Dream Master: Arabian Nights

by Theresa Breslin

  Shahr-Azad smiled. ‘I cannot promise to find him, but I may be able to assist you. I fear I must speak with the genie.’

  ‘I’ll return to my own TimeSpace right away,’ said Cy, ‘and bring the bottle to you.’

  ‘It would be best,’ said Shahr-Azad smoothly, ‘that we both journey to your Time. Who knows what could happen if you tried to travel there and back again on your own? Much could go amiss. Once there I will confront the genie.’ She paused. ‘You would, of course, grant me a small favour in return . . .’

  ‘What?’ Cy asked suspiciously.

  ‘I would like to remain in your TimeSpace and see the TALENT TV competition—’ and as Cy opened his mouth to say ‘no’, Shahr-Azad went on, ‘It is something that I would like to do very much indeed.’ She gave Cy a long look. ‘So much have I wanted to witness this event, so much is my mind occupied with the thought of this, that I have not room for any other.’

  Cy took a moment to think. He hadn’t imagined it would be straightforward dealing with the Princess. She was obviously making her attendance at the TALENT TV competition a condition of helping him find the Dream Master. But the prospect of having Shahr-Azad living in his Time, even though it would only be for a couple of days, was distinctly worrying.

  ‘What about the King? He expects you to tell him a story every night. You will be missed.’

  Shahr-Azad shook her head. ‘I will pretend to be unwell. The ladies in the palace will not betray me. The King will take the opportunity to go hunting for a few days.’

  ‘If I agree that you can come with me then you must not behave as you did before,’ said Cy.

  ‘What did I do that was wrong?’

  ‘You went wandering about,’ said Cy.

  ‘I could stay in your garage.’

  ‘My friends and I are using the garage to rehearse our act for the competition.’

  ‘I am very petite,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘When anyone approaches I will conceal myself within the large straw basket.’

  ‘I suppose it might work . . .’ Cy hesitated. ‘You must promise not to walk outside the garage.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘I will not walk outside the garage.’ She lifted the magic carpet from the couch and unrolled it. ‘Now I must collect a few things to bring with me.’

  Cy looked at the magic carpet. ‘Will there be room on that for a suitcase?’

  ‘No suitcase,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘A few items in one small box.’ She went to a cupboard in the corner of the room, and took out an ornately carved wooden box. From the cupboard she also selected one or two shimmering scarves. Then she pressed a secret spring under the lid of the box. A hidden drawer slid open and Shahr-Azad placed the scarves inside.

  It was almost dark when Cy and Shahr-Azad returned to the garage in Cy’s Time and Space. The return journey was uneventful. The magic carpet knew the way and negotiated the strange territory of the other dimensions with ease, only bobbing and swaying occasionally as the currents lapped around it.

  ‘It’s nearly supper-time,’ said Cy as the carpet came to rest with a gentle bump on the garage floor. ‘I’ll have to go. Otherwise Mum or Dad will come out looking for me.’

  ‘One more day will give us more time to rest and consider what to do,’ said Shahr-Azad as she settled down on her magic carpet for the night. ‘Try to recall all the dreams that you have had since your Dream Master disappeared. Although you say he was not there with you, I believe he must have been, in some way, trying to send you a message. Rest and reflect, Cy, and tomorrow night we will do battle with this cunning genie.’

  ALL THROUGH THE next day Cy had difficulty concentrating on his schoolwork. His mind kept returning to the questions Shahr-Azad had asked him about his dreams since the Dream Master had disappeared. Was the little man attempting to send him a message to say where he was? And if so what could it be? Was it something very obvious? Perhaps right in front of his nose and he couldn’t see it?

  Cy glanced up from his work. Mrs Chalmers was writing furiously on the white board with different coloured crayons. She was describing parts of speech and Cy was really, really trying his best, but it was so hard to keep focused . . . especially as a person was whispering to him.

  ‘Cy. Cy.’

  Cy looked around. All his classmates were listening intently to their teacher.

  ‘Cy! Cy!’

  Someone was definitely calling his name, softly but urgently. Cy glanced at Vicky and then at Chloe, who sat behind him. It wasn’t them. Like everyone else in the room they were copying down the terms that Mrs Chalmers had written on the board.

  ‘Psst. Cy! Cy!’

