A Thousand and One

by Daria Doshrelli

  Zaen and Della’s father had only been out of his sight for a matter of half a minute but had somehow managed to slip away without a trace. A staircase wound upward but Tad ignored it since there was no way they had gone that direction. He would have heard their steps or seen their shadows pass overhead even though the space was dimly lit by a single candle on the wall. That, plus the stairs went absolutely nowhere except up until they were abruptly halted by the ceiling. And yet, there was no place else the men could have gone. This small room was nothing more than a storage area, apparently just off the kitchen as the muffled sounds on the other side of the wall confirmed. There was clinking and clanging, ladies laughing, and a cook with a boisterous voice shouting orders. Though the house was built of stone, the walls were only boarded, up as if this room had been appropriated for some secret purpose. For a storage area it was rather bare. There were no shelves at all, only a lit candle on one end and a pile of straw on the other.

  “Where did they go?”

  Tad jumped at the sound of Claire’s voice and her body brushing against his left side. “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  “You lost them? In here?”

  Tad could hear her accusing look but he refused to meet her eye lest he be expected to endure yet another scientific theory. He spied what looked like the edge of a rug sticking out from under the pile of straw. “There’s only one place they could have gone.” He pointed to the rug. “I bet there’s a trapdoor under there.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Claire whispered. “The servants will hear us.”

  “You’re the one making all the noise with those trinkets clattering around in your pockets.” Tad spun around and pointed to the offending bulge in her dress.

  “They’re not trinkets. They’re—”

  Tad was already on the move so he did not hear whatever babble came out of his assistant’s mouth. He leaned over and grabbed the edge of the rug. A set of invisible teeth clamped down on his hand, causing him to yelp and jump backward. “It bit me. The rug bit me!” He hopped up and down and sucked on his finger. Magic tingles clung to it though there were no bite marks and no blood fell.

  Claire twisted up one side of her mouth as she observed him trying to shake off the discomfort of being chomped on by an obnoxious carpet. “It’s a rug,” she whispered loudly.

  “I swear to you it just assaulted me.” He tried to keep his voice hushed but Claire’s expression made that hard. His nostrils had flared, too, and that was unacceptable for a gentleman. He closed his eyes until his temper calmed.

  “You’re saying that piece of carpet—”

  “Yes, it…well, it burned me,” he said as calmly as possible.

  She snorted. “You’re making all that fuss over rug burn?”

  “It…bit…me.” He labored and lingered over each word, staring her straight in the eye. Another giggle and snort from Claire sent heat rushing into his face. “It’s not funny. It hurt.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want me to kiss your boo boo?”

  He cradled his hand against his chest. “Certainly not.”

  “Then man up and stop whining. Now I will show you how a scientist approaches the improbable and unlikely…First, we evaluate your problem…your finger burns…Then we form a hypothesis, which is that this carpet…” She jabbed a finger at the miscreant lying innocently on the floor. “…is responsible for the feeling. Putting aside my personal suspicions about your method of drawing conclusions by skipping over important scientific steps, I will now allow you may be correct and make observations…” She leaned over and put her eyeballs only inches from the carpet. “Probably a defense mechanism…if we accept it is a living construct.” Her face manufactured a beleaguered expression.

  That was the last straw. In two quick motions Tad hopped onto the edge of the carpet and back onto the stone floor again. A growling sound arose from the fabric. It lifted itself up, growled even louder, and slowly settled back down as it was before. “See!” he hissed and pointed to the rug.

  Claire’s eyes widened. “Fascinating. A biological specimen that is neither plant nor animal. This calls for…” She pulled a vial from her dress pocket.

  Tad eyed her fingers as they crept toward the rug’s golden tassels. “What are you doing?”

  “Collecting a sample, obviously.”

  He bent over and pushed her hand away. “Recall what happened the last time you attempted to use science on a magical creature. Do you fancy almost being eaten again?”

  Claire’s incorrigible fingers reached toward the rug once more. “We don’t know that it is magic. It might be—”

  “Of course it’s a magic carpet. How else do you account for that thing growling and biting me? It’s clearly not alive.” There were no body parts at all.

  She straightened and put one hand on her hip. The other she pointed at his face. “Of course it’s alive. How else do you account for it biting you?”

  Tad was beyond confused. “Did you just use my…never mind. Just get your sample and…Wait, let me do it.”

  Her eyes narrowed but she seemed to be observing his very soul, and for once without a scolding. “Are you…worried it’s going to hurt me?”

  “Bah! No, but…”

  “Because if you were, that would be…almost civil of you. Still, I am the scientist and you are the untrained civilian ignorant of proper sampling techniques.”

  “Pluck a thread off and put it in your pocket. How much training does that require?”

  “Clearly more than you possess since you claim to have been bitten by a rug.”

  Tad held his breath for several moments to calm himself. “Popo bit you twice when you tried to collect him as a sample.”

  Claire’s lips pursed as she slowly tapped her foot on the floor and looked away.

  The vision that appeared in Tad’s head as he looked at her was horrifying. So horrifying he refused to admit it had entered his thoughts at all. He had not just imagined pressing his own lips against her angry, crinkled ones.

