The Red Jinn

by Palmer, Mildred L. rtf

  “I didn’t have any,” answered the little girl indignantly.

  “I forgot to mention,” remarked the Grand Advisor, pausing in the doorway, “that when Joq brought in the tray, that… that animal frightened him so badly that he hid under his bed and refuses to come out.”

  “Well, call someone else,” ordered Jinnicky.

  “No one else will come either.”

  “Then get it yourself!”

  “Your Majesty!” Alibabble drew himself up in an offended manner. “I am the grand Advisor—not a kitchen boy!”

  “All right then, I’ll get it myself!” And the little Jinn pattered out of the room, muttering to himself. He returned shortly with a tray which he placed on a small table near Dorothy. “This is the sort of thing I put up with all the time with the incompetent help I have,” he told her in a fierce stage whisper, looking meaningly at the Grand Adviser.

  Alibabble sniffed; then, wiping his hands daintily on a lace handkerchief, he clapped twice. A turbanned head was thrust into the room, and the barber’s eyes rolled wildly toward the Lion.

  “Oh, come in, come in,” sputtered Jinnicky testily. “The Lion won’t hurt you. He’s a friend of Princess Ozma, and anyway he’s had his supper—but if you do still feel hungry,” he added to the Lion, “you have my permission to finish up with the barber.”

  “He does look nice and tender,” murmured the Lion, as the terrified servant edged into the room. “Plump, too.” The barber shot past him in one mighty leap.

  Dorothy glanced up from her tray. “Stop scaring him,” she ordered. “If you make him any nervouser, he’ll probably snip off one of Jinnicky’s ears.

  Jinnicky turned pale. “Maybe… I don’t n-need a haircut….”

  “Your Majesty…” began Alibabble ominously.

  “All right, all right! ALL RIGHT!!” The little Wizard of Ev flounced back to his throne. “Cut it!” he ordered.

  The barber’s hands shook until he could hardly hold the scissors, but he did manage several trembling snips in the general direction of Jinnicky’s head.

  “You haven’t touched the hair yet,” observed Alibabble mildly. Screwing up his courage, the barber made a fresh start. This time long locks of hair fell under his scissors.

  The Lion watched for several moments, then stole quietly up behind him and watched over his shoulder. As the last lock of hair fell, he yawned loudly. The barber spun around and stared straight into the wide- open, fang-lined jaws. The Lion closed them with a ringing snap, and the barber threw the scissors over his head and fled screaming from the room. Dorothy and Jinnicky doubled up with laughter, but Alibabble was not amused.

  “That’s the third barber in five months,” he snapped.

  “There isn’t a person in all Ev who wouldn’t prefer working in the mines to being appointed Court Barber.’

  “Who cares? Har-har-har!” gasped Jinnicky wiping his eyes on his red silk handkerchief. “You’re the one who insists on having one. Oh, ho-ho-ho! That was worth having a haircut to see.” Still chuckling, he bounced off the throne and clapped the Lion on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he puffed. “We’ll hurry to Pumperdink and rescue Kabumbo.”

  “Oh, Jinnicky, no!” Dorothy ran forward and caught his hand. “We can’t do that— you said we have to take Faleero by surprise. Don’t forget, she has the Magic Picture and Falingo has Glinda’s Book of Records. If we save Pumperdink first, they’ll be sure to find out. Let’s get Ozma back first.”

  “You’re right,” agreed Jinnicky, sinking reluctantly back on his throne. “We’ll be asking for trouble if we barge in unprepared. I’ll tell you what—you go to bed, and I’ll study the matter. If I can’t find out what I need to know, we might not leave for several days, but you’d better get all the rest you can now, because we might go tomorrow. It all depends on how quickly I can find out what happened. Alibabble, have Princess Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion conducted to their rooms.” Alibabble summoned a trim little black maid, who led Dorothy to her room and helped her prepare for bed.

