The sound of something rattling cut through Zardi’s pain-filled haze. She looked up to see a crystal ring on a large stone pedestal vibrating angrily. Blurred red light radiated from it. Rhidan gulped. “Do you think—”
“The djinni is in there?” Zardi finished.
Rhidan nodded.
“We better go find out.” Zardi staggered to her feet, slipping the bloodied blue stone back into its gossamer setting around her neck.
“Wait,” Rhidan barked as Zardi approached the stone pedestal. “Maybe we need to think about this a bit more. The herald said she was dangerous.”
“So is the sultan. That’s why we’re here.” Zardi snatched up the ring and let it rest in her palm. “We just need to rub and the djinni will appear. That’s what Nonna always said.”
“Rub and your wishes will come true,” Rhidan murmured, his eyes filled with memories. He came to stand next to Zardi. “We’ll do this together.”
They both put their thumbs to the ring’s crystal band and rubbed.
25
The Djinni’s Price
A deep red light ignited in the center of the ring. Zardi and Rhidan stepped back as the light blasted upward, becoming a ball of red magic that twisted, turned, and expanded.
The air rippled with heat, forcing Zardi’s eyes shut despite themselves. A cool hand took hers, and she knew it was Rhidan’s. She could feel the crystal ring between their joined palms.
“Zardi, whatever happens, we don’t let go of the ring,” Rhidan yelled.
The heat fell away and there was a trill of laughter. “Silly, children. Just because you hold the ring does not mean that you can control me. Clearly, there is much you need to learn.”
Zardi cracked an eye open. A woman of fierce beauty was perched on the stone pedestal looking at her. The woman wore long robes of red silk and her skin was the color of rain-soaked earth. A flowing mane of braids trailed over her shoulders, and her eyes were dark brown, slanted, catlike. Inappropriate laughter bubbled up in Zardi’s throat. They had found the djinni…
“You got past Okre.” The woman’s voice had a lilt. “Impressive work. Zardi, isn’t it? At least I believe that is how your friend referred to you.”
Zardi nodded. “That’s my name, and his is Rhidan.”
“What a pleasure to meet you both.” The woman was looking at Rhidan intently, as if something about him puzzled her. “My name is Khalila and I’m a djinni, but I’ve got a feeling you know that already or you wouldn’t be here.”
“We’ve come to ask for your help.” Zardi paused. She could hear the Cyclops outside, roaring and pounding at the chamber’s door and was glad of the distance between them. So many of her hopes, and Rhidan’s, lay with this djinni, she didn’t know how or where to start.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Khalila said, looking at her long fingernails. “Mortals tend to find it easier that way.”
And so Zardi did. She spoke of the sultan’s reign of terror, her father’s imprisonment, and how her sister had been made a praisemaker. “She only has sixty-two days left till the Hunt,” Zardi finished, the words feeling like cold pebbles in her mouth. “If I don’t find a way to stop the sultan, she’ll be…” Zardi clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to say the next words. “She’ll be killed.”
“But we’re not going to let that happen,” Rhidan said firmly. “That’s why we have to find the Windrose.” He swiftly went on to tell Khalila about Sinbad, Sula, and the sorcerers of the Black Isle.
“So you want me to tell you where the Windrose guardian can be found?” Khalila asked as they fell silent.
Zardi and Rhidan nodded.
“And help the Falcon get back to Arribitha.”
They nodded again.
“Anything else while you are here?”
Zardi couldn’t believe how nice the djinni was being. Why had the herald been so afraid of her? Why had Khalila been imprisoned here? She pushed the questions aside and pounced on the djinni’s last words.
“Will you save my sister and father from Sultan Shahryār?” Zardi asked.
Khalila’s deep brown eyes suddenly became shiny. “And who has kept me safe? A thousand years ago, Eria, the great wizard, shackled all djinnis who would not obey him to earthly objects.” The djinni waved her hand, and a thin cord of red light appeared. It ran from Khalila to the ring in Rhidan’s hand. “It is impossible for me to be parted from this ring. It is my tether.”
