Adijan and Her Genie

by L-J Baker

  She paced as she ate.

  Bribing a magistrate to nullify the divorce might not be feasible but she should be able to persuade someone to schedule a re-hearing on the promise of more cash later. Zobeide still owed her ten gold wheels.

  The long afternoon finally faded into twilight. Adijan stood at the window to watch the last blinding orange sliver of the sun slip beneath the western sea.

  If worse came to worst, two gold wheels would hire her a high-class gang of kidnappers.

  She drifted to the bed and didn’t bother calling for a lamp. In the gathering darkness, she hugged Shalimar’s blanket.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “With every sober bit of me. And I always will. How am I going to live if your mother is wrong and you really have stopped loving me? Oh, Eye…”

  In the morning, Adijan had to exercise every last particle of her newly learned self-restraint not to grab Hujr by the scruff of his neck and drag him up onto the roof to his magical rug. The enchanter made an agonizingly leisurely breakfast. He stuffed so much into his mouth that Adijan began to wonder if he was hollow inside. Then, to her teeth-gritted fury, he insisted on a short nap to aid his digestion. She all but tore her hair out.

  Finally, sometime close to midmorning, Hujr roused himself. He unhurriedly waddled up to the roof.

  Adijan couldn’t help squirming to peer around Hujr. Brown and mustard landscapes occasionally gave way to lush green carved by the slash of a river. She spotted a couple of isolated oases. Caravans were dark strings of irregular beads. Towns blurred to grey smears as they slipped beneath the whizzing carpet. To the anxious, nervous, impatient Adijan, it seemed the sun moved even faster. It rose to noon, then began its sinking descent, and still she saw nothing that looked like Qahtan or Natuk or Ul-Feyakeh or any town she knew.

  “Oh, All-Seeing, All-Knowing Eye,” Adijan whispered, “please don’t let us be lost. Please let –”

  “Hmph,” Hujr said. “Isn’t that Ul-Feyakeh?”

  Adijan jerked up onto her knees to peer ahead. The wind made her eyes water. The dark blot grew rapidly. Hujr turned the rug so they flew directly at the city. Adijan saw walls and minarets and a tall jumble of buildings leaking smoke from countless cooking fires. Dark lines of people and animals waited outside the gates.

  “Yes!” she shouted. “That’s it! That’s Ul-Feyakeh.”

  “Which way do we go now?”

  Adijan scowled as she tried to translate her route on foot to the air. Which way did the sun shine as she left the city?

  “That way.” Adijan pointed over Hujr’s shoulder. “Qahtan is that way.”

  Qahtan raced toward them from across the grey, brown, and green plain. Never had its outline been a more welcome sight. She couldn’t resist blowing a cheeky kiss in the direction of the gate guards as the carpet skimmed the top of the city walls. Hujr slowed the carpet. Adijan pointed to the tall minaret of the Temple of the East.

  The magical flying carpet slowly descended into the street near Takush’s friendly house. Mrs. al-Bakmari stopped dead with her hand at her mouth. Adijan waved to her. Mrs. al-Bakmari shrieked and scuttled away. Dogs and cats bolted. Faces appeared in windows and doorways. Even fair-haired Abu emerged from his wine shop to gape.

  By the time Adijan succeeded in her clumsy one-handed effort to roll up the carpet, Qahab the doorkeeper had opened the blue friendly house door. He stared.

  “Eye bless you, Qahab,” Adijan said. “No, I’m not drunk. And neither are you.”

  “Adijan?” His eyes showed a lot of white as he looked between Adijan, Hujr, and the carpet. “That you? What – what you done this time?”

  “It’s a long story,” Adijan said. “I’ll tell you later. Look after this for me, will you?”

  Qahab, his mouth hanging open, accepted the carpet. Clutching it across his broad chest, he belatedly dropped to his knees in the dusty street to bow low to Hujr.

  Adijan helped Hujr inside. He moved painfully slowly. She was torn. On the one hand, she wanted to race ahead and burst in on her aunt to blurt out all that had happened. On the other hand, she was conscious of having disappeared several weeks ago without any explanation. Takush would have much to say about that.

  “What is this place?” Hujr asked. “Have you brought me here to be robbed and murdered? I should have known, with that hand missing, that –”

  “It’s a brothel,” Adijan said.

