Believing herself to be alone, Nedjma was considerably startled to hear a rustling in the gardenia near the wall surrounding the garden. Lifting her head, she glanced about in pretty confusion, a blush on her cheeks, her body trembling.
“Who is there?” Nedjma called.
“The one for whom you’ve been waiting,” answered a deep voice from the wall.
“Sond!” Nedjma exclaimed indignantly, drawing her veil close about her face and glancing in the direction of the voice with eyes that sparkled like the star for which she was named. “How dare you be so bold? As if I would wait for you or any man,” she continued loftily, rising to her feet with the grace of the willow swaying in the wind. “I came out here to taste the beauties of the night. . . .”
“Ah, that is my desire as well,” Sond replied, slipping through the shadows of the foliage.
Her eyes cast down in charming embarrassment, Nedjma turned—not very quickly—as if to leave, accidentally allowing one small hand to flutter behind her. Sond caught hold of that hand and pulled her easily into his strong arms. Clasped close against the djinn’s muscular chest, Nedjma could have struggled and screamed for help—she had done that before, just to keep her admirers eager and alert. But there was something different about Sond tonight—a fierce passion gleamed in his eyes; a passion that would not be denied.
A weakness swept over Nedjma. She had long considered surrendering herself to the handsome djinn. Besides, struggling took so much energy, screaming gave her a sore throat. Melting in the djinn’s warm embrace, Nedjma closed her eyes, tilted back her head, and parted her glistening red lips.
Sond tasted the beauties of the night; not once, but several times. When it seemed he was nearly intoxicated from the wine of love, he reluctantly loosened his grasp on the beautiful djinniyeh.
“What is it, my own? What is wrong?” Nedjma asked, snuggling near him once again, her breath coming in quick pants. “My master sleeps soundly this night!”
“My bird, my blossom,” Sond whispered, running his hand through the honey-colored hair, “I would give my life to be with you this night, but it may not be. My own master requires me soon.”
“You came only to toy with me.” Nedjma let her pretty head droop, her lips forming a charming pout.
“Cruel one! You have toyed with me for months! But no. I came to bring you a gift.”
“A gift? For me?” Nedjma looked up, her eyes pools of moonlight so lovely that Sond was forced to kiss her again.
One arm around her, holding her close, he drew forth from a pouch he wore on his sash an object and placed it Nedjma’s delicate hands.
The djinniyeh squealed softly in delight. It was an egg, made of pure gold, decorated with jewels. No djinn or djinniyeh can resist material objects from the mortal world; particularly those made of costly metals and jewels. It is one of their failings, and thus the elder djinn and occasionally some powerful mortal are able to entrap the souls of the unwary in such devices.
“Oh, Sond! It is beautiful!” Nedjma sighed. “But I cannot accept it.” Holding the precious egg in her hand, she did not return it but gazed at it with longing.
“Certainly you can, my dove,” Sond said, brushing his lips against the hair that had escaped from the veil. He closed his fingers over the hand holding the jeweled egg. “Do you fear me? Your Sond?”
Nedjma peeped up at him from beneath long, thick eyelashes. “Well,” she murmured, lowering her head to hide her blushes, “perhaps just a little. You are so strong. . . .”
“Not as strong as your master,” Sond answered with some bitterness, releasing her hand. “You belong to him. No poor device of mine could ever contain you.”
“I don’t know,” Nedjma faltered, uncurling her fingers to look at the fabulous egg once more. Its gold gleamed in the moonlight, its jewels winked and sparkled like the eyes of a teasing maiden. “It is so very lovely!”
“And look,” Sond said, exhibiting it with the proud eagerness of a small boy. “Look what it does.”
Flicking a hidden catch, the djinn caused the egg to split open. A tiny bird in a gilt cage rose up from the bottom half of the eggshell. The bird’s tiny beak parted, the cage began to whirl around and around, and sweet, tinkling music trilled in the air.
“Ohhhh!” Nedjma breathed. Her gentle hands, cupped around the egg and the singing bird within, trembled with delight. “I’ve never seen or dreamed of anything so exquisite!” She clasped the egg to her bosom. “I accept it, Sond!” Looking into the djinn’s eyes, Nedjma moistened her red lips with the tip of her tongue. “And now,” she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing near him, “take your reward. . . .”