  Cy’s eyes drifted towards the classroom window. Then he gulped and his stomach turned over.

  A bright red carpet was floating above the school playing fields! Sitting upon it was the Princess Shahr-Azad. She raised her arm and the magic carpet swooped low and hovered outside.

  Cy recoiled from the window and flapped his hand to tell her to go away. Shahr-Azad waved merrily in return. Cy glanced around him. Had anyone else seen? His desk was right at the window and only he had his head raised. All his classmates had their heads down, writing furiously. Cy flapped his hand again. ‘Go A-W-A-Y!’ he spelled out silently.

  Shahr-Azad beckoned to him. Cy scowled fiercely. Shahr-Azad stuck out her tongue. Cy turned his face so that he could not see the Princess. Perhaps if he ignored her she would get the message and leave. After a second or two he risked another glance. She had flipped the carpet over and was sitting on it upside down grinning cheekily at him!

  ‘Cy! Cy!’ His name was being called again. From a different direction.

  ‘Cy! Cyrus Peters! Pay attention.’

  ‘Whaaat?’ Cy jolted round in his seat.

  Mrs Chalmers was staring at him. ‘You’re off in a daydream,’ she said. ‘We were discussing language skills. Have you anything you’d like to add?’

  ‘Ummm . . .’

  ‘Have you followed any of this lesson at all, Cy?’

  Behind him Chloe tittered. ‘As if,’ she said in a tiny voice.

  Cy felt his face go red. His eyes flickered in the direction of the window.

  ‘What is so interesting about the view from that window anyway?’ said Mrs Chalmers.

  Cy’s head snapped back.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing.’

  But Mrs Chalmers was now at his desk. She was leaning right across to look out of the window! Wanting to see what had taken up his attention. Panic made Cy close his eyes tight. Make the Princess go away, he thought urgently. He opened his eyes again. The magic carpet was now a crimson blob high in the sky.

  ‘Oh, I see what it is now,’ said Mrs Chalmers.

  ‘What do you see?’ Cy’s voice came out as a croak.

  ‘It’s the big balloon they’ve sent up to advertise the talent show at the weekend.’ Mrs Chalmers drew away from the window. ‘I know that the TALENT TV competition is being held the day after tomorrow and some of you intend to enter, but you must arrange all that outside class-time. At the moment we have to concentrate on schoolwork. And Cy . . .’ His teacher gave him a severe look. ‘Instead of letting your attention wander out of the window, perhaps you’d like to contribute?’

  ‘C-C-C-Contribute?’ Cy stuttered. He stared blankly at his teacher.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘We were discussing language skills. How language works. Have you anything that you’d like to say about that?’

  Cy gazed up miserably at his teacher. ‘Umm . . . language . . .’ Well he was living through a real experience on how words could be used to alter situations. That was how he’d lost his Dream Master and had to deal with a crazy princess. But he didn’t feel that he could share that with everyone.

  Mrs Chalmers shook her head and a little line of annoyance appeared between her eyes. ‘I do wish you’d keep up, Cy. You, who have such a vivid imagination, would benefit from acquiring more language skills. It would enhance your stories so muc
h.’

  Enhance.

  The word echoed in Cy’s mind. Shahr-Azad had used the same word only last night.

  ‘Hyperbole.’ The word popped into Cy’s head and straight out of his mouth.

  Mrs Chalmers turned back with an expectant smile on her face. ‘And?’

  ‘Hyperbole,’ Cy repeated. ‘It’s. It’s fibs, but for a purpose . . . like, like, talking up a situation. Adding wild statements that can’t be true to what you are saying. But doing it on purpose to make what you are saying sound more interesting or capture people’s attention.’

  ‘That’s right, Cy!’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘Hyperbole is deliberate exaggeration used for effect.’

  Don’t I know it, Cy thought to himself. I’m experiencing it right now. He spoke aloud. ‘Stories need seasoning to enhance them.’

  ‘Very good!’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘I would say that almost sums up the whole lesson.’

  Behind Cy Chloe made a clicking noise between her teeth. Then she whispered to Eddie, ‘We need to do something to take him down a peg.’

  After school that afternoon when Cy returned home with his Grampa they found the living room unusually messy. Grampa picked up the TV magazine from among a pile of newspapers scattered on the floor. ‘You must have all gone out in a rush this morning,’ he said. ‘Look, the television’s been left on.’

