Castle in the Air

by Diana Wynne Jones

  Dalzel glared down at Abdullah, and Abdullah hoped very much that Dalzel truly had almost no powers of his own. Hasruel had called his brother weak. But it occurred to Abdullah that even a weak djinn was several times stronger than a man. “You came here as a dog?” Dalzel trumpeted. “How?”

  “By magic, great djinn,” Abdullah said. He had intended to make a detailed explanation at this point, but under the Paragon’s petticoat, a hidden struggle was developing. Jamal’s dog turned out to hate djinns even more than it hated most of the human race. It wanted to go for Dalzel. “I disguised myself as the dog of your cook,” Abdullah began to explain. At this point Jamal’s dog became so eager to go for Dalzel that Abdullah was afraid it would get loose. He was forced to grip his knees together tighter yet. The dog’s response was a huge, snarling growl. “Your pardon!” panted Abdullah. Sweat was standing on his brow. “I am still so much of a dog that I cannot refrain from growling from time to time.”

  Flower-in-the-Night recognized that Abdullah was having problems and burst into lamentations. “O most noble prince! To suffer the shape of a dog for my sake! Spare him, noble djinn! Spare him!”

  “Be quiet, woman,” said Dalzel. “Where is that cook? Bring him forward.”

  Jamal was dragged forward by the Princess of Farqtan and the Heiress of Thayack, wringing his hands and cringing. “Honored djinn, it was nothing to do with me, I swear!” Jamal wailed. “Do not hurt me! I never knew he was not a real dog!” Abdullah could have sworn that Jamal was in a state of true terror. Maybe he was, but he had the presence of mind, all the same, to pat Abdullah on the head. “Nice dog,” he said. “Good fellow.” After that he fell down and groveled on the steps of the throne in the manner of Zanzib. “I am innocent, great one!” he blubbered. “Innocent! Harm me not!”

  The dog was soothed by its master’s voice. Its growls stopped. Abdullah was able to relax his knees a little. “I am innocent, too, O collector of royal maidens,” he said. “I came only to rescue the one I love. You must surely feel kindly toward my devotion, since you love so many princesses yourself!”

  Dalzel rubbed his chin in a perplexed way. “Love?” he said. “No, I can’t say I understand love. I can’t understand how anything could make someone put himself in your position, mortal.”

  Hasruel, squatting vast and dark beside the throne, grinned more meanly than ever. “What do you want me to do with the creature, brother?” he rumbled. “Roast him? Extract his soul and make it part of the floor? Take him apart?”

  “No, no! Be merciful, great Dalzel!” Flower-in-the-Night promptly cried out. “Give him at least a chance! If you do, I will never ask you questions, or complain, or lecture you again. I will be meek and polite!”

  Dalzel grasped his chin again and looked uncertain. Abdullah felt much relieved. Dalzel was indeed a weak djinn—weak in character, anyway. “If I were to give him a chance—” he began.

  “If you’ll take my advice, brother,” Hasruel cut in, “you won’t. He’s tricky, this one.”

  At this Flower-in-the-Night raised another great wail and beat her breast. Abdullah cried out through the noise, “Let me try to guess where you hid your brother’s life, great Dalzel. If I fail to guess, kill me. If I guess right, let me depart in peace.”

  This amused Dalzel highly. His mouth opened, showing pointed silvery teeth, and his laughter rang around the cloudy hall like a fanfare of trumpets. “But you’ll never guess, little mortal!” he said as he laughed. Then, as the princesses had repeatedly assured Abdullah, Dalzel was unable to resist giving hints. “I’ve hidden that life so cleverly,” he said gleefully, “that you can look at it and not see it. Hasruel can’t see it, and he is a djinn. So what hope have you? But I think for the fun of it I will give you three guesses before I kill you. Guess away. Where have I hidden my brother’s life?”

  Abdullah shot a swift look at Hasruel in case Hasruel decided to interfere. But Hasruel was simply squatting there, looking inscrutable. So far the plan was succeeding. It was in Hasruel’s interest not to interfere. Abdullah had been counting on that. He took a firmer grip on the dog with his knees and hitched at the Paragon’s petticoat, while he pretended to think. What he was really doing was jogging the genie bottle. “For my first guess, great djinn…” he said, and stared at the floor as if the green porphyry might inspire him. Would the genie go back on his word? For one scared and miserable moment Abdullah thought that the genie had let him down as usual and that he was going to have to risk guessing on his own. Then, to his great relief, he saw a tiny tendril of purple smoke creep out from under the Paragon’s petticoat, where it lay, still and watchful, beside Abdullah’s bare foot. “My first guess is that you hid Hasruel’s life on the moon,” Abdullah said.

