Fonke stood with her hands on her generous hips as she surveyed the mess in her shop. Then, before Sharat and Aya could say anything, she marched over and seized their ears.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, glaring down at them.
“It’s my fault, madam,” said Aya quickly. “I’m sorry.”
Fonke let go of their ears and looked down at Aya with distaste. “What have you done?”
Looking guilty, Aya held up the instrument that she was still clutching in her hands. “I accidentally played this, and all these ghosts started attacking us,” she said.
Fonke snatched the instrument away from her.
“What do you mean you accidentally played it?” she snapped.
Aya’s eyes were round and innocent. “I just knocked the fingers and it made a noise,” she said. “I didn’t know it was a musical instrument. It doesn’t look like one.”
Fonke eyed her with suspicion. Then she shook her head. “You shouldn’t play with things you don’t understand,” she said. “Even I don’t know exactly how these things work.” With a jangle of her bracelets, she put the instrument back on its pedestal. “Be glad it was only ghosts,” she added. “You never know what you could have brought creeping up from the underworld. What if you’d summoned a demon?”
“Yes, madam,” said Aya. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” She sounded sincere, but she couldn’t help glancing back at the instrument with a look of longing.
Fonke scanned the rest of the room and caught sight of the sword lying carelessly on the countertop. With a gasp she strode over and seized it. “Who’s been playing with this?” she demanded.
This time it was Sharat’s turn to look guilty.
“That was me,” he admitted. “I used it to frighten away the ghosts.”
Fonke glared at him. “Do you have any idea what this is?” she said.
Sharat shook his head, mute.
“This is a very special sword,” Fonke told him. “Only a jinni can use it safely. It’s not a weapon for human beings. Any injury it causes is directed straight back to the one who uses it. You could have killed yourself.” She placed it carefully back into its box, and closed the lid with a snap.
“I’m sorry,” said Sharat. “The house-marshal let us in but nobody was here so we decided to look around. After all, it is a shop.”
The monster in the door let out a chuckle.
Fonke threw it a look of disgust. “Call yourself security?” she snapped. “I’ll have your fangs removed if you’re not careful. Or perhaps you’d like a job in Shergarh?”
The house-marshal clamped its mouth shut and swivelled so that only the back of its head could be seen from the inside of the room.
Impatiently, Fonke marched over and propped up the skeleton. Then, with a few swift moves she tidied up the rest of the pieces that had fallen to the floor. When she was finished she turned to glare at Sharat and Aya. “Now are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or shall I have you arrested?” she demanded.
“No! Please don’t,” said Sharat. “We’ve come to ask for your help.”
Fonke eyed him with distaste. “What do you want?” she said. “You must be selling something. You don’t look like customers.”
Quickly, Sharat pulled out the golden bee. “I’m trying to find out what this is,” he said.
Fonke looked bored as she held out her hand, but her eyes flashed with interest when she saw the diamond.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
Sharat hesitated. “It’s a family heirloom.”
“We were wondering if you could tell us something about it,” said Aya. “We might want to sell it.”
Fonke took the amulet to look at it more closely. “Well, all right,” she said, her voice sounding reluctant, “but I’d better warn you there’s not much of a market for this kind of thing.” With a rustle of silk she turned and took the piece over to the countertop.
Sharat and Aya stood watching nervously as Fonke cleaned the jewel with a soft cloth. Then she set it on a block of wood and subjected the stone to a variety of tests: tapping it gently with a small pointed hammer, rubbing it against various materials, dunking it into a series of liquids and finally looking at it through a magnifying glass.
“I hope she doesn’t break it,” whispered Sharat.
Aya was watching Fonke carefully. “Don’t worry,” she whispered back. “She knows what she’s doing.”
A moment later Fonke raised her head. This time she couldn’t hide her excitement.
“Do you have any idea what this is?” she demanded.
Sharat shook his head.
“Come here,” Fonke told him.
Both Sharat and Aya hurried over.
