The Dragon and the Djinn Read online

  He stopped speaking abruptly, on a note that sounded as if he had more to say. His gaze went between and beyond Jim and Brian.

  They turned to see what he was looking at; and there, standing just a little behind them, upright in his red robe, was Abu al-Qusayr.

  "Salaam," said Abu al-Qusayr to Hasan ad-Dimri.

  "Salaam aleikum."

  Jim, his brain still reeling from the thought that he suddenly might be inches from an inescapable death, realized that for once his translator was not translating; but that thought was washed out by a powerful feeling of relief. Help had come without his needing to use magic.

  It was true that the two words he had just heard were some of the very few he recognized in Arabic—ordinary words of greeting. But now Abu al-Qusayr was continuing to speak in the perfectly understandable words of the language everyone spoke here.

  "Allah has made it so," said Abu al-Qusayr, "that those who are true to the faith may only be vulnerable to those who are also of the true faith—whatever that faith may be. Therefore I, who am a Muslim and whose faith is pure, have been sent as a representative from the Kingdom of Magickians to speak for this nasraney whose life you would end."

  "I fear no magicians—" began Hasan ad-Dimri; but suddenly he was speaking Arabic again, and Abu al-Qusayr was answering him in the same language. Jim's mind, sharpened by the threat of Hasan, fumbled for the reason his translator was once more not translating. Their talk concerned him and Brian, because he heard the English names mentioned in the flood of Arabic. But for some reason, he was not to understand what they said to each other. Why should his unknown translator on this world suddenly become a censor? It never had before.

  Then it came to him—ten to one, it was Abu al-Qusayr who did not want him to know what was being said; and who had caused the change.

  Suddenly, he felt Brian's elbow dig into his side.

  "What are they talking about?" Brian whispered in his ear. "I do not comprehend these noises."

  "I don't know, either," said Jim.

  His mind was still whirling over Hasan's death threat. Of course, before letting himself be killed he would most certainly use his magic to transport himself and Brian safely home to England.

  But Brian might not want to go. It could be that with Jim dead, the Assassins would even help Brian as Hasan had promised, to find Geronde's father, if he let them "guide and guard him" to his destination. On the other hand, Hasan could be playing with them both, and Brian could also be put to death as well—

  "—Clearly, there is no more to discuss," said Abu al-Qusayr, suddenly understandable again. He turned from Hasan to Jim and Brian. "I am sorry I could not be of help."

  Jim was conscious of a shimmer all around them; and through the quiveriness of that part of the air that shimmered, he saw Hasan still sitting with the same expression on his face, and apparently looking through and past them, as if they were not there. Obviously, Abu al-Qusayr had his magic at work again; and their present speech was private from the Grandmaster of the Assassins.

  "You weren't able to help us at all?" Jim asked, staring at him.

  "I'm afraid not," said Abu al-Qusayr. "There is nothing more to say but goodbye. I will explain to Carolinus, of course, that I could do nothing."

  "Wait a minute," said Jim. "What about us?"

  Abu al-Qusayr shrugged.

  "It is the will of Allah," he said.

  "What is the will of Allah?" demanded Jim.

  "That whatever will happen here between you and Hasan must happen," said Abu al-Qusayr.

  "You mean he's going ahead with the idea of killing me and doing God knows what to Brian under the guise of sending him off with an escort?"

  "I'm afraid so," said Abu al-Qusayr. "He believes himself completely invincible. He was a Sufi, as I told you, and Allah uses them in strange ways. Or it may be that Allah has deprived him of the power to understand who and what you are. What is certain is that there is an aura of power around this place. A low-ranked magickian like yourself, Jim, has probably not sensed it—but I do, very clearly. It may even be that he has acquired a Djinni for a friend, or one for a slave; and—knowing little of real magick—believes that nothing can stand against him."

  "Well, why was it just a matter of convincing him?" asked Jim. "You have real power."

  "I have, and you have, only defensive power, Jim—remember?" said Abu al-Qusayr. "In effect, he left it up to me to force him to change his mind; and of course I cannot use force for that reason."