  “Brothel? Oh. Hmph. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

  She paused outside the door to Takush’s private chamber despite sagging under the weight of the portly enchanter. She took a deep breath before knocking and shoving the door open.

  “Nipper!”

  Adijan’s eyes widened as Fakir leaped to his feet from the divan he’d been sharing with her aunt.

  “Adijan?” Takush twisted around. “Adijan! It is you. Where in the world have you been? Do you have any idea how worried –? To just leave without – I can’t believe how thoughtless and inconsiderate –”

  Hujr groaned. “Seat.”

  Adijan helped him to an empty divan. Hujr slumped. Takush and Fakir stared at the enchanter.

  “This is the Enchanter Hujr of Shabak,” Adijan said. “My Aunt Takush. And Fakir al-Wahali.”

  Fakir’s mouth dropped open. Takush again demonstrated more self-possession by slipping to her knees. She tugged Fakir down beside her.

  “Oh, exalted and powerful sir,” Takush said, “your presence in my humble house honors me beyond – beyond all expectations.”

  From deep within his exhaustion, Hujr ogled Takush. “I can understand you being overwhelmed, dear, dear lady. We shall discuss it later. Now, I need a bed merely for sleep.”

  “He really does need to just sleep,” Adijan said. “Maybe –”

  Hujr emitted a sonorous snore. His chin dropped to his chest.

  “It’s the strain of making the magic rug fly,” Adijan said. “Fakir, give me a hand. We can stick him in my bed.”

  “Your bed? What are you thinking?” Takush whispered vehemently. “This is an enchanter! In my house. He must have the best bed.”

  “Trust me, Auntie, he’s not much of an enchanter,” Adijan said. “And the greedy dung beetle gouged me for thirty-eight wheels. He’s lucky I don’t stuff him in the storage shed and steal his clothes. Grab one of his arms, Fakir.”

  Hujr remained asleep while Fakir and Adijan dragged him along the corridor to Adijan’s bed. Takush deftly removed his turban, robe, sash, and boots. Takush cut off his snores as she closed the door behind them.

  “He’ll be out for the rest of the day and night,” Adijan said. “Not even an uta band playing in the same room would wake him. And then he’ll eat everything you can put in front of him.”

  Takush wrapped her niece in a fierce embrace. “Oh, Adijan, I could kill you.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Adijan said, “Hadim’s thugs nearly did the job for you. And then there was that pocked worm Baktar.”

  “I’m torn between beating you and telling you how relieved and pleased I am to see you again.” Takush surrendered to the impulse to kiss Adijan. “I do believe I am owed an explanation. A very good and truthful one.”

  Before Adijan could offer anything of the sort, Takush again embraced her.

  “Didn’t expect you back, Nipper.” Fakir hovered near the door to Takush’s chamber. “Not today. Not that we’re not glad to see you. We are. Of course. Enchanter. Eye bless us all. Never know what you’re going to do next. Ahem. Know how it must’ve looked. Me and your aunt, that is. Can explain. You see – Eye. Your hand. Where did it go?”

  “Oh,” Adijan said. “That. It’s a long story.”

  Takush frowned and pulled away without completely releasing Adijan. She gasped when she saw Adijan’s left arm. “By the Eye. What happened?”

  Adijan self-consciously slid her arm behind her back. She kissed Takush’s cheek. “It’s not what you think. Honestly. I’m fine. And – and, Auntie, I’m really sorry. I kno
w I did everything wrong in leaving like I did, but I had a reason. A good reason. And I got it right this time. Really.”

  “You’re not going to give me the same garbled tale that you told Fakir about genies and magical necklaces?” Takush touched the front of Adijan’s shirt. “Silk. How in the world did you ever –? There is an enchanter in my house. And you have a hand missing. Just what have you been up to this time?”

  “Let’s go and sit down,” Adijan said. “But don’t worry, it’s not all bad. Not this time. Auntie, I finally did something right.”