  Cy stopped on his way into the kitchen. The television was tuned to a chat show. It was one of those ones where a person called Valensa or Morticia asks guests to confront personal problems. Cy wasn’t a fan of that type of show. He couldn’t imagine telling everyone all about yourself.

  ‘Yecchh!’ he said. ‘Who would watch that?’

  From outside the kitchen door Cy heard hurried footsteps and saw a shadow pass the kitchen window. It was Shahr-Azad! As well as flying about on her magic carpet today, the Princess must have been watching TV inside his house!

  Cy made a couple of sandwiches for himself and Grampa and then went out to the garage. Surrounded by empty crisp packets and chocolate biscuit wrappers Shahr-Azad was sitting, serenely braiding her hair.

  ‘Don’t pretend that you’ve been quietly behaving yourself all day,’ Cy said angrily. ‘I know that you’ve been watching television and whizzing about on your magic carpet.’

  ‘I did take a short outing . . . around and about,’ said Shahr-Azad licking the inside of the bag of cheese and onion flavoured crisps. ‘This taste is superb,’ she said.

  ‘What do you think you are doing?’ Cy demanded. ‘You promised me that you would stay in the garage.’

  ‘I did not,’ said Shahr-Azad.

  ‘Yes, you did! You said that you wouldn’t go outside.’

  ‘You made me promise not to walk outside. And I didn’t. I flew.’

  Cy snorted. ‘That’s, that’s . . .’

  ‘Pedantic?’ suggested Shahr-Azad.

  ‘You were supposed to be thinking about how to get my Dream Master back, not flying your magic carpet about the school grounds, gorging on food, and watching daytime TV and—’ Cy stopped as a thought occurred to him. ‘How did you get out of the garage and into my house? They were both locked up.’

  ‘Tsss!’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘That was easy.’ She took the old key that was Cy’s prop for the magic show and wrapped it in one of the scarves from her box. To Cy’s amazement the end softened and bent in her hand. Shahr-Azad slipped the pliable mixture into the door lock, where it solidified, then she turned the newly formed key and the door unlocked.

  ‘You mustn’t go out again,’ Cy pleaded with her. ‘If someone sees you it will cause all sorts of trouble. My teacher, Mrs Chalmers, caught a glimpse as you flew off this afternoon. Luckily you were so far away that she thought it was the TALENT TV hot-air balloon.’

  ‘I noticed something hanging in the sky above the town. A large round object. What is it?’ Shahr-Azad asked curiously.

  ‘It’s a large inflatable. The TV company are using it for publicity.’ said Cy.

  ‘What is this “publicity”?’

  ‘It’s to advertise their show. Tell people about it.’

  ‘I see how effective that is. Being so high in the sky, then it can be seen by many,’ said Shahr-Azad. There was a thoughtful look in her eye.

  ‘Yes,’ Cy went on impatiently. ‘Now listen. You must stay hidden in the Ali-Baba basket when my friends are here practising our act. Then, after they’ve gone, we can try to find my Dream Master.’

  Shahr-Azad bowed her head obediently. She lifted the lid of the straw basket and climbed inside.

  ‘Until then,’ she said.

  AFTER CY’S FRIENDS had left Shahr-Azad got out of the straw basket and Cy brought her the little bottle from the window-sill which contained the genie.

  Shahr-Azad studied the contents for a moment or two. ‘Strange,’ she murmured. ‘You described the genie to me as wearing green with gold earrings yet among these grains are also blue and black.’ She raised her head to Cy. ‘Tell me your dreams of the last few days.’

  ‘One was about the sea. I was nearly swallowed by a whale. It was as though I was going down a tunnel.’

  ‘Wherever your Dream Master is, he will be dreamweaving for you, but I fear he’s being held under the most constrained circumstances. Go on.’

  ‘Another time I was in a cave.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘No.’ Cy thought for a moment. ‘There is always someone else there but I cannot see them or . . .’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or hear them speak.’

  Shahr-Azad put her head to one side. ‘That is interesting . . . Now tell me, what did you say to the genie immediately before your Dream Master disappeared?’

  ‘I said I wanted him to vanish.’

