Chapter 2: The Wizard’s Preparations
Chapter 2: The Wizard’s Preparations
It was with the most confused of feelings that the Jann Cari returned to her natural home. She’d been ordered to do so by her master, Jafar al-Sharif, and by the power of the ring he wore on his finger—the brass ring he’d stolen from the blind wizard Akar—she could not refuse. She couldn’t help feeling something terrible might befall Jafar in her absence and she’d never forgive her own dereliction of duty if that happened—although, in truth, there was a part of her that was glad to be away and alone, for the encounter on the Isle of Illusions, and its aftermath, had left her shaken to her very core.
Djinni, among themselves, did not make love in quite the same way as humans, so rationally she could convince herself that what appeared to happen had not in fact occurred. It had arisen from an emergency of the moment, and she’d dealt with the problem in the most direct fashion she could while remaining under the ring’s compulsion to protect her master. If she hadn’t seduced Jafar in the guise of his late wife, he would certainly have ended up in that monster’s snare.
But no amount of rationalization could explain away the thrill that she’d felt—or rather, that the body she’d manifested had felt—when Jafar held her tightly in his arms and kissed her, and caressed her, and exhausted his passion upon her. Djinni were all part human, and the Jann, as the lowest rank, were the closest to humans in ancestry. Even though she told herself it was all an act for her master’s benefit, it was a highly pleasurable act—and one she would not have been unwilling to repeat, if sufficiently dire circumstances warranted it.
But afterward, everything seemed changed. A line had been crossed, a boundary broken. No longer was Jafar al-Sharif merely the owner of the ring, an authority to be blindly obeyed. Nor was Cari simply the unwilling servant she’d been for Akar. An intimacy shared could never be completely withdrawn, and in her two hundred years of existence she’d never been so totally intimate with anyone, human or djinn. A part of her whose existence she hadn’t even suspected was now gone, yielded up without thought in a moment’s fervor. And yet, despite that, she also felt she’d gained something. A part of Jafar’s soul had been given to her as well.
Not freely given, of course. He had been under a strong compulsion at the time, and was not acting at his own awareness. Surely in the natural course of events he would never allowed such weakness, and he was too noble a man to take advantage of her inferior position. But in spite of both of them, it had happened, and Cari had a warm, glowing memory to nurture deep within her breast.
It couldn’t be the same for Jafar, of course—not from the way he’d reacted when he learned the truth. Cari could scarcely blame him. He’d been duped by illusion upon illusion and had given his passion to a lie. A necessary lie, perhaps, but a lie nonetheless. Even knowing she’d done it to save his life, he must have felt betrayed. That was why he couldn’t look directly into her face any more, why he was brusque and avoided her, why he’d chosen to send her away even when he faced unknown dangers and might need her help in the sunken land of Atluri.
She couldn’t blame him for the mistrust and the scorn he felt. He was a human, possessor of a soul that would last long after his mortal body was food for vultures. She had only the most fragile of souls, existing only at Oromasd’s sufferance. Humans were blessed of Oromasd; Jann were tainted by their daeva heritage. No matter how much magical power any djinn had, it still ranked below the worst of humans in Lord Oromasd’s hierarchy.
All she’d ever been taught, all she’d ever heard, told her there could be no satisfactory relations between humans and djinni, any more than there could be between the sun and its pale imitation, the moon. Still, some part deep down inside her wished it could be otherwise.
So lost was she in this tangle of emotions that she failed, at first, to notice any difference as she entered the cavern of the righteous Jann, the home of her ancestors. The walls still glowed with a radiance beyond the limits of human sight, the air still tasted of nectar and smelled of subtle spices, the other Jann—some of them her one-time playmates—still darted about on their pursuits, filling the cavern with their individual songs. The others of her race still shunned her as an outcast, as someone who did not fully belong within their circles—as indeed she didn’t, for the owner of the ring could force her to betray her race at any time. She was tolerated with suspicious indifference, and now, in particular, she felt so ill at ease within herself that she agreed it might be justified.
She returned without incident to the home of her family, and wasn’t surprised to find it empty. Still, there was food and drink available, and she helped herself to the nourishment she seldom had time for while traveling with her master. Then all she could do was aimlessly wander the rooms and halls of her family home, waiting for her master’s call and worrying about his fate.
Slowly the realization crept into her consciousness that things had changed in the cavern in a subtle, mysterious way. There was an air of expectation, of anticipation, to the songs the other Jann were singing. They, too, were worried about something, and there was a brittle edge to the words that echoed against the walls. This was not the haven of carefree spirits in which she’d grown up. There seemed more of a purpose to their wanderings, a pattern to their existence. But no one would talk to her, no one would acknowledge her, and she could not grasp all the changes by herself.
She waited for days in her own rooms of her own house, waiting for a call from her master or for someone to talk with her. But no one came near. She’d hoped at least to see her Uncle Suleim, her favorite relative and the one most sympathetic to her plight, but he did not appear, either.