  He became strangely glum suddenly.

  "It may just be, too," he said, "that he has become too much an Isma'ili, with all their stubbornness."

  He cleared his throat and spat on the floor beyond the quiveriness. Hasan stared straight ahead, unperceiving.

  "What are Isma'ilis?" said Brian.

  "Those who follow Isma'il instead of Musa, as the Seventh Imam," answered Abu al-Qusayr. "But now I must take my leave. What is written is written. Farewell."

  He disappeared. With him went the quiveriness of the air around them, and—happily—the results of his spitting on the Grandmaster's floor.

  "Enough!" said Hasan, as suddenly as someone waked out of a sound sleep. "Take them away!"

  Almost immediately, there were men back around Jim and Brian. Jim and Brian were hustled back to their cell.

  "James," said Brian, when they were alone again. "You must explain all this to me. I am an ordinary knight, who says his prayers daily, but leaves all such mysteries to those who are supposed to understand them. This Holy Land seems to be a place of a multitude of strange names and even stranger happenings. That man upstairs who called himself Hasten-something—"

  "Hasan," corrected Jim automatically.

  "Hasan, then," said Brian. "Can he really think that I would go blithely off with an escort to wherever I wished with never a backward glance, if you were to be put to death? Has he no knowledge at all of what a knight is?"

  "Actually," said Jim, "he probably doesn't. But don't concern yourself about it, Brian. I can easily use my own magic to escape from here; and take you along as well. We could be back in our own castles in a moment."

  "But I thought you were saving your magic." Brian frowned at him.

  "Not in the case of emergencies like this," said Jim stoutly. "But I wasn't too sure that you would want to go back to England; and if you stay, I should stay with you."

  "Well…" Brian looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps… the fact of the matter is, James… well, I took a vow."

  "A vow?" asked Jim.

  "In the height of my happiness over having decided to put the King's present to good use," said Brian, "I took Geronde with me, down to the small chapel Malvern Castle possesses—as you know—and there, before the altar and the cross, I vowed to never cease from searching for her father until either I found him, or came to certain knowledge he was dead. Could not your magic simply take us both to Palmyra, James, since you are willing to spend it, after all, to leave this place?"

  "I'm afraid not, Brian," said Jim. "I can only take us to places I can visualize. We could go back to Abu al-Qusayr's, or Sir Mortimor's; but I don't know any other route to Palmyra but the one we were just taking. We ought to be able to travel overland to Palmyra, too, down from the north; but I wouldn't know how to find my way. But, if we were anywhere on the Lebanon coast here, word would get back to the Assassins and they'd be on our trail again. If we'd been able to get to Palmyra using magic, I'd have been tempted to go that way in the first place, instead of with the caravan. But Abu al-Qusayr understood, back in Tripoli, when he suggested the caravan. We have to travel like ordinary people; and somehow we have to get where we want and find out what we want to find out, like ordinary people."

  "But we are not ordinary," said Brian, "I am a knight; and you are not only a knight, but a magician."

  "True," said Jim, "but neither of those things seem to be helping us right now."

  "M'lord…" It was the voice of Hob, once again perched o
n a bar right above their heads, once more timidly entering the conversation.

  "Hob!" said Jim. "I'd forgotten about you back here for just a moment. You don't know any way we could get away, riding your smoke, do you?"

  "We'd have to have some smoke first," said Hob, "and I've lost the smoke waft on which I brought the dog-Djinni here. Anyway I can't carry two big people on the smoke with me. I could take one—but for smoke I need a fire. There must be fires someplace in this castle, but I don't know where, and I don't know how to get to them. Do you think if I went and looked, that the people here would leave me alone—or would they chase me?"

  "I think they'd chase you all right," said Jim. "In fact, they'd probably do their best to kill you. You stay where you are."

  "But I've got to get you out of this, m'lord," said Hob. "You and m'lord Brian both. M'lady would never forgive me if I didn't."