  “I had better take you to your room myself,” stated the Grand Adviser, looking severely at the Lion. The great beast chuckled silently as he followed Alibabble’s silently disapproving back down a corridor to a large red room with a vast four-poster bed. The tired Lion curled up in the center of the bed and was soon fast asleep; while down in his laboratory, Jinnicky poured over his books of magic until dawn.

  CHAPTER X

  ALIBABBLE GOES ON STRIKE

  When Dorothy met Jinnicky the next morning, the little Jinn’s round face was wreathed in smiles. “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?” he inquired cheerfully.

  “Just fine,” answered Dorothy. “Did you find out anything? You did; I can tell by your face. Oh, Jinnicky, tell me quickly!”

  The Jinn motioned her to a seat. “Yes,” he beamed. “I’m pretty sure I’m on the right track. Faleero has learned some new tricks, but she only uses red magic. Since I invented it, I’m certain I can undo all her wicked spells. There’s very little that I don’t know about red magic. If she had used any other kind, of course, I might be helpless, but as it is, Ozma’s as good as saved.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” declared the Lion, who had entered the room in time to hear only Jinnicky’s last words. “We might as well start back right away, Dorothy, so we’ll be there when Ozma is restored. She might need some help in dealing with Faleero.”

  “Now wait a minute-wait a minute,” begged Jinnicky. “It’s not quite that simple.

  We have to go to the Emerald City and find out what Faleero did with Ozma before I can do anything to restore her. Then we must overcome Faleero, and undo whatever mischief she might have committed. Then…”

  “Help!” groaned the Lion, putting both paws over his ears. “Ozma is as good as saved if we can find her —if you can restore her to herself —if we can overcome Faleero — if we can get to the Emerald City before she knows we’re coming —if we can cross the Desert… Which reminds me,” he interrupted himself abruptly. “Guph might not let us go back through the tunnel— I would even say he probably won’t…. How are we going to get back across the Desert?”

  “He won’t,” replied Jinnicky, with grim satisfaction. “Guph and I are not on very good terms these days. In fact he had the audacity to attack my people not long ago.”

  “What happened?” gasped Dorothy.

  “Why I just used a little of my double-distilled gray incense, and turned a few of his Gnomes into scrambled eggs. He won’t try that again. But I wouldn’t take the chance of putting myself into his power, so we can’t use the tunnel.”

  “No,” agreed Dorothy. “Guph hates all the people of Oz, and he’d like nothing better than to conquer us. We’ll have to go some other way—but how?”

  “My magic Jinnrickshaw wouldn’t hold us all,” mused the Jinn. “You and I could ride in it, but the Lion is much too big.“ The Cowardly Lion gulped, but spoke bravely. “You and Dorothy go in the magic Jinnricksaw,” he quavered. “I’ll take Guph by surprise and get in the tunnel before he can stop me. I’ll meet you at the Emerald City.”

  “No!” Dorothy flung her arms around his neck. “Something might happen to you. Let’s all stay together.”

  “That’s right,” approved the little Jinn. “We’ll all go together, and we’ll cross the Desert when we come to it.”

  “How?” inquired the Lion.

  “I haven’t decided yet—in fact, I haven’t the faintest idea. We’ll worry about it when we have to. Our first problem is how to find Ozma when we get to the Emerald City. We know she has been transformed into another shape.”

  “How do we know that?” asked Dorothy. “She may have vanished, or been sent far away from the Emerald City. How will we ever know her even if we do find her?” The little girl was close to tears. “I don’t think Faleero sent her away. Now I may be wrong, but this is what I think she would do:

  “First: She wanted to rule Oz, so she had to
do away with Ozma.

  “Second: She was out for revenge, and she’d want Ozma to suffer. Sending her away wouldn’t satisfy Faleero—she would want Ozma right there where she could see everything that was happening to her people. I think Ozma is right there at the Palace in some form that can see and hear, but can’t speak. We must look for something that wasn’t there before… a statue, a tree, or even a flower.”