Fonke lifted the amulet into a beam of sunlight.
“Look into the stone,” she said.
They peered down. For a moment all they could see was the dazzling surface, but as Fonke twisted the stone they caught sight of a fleck of gold deep in the centre of the diamond, trapped like a fly in amber.
Aya gasped.
“What is it?” asked Sharat.
Fonke’s eyes widened dramatically.
“This, young man, is the stuff that dreams are made of,” she told him. “There’s a jinni in this amulet.”
Sharat’s heart jumped. “A jinni?” he asked, his mouth hanging open in surprise.
There was a look of triumph on Aya’s face.
“I knew it!” she said.
Sharat tried to keep his voice calm. “Do you mean a jinni that can grant wishes?” he asked.
Fonke inclined her head. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
Sharat caught Aya’s eye. She looked as excited as he felt.
“A jinni that can grant wishes!” she said. “That’s very rare!”
“Very rare,” agreed Fonke. “Of course, we have no guarantee how powerful the jinni is,” she added quickly. “I’d be happy to take it off your hands if you’d care to sell it.”
Sharat’s heart was pounding. With a jinni to grant him wishes he could rescue Emira! He shook his head.
“No. I’m not selling it,” he said. “All I need is to know how to use it.”
A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Fonke’s face, but she nodded. “I can help you with that, too,” she admitted, “but before I can do anything we need to discuss a price.”
“A price for what?” asked Sharat, looking at her blankly.
“A price to summon the jinni, of course!” replied Fonke. “You didn’t think I would do it for free, did you?”
Chapter Eighteen
ABRACADABRA
Sharat felt his heart sink. He glanced at Aya. “How much does it usually cost to summon a jinni?” he asked.
Fonke pursed her lips. “That depends on a number of factors,” she said. “Some jinnis are bound to serve only one master. They are very difficult to summon. Also, it depends on the strength of the jinni. Unfortunately there’s no way of telling how strong a jinni is before he’s been summoned, so you’ll have to leave that to my discretion. Finally, it depends on the customer. For wealthy customers my prices are considerably higher.” She glanced at Sharat. “You don’t look very wealthy at all, if I’m not mistaken.”
“No,” said Sharat quickly. “I’m not.”
“In that case, I’ll keep the price very reasonable,” Fonke told him. “Let’s say, ten gold crescents.”
Sharat stared at her in disbelief. “Ten gold crescents?” He thought with regret of the gold the sewer-girls had taken. “Couldn’t you let me work off the debt instead?” he asked.
“Work off ten crescents of gold?” Fonke shook her head. “With the kind of work you can do, it would take years!”
Aya looked thoughtful. “How many wishes will Sharat get?” she asked.
Fonke eyed her. “Three wishes,” she said. “After that the jinni’s free.”
“Can’t he use one of the wishes to get the gold?”
“It�
��s never as easy as that,” said Fonke. “As I’ve said, until we do the summoning there’s no way of knowing how powerful the jinni will be. There are very few who can produce gold out of thin air. Most of them need to transform something else into gold, but the trouble with that is that once the jinni is free it has no incentive to maintain the spell, and the gold disappears or turns into dust or leaves, or whatever it was made of in the first place. The only way most jinnis can produce real gold is by stealing,” she said, looking sternly at Aya. “I love gold, but I don’t approve of stealing. It’s extremely bad karma.”
“What’s the use of having a jinni if he can’t bring you gold?” Aya muttered.
Sharat wasn’t interested in gold. All he wanted was to find Emira and get her back to the circus. That shouldn’t take more than two wishes. He hesitated, then looked up at Fonke.
“Could you show me how to call the jinni in exchange for one of the wishes?” he asked.
Fonke looked pleasantly surprised. “A wish in exchange for the secret?” she mused. “Now that’s an intriguing idea.”
Sharat felt a surge of hope.
“Will you do it?” he demanded.