  "It's good of you to feel that way, Hob," said Jim, "but I don't know what you can do."

  "Well, then, I thought we might talk to that Djinni once more," said Hob.

  "Djinni?"

  A whine sounded on his ears and drew his attention to the corridor between the cages. Outside the iron bars of their cell was the brown dog, again, wagging his tail.

  "Kelb!" said Jim. "You're a fair-weather friend! If you wanted to be helpful, why haven't you been helpful before this?"

  "I have been helpful, my master," said Kelb. "Know that when that which surrounds us was built, it was before there were any Assassins in it. It was built by a robber knight, a nasraney like yourselves, who preyed upon the caravan route. He had come here as other Franks from the north came, two hundred years ago, speaking of a Holy War against those who lived here. This is none other than the Kasr al-Abiyadh, which is otherwise now called the White Palace."

  "White?" asked Brian.

  "I don't know why it was so named," said Kelb. "But so it was; and so it is called in this day, even by the Hashasheen, themselves. In any case, I have searched for the secret way out and just now found it. And with your great magic, O my master, you can undoubtedly not only loose yourself and your nasraney companion from this cage whenever you want, but with my help find that secret way and escape."

  An alarm bell went off in Jim's mind. Any fortified place that Jim had come to know of in these Middle Ages had such a secret way out. There was one out of Malencontri, for example—and knowledge of such ways out was usually the tightly guarded secret of the owners of the castle themselves. Sometimes the secret was lost when the castle changed hands by war; but very often it was rediscovered again, and once more kept secret by the finder and those valuable to him or her. But Jim had just come from nearly a week of polite prying by ibn-Tariq to find out about him as a magician. The thought had crossed his mind, while he had been dodging these questions of ibn-Tariq, that the other might have some ulterior motive for wanting to know how much magic Jim could wield.

  He had not worried too much about it, however; but now he was suddenly wary. His wariness was reinforced by a glimpse of Hob out of the corner of his eye. The hobgoblin had left Jim's back and climbed the bars of Jim's cage first—almost like a monkey—and had gradually, but unobtrusively, gone over to the bars of the next cage and out on its door which was swung open. The result was that now he sat at the top of that door behind Kelb's vision and, sitting on top of that door, Hob was now shaking his head vigorously and making faces at Jim.

  The hobgoblin's vigorous unspoken message crystallized Jim's suspicion.

  "Very good, Kelb," he said. "That's a point in your favor. I will take it into consideration. Meanwhile, you may go. I must sit and think a while."

  "Yes, O my master," said Kelb. And he disappeared.

  As soon as he was gone, Jim beckoned Hob in until he was once more sitting on Jim's shoulder; and then Jim moved closer to Brian, who was looking puzzled.

  There is a time for small magics, Jim thought to himself. He visualized Brian and Hob as being able to hear him when he thought at them; and he would be able to hear them when they thought back.

  Now, Brian, Hob, he said, I will talk to you without using my voice and you must simply think the words you want to tell me and I will hear them.

  Exactly like that, thought Jim. He looked at Brian again and saw that Brian was understanding. There was a tight smile on his face. Now Hob, and Brian, you both know I'm trying to conserve my magic; so we're going to do this with as little use of magic as we can. To begin with. Hob, could you get some smoke from that cresset in the corner? Remember, just think, don't say the words.

  I don't know if I can think them without talking, said Hob—and looked at first astounded and then tremendously pleased. I can do it! I can do it! The cresset hardly puts out a good waft, but I can gather enough I think—like I gathered the smoke for the boats. Yes, m'lord, I can climb up to that cresset. The bars go up within a few feet of it and then I can simply take a jump to the bracket that holds the basket where the fire is.

  You won't burn yourself? asked Jim.

  Oh no, said Hob. Fire and smoke are friends of mine.

  Fine, said Jim. Hob, I want you to climb up the cresset, so that you can reach the smoke, and then ride some smoke through as much of the palace as you can, without people seeing you around the building, and find that secret way Kelb was talking about.

