17
INTO THE SUNSET
‘ANOTHER BOAT?’ EXCLAIMED THE PROFESSOR. ‘Really? I simply cannot believe he would abandon you like that. I thought Sassan was an upstanding fellow!’
‘It’s true,’ said Anna. ‘As soon as we climbed ashore, he started muttering about how this island couldn’t be the place. Then he pulled out a radio and another boat pulled up, and he climbed aboard and sailed away to the other side of the lake.’
‘She is telling the truth, sir,’ said Caspar. ‘I never trusted that man. He has been keeping many strange notes in the cabin by the jetty. I thought it was very suspicious, that he did not keep his notes in the camp to share with the rest of you.’
Anna thought that Caspar was enjoying the lie a bit too much to be entirely believable, but the Professor was too distressed to notice. He pulled Anna and Max into a hug, looking rather ashamed of himself.
‘I’m so sorry, children,’ he said. ‘It was clearly a mistake for me to drag us all out here in the middle of the night. We’ll go back to the camp now, and I’ll try to sort this all out. There’s nothing for any of you to worry about anymore.’
Anna closed her eyes, breathing in the wonderfully musty smell of the Professor’s old coat. Dreams were already weaving their way through her thoughts. She was only vaguely aware of the Professor lowering her down to the deck and covering her with his coat; only just noticed Max snuggling in beside her, tucked up under the stolen blue cloak. The last thing she saw was Caspar standing beside the broken wheelhouse door, guiding the boat back across the rippling black lake.
Later, as the Professor carried her and Max through the campsite, she woke up just for a moment to hear Caspar whispering in her ear.
‘I’ll wait for you to the east,’ he said. ‘Come and find me in the morning.’
And then there were only dreams, buoying her peacefully through the silent night.
By the time the children woke up inside tent 42B, the Professor had already had a long conversation with Ali, recounting all the strange events of the previous evening. The two men had gone to search the lakeside shack together, each returning with an armful of papers and an ashen face.
‘He must have been working against us the whole time,’ muttered Ali, rubbing his chin furiously. ‘Feeding all our discoveries to a rival expedition. The scoundrel!’
He stopped talking when he noticed the children listening. He knelt beside them, his eyes serious. ‘I must apologise, children,’ he said quietly. ‘It was a terrible oversight of mine, to have welcomed such a dangerous man into our midst. I can only imagine how scared you were, to be left alone with him on that island in the dark.’
‘Oh – no – it wasn’t too bad,’ said Anna quickly, feeling guilty about all the lies. ‘He didn’t do anything mean to us. He just kind of … disappeared.’
She remembered how Sassan had transformed into Cassandra in the blink of an eye. Saying that Sassan had disappeared was probably the most truthful thing she’d told an adult in a long time.
‘We’ll be okay,’ said Max helpfully. ‘All we need is another bowl of those doughnut balls, and then we’ll probably feel good as new.’
Ali raised an eyebrow. Max wheezed out a rather unconvincing cough.
‘I will send word to the cook,’ said Ali. The usual twinkle had returned to his eyes. ‘I’m sure they will be pleased to know you have grown so fond of their desserts.’
Max grinned. Anna rolled her eyes at him as the Professor joined them.
‘I’ve told Ali everything that happened last night,’ said the Professor. ‘We thought it might be best to return to the island right away, just in case Sassan left anything behind. But of course, if you’d rather I stay here with you –’
‘We’re fine,’ said Anna. ‘Honestly, we are. Go and see what you can find. And I’m sorry that you didn’t find the tomb you were looking for. I mean, I’m sorry that you didn’t get an end to the story.’
Ali smiled warmly. ‘Sometimes we can choose our own endings,’ he said. ‘The story of Zareen continues even now, as we lift her great citadel up from the sand. For me, finding these ruins allowed me to meet up with an old, dear friend, and to meet his brilliant children for the first time. If that is to be my happy ending, I would be perfectly content.’
The children grinned. They waved as Ali and the Professor walked off towards the lake. Anna felt sad seeing Ali go.
‘Come on,’ she said at last. ‘It won’t take them long to work out Zareen’s tomb is gone for good.’ She picked up the notebook with the emerald green cover. ‘And we’ve got one more appointment to keep.’
A friendly sun shone down from the sky as the siblings walked through the desert one last time. Max carried a colossal plate of doughnut balls carefully before him, his lips already crusted with sugar. The magic carpet hung from his shoulders, flowing back in the breeze.
‘Wow!’ he said suddenly, swallowing hard. ‘He’s really outdone himself this time!’
On the edge of the dunes stood another grand sandcastle. Four great towers surrounded the perimeter, each one as large as a phone booth. Elegant spires spiked up towards the clouds; impossible flags of sand fluttered from the turrets. The portcullis was raised invitingly, welcoming them into the sandy fortress.