  ‘What were your exact words?’ asked Shahr-Azad. ‘Be specific. Your Dream Master may have told you that words have great potency and power.’

  Cy thought about this. How the two bullies Chloe and Eddie used words to put people down and how hurtful that was.

  ‘And genies can be very literal,’ Shahr-Azad went on. She smiled at Cy’s blank look. ‘They will do exactly what you say. Give you precisely what you request.’

  ‘I think I said, “go away”. No it wasn’t that, not quite . . .’ Cy shook his head hopelessly. ‘I can’t remember exactly.’

  ‘From what you have told me this genie sounds very lazy.’ Shahr-Azad spoke slowly. ‘He would take the easiest course open to him.’

  Cy recalled that he had been arguing with his Dream Master in the prison cell. The little man had lost his temper and Cy had shouted at him. ‘I said, I said, “I wish you’d just go, put a sock in it and disappear”, something like that.’

  ‘Aha!’ The Princess clapped her hands. ‘Now it becomes clearer.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Let us summon this troublesome genie.’ She turned to Cy. ‘I beg of you, no matter what happens, be silent until I bid you speak.’

  When Cy nodded in agreement Shahr-Azad drew the stopper from the bottle and gently blew into the neck. ‘Arise O Wonderful Genie. The Princess Shahr-Azad requests your presence.’

  At once a great plume of smoke swirled from the bottle. It filled the garage and the figure of the genie assembled.

  ‘What do you want?’ He folded his arms and looked down at Shahr-Azad. Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘The Princess Shahr-Azad?’

  ‘It is indeed I, O Illustrious One,’ Shahr-Azad kneeled down and raised both her hands in supplication, ‘come to beg a favour from thee.’

  ‘Three only.’ The genie tutted. ‘The person who opens the bottle gets three, max. So get on with it. I don’t have all day.’

  ‘It is gracious of you to grant me even this small portion of your time.’

  ‘I don’t think people realize,’ said the genie, ‘how busy I am. Rushing here, hurrying there, doing everybody’s bidding. Fetching and carrying, never a moment to call my own . . .’

  That was totally untrue, Cy thought. He knew for certain that this genie had not done a
nything for the last few days, because he had been inside a bottle sitting on the window-sill of Cy’s garage. Cy opened his mouth to tell Shahr-Azad this.

  ‘He’s been doing nothing for—’

  As Shahr-Azad put a warning finger to her lips Cy remembered that he was supposed to have kept quiet.

  ‘Aha!’ cried the genie, spying Cy crouched behind the Ali-Baba basket. ‘You are in league with this annoying boy!’ His figure expanded and he filled the whole of the roof space of the garage. ‘I should have known that I was not rid of him or his Dream Master.’

  ‘This is the subject that I wish to discuss,’ said Shahr-Azad.

  ‘And I suppose,’ the genie said casually, ‘you also want to talk about where the little fellow is exactly?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Shahr-Azad. ‘That is something I very much want to discuss.’

  ‘Gotcha!’ said the genie. ‘You said “I wish” and “I want”. Two wishes down!’

  Shahr-Azad bit her lip.

  ‘I have outwitted the Princess Shahr-Azad!’ The genie crowed in delight. ‘That doesn’t happen very often!’

  Shahr-Azad lowered her head, but Cy saw that there was a satisfied look in her eyes. By allowing the genie to think he had tricked her into losing her first two wishes she had made him much more willing to agree to grant her third.

  ‘Therefore grant me my last wish without further trouble.’ Shahr-Azad spoke firmly. ‘Restore Cy’s Dream Master to him, now, this moment, here in this garage, as he was before.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ The genie yawned. ‘I’m tired out now. And it was getting very crowded in there.’ The genie pointed at the bottle and then chortled at Cy’s stunned look. ‘Your little chum was right under your nose all the time.’

  The form of the genie dematerialized slowly and trickled into the neck of the bottle. As the genie disappeared coloured sand came spraying out of the bottle to pile up in a great mound in front of Cy and Shahr-Azad. Cy replaced the stopper, put the bottle containing the genie on the window-sill and turned round. The grains in the middle of the floor fused together until finally before them stood an apoplectic little figure. A large woolly sock was jammed between his lips completely filling his mouth. His eyes stood out and his face was suffused purple.