“I will,” came a cruel voice.
Nedjma’s eyes opened wide, the breath caught in her throat.
Her scream was cut off by a rough hand that closed over her mouth and nose. Now the djinniyeh struggled, but it was useless. The ‘efreet’s huge arms held her easily; his hand smothered her cries.
“I will satisfy your desires,” Kaug laughed harshly, “with my own body, not that of your puny lover.” Ripping open the silken bodice, the ‘efreet ran his coarse hands over the djinniyeh’s soft breasts. Choking in disgust and terror, Nedjma writhed in his grasp. “Come now, quit fighting. Is this the thanks I get in return for my little present?”
His arms loosened their grip somewhat as he bent his head to kiss her. With a twist of her lithe frame Nedjma managed to free herself. In her struggles she had dropped the golden egg. It lay on the tiles of the garden between them, gleaming in the moonlight, apparently forgotten. Clutching her torn clothing about her as best she could, Nedjma’s form began to shimmer, changing to a column of gracefully twining smoke. Her eyes flashed scorn and hatred.
“You have violated the sanctity of the seraglio and laid violent hands upon my person!” she cried, her voice quavering with fear and anger. “I go to wake the guards of my Master! For having dared touch that which is not yours, your hands will be stricken from your wrists—”
“No, my lady,” said Kaug. Reaching down, he picked up the golden egg and held it up before her. “You accepted my gift.”
Nedjma’s eyes, the only part of her body visible through the billowing smoke, stared with horror at the golden, jeweled object—an object made in the mortal world by mortal hands. Moaning, she attempted to flee. The smoke that was her body wafted through the garden’s perfumed air. The ‘efreet watched, unconcerned. Flicking the catch, Kaug caused the egg to open, the singing bird in the cage to rise up out of the bottom.
The ‘efreet spoke a word of command. The smoke wavered in the air, fighting the invisible force that was pulling her inexorably toward the egg. Nedjma’s struggles were feeble. Kaug was too powerful, the djinniyeh’s magic could not hope to prevail against that of an ‘efreet.
Slowly Nedjma’s being was sucked into the egg. Her ragged wail of despair, drifting unheard through the garden, was blown away by the night wind.
Chapter 3
Sond climbed over the garden wall, his heart beating to the rhythm of the words of the message he had received. “Come to me, come to me. . .”
Nedjma had never sent for him before, preferring to tease and torment him until finally allowing him a single kiss, won after considerable playful struggle. But last time there had been a look in her eyes following that kiss—a look the experienced Sond knew. She wanted more. Her sending for him could mean only one thing: he had conquered.
Tonight Nedjma would be his.
Hiding in the gardenias near the pool—their meeting place— Sond looked about for his beloved. She was not there. He sighed, smiling. The cunning houri—she would tease him to the very last, it seemed. Stepping softly onto the multicolored tiles around the still pool of water, he called her name.
“Nedjma!”
“Come here, beloved. Keep hidden, out of the moonlight,” came a sweet voice in return.
Sond’s heart pounded, the blood beat in his head. He pictured her awaiting him in
some dark, fragrant bower, her white body, modestly cloaked in the shadows of the night, trembling, eager to yield to him. Hastening toward the sound of the voice, Sond crashed through shrubs and bushes, heedless of the noise he was making, thinking only to end the ache of his desires in sweet bliss.
In a sheltered comer of the garden, far from the main dwelling and ringed round by pine trees, Sond caught a glimpse of bare skin gleaming white in the moonlight. Leaping through a tangled thicket of roses, he reached out, caught the figure to him—
—and found his face pressed against a hairy chest.
Deep laughter boomed above him. Angry and humiliated, Sond stumbled backward. Looking up, he saw the cruel, heavy features of an ‘efreet.
“Kaug!” Sond glared at the ‘efreet in a fury that he was forced to conceal, knowing as he did that the powerful Kaug could roll him into a ball and toss him from the heavens if he chose. “Do you know where you are, my friend?” Sond tried to look as if he cared. “You have mistakenly wandered into the realm of Hazrat Akhran! I advise you to leave before the guards of the mighty djinn who dwells here discover you. Quick, hurry!” He gestured toward the wall. “I will cover your retreat, my friend!”