  Hah! said Hob proudly. M'lord, I already know where it is. When the Djinni brought me here, the first chance I got to leave him alone, I rode the smoke around the building and it was no trouble at all to find out all about it and particularly the underground tunnel that leads to the outside. I'm sure that's what he was talking about—it's just like the one at Malencontri.

  Thanks, Hob, thought Jim. But if I were you, I wouldn't mention the tunnel at Malencontri in front of anyone but Sir Brian here.

  Oh. Yes, m'lord, said Hob. Do you want me to take you on the smoke and go out that way?

  He checked himself suddenly.

  I forgot, he said sadly, you're too big, m'lord, you and Sir Brian, to go through the vents.

  The vents? said Brian.

  The vents just above the cresset, to let the smoke out.

  Yes, said Jim. Do we have to go through areas of this place where there are a lot of Assassins?

  Yes, m'lord, thought Hob. The way passes through a part of the building that contains a place they call Paradise, to which new Assassin people are taken. They are all sort of drunk and funny there.

  I see, said Jim.

  James? said Brian.

  Jim looked at him.

  Do you think you can find a way there without magic? I vow it is beyond my abilities.

  I guess I'll have to, said Jim. I'll give it a try, anyway.

  He pondered for a little while, staring unseeingly at the bars and stone walls in front of their cell.

  "Kelb!" he said out loud.

  Kelb appeared, wagging his tail.

  "Tell me, Kelb," Jim said, "you can make yourself invisible any time you want to, can't you?"

  "Invisible, O my master?" echoed Kelb. "I do not understand."

  "Are you capable of making yourself so people can't see you, even though you're still there?"

  "Oh, yes," said Kelb. "In fact, I do that a lot when I'm being chased. I'll go around a corner and get out of their sight; and those who chase me will come around the corner and see only a room or a corridor where there is no dog to be found. They will wonder a moment; but then go someplace else that I might have gone. Then I turn back into being seen and go about my way—it's easier, you see, being seen. I can make myself so they can't see me, but I have to keep working at it to stay so."

  "And when you turn invisible, everything about you turns invisible too?" asked Jim.

  "Oh yes, master," said Kelb.

  "Good," said Jim. "Then, I've got a job for you. You'll carry Brian and me out that secret escape tunnel you talked about. Now, I'll tell you what to do, Kelb. Just turn sideways and lean against the bars at the front of this cage of ours, would yo
u?"

  "If I do this, master," said Kelb, with a new, cunning note in his voice, "you will then take me under your protection against Sakhr al-Jinni? If so, I will be your most loyal follower."

  "You can't be a loyaler follower than I am," said Hob quickly. He jumped on to Jim's shoulder and clung to Jim's neck.

  "Yes, I can," said Kelb.

  "No, you can't!" said Hob. "You absolutely can not!"

  "Never mind that now," said Jim. "We won't worry about it. Hob, you are my old and faithful Hob of Malencontri. As for you, Kelb, you'll have to show yourself faithful over the same number of years that Hob has been faithful to me—"

  "—Since m'lord and m'lady first moved into Malencontri," put in Hob hastily. "I know I didn't talk to you a lot at first… and so forth, m'lord. But a hobgoblin is always faithful to those in whose house he lives. And you and m'lady were people I loved from the first moment. I am the most loyal—the most loyal—"

  "Yes, Hob," said Jim. "No need to get excited. Feel secure. And I'm glad you reminded me you were there. I was thinking only of Brian and myself for a moment. Lean up against the bars, Kelb; and, yes, I will take you on and promise you my protection—which I shall continue to do until you do something that causes me to cast you off. So you'd better be on your best behavior at all times."

  "None shall be on better behavior than me," said Kelb.

  "You can't possibly—" Hob began energetically; but Jim cut him off.

  "Hob," he said, "never mind, now. I told you you were my old and trusted retainer, and as yet Kelb has got to win his place. Now, Kelb, we three are going to be small insects riding on your back; and you're to carry us to a secret passage out of this palace. Do you, or do you not, know how to find it?"