  In her chamber, Takush drew Adijan down onto a divan beside her. “You can’t begin to imagine the troubles I’ve been thinking you’ve got yourself into. But your hand? Oh, Adijan, you didn’t –”

  Adijan would have preferred to plunge into her plans to regain Shalimar, but she bowed to the necessity of some explanation. She related a heavily edited version of events. Partway through, Zaree the maid brought in a tray of coffee and fruit. She offered Adijan a shy smile and lingered over serving, clearly storing away every comment she heard for repetition to the cook and Qahab.

  Adijan found the hardest part of her recital was explaining her amputation. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. Even the little she said left both Takush and Fakir aghast. She hurried on to an unfettered account of Zobeide’s house and the flying rug journey. At the conclusion, her audience looked understandably astonished.

  “So, you see, I’ve finally done something right,” Adijan said. “I have some money. Not dreams this time, or possibilities. Real money. I can pay you both back every last curl. I even have a couple of gold coins in my purse. Look.”

  Adijan tugged her purse from her sash and up-ended it over the divan. Silver and copper coins spilled out. She quickly sorted through to find the two gold wheels.

  “See,” she said. “And Zobeide owes me ten wheels more. I can pay you both back everything I owe you and then some. Fakir, we need to start thinking who we can bribe to re-open that divorce hearing.”

  Takush and Fakir shared an uneasy look. Fakir wasn’t smiling.

  “Adijan,” Takush said, “what do you –?”

  “I didn’t steal this, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Adijan said. “I’ve given the future a lot of thought. And not over a wine jug, either. I haven’t touched a drop for thirty days.”

  Takush blinked. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, I swear it. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally begun to get things right. And I will treat Shali properly this time. Even if I end up sweeping floors again, I’ll do everything I can, every day, to show her how much I love her. I will. When I get Shali back, I’m not going to neglect her for a wine shop ever again.”

  Takush looked distressed. Fakir wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Adijan…” Takush pressed her hand tightly between both her own.

  “What?” Adijan looked between them. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Oh, Adijan,” Takush said. “We had no idea where you’d gone. There was no way we could find you to warn you.”

  Adijan frowned. She flicked her gaze from her aunt’s unhappy expression to Fakir. That incorrigible optimist stared gloomily down at his sandals.

  “Warn me?” Adijan asked. “Warn me about what?”

  “Seneschal Murad has a lot of influence,” Takush said. “Child of my heart, I don’t know how to tell you this without breaking your heart.”

  Adijan went cold.

  “You’re too late,” Takush said. “The wedding of Shalimar and Murad was this morning.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “No.” Adijan shook her head. “No.”

  “Adijan,” Takush said. “I know how –”

  “No!”

  Adijan jerked her hand free and stood. She flung herself to the door.

  “Adijan! Wait! You –”

  Adijan yanked the door open and bolted. Hadim, the turd! He couldn’t have done it. Couldn’t have. She still had ten days.

  “I’ll kill him.” She barged past Qahab and burst out of the front door.

  Adijan ran. Her legs and arms pumped. She could hear the memory of his gloating laugh.

  She skidded around the corner and collided with a man pushing a wheelbarrow. The sharp pain from her stump took her breath away. She barely heard the wheelbarrow man’s abuse. She gasped for breath and hugged her aching arm to her chest.

  Even through the pain, part of her mind was in Hadim il-Padur’s house. Her previous attempts to get Shalimar out of there had failed. Disastrously. Painfully. What chance had she of getting into his house now that it was packed with wedding guests? Even if she did manage to kill Hadim, that would not get Shalimar back. Not now that she was Mrs. Murad. That changed everything.

  She took deep, calming breaths. People stared at her. Or, rather, her fine clothes. She was not the old, scruffy, impetuous Adijan who only succeeded in getting the life beaten out of her.

  She straightened. Still nursing her left arm, she strode back around the corner. Fakir, Takush, and Qahab ran down the street toward her. They halted when they saw her.

  “Adijan,” Takush said, “harming Hadim is not –”

  “I know, Auntie,” she said. “Let’s go inside. I need to think.”

  Takush and Fakir shared highly unflattering expressions of astonishment.

  Adijan stared down at her pile of coins on the divan. Well, bribery was out of the question. All her carefully thought-out plans were as worthless as so many grains of sand.

  “There was nothing we could do, or we would have done it.” Takush put a hand on Adijan’s arm. “Fakir’s contact at the caliph’s court told us that Murad pointed out how ridiculous it was to make Shalimar wait to see if she was pregnant with your child. Hadim must have been behind it.”

