the strange islands that dotted the Central Sea.
The ship’s sails had suffered minimal damage in the storm, and El–Hadar proclaimed them serviceable until they reached the island and the crew had a few hours to take them down and repair them completely. They turned the ship eastward and south, and Cari flew up ahead to give the steersman a correct course to the island she’d discovered. Other sailors, meanwhile, went below into the hold to finish bailing out the rest of the water and repair any small holes in the hull they could discover.
The wind struck up behind them again, as true as it had done on the outward voyage, and once again El–Hadar marveled at the luck his passengers brought with them. Aside from that one storm, everything had gone as perfectly as could be expected on a voyage of this duration and distance. Far from making him happy, however, it seemed to only deepen his mood of caution and concern. The voyage was not over yet, not by half an ocean.
Night descended and the ship sailed on, eager to reach the new source of water as quickly as possible. The food they’d brought with them was also running low, but the ocean was full of fish, and they only had to trawl a net behind them for a short whi
le to catch a filling, if slightly boring, meal.
By morning the island appeared on the horizon, ahead and just slightly to starboard. “Now is the time to fly over there and scout out the land a little more carefully,” Jafar told the Jann.
“Be leery if the island looks too lush and is yet unsettled,” the captain added. “In El–Hadar’s experience, if a place can be settled, it will be settled. If it is not, then something is amiss.”
“I will look very carefully and take great caution,” Cari promised solemnly, and flew off to visit the island she’d discovered. Jafar watched her go, his heart aching for her safety.
One hour passed, then two. When the third hour came and went, and still there was no sign of Cari, her friends aboard Hauvarta’s Shield began to worry.
“It’s never taken her this long to reconnoiter a place before,” Selima said.
“It shouldn’t take her this long just to look over the land,” Prince Ahmad agreed. “The island isn’t that large.”
“Something bad has happened, as El–Hadar feared it might,” the captain said.
Jafar looked down at the ring on his left hand. Rubbing it, he invoked the Jann’s name. Nothing happened; Cari did not materialize. “This is very bad indeed,” said the storyteller, unable to hide the worry in his voice. “Only a potent magic spell could prevent Cari from coming to me, as it did when we were in the dungeons of Punjar.”
“What can we do?” Leila asked.
“We have two choices, neither very good,” said El–Hadar. “We can abandon this island and look elsewhere for our water, but the chances are not good of finding any. Or we can go ashore and get some water here, mindful of the fact that something happened here to your wizard’s Jann.”
Prince Ahmad didn’t even hesitate. “We’ll go ashore. Even if we didn’t need the water, Cari was our companion. We cannot abandon her to some unknown fate.”
For once, Jafar was in complete agreement with the prince’s heroic declaration. But that agreement did not calm his fears in the slightest. As El–Hadar had said, there was something on the island capable of capturing—he refused to think about killing—a young, clever Jann. Could a mixed assortment of humans expect to fare any better?
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