Caspar stuck his head above the battlements. He grinned, waving merrily at the siblings. Anna grinned back.
‘Come inside!’ called the jann. ‘There is plenty of room.’
Anna stepped across the sand drawbridge, which was surprisingly sturdy. She stooped under the entrance arch, emerging into a small, shady room. There were three sand chairs set up around a sand table, with a cheerful sand candle burning right in the centre. Anna thought it would make a wonderfully cosy clubhouse. Max struggled in after her, puffing as he laid down the heavy plate of food.
‘You brought bamieh!’ said Caspar, delighted. ‘You are fine guests indeed.’
He popped a doughnut ball into his mouth, his skin rippling in happy orange swirls. Anna and Max each took a sweet as well, settling down on the sandy chairs. The three of them chewed contentedly for a while, joking around and talking about nothing in particular. The sand candle burned low.
‘How old are you?’ asked Anna at last, unable to resist asking a serious question any longer. ‘You said you were trapped in that awful ring since the time of Zareen, but you act just like Max and me. How come you’ve never grown up?’
Caspar held up his hand. For one moment, his mischievous eyes turned serious. ‘You are my friends,’ he said. ‘But there are still many things I can not tell you. It is dangerous for humans to learn the ways of the old wood.’ He frowned. ‘And you know so much already!’
Max rolled his eyes. ‘You couldn’t tell us anything when the witch was your master, and you can’t tell us anything now you’re free,’ he said. ‘You’re not a very helpful genie, are you?’
He ducked away squealing as Caspar shot a volley of sparks at him.
Anna pulled out the emerald notebook. She opened it to the first page and slid it across the table to Caspar, who picked it up curiously. His eyes widened as he read.
‘Yeah,’ said Anna. ‘We’ve had some pretty scary adventures. And I know humans aren’t supposed to know about fairies, but the fairies came for us first. They started it.’
Caspar turned the page. He looked astonished.
‘Those are my bubblegum cards,’ said Max proudly, pointing at a lurid illustration of a vampire. He frowned. ‘I’m not sure if I’ve got a genie. I’ll have to have a look when we get home.’
‘But – you can not write these stories down!’ said Caspar, aghast. ‘What if someone else was to read them?’
‘They’ll just think it’s a fairy tale,’ said Anna. ‘Kids make up stories all the time.’
Caspar turned the next page. He didn’t look convinced.
‘We thought you might like to help us write the next chapter,’ said Anna. ‘Our friends Isabella and Jamie helped us write th
e last parts. And you’re our friend now. You said so yourself.’
Caspar fidgeted uncomfortably. Anna threw a doughnut ball at him, which made Max snort with laughter. The jann smiled reluctantly. ‘Ask your questions, then,’ he said. ‘I will listen to them, even if I can not answer.’
Anna grinned. She took back the emerald notebook, plucking a pen from her pocket as she opened it to a brand new page.
THE GENIE RINGS, she wrote.
‘So, why haven’t you grown up?’ she said. ‘Are you going to stay our age forever?’
Caspar shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe not. That is not a good question. It would be too difficult to explain what it is like to be born of fire.’
‘What spells can you do?’ asked Max through a mouthful of food. He smiled hopefully. ‘Can you fix my hand for good?’
He wiggled his dead fingers. Caspar leant over and placed his hand on Max’s palm. Max gasped as a small spot of pink appeared on his skin.
‘This flesh has been killed twice now,’ said Caspar. ‘Poisoned by the lilitu, and burnt away by a djinni’s fire.’
‘Yeah,’ retorted Max. ‘Your fire.’
Caspar let go. The tiny pink spot stayed on Max’s skin for a moment before slowly fading away. Max quickly ran his hand through his hair, savouring the fleeting sense of touch. His smile slipped away as his skin deadened once more.
‘Our fire will no longer heal your wound,’ said Caspar. ‘It is a very strange affliction indeed. It may even be the first of its kind.’
‘Oh,’ said Max glumly. He wiggled his fingers again, marvelling at the charred, decaying skin. ‘Well, at least it’s rare,’ he said, perking up a bit.
Anna scribbled down another note, determined to record as many details as she could. Her mind was sorting through endless questions, trying to pick out the very best ones to ask. How much more would Caspar tell them?
‘The cat!’ she exclaimed suddenly, remembering. ‘There was a cat that helped us in the desert – the same cat we saw back in England. Was that you as well? Or was it some other genie, wearing a disguise?’
Caspar gave her a very confused look. ‘A cat?’
‘Yes – a black cat, with funny blue whiskers,’ said Anna. ‘What can you tell us about it? Why did it help us?’