There was a glint in Fonke’s eye. “You know, a little jinni magic could come in very handy,” she said. “But we’ll have to hurry. I’m expecting the gentleman who ordered the sword any minute now, and I don’t want him to find you here.”
With a decisive swish of her dress she strode over to the pedestal where the musical instrument was displayed.
“Come here!” she ordered.
Sharat hurried over.
“The jinni will only obey the person who does the summoning,” Fonke told him. “So once it’s here you’ll have to tell it to grant my wish.”
“Yes, of course,” said Sharat. He cleared his throat. “How much time will I have to make my own wishes?” he asked. He had heard all sorts of stories about jinnis and about wishes going wrong for one reason or another. He was determined not to make any mistakes.
“Once you’ve summoned the jinni, you can take as much time as you like,” said Fonke. “Just call him. He’ll be bound to serve you until all three wishes have been granted.”
Sharat nodded. “What do I have to do?”
“To summon a powerful jinni, you need to know its name,” Fonke told him, “but since this is just a minor jinni you’re going to use a magic word, and the magic word is Abracadabra!”
“Abracadabra?” Sharat looked at her in disbelief. “Surely if it was that simple people would be calling jinnis all the time?”
Fonke’s eyes flashed. “Magic words are useless unless you know how to use them,” she said. “Be quiet and let me explain.”
“Sorry,” said Sharat.
“The secret to using a magic word is that you don’t say it,” Fonke told him. “You sing it.”
Sharat’s heart sank. “I have to sing?”
“Yes,” said Fonke. “It’s the vibration of the notes that activates the spell. That’s where this instrument comes in.”
Fonke picked up the amulet and touched the jewel against the wooden drum. Instantly, the silver fingers began to twitch.
Aya gasped.
“That’s it,” said Fonke. She gave Sharat the bee, then lifted a small wooden hammer. “Now listen,” she said.
Using the hammer, she carefully played five crystalline notes on the quivering fingers: ting, ting, ting, ting, ting. Then she looked at Sharat. “Did you get that?” she asked.
Feeling miserable, Sharat nodded. “I heard it, yes.”
“Good,” said Fonke. “Now sing the tune without using the magic word first. Just sing la, la, la, la, la.”
Sharat practised humming the notes a few times, but when he went on to sing la, la, la, la, la, something more like a donkey’s bray came out instead.
Aya and Fonke looked at him in shock.
“What on earth was that?” demanded Fonke.
Sharat was getting irritated. “It’s not my fault,” he muttered. “I never said I could sing.”
“Relax your throat,” Aya told him. “Like this.” She opened her mouth. “La, la, la, la, la!” she sang. “See? It’s easy.”
Sharat saw, and he heard, but although he tried and tried again, he only seemed to get worse. Finally he snapped. “I can’t do it,” he said, dropping his hand in frustration. “There must be another way.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t,” said Fonke. “If you want to wake up this jinni, you’re going to have to find your singing voice.”
“But I can’t sing. I’ve never been able to sing,” said Sharat angrily. Then he glanced over at Aya. Suddenly he remembered the magical sound he’d heard by the river. He swallowed. Aya could sing, but could he trust her?
Aya seemed to read his mind. “Do you want me to do it for you?” she asked.
Sharat hesitated, uncertain.
“Make up your mind,” said Fonke impatiently. “I don’t have all day.”
“I promise I’ll wish for what you want,” said Aya.
Sharat knew he didn’t have a choice. “All right,” he said. “You do it.”
Aya looked both nervous and excited as he handed her the amulet. She looked over at Fonke.
“What’s the tune again?” she asked.
Again, Fonke played the silver fingers. Once she’d finished, Aya raised the amulet in front of her.
“A-bra-ca-da-bra!” she sang, clear and true.
At first nothing happened. Then, just when they were beginning to think that it wasn’t going to work, the bee began to flicker at the edges, a bit like a piece of paper catching fire, and then it started to vibrate as tiny wisps of smoke started curling up from the tips of the wings. Aya looked scared and glanced over at Fonke.