Zardi stared at the flickering red line, remembering what Sula had told them back in Sabra. “I know. Eria cursed you and all the djinnis who did not join his ranks. You are bound to the ring and have to accept the wishes of a mortal master.”
Khalila clicked her fingers and the red cord faded from sight. “For centuries, I was handed down from generation to generation as each of my masters grew old and died. I accepted my lot, but destiny decided that my sorrow was not to end there.” An aura of flickering flames surrounded her, and the djinni’s beautiful face twisted with anger. “I was married once too, you know, to a mortal man. He was my husband but also the master of my magic. I granted every one of his wishes, but how was my love rewarded? I was kidnapped. That ring you hold was taken from my husband and was locked up in this place. And he never came to find me.”
Zardi and Rhidan exchanged a tense glance as the djinni’s flames began to flicker even more violently.
“No one has come looking for me either.” Rhidan stepped toward Khalila and held out his amulet, showing her the inscription etched there. “My father doesn’t even want to know me. But here I am. Our quest isn’t just about stopping the sultan. I need to get to the Black Isle to learn the truth about my family. I need to understand. You see that, don’t you?”
Khalila was looking hard at the words on the amulet. The flames around her died down and became less red and more a sunny yellow. “Yes, I do. Thank you, I see things more clearly now.”
Rhidan looked pleased with himself.
“Who kidnapped you?” Zardi asked softly.
“One of my husband’s enemies,” Khalila replied. Her tone did not invite further questions. “Listen, mortals, the only way I can leave this place is if a human wishes it.”
“We could wish it. We could get you out of here.” Rhidan eyes were bright. “If you promise to help us first.”
Khalila appeared to think about the offer for a moment and then inclined her head. “What this woman Sula told you in Sabra is true. You can only find the Black Isle with the Windrose. I will take you to the Windrose guardian and maybe even use my magic to take you to the Black Isle with the help of the Windrose’s guidance, but that is it. I will not help this girl, Zubeyda, nor will I help the crew of the Falcon. Why should I extend charity to strangers?” The djinni swung her sheet of fine braids over one shoulder. “You must understand that Eria’s curse was devised so that I could only serve one human master at a time. That master is my husband and he is still alive. But there is a way I can grant you wishes. I will use my own life essence.” She slipped down from her stone pedestal. “Understand me. I will become a shadow, neither alive nor dead, if I use too much of my essence. You are free to make wishes, but I will choose which ones I will grant.” She held out her hand for the crystal ring and Rhidan dropped it into her palm. “And when the time comes, when I have helped you in your quest to get to the Black Isle, you must promise to wish me back to my husband. Do we have a deal?” She slipped the ring on her finger and held out a hand.
Zardi fought the urge to spring forward and shake the djinni until she agreed to help Zubeyda. Once upon a time, in a kitchen in Taraket, Nonna had accused Zardi of being an impatient seed—but she refused to be that today. As long as they got to the Black Isle it didn’t matter that Khalila wouldn’t save Zubeyda. Rhidan’s father, Iridial, would help her. Rhidan would make him.
“We have a deal,” she said, and Rhidan shook the djinni’s hand.
“Come, it’s time we leave this island,” Khalila c
ommanded. “I feel like I’ve been here forever. Rhidan, make your wish.”
“I wish you to take us to the Windrose and its guardian,” Rhidan said, his voice steady.
“So be it,” Khalila replied.
26
The Riddle
The djinni clasped her hands together. They glowed like fiery embers as she murmured an incantation.
Zardi felt herself being ripped out of the world, in an uprising of color.
Suddenly she stood on stark black ground, interrupted only by a broken white line that ran down its center. In the distance she could just about make out a sparkling fortress against a blue sky.
“What is this place?” Rhidan asked.
There was a cracking sound and a painted metal sign hoisted to a wooden pole pushed out from the black ground beside them.