“Friend!” Kaug said effusively, placing his huge hand upon Sond’s shoulder and squeezing it painfully. “My good friend, Sond. Almost more than friends for a moment there, weren’t we, though? Ha! Ha!”
“Ha, ha.” Sond laughed feebly, gritting his teeth.
The ‘efreet’s grip on him tightened. Cartilage twisted, bone cracked. The body had existed in the mind of the djinn so long that the pain was very real. Though he gasped with the agony, Sond grimly stood his ground. Kaug might twist his shoulder off. He refused to let the ‘efreet see him suffer.
A knife’s blade of fear had pierced Sond, more painful than the ‘efreet’s torture. Kaug had obviously not come here by accident. What then was the reason for his appearance in this garden at night? What did it have to do with Sond? More frightening, what did it have to do with Nedjma!
Laughing again, Kaug released his hold. “You are brave! I like that, my friend. I like that so much, my friend, that I am going to give you a gift!”
Clapping his hand on Sond’s back, Kaug knocked the breath from the djinn’s body and sent him staggering headlong into an ornamental pool.
Sond teetered precariously on the edge of the water. Recovering his balance, he paused before turning around, attempting to catch his breath and master his overpowering rage. It was not easy. His hand, of its own volition, crept to the hilt of his saber. It took a strong, physical effort to wrench it back. He had to find out what Kaug was doing here. What did he mean by a gift? And where was Nedjma? By Sul, if he had harmed her. . . !
Sond’s fist clenched. Slowly, forcing himself to relax, he drew several deep breaths and turned back to face the ‘efreet.
“Really, a gift is not necessary, my friend!” Sond made a deprecating gesture with his swordhand, a gesture that kept it hovering near the scimitar’s hilt. “To have earned the praise of one as powerful as yourself is a treasure priceless beyond all measure—”
“Ah!” Kaug shook his head. “Do not make such rash statements, my friend. For I have here in my palm a treasure that is truly priceless beyond measure.”
Unrolling the fingers of his huge hand, the ‘efreet exhibited an object that glittered in the moonlight. Growing more and more perplexed, Sond stared at it closely, suspiciously. It was an egg, made of gold, encrusted with costly jewels.
“Truly, that is a rare thing,” he said cautiously, “and therefore a gift far beyond my humble aspirations, my friend. I am not worthy of such a precious object.”
“Ah, my friend!” Kaug sighed gustily, the ‘efreet’s breath fluttering the leaves of the trees and causing ripples to mar the smooth surface of the pool. “You have not yet seen what a wondrous device this is. Watch carefully.” Flicking a latch, Kaug opened the egg. A gilt cage rose up from the bottom. “Sing, my pretty bird!” Kaug said, tapping at the cage with a large fingernail. “Sing!”
“Sond! Help me! Sond!”
The voice was faint but familiar; so familiar that Sond’s heart nearly burst from his chest. He stared into the gilt cage in horror. Trapped in the cage was not a bird, but a woman! “Nedjma!”
“My love! Help me—”
Sond grabbed for the egg, but Kaug—with a deft motion closed his hand over it, snapping shut the device and smothering the djinniyeh’s despairing plea.
“Release her!” Sond demanded. His chest heaving in fury he no longer bothered to conceal, the djinn drew his scimitar and leaped threateningly at the ‘efreet. “Release her or, by Sul, I’ll slit you from throat to navel!”
Kaug laughed heartily and tossed the golden egg playfully into the air.
Sond attacked him, slashing wildly with his blade. Kaug spoke a word, and the djinn found himself tickling the ‘efreet with the plume of an ostrich. Undaunted, Sond hurled the feather to the ground. Speaking a word of his own, he summoned up a gigantic two-handed saber. Wielding the blade, twirling it over his head until it made the air whistle, Sond made a dive for the ‘efreet.
Kaug, grinning, held the golden egg in the path of Sond’s savage swing. The djinn halted his deadly stroke just inches from the glittering golden surface. Kaug spoke again and the saber blade flew from Sond’s hands. The ‘efreet’s fingers closed over the hilt—the great two-handed saber looked like a small dagger in Kaug’s huge fist. Holding the egg in his palm, Kaug brought the sharp edge of the blade level with it.