  “Yeah,” Adijan said distractedly. “She’s married. But it’s not over. Not yet.”

  “Adijan?” Takush said. “You’re not going to do anything –”

  “Hadim will be squeezing every last copper curl’s worth out of the wedding. He didn’t go to all the trouble and expense of getting Shali divorced from me so he could quietly marry her off to someone else. Oh, no. He’ll have invited everyone who is anyone. He wants the world to know that he’s brother-in-law to a city seneschal. And the celebrations will last all day. Murad won’t have taken her away to his home yet.”

  “But they’re married,” Takush said. “What can you possibly –?”

  “We have to un-marry them,” Adijan said.

  “What?” Takush said.

  “Sounds right to me,” Fakir said.

  Takush rounded on him. “Fakir! We’re supposed to be helping Adijan, not encouraging any more wild schemes.”

  “But Nipper’s right,” he said. “If someone had taken you away and married you, that’s what I’d do. Unmarry you, that is. From him. First. Then marry you. Myself.”

  “Well.” Takush looked torn between being pleased and annoyed. “That aside, you can’t imagine Hadim won’t have done this properly? Adijan, you said yourself how important this wedding is to him.”

  “But the marriage wouldn’t be right if Shali didn’t give her consent,” Adijan said. “Would it? There’s that bit where the priest asks the heads of families if they agree, and then he asks the couple who are getting married.”

  “Hmm.” Fakir scratched his beard. “That is a nest of ants in the laundry. Mrs. Nipper must’ve said yes. Must have done. Can’t see –”

  “No!” Adijan said. “Remember the divorce hearing? She was drugged. Hadim will have done the same thing to her for the wedding. He’d not dare risk her refusing. Not and ruin his big day. Can you imagine Murad’s reaction if he found out, right there in the temple, that Shali didn’t really want to marry him? And that he’d nearly been duped by Hadim into marrying an unwilling bride?”

  “Oh, nasty.” Fakir shook his head. “Very nasty. Wouldn’t want to be in Hadim’s sandals. Not at all. Wouldn’t be able to do a
stick of business in the city again. Not a stick.”

  “But Shalimar was so very immobile,” Takush said. “Surely someone would notice if she’d been like that at the wedding. Hadim wouldn’t –”

  Adijan snorted. “Remember what Hadim’s advocate said about Shali’s lifelessness at the divorce hearing? That insulting rubbish about her not being able to think for herself? I’m betting most of the wedding guests will never have met her. They won’t know there’s anything wrong.”

  “That’s probably true.” Takush nodded. “So, if she was drugged at the wedding, then she –”

  “Didn’t give her consent,” Adijan finished. “Because she didn’t know what she was doing. Exactly!”

  “Oh, that’s clever,” Fakir said.

  “It’s a very serious accusation,” Takush said. “Can you prove it? Mrs. il-Padur said that she hadn’t seen anything. And I can’t see the poor woman speaking out against her son even if she’d caught that servant in the act. You can’t expect the people Hadim paid to do it will admit their guilt.”

  Adijan held up her two gold coins. “Hadim won’t have paid them gold.”

  Takush nodded. “You have to do it before Murad takes her home. And consummates –”

  “I know!” Adijan grabbed a handful of silver and copper coins. She thrust them at Fakir. “I need some stuff from your warehouse. The biggest carpet you have. And some brassware. Something cheap that looks expensive will be good. Lots of it. Bring as much as you can carry. Get Puzu to help.”

  “Adijan?” Takush said. “Just what are you involving Fakir in? You can’t seriously think Hadim will let you into his house?”

  “I’m sure Murad would want me, his enchantress friend, to have been invited,” Adijan said. “I’ll tell Hadim’s servants so. That’s why I need Fakir to bring me some wedding presents to take. And we’ll need your girls looking their best. They can distract the ugly bouncers.”

  “Enchantress?” Fakir chuckled and patted Adijan on the head. “I like it when you start thinking, Nipper. Always thought you could. Saw the potential. Show that brother of hers a thing or two, eh? Nasty man. Got it coming, he has. Can’t drug Mrs. Nipper like that. Not right.”