  “That’s awful!” choked Dorothy. “She must be perfectly miserable. Let’s go and save her quickly.”

  “We will,” consoled Jinnicky. “We’ll get there as soon as we can. But that brings us to the second problem: How to get there. I am not a very good walker.” He looked ruefully at his small slippered feet.

  “You might be able to ride on my back with Dorothy,” suggested the Lion doubtfully. “Or, if you can’t ride together, you could take turns.”

  “Oh, no,” objected Dorothy quickly. “You’d be worn out. Maybe if you wouldn’t mind pulling it—maybe Jinnicky has a little cart.”

  “The very thing!” Jinnicky bounced up. “We’ll start at once. Alibabble! Confound that fellow; he’s never around when I want him. ALIBABBLE!!“ The Grand Adviser stalked in at his customary dignified pace. “I trust this is important, your majesty,” he began severely. “You know my duties do not begin until nine o’clock, and it is now only eight forty five.”

  “Nonsense!” sputtered Jinnicky. “I never heard of such a thing. Your duties begin when I call you and end when I send you away.”

  “Not any more,” returned Alibabble firmly. “I have drawn up a contract stating the hours I shall work and the rate of pay I wish to receive. I find that this steady grind is underminding my state of health.“ The Grand Adviser took a slip of paper from his sleeve and presented it to the little Jinn.

  Jinnicky impatiently struck the paper from his hand. Alibabble retrieved it calmly, and held it out again. The little Jinn snatched it savagely and began to read: “Forty hour week, with time and a half for overtime,” he snorted. “What for? You don’t work forty minutes a week now!”

  “You forget that I must be at your beck and call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty two weeks a year.” Alibabble began to sob into his lace handkerchief.

  “I never have a moment to call my own. I never have a holiday or a vacation.” He dried his tears and pointed a long, bony finger at the Jinn. “If you are not willing to meet my terms, I’ll go on strike…!”

  “Mercy!” breathed Jinnicky faintly. “What… what does that mean?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” admitted Alibabble, “But that’s what they do in America.”

  “It means he won’t work any more,” explained Dorothy helpfully.

  “Oh, is that all…?” grunted Jinnicky, much relieved. “He doesn’t work now— never has. And as for a vacation,” he shouted, “where were you all last month?”

  “Visiting my mother-in-law,” sulked Alibabble. “Nobody can call that a vacation”

  “I can,” Jinnicky asserted stoutly. “You just go off whenever you feel like it without a word to me: I can shout my head off for you for hours before anyone thinks to tell me you’re gone. And look at this salary…!” he puffed, striking the paper with his fist.

  “It’s not as much as you’re getting now! You mean it’s not as much as I’m supposed to get,” sobbed the Grand Adviser. “I haven’t had a cent for six months….”

  “And whose fault is that?” sniffed Jinnicky. “Who took the keys to the treasury away from me because I wasn’t careful enough—and who lost them? Just tell me that!“ He sank triumphantly into a chair and wiped his forehead.

  “Yes, your Majesty,” answered Alibabble humbly. “What are your Majesty’s wishes?”

  “That’s better,” approved Jinnicky. “Now, suppose we get down to business. I want a cart, light enough for the Lion to pull easily, and strong enough to carry Princess Dorothy and me.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” murmured Alibabble. Crushed and defeated he backed out of the room, bowing at every step.

  Jinnicky turned to Dorothy, glowing with satisfaction. “I handled that pretty well, didn’t I?” he gloated. Weak with suppressed laughter, Dorothy could only nod helplessly.

  “The fellow is simply insufferable!” snorted the Jinn. “If I didn’t put him in his place occasionally, there’d be no living with him.”

  “It must be difficult to get along without being able to get into the treasury,“ remarked the Lion, regarding the Jinn rather suspiciously. “I should think you could have a new set of keys made.“ Jinnicky put a fat finger to his lips. Looking around cautiously, he pulled a set of keys out of his sleeve. “It’s not as difficult as you might think,” he whispered. “I’ve had them all the while; I took them while Alibabble was asleep.”