“It would be a shame to crack the shell. I think the pretty bird inside would die,” Kaug said coolly.
“What do you mean ‘die’?” Sond demanded, struggling to breath over the tightness in his chest. “That’s impossible!”
“Where now are the djinn of Evren and Zhakrin? Where now are the djinn of Quar?”
“Well, where?” Sond asked, his anguished eyes upon the golden egg.
Kaug slowly lowered the saber. “An interesting question, is it not, my friend? And one for which our pretty bird might discover a most unpleasant answer.” The weapon disappeared from Kaug’s hand. Reaching out one long finger, he began to stroke the egg.
“Or perhaps I will command the pretty bird to sing for me,” he said, a lascivious leer on his face. “I will accompany her on my instrument, of course. Who knows, she may like my playing better than yours, friend Sond.”
“What do you want in exchange for her?” Quivering in barely suppressed anger, Sond wiped sweat from his face. “It cannot be wealth. For that you would go to her master.”
“I have more wealth than you can possibly imagine. Quar is generous—”
“Ah, Quar!” Sond ground his teeth. “Now we come to it!”
“Indeed, you are swift of thought, my friend—like the falcon swooping down to peck out the eyes of the gazelle. My Most Holy Master is disturbed, you see, by rumors that have reached his ears concerning a uniting of the tribes of Akhran. “
“Well, what of it?” Sond sneered. “Is your great and powerful Master frightened?”
Kaug’s laughter boomed over the garden, causing Sond to glance around nervously. He had no doubt that if they were discovered by the elderly djinn’s guards, Kaug would vanish, leaving Sond to his fate.
“Is my Master frightened of the fly that buzzes around his head? No, of course not. But that fly is an annoyance. It irritates him. He could smack it and end its puny life, but Quar is merciful. He would much prefer that the fly go away. You, as I understand it, Sond, were instrumental in bringing the fly into my Master’s presence, so to speak. It would be much appreciated if you would drive it off.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then my Holy Master will be forced to kill the fly—”
“Hah!” Sond burst out.
“—and crush this most fragile golden egg,” Kaug finished imperturbably. “Or, since that would be a grievous waste, Quar might decide to keep the egg for himself, enjoyi
ng it until he tired of toying with it, then pass it on to a devoted servant like myself—”
“Stop!” Clutching his chest, feeling that his heart must crack from the pain, Sond swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “What . . . what must I do?”
“Hatred smolders like hot coals at the feet of the two tribes. See to it that this flame is fanned until it is a roaring fire that engulfs the fly. When this is done, when the fly is either dead or departed, Quar will return this most enchanting bird’s egg to one who could find it a nest.”
“And what if I fail?”
Kaug popped the golden egg into his mouth and began to suck on it with lewd smacking sounds.
Sond’s stomach wrenched and he doubled over in agony. Crouching on his hands and knees at Kaug’s feet, he was violently sick. Kaug watched, grinning. Then, leaning down, he patted Sond solicitously on the back.
“I have faith in you, Sond, my friend. I don’t think you will fail me.”
The ‘efreet’s laughter rumbled in Sond’s ears, eventually dying away in the distance like a departing storm.
Chapter 4
Spring came to the desert at last, arriving in a week of drenching rain that turned the sea of sand into a sea of mud and the placid, underground river that fed the Tel oasis changed to a raging torrent. The rushing water found the tiniest crevice and carved it into a ravine. The desert floor collapsed in several places as the river ate away at the rock and sand. The rain slashed down like knives. Firewood was soaked and would not light. A cold wind blew constantly, chilling the blood, whipping through clothes that were never dry.
Nevertheless, spirits in the camp were high. All knew the rain would end soon, and when it did, the desert would blossom. And surely then the Rose of the Prophet would bloom. The Hrana could go back to their sheep and their hills. The Akar could move their horses to summer pastures farther to the north.
Khardan, lying in his tent in enforced idleness, listened to the rain drumming on the sand outside and thought about the rain’s bringing life to the desert and wondered what it would bring to him.
The Will of the Wanderer Page 14