“Don’t drop it!” Fonke warned her.
With a nod, Aya kept her hand steady as the amulet began to buzz and the wisps of smoke turned into plumes. Then all of a sudden there was a great whooshing noise, and something shot out of the stone, expanding as it flew wildly around the room.
“That’s it!” said Fonke.
The jinni’s trajectory was becoming less erratic now. It circled Aya three times in a blur of blue and gold before landing smartly on the countertop.
It was a slim blue boy, about the size of a monkey but with translucent golden wings. His face was pointed, a pair of antennae quivered on his head, and his slanted eyes were not altogether friendly.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Aya stepped forward. She cleared her throat. “My name is Aya,” she said. “I er … I just summoned you.”
The jinni eyed her with hostility. “I never agreed to serve human beings,” he informed her.
“What nonsense!” snapped Fonke. “You’ll serve whoever summoned you. You know the rules. Three wishes and you’re free.”
“Three wishes?” exclaimed the jinni. “That will use up all my magic!”
“You should have thought of that before you allowed yourself to be bound,” Fonke told him. “Now kindly introduce yourself and prepare to serve.”
With a sigh, the jinni eyed Aya, then bowed. “Alcherisma at your service,” he said, in a surly voice. “What do you want?”
Aya glanced nervously up at Fonke. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
“First of all, you need to tell the jinni to accompany me and to grant my wish as we arranged,” Fonke replied.
Aya nodded and turned to Alcherisma.
“Er … jinni,” she said. “Please go with this lady and grant her one wish.”
“If I must,” muttered the jinni. He took off with a buzz of his wings.
Her dress swirling, Fonke led Alcherisma out through the back of the shop and closed the double doors behind her.
Aya and Sharat looked at each with a mixture of excitement and worry.
“He doesn’t seem too keen to grant my wishes,” said Aya.
“It’s my wishes he’ll be granting,” Sharat reminded her.
“Ye
s of course,” said Aya, but she seemed strangely distracted. With a frown she bent over to take another look at the instrument she’d used to wake Alcherisma. “Where did Fonke get this?” she said, more to herself than to Sharat.
“Don’t play it again!” he warned her.
Just then the doors into the courtyard opened up and Fonke came back into the shop with Alcherisma flying around her head. Aya spun round, her face flushed.
Fonke was beaming, her irritation forgotten.
“Thank you, my dears,” she said graciously. “This is, as I expected, a minor jinni, but he was still able to fulfill my modest requirements.”
Sharat stared at Fonke. There was something different about her face. He frowned, trying to work out what it was, but Aya was in a hurry to go. She glanced up at the jinni, who had landed on top of one of the cabinets and was looking down at them in scorn.
“What shall I do with him now?” she asked.
“Just ask him to conceal himself,” Fonke told her. “Then, when you’re ready to summon him again, all you need to do is touch the amulet and call his name.”
Quickly, Aya held the amulet up in front of her. “Conceal yourself, please,” she told Alcherisma.
“Gladly!” said the jinni.
Glowing with a golden light, his wings began to buzz as he shrank to the size of a speck of dust and disappeared back into the sparkling blue stone.
“Now you really must be going,” said Fonke. “My gentleman caller will be here any minute.” She ushered them towards the door. “Let them out!” she snapped at the house-marshal.
Aya didn’t need asking twice. As the door swung open she hurried out, but Sharat didn’t want to leave just yet. He was still strangely captivated by Fonke. He sidled a bit closer.
“You look … um …very nice, Madam Fonke,” he said. For some reason he realised that he was blushing. He felt deeply uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop staring.
Fonke looked down at him and a smirk crossed her lips. “Irresistible is the word you’re looking for, I think,” she said, patting her hair smugly.
“Oh, is that what it is?” said Sharat, wondering why it had taken him so long to notice what luminous eyes Fonke had.
Fonke pushed him impatiently out of the shop. She hadn’t used up a wish for the likes of Sharat.
Tiger Thief Page 10