  This case was making him insane. Or maybe it was the visit to Tante Iezavel’s lair that had done it. Just to be sure such a thought as the one that had not occurred would never occur again he tucked his lips into his mouth and looked at the blank wall next to him. It wasn’t a kiss he had just thought about. He was simply imagining a way to get her lips to stop moving. “Anyway, the important question isn’t what it is, but what it’s doing here. It’s such a shabby-looking thing but it did assault me…I wonder if this room is its cage.”

  “Or…” Claire drummed her fingers on her thighs as she bent over once more and looked at the carpet. “Your first hypothesis was correct and there’s a trapdoor under there, which means…”She straightened and sent him a dimply smile. “…I was right.”

  Tad sucked in a chestful of air in preparation to give her a good set down.

  But she just kept grinning at him and before he could utter a word she declared, “And now my theory is…it’s guarding something.”

  Chapter 11

  “If you weren’t following me then the only reason you found the same clue as me is because the pigeons are helping you.”

  They were back at the library and Claire was ignoring Tad while she pulled out her scientific rubbish and dug through it. Tad could only assume she was preparing to test the rug fiber she had extracted even though he had warned her not to go mixing science with magic. There was no telling what would happen if she tried to experiment on the thing.

  She didn’t deign to look up from her work but continued to clink and clank her way through the vials, flasks and oddities in her box of trinkets. “I haven’t seen the birds since Sev was here telling us he was a sorcerer. I assumed the three of them and Wiggy were helping you.”

  That was the worst lie he had ever heard. “Why would they help me when it’s you they’re madly in love with?”

  “To make things even.”

  Such nerve. “You think you’re so smart but I’m
still going to solve this case.”

  “Hmm hmm hmm.” She hummed over the top of his declaration.

  Tad couldn’t quite place the feeling stirred in his gut as he watched her humming along, honey-colored tresses bobbing and she ducked her head in and out of shelves and boxes. What could possess a woman to ignore romance and devote herself so steadfastly to science? Claire didn’t like poetry but she did have a soft spot for ferocious creatures, albeit baby ones. She was very motherly at times but had little regard for the tender feelings between a man and his true love. He shook his head as he watched her ignore him. Lady Love was a very kind soul to take on such a case as Claire.

  He pushed aside thoughts about the many incongruities of his assistant’s personality and magicked himself back to Zaen’s room next to the stables. As he thought about where to begin his search for clues, he noted, as he had on his first visit, that the space was no bigger than one of the horse’s stalls and had probably once been a tool shed. Hopefully, the occupant would return soon, and in the meantime Tad snooped around for any clues Claire had missed. He looked under the wafer-thin mattress and in the crooked desk drawer, and even poked at the dirt floor to see if there might be a secret compartment. One last rummage through the desk had him ready to give up on finding anything useful. An inkling in his gut wouldn’t go away as he pushed the single drawer shut and its meager contents disappeared from view. He pulled the drawer back open.

  Why was there one roll of parchment inside while all the rest were on the desk or in the arc overhead? He withdrew the small scrap and unrolled it. Just as he did, a gold ring tumbled out and landed with a puff on the dirt floor. Tad picked it up and turned it around in the low light. The design was very ordinary, a solid gold band that had a few nicks and scratches as any such piece might have after many years of use. It wasn’t very interesting but he couldn’t deny a mere horse groom would not be able to afford such a luxury. He rolled the parchment out with his index finger and thumb, and drew in a sharp breath at what his eyes found.

  Open sesame.

  The very words Tante Iezavel had uttered were here in Shub-Haramb, clear on the other side of the world. How had the witch known? And what was he supposed to do with the knowledge that this nonsensical phrase was important in some way?

  He did the only thing that came to mind. “Open sesame,” he told the parchment.

  Nothing happened.

  Tad rubbed his chin and turned the parchment over to confirm he hadn’t missed any magic markings or glowing symbols, and that no new writing had appeared. Just the two original words. So much for open sesame being a magic password to reveal the hidden contents of the letter or maybe even a treasure map. He mulled over the puzzle in his mind. The parchment itself seemed to be the ordinary variety but these words might get one magic rug to let a person through whatever it was guarding. And that didn’t bode well for Tad’s belief that Zaen was a romantic hero. Only one sort of person needed to use code words.

  A thief.

  And since the words were written down instead of just memorized that meant somebody had passed the code words to Zaen, or Zaen was getting ready to hand them off to somebody. Either way that meant more than one person was involved in acquiring the gold Zaen had in his possession. Perhaps as many as forty persons?

  Tad replaced the parchment and ring just as he had found them and slammed the drawer shut in frustration. Enough sneaking around. It was time he did things his way, and that meant confronting his client.

  The door swung open and there stood the man himself. Zaen pushed his black locks away from his eyes and stared at Tad, who was standing at his desk. “You…” He jerked a rusty, metal object out of his shirt and thrust it at Tad.