It read:
WELCOME TO POSTREMO
Khalila laughed. “We’re playing the game already, I see. Postremo means ‘future’ in djinni language.” The breeze ardently trailed its fingers through her many long braids. Seeming to forget them for a moment, she drank in the air and gave a sigh of pleasure. She then strode forward, with Zardi and Rhidan running to keep up with her long, lithe strides.
Khalila tipped her head at the glinting fortress ahead. “In there you will find what you seek. He knows that we’ve arrived, of course,” she mused. “Knowing Oli, I’m sure he can’t wait to meet us.”
“Oli?” Zardi repeated. “Is Oli the Windrose guardian?”
Khalila nodded.
“You know him?” Rhidan’s face lit up. “Can’t you just ask whether we can borrow the Windrose?”
The djinni laughed. “Oh dear, I don’t think so. For the last few hundred years I’ve heard that Oli has been testing those that would seek to claim the Windrose with a riddle. He will not deviate from that.”
“What kind of riddle?” Zardi asked.
“I believe that it’s got something to do with his true name,” Khalila replied.
“But I thought you said he was called Oli.” Rhidan frowned.
“His true name is a secret.”
“Why?” Zardi asked. “What does it matter if anyone knows his true name?”
“Questions, questions! I’d forgotten how annoying mortals can be, especially young ones,” Khalila snapped, and an aura of small flames ignited around her body. “Those with the right knowledge can use a djinni’s true name against them. That is how Eria managed to shackle so many of us.”
“So your real name is not Khalila,” Rhidan said hesitantly.
“I started to call myself Khalila when Eria cast his spell that bound me to this ring. I no longer remember my real name.” Sadness hung around the djinni like heavy perfume.
Zardi noticed that Rhidan was tugging on his amulet anxiously, and his lips twitched as if he was trying to stop himself from saying something. He lost the battle.
“If Eria was a wizard, does that mean he was related to me?” Rhidan finally asked.
Zardi winced. Telling an angry djinni that your ancestor was possibly some kind of djinni jailer didn’t sound particularly wise to her.
“Because—I mean—well—” Rhidan wiped his brow. “If he was, I’m really sorry.”
Khalila laughed. “What an odd little person you are, Rhidan. You are not related to Eria. He was a wizard. You are a sorcerer. Eria’s magic is different from yours; he was not born with the ability to absorb magic from nature like you.”
Rhidan flushed.
Khalila smiled a strange smile. “Besides, I don’t think a child should be held responsible for the actions of his forefathers. Retribution should be visited on the person who did the wrong and no one else. Don’t you think, Rhidan?”
He nodded but looked uncomfortable, and Zardi felt the hairs on her arms stand on end although she didn’t really understand why.
Khalila stopped and traced the scar on Rhidan’s cheek. “I’m glad we see things in the same way.”
The djinni smiled even more widely, and Zardi noticed for the first time how neat and sharp her pearly teeth were.
There was some kind of hidden meaning to Khalila’s words, but Zardi was not interested in trying to work it out. She straightened her spine. The only puzzle she was interested in solving was Oli’s. “What happens if we get the riddle wrong?” she asked.
Khalila turned to her, the smile sliding from her face. “You would be at his mercy, and I’m afraid that I would not be able to help. His domain, his rules.” The djinni clucked her tongue sympathetically. “It’s not all doom and gloom. If I get stuck here at least I’ll have some company. He can be insufferably smug but I suppose I will have to learn to cope with it.”
“We appreciate your confidence in us.” Zardi stomped off toward the fortress.
“You’re annoyed by my words,” Khalila called after her.
“No, just don’t give up on us yet,” Zardi said, not looking back. She glanced at Rhidan as he caught up and saw that he was looking at her proudly.
Khalila glided to their side. “I wish you both all the luck in the world. You may not believe this but I want to take you to the Black Isle.”
Zardi was surprised to see truth in Khalila’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” she told the djinni. “We just need to solve the riddle first.”
They continued to walk toward the dazzling fortress in the distance. As they got closer, Zardi realized with amazement that the building was made entirely of glass and was so tall it scraped the sky.