Caspar shrugged. ‘I do not know anything about that,’ he said.
Anna stared closely at his face, trying to see if he was lying. The jann blinked at her politely, still looking slightly puzzled. It seemed the cat would remain a mystery for now. Anna wondered if she would ever see it again.
‘Okay,’ said Max loudly. ‘That’s enough questions for now. It’s time for the grand finale.’
With a majestic flourish, he unfurled the magic carpet from his shoulders, laying it down on the sandy floor. Anna glared at him, feeling very annoyed. She hadn’t yet had a chance to chastise him for stealing the ifrit’s cloak. She had half a mind to tell him to give it back – to hand it over to Caspar, who could surely return it to its rightful owner. Stealing treasures from the djinn sounded like the perfect way to plunge them all right back into some sort of dreadful peril.
But there were also other things she hadn’t said to Max yet. She hadn’t told him how bravely he had fought when the Professor’s life had been in danger, or how proud she was of him for facing his biggest fear and standing up to a real-life witch. In the past, she had always been the one who’d saved Max. This time, Max had saved her.
Maybe Max deserved to have his wish come true.
Caspar raised a hand. The back wall of the castle collapsed into dust, opening up onto a breathtaking vista of sand and sky. Max leapt onto the carpet, spreading his feet like he was riding a surfboard.
‘Up!’ he commanded. ‘Fly!’
Nothing happened. Max tapped his foot gently on the carpet, trying to coax it into the air.
Caspar’s eyes gleamed with impish delight. ‘It is a Persian carpet,’ he whispered to Anna. ‘It will only respond to Persian, not English.’ The jann smiled mischievously. ‘Shall I tell it to take him for a ride?’
Max stamped his foot impatiently. Anna winked at Caspar, grinning. The jann clapped his hands.
‘Parvaz kon, ghaali,’ he said. ‘In pesar ra bebar door-e aan tapeh shenee va bargardan.’
A gust of wind rushed into the castle, whipping up a miniature sandstorm. Max yelped as the carpet began to wriggle beneath his feet. He fell backwards as the carpet lurched forward, toppling onto his bottom.
‘Hold on!’ cried Caspar.
Max only just managed to grab onto the edge of the fabric as the carpet took off, flying out over the desert with an almighty swoosh. Anna whooped with laughter as Max and the carpet careened around the dunes, kicking up sand and dust as they swooped and dived, Max yelling and screaming as he held on for dear life.
It was a dangerous thing, knowing about fairies. There were times when you were almost eaten, or left for dead in the middle of a desert. There were days when you might have to lie down on a bed of scorpions, or follow an evil witch to the very end of the world.
And then there were days when you watched your brother take his first flight on a magic carpet, floating up against a perfect blue sky, laughing and pointing as your new genie friend laughed and pointed too.
‘Hold on!’ cried Caspar.
There would be more adventures. The Professor had already mentioned another work trip he would need to take in the not-so-distant future – something about a forgotten old ghost town, nestled by the sea. With their luck, there would likely be more monsters, and more dangers; more screams and more tears. It might not be long before another witch came cackling into their lives.
But Ali had also said that sometimes people got to choose the ending of their story. On that day, watching Max sail past the clouds, Anna felt like she knew exactly what he meant.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Uncovering a lost story can be a tricky business. These are the people who helped me dig.
The good witches of Hardie Grant Egmont are the shrewdest members of any expedition. Infinite thanks go to Marisa, Luna, Penelope, Haylee, Ella, Jessica, Kristy, Emily, Tye, Joanna, Madeleine and Annabel. (I have to thank them first, or they’ll turn me into a newt.)
Dave Shephard trapped a ghul with his pencils, binding its fearsome visage to the cover; I’m relieved he survived to draw another day. Ensieh Anjedani worked the translations, whispering to the genies in their native tongue. Daste shoma dard nakoneh!
Finally, thanks go to my old friend Jorge, who really did follow me into the Sahara Desert, and to Penni Russon, who helped set my course before the expedition had even begun
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JACK HENSELEIT was born on a winter evening in 1991, just after the stroke of midnight. When the weather is dark and stormy, he writes fairy tales – real fairy tales, where witches and goblins play tricks on unwary girls and boys. Not all of the tales have happy endings.
The Genie Rings is his third novel. Visit jackhenseleit.com to learn more about Jack.
The Genie Rings
published in 2018 by
Hardie Grant Egmont
Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street
Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia
www.hardiegrantegmont.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.
eISBN 9781743585757
Text copyright © 2018 Jack Henseleit
Illustration copyright © 2018 Dave Shephard
Design copyright © 2018 Hardie Grant Egmont
Illustration by Dave Shephard
Design by Kristy Lund-White
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