After several days of nothing happening, the cavern was suddenly hit by a spasm of activity. Jann rushed out at top speed, as though on some errand of the greatest urgency. Cari left her home to watch this fantastic exodus, and even questioned some of the older Jann, the ones who stayed behind, about the meaning of this event. All she received was a silent stare, as though she were somehow responsible for all the trouble, and no satisfactory answer was forthcoming.
She was greatly tempted to leave the cavern and follow the others to find out what had caused this bizarre disturbance in their daily lives, but her master’s orders had been that she should return to her homeland until he summoned her again. Even though the power of the ring would bring her to him the instant he called, no matter where in the world she was, his words bound her to this cavern. Besides, she knew how distrustful of her the other Jann were, and her spirits were too frail right now to withstand any more of their insults and snubs.
She sensed something happening on the magical net that underlay the world, but being unsophisticated in such matters, she could not tell that it indicated her master had received the third piece of the Crystal he needed. So little schooled was she in this analysis of others’ magical acts that it took that great an event to register at all upon her senses.
Some time later, her Uncle Suleim returned to the cavern. He looked surprised to see her, but smiled with genuine delight as he said, “Greetings, O my impetuous niece. Are you not with your human master on his important quest for the Crystal of Oromasd?”
Cari returned his salaam. “My current master, unlike the previous one, is most beneficent and concerned for my welfare. He ordered me back home to give me a respite from my duties and to refresh my spirits. He has no idea how little solace or comfort I find here these days—the sole exception being the kindness and understanding you’ve bestowed on me. You are the one who gives me the most courage to face my dismal future.”
Suleim’s heart was torn yet one more time for the fate of his favorite niece, yet he refused to capitulate to her depressed spirit. “We must trust to the goodness of Oromasd to rescue you from your predicament. Surely things are brighter for you with this new master than with the old one.”
“Many things are better, but some—” She paused, unable to tell even him the troubles lodged deepest in her heart. “Some are just confusing. I don’t know what shall become of me.”
“Few of us are guaranteed a certain knowledge of our fate, and for those who are, it’s usually a bad one. Take what comfort you can from that.”
Determined to change the subject, she said, “Perhaps, O wise uncle, you could enlighten me on another matter that perplexes me.” She described to him the frenetic activity in the cavern the other day as Jann rushed furiously outward on some emergency errand she could not understand. “What is happening to cause such fevered tumult in their ordered lives?”
Suleim was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. The shaykh of the righteous Jann had commissioned him to oversee the very activity she was questioning, which was the protection of Cari’s master and his mission. Suleim and the shaykh both knew that gathering the pieces of the Crystal of Oromasd would cause enough disturbance in the magical web to attract the attention of Aeshma, who could destroy the party of travelers before they had a chance to accomplish their noble goals. While the shaykh had little regard for humans and had refused to allow any of the righteous Jann to help them, Suleim had convinced him that, in Oromasd’s name, they must conceal the true nature of these magical disturbances. Whenever Jafar al-Sharif gained another piece of the Crystal, it was Suleim’s task to organize a large party of the righteous Jann into frenetic, mindless activity interposed between Jafar and Aeshma, thereby fooling the daeva into thinking they were somehow responsible for the uproar he’d felt. In this small way would the righteous Jann do their part to further Oromasd’s cause until such time as Jafar al-Sharif and Prince Ahmad proved they were indeed the men to lead the forces of good at this turning point of the Cycles.
But as part of his decree, the shaykh had refused to let Suleim divulge any of this information to his niece, on the grounds that since she was slave to Jafar al-Sharif and could withhold nothing from him if he asked for it, she might be compelled to tell him of the Jann’s plans. If the humans thought the righteous Jann were watching over them, they might grow careless and jeopardize their mission. Better to keep them, and Cari, in ignorance.
But while Suleim had acquiesced to the shaykh’s orders, there was nothing to salve the pain in his soul as he looked at his niece and knew he must keep her unaware of these affairs. He had to look away from her as he said, “I can’t tell you anything about that.”
Cari saw some of his pain, but it only made her angry. Too many people were protecting her lately, and she didn’t like it at all. “Cannot, or will not?”
Suleim turned back to face her. “Must not,” he said harshly. “I beg you not to press me further on this matter, Cari, or we will both end up regretting the results.”
Never in her life had she heard Suleim speak to her in such a tone, and it gave Cari pause. She didn’t doubt his love for her, and if something had built a wall this thick between them it must be serious indeed.
Lowering her eyes dejectedly, she said, “I will trust to your goodness, then, and to Oromasd’s to see me through. But while I can’t hold my lord Oromasd accountable for his actions, I will someday hold you up for reckoning. I’ve reached a sorrowful point in my life, O uncle, and will not be lightly tampered with.”
“I do not ‘tamper’ lightly,” Suleim said, “and I can but pray that the great Lord Oromasd will bring a speedy end to our troubles and cast light upon the darkness of our lives.”