Their footsteps were whisper soft on the strange surface beneath their feet. Zardi glanced down at the ground and could see flecks of stone held fast in a black casing that could have once been liquid.
“Did Oli make all this?” Rhidan asked, kicking at the black surface.
The djinni nodded. “Many, many years ago, when the wizard Eria tried but ultimately failed to put the world under his yoke, he gave Oli this place as a reward for his unfailing loyalty.” Khalila’s face looked disapproving. “This is my first time here, but it is clear that Oli has been very busy designing this place.”
As they got closer to the glass fortress, images of themselves were thrown up by the reflective surface of the building. Hundreds of Zardis looked back at her. Some were tall, others were short. In some she looked like an old woman, like Nonna, and in others she looked just like her sister. Zardi felt her eyes fill with tears as she stared at the face that was hers but somehow also Zubeyda’s. This girl, whoever she was, looked terrified.
Khalila clicked her fingers in front of Zardi’s face. “He is playing games with you. You must not let him inside your head.”
Zardi tore her eyes from her reflections. Khalila was right. Looking round, she saw that Rhidan was also staring at the mirrored glass, completely transfixed.
Zardi shook him. “Stop looking. Oli is toying with us.”
Rhidan blinked hard and took a step back. “Yes, of course. I knew that person wasn’t me. Couldn’t be me.”
“Who did you see?” Zardi asked.
Rhidan scratched at his arm, his nails leaving trails of red. “It doesn’t matter—a trick of the light.”
There was a humming noise, and a pane of glass rolled to one side as if invisible hands had drawn back a curtain.
They strode through the entrance and into a marble room lined with books. Bright light flooded down from small circles in the ceiling, and a man, as beautiful as an ancient god, stood waiting for them. He reminded Zardi of one of the statues in her garden at home: regal, body perfectly carved, cold.
“Ah, Khalila, good to see you after all this time,” the man said, tucking a heavy-looking book under one arm. “You don’t look a day over a millennium.”
Khalila inclined her head, clearly taking his words as a compliment. “Hello, Oli.” She looked him up and down. “I must say, this current appearance is very pleasing.”
“It’s the Adonis look.” Oli flexed one of his defined biceps. “I’ve been emp
loying this look for the last two centuries, on and off.”
“Yes, you’ve always liked your myths and legends.” Khalila smiled. “The Oli I knew before liked appearing as Pan the satyr.”
The djinni shook his head. “Horns and a potbelly. What was I thinking?”
Khalila wrinkled her nose. “We all make mistakes.”
Oli’s face became serious. “Truer words you’ve never said.” He looked at Zardi and Rhidan. “You have made a mistake coming here today. You will not win the Windrose.” He cocked his head to one side. “However, as you have come with Khalila, I will do you the kindness of letting you scurry away now.”
Rhidan looked at Oli squarely. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
“So be it.” The djinni’s handsome face twisted into an arrogant smile. “If you want the Windrose, you’ll have to win it off me. The name of the game is a riddle. And the riddle is to guess my name.”
“When do we start?” Zardi asked.
“Such eagerness.” Something akin to admiration tinged Oli’s voice. “You know, I have been reading about you and Rhidan with much enjoyment.” He took the book he was holding out from beneath his arm. The simple leather cover was imprinted with just four words: The Book of Wonders. “Such a shame that your story will end here.”
“That’s our story?” Zardi asked, her voice a squeak of surprise.
“As it is lived, it is written,” the djinni replied. “My library is filled with people’s lives.”
“Zardi, ignore him,” Rhidan growled. “He’s playing games with us again.”
“Believe what you like.” Oli placed the heavy book on the shelf.
“The riddle, please.” Rhidan’s voice was calm.
The djinni clasped his hands together, and, as they glowed amber, the outline of a door suddenly appeared on the wall behind him. “The Windrose is behind this door. Guess my name and you can order me to open it. Fail to guess my name and you will die here. No amount of begging or pleading will change this.” Oli’s face was stern. “Do you understand me?”
The Book of Wonders Page 16