  The Lion snorted and Dorothy bit her thumb, and Jinnicky quickly tucked the keys back into his sleeve just as Alibabble returned. “The cart will be ready in,five minutes,” he announced, regarding the three excessively innocent expressions confront-ing him with disapproval. “Will there be anything else?“ Jinnicky began to scribble furiously on the back of Alibabble’s contract. When he finished, he thrust the paper at the Grand Adviser, who took it and bowed out of the room.

  “And don’t forget my red umbrella…!” Jinnicky called after him. In a few minutes Alibabble was back, carrying the red umbrella and a silver dinner bell. Handing these to Jinnicky, he led the way outside. Two black workmen were putting the finishing touches on a gay, two-wheeled, wicker cart. Five black servants, each holding a tray loaded with jars and bottles, stood beside it. As the workmen finished and stepped back, they began to stow these jars and bottles in the back of the cart.

  Dorothy and Jinnicky took their places on the seat in front, while the Lion, grumbling to himself, was harnessed to the shafts. Jinnicky half-turned in his seat, pulling the treasury keys from his sleeve. “Let’s go,” he called.

  The Lion started off with a rush; and at the same moment, Jinnicky tossed the keys to Alibabble. As they sped down the street, thronged by the Jinn’s cheering black subjects, the last thing Dorothy saw was the face of the Grand Adviser, glaring after them with an expression of unexpressable outrage.

  Half a mile from the palace, the Lion stopped abruptly and turned his head to regard his passengers with disfavor. “Listen here!” he demanded. “I don’t mind pulling this wagon like a draft horse—much—but don’t you think you’re going to sit back there laughing like loons all the way to the Emerald City. What’s so funny?”

  Helpless with laughter, the Jinn motioned Dorothy to answer. Heroically she choked back another case of giggles and explained. “…and you should have seen his face!” she finished, with difficulty, starting to break up all over again.

  “I’ll never dare go back,” puffed Jinnicky gleefully. “he’ll never forgive me— never…!”

  “You two act like a couple of Hottentots,” growled the Lion. “It’s a good thing for Oz that you have me along with you— you’d probably forget where you were going and why.” Suppressing his own grin, he faced front and started off at a steady trot that took them over the ground at an amazing rate. The wicker cart, light and sturdy, hindered him not at all and by noon, when they stopped to rest, they estimated that they were more than half way to the Desert.

  “Though how we’re going to cross it when we get there is more than I can see,“ the Lion remarked. He drew a long breath of relief when Dorothy unhitched him, then flopped down in the grass to roll.

  “I have always wondered why horses roll when they are unharnessed,” teased the Jinn. “I bet you can tell me now.“ The Lion stood and shook himself vigorously. He regarded Jinnicky with mock earnestness. “I can,” he replied, “but I’ll do even better than that—this afternoon I’ll let you pull the cart. That way you can find out first hand.”

  The Jinn chuckled softly. Pulling out a small silver bell from his sleeve, he rang it three times. Out of nowhere sprang up a small black boy with an eno
rmous turban. He was carrying a tray which he placed before Dorothy. Then, flashing them a smile, he vanished, to reappear immediately with another tray which he set before the Jinn. Again he vanished, and after a somewhat longer interval, he reappeared, staggering under a huge tray laden with rare steak and underdone roasts. He lowered it carefully to the ground in front of the Lion. With another dazzeling smile, he was gone.

  The Lion looked after him dreamily. “You know, I like that fellow,” he confided.

  “He doesn’t waste time arguing or asking questions. He just plunks a good meal down in front of you and takes himself away. Jinnicky, why don’t you fire Alibabble and hire Ginger instead.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do without Alibabble,” laughed the little Jinn. “Life would be so dull without his tantrums. I keep myself amused for days just fighting with him. Anyway, Ginger is very well satisfied as he is; I don’t think he’d be my Grand Adviser for anything.”