  Tad jumped back and pressed his hands against the back wall. He waited for something to jump out of the oil lamp Zaen had shoved at him, but nothing happened. Zaen’s eyes flashed back and forth between Tad and the lamp as if he were just as surprised at this outcome. Tad’s first instinct was to magic himself away. But if he was going to solve this riddle he needed more clues, and the crazed man trying to attack him with an old oil lamp was his best lead.

  “You vile jinn, I wish you back into this lamp,” Zaen said. He thrust the lamp at him again.

  “I’m a what?” Tad stared at Zaen’s hardened expression and tried to collect his thoughts. “I am not a jinn, whatever that is. I am Lady Love’s avenging agent. I was summoned to fix your happily ever after with Della…or so I thought. But now I suspect you are a common thief, probably in league with Alibaba. Or maybe you’re him. All I know is there’s something strange going on here and I’m not certain I can help you unless you come clean. If you truly love Della you had better tell me everything.”

  Zaen pulled the lamp to his chest and took one step toward Tad. “What are you talking about? I’m not a thief and I certainly haven’t made a deal with one.”

  “Then why do you have gold jewelry in your saddlebags and a gold ring in here?” Tad pointed to the drawer.

  “Why, you little thief…” A storm brewed in Zaen’s eyes. “That is none of your business. Like I said, I’m not a thief, and you’re clearly not the creature I’m after, even though you fit the description. As it is I have urgent business, so for Della’s sake I won’t waste time arguing with whoever you are. When I come back you had better be gone and whatever you stole from me had better be put right back where you found it.” He looked Tad up and down. “I have eyes around this whole city so there’s nowhere you can hide.” With this he set his jaw, moved to the desk drawer, jerked it open with a glare at Tad, and snatched up the parchment with the ring. He cast Tad one last sour look, turned and strode off.

  Tad stood there for several moments wondering what had just happened. If Zaen was telling the truth then he had just wasted an hour or more chasing a clue that wasn’t. And what did Zaen mean that he had urgent business for Della’s sake? Furthermore, what did a rusty old lamp have to do with anything? There was only one bright spot in this disturbing interrogation. He had very likely just discovered the local name for the creature with the yellow eyes he had seen in the woods. Now he just had to figure out what in the world a jinn was.

  “Sev, I need your help,” Tad said immediately upon landing in the library.

  Claire whirled around from where she was looking at the globe. “You have a real clue this time?”

  Tad didn’t answer.

  “Hmf.” She gave him a once-over. “It must not be a good one, otherwise you wouldn’t look so grumpy.”

  “And you must not have any new clues, otherwise you wouldn’t still be sitting in here while I’m out doing real work.”

  “Somebody has got you in a worse mood than usual, and that can only mean one thing.” Claire gave him a certain look. “Has Roselle gone and told you she’s not your true love and to leave her alone?”

  “She most certainly has not and she is my true love.”

  “Then what bug has bit your behind?”

  “Somebody stole from me, okay?” Immediately, he was sorry for yet another outburst of his private business in front of Claire. She had that effect on everybody, probably.

  “They broke in to your house again?” Claire’s expression of disbelief lingered for several moments and Tad could see her mentally revisiting every room, every object in his home she hadn’t thought good enough for anybody to steal. Clearly, she preferred the creepy and disturbing atmosphere of Tante Iezavel’s lair to the sophisticated appeal of a gentleman bachelor’s cottage.

  Tad hopped onto the table next to the globe with a tremendous sigh. Claire might have been spying on him in the globe, anyway, so there was probably no harm in telling her his woes. He always had to tell his sisters his business, too, or they would invariably snoop it out and it would end up the worse for him. “No, I talked to Zaen. He claims he’s not Alibaba but somebody stole a gold necklace I bought for Roselle and replaced it with straw, right while it was in my pocket.”

  “So, you thought your he
ro might be a thief, eh?...Heh, heh, heh.”

  Tad glared at Claire. He shouldn’t have told her anything at all. “It’s not a laughing matter. Somebody made me look like an imbecile in front of my true love.”

  “But why did you imagine it was Zaen? I thought he was above suspicion due to his obsession with Della.”

  “Why did you say the source of the necklace you found in his saddle bag wasn’t from a respectable source?’

  “Because it’s real gold.” Claire turned up her palms. “And what kind of horse groom has that kind of money?”

  “Exactly,” Tad declared. “So maybe for a moment I suspected him.” But it was all Claire’s fault for putting the idea in his head. He kept this to himself, though, because he really didn’t feel like arguing with her at the moment. The case wasn’t going well, Roselle probably though he was a cracked pot, and now there was a thing called a jinn running around in Shub-Haramb. His life was simply falling apart.

  “Let’s just think about this logically for a moment,” Claire said, interrupting his intention to think more thoroughly on his woes.

  Tad planted his face in his palm.

  “What kind of necklace was it?”

  He lifted his head. “It was pure gold woven of fine strands like cobwebs. The design was very exotic…I’ve never seen its equal.”

  “And how much did you pay for it.”

  Tad hesitated to admit that he wasn’t exactly a pauper himself. “A large gold piece.”

  Claire snorted. “Well, then your money is gone but I’d be glad the necklace is gone, too. If a thief hadn’t stolen it, you’d be much more embarrassed by Roselle finding out it’s fake.”