  Dalzel laughed delightedly. “Wrong! He would have found it there! No, it’s much more obvious than that, and much less obvious. Consider the game of hunt the slipper, mortal!”

  This told Abdullah that Hasruel’s life was here in the castle, as most of the princesses had thought it was. He made a great show of thinking hard. “My second guess is that you gave it to one of the guardian angels to keep,” he said.

  “Wrong again!” said Dalzel, more delighted than ever. “The angels would have given it back straightaway. It’s much cleverer than that, little mortal. You’ll never guess. It’s amazing how no one can see what’s under his own nose!”

  At this, in a burst of inspiration, Abdullah was sure he knew where Hasruel’s life really was. Flower-in-the-Night loved him. He was still walking on air. His mind was inspired, and he knew. But he was mortally afraid of making a mistake. When the time shortly came when he had to take hold of Hasruel’s life himself, he knew he would have to go straight to it because Dalzel would give him no second chance. That was why he needed the genie to confirm his guess. The tendril of smoke was still lying there, near invisible, and if Abdullah had guessed, surely the genie knew, too?

  “Er…” Abdullah said. “Um…”

  The tendril of smoke crept noiselessly back inside the Paragon’s petticoat and bellied up inside, where it must have tickled the nose of Jamal’s dog. The dog sneezed.

  “Atishoo!” cried Abdullah, and almost drowned the thread of the genie’s voice whispering, “It’s the ring in Hasruel’s nose!”

  “Atishoo!” said Abdullah, and pretended to guess wrong. This was where his plan was distinctly risky. “Your brother’s life is one of your teeth, great Dalzel.”

  “Wrong!” trumpeted Dalzel. “Hasruel, roast him!”

  “Spare him!” wailed Flower-in-the-Night as Hasruel, with disgust and disappointment written all over him, began to get up.

  The princesses were ready for this moment. Ten royal hands instantly pushed Princess Valeria out of the crowd to the steps of the throne.

  “I want my doggy!” Valeria announced. This was her big moment. As Sophie had pointed out to her, she had found thirty new aunties and three new uncles and all of them had begged her to scream as hard as she could. No one had ever wanted her to scream before. In addition, all the new aunties had promised her a box of sweets if she made this a really good tantrum. Thirty boxes. It was worth the best she could do. She made her mouth square. She expanded her chest. She gave it everything she had. “I WANT MY DOGGY! I DON’T WANT ABDULLAH! I WANT MY DOGGY BACK!” She hurled herself at the throne steps, fell over Jamal, threw herself to her feet again, and flung herself at the throne. Dalzel hastily jumped onto the throne seat to get out of her way. “GIVE ME MY DOGGY!” Valeria bellowed.

  At the same moment the tiny yellow Princess of Tsapfan gave Morgan a shrewd nip, just in the right place. Morgan had been asleep in her tiny arms, dreaming he was a kitten again. He woke with a jump and found he was still a helpless baby. His fury knew no bounds. He opened his mouth, and he roared. His feet pedaled with anger. His hands pumped. And his roars were so lusty that had it been a competition between himself and Valeria, Morgan might have won. As it was, the noise was unspeakable. The echoes in the hall pick
ed it up, doubled the screams, and rolled it all back at the throne.

  “Echo at those djinns,” Sophie was saying in her conversational magical way. “Don’t just double it. Treble it.”

  The hall was a madhouse. Both djinns clapped their hands over their pointed ears. Dalzel hooted, “Stop it! Stop them! Where did that baby come from?”

  To which Hasruel howled, “Women have babies, fool of a djinn! What did you expect?”

  “I WANT MY DOGGY BACK!” stated Valeria, beating the seat of the throne with her fists.

  Dalzel’s trumpet voice fought to be heard. “Give her a doggy. Hasruel, or I’ll kill you!”

  At this stage in Abdullah’s plans he had confidently expected—if he had not been killed by then—to be turned into a dog. It was what he had been leading up to. This, he had calculated, would also have released Jamal’s dog. He had counted on the sight of not one dog but two, dashing from beneath the Paragon’s petticoat, to add to the confusion. But Hasruel was as distracted by the screams, and the triple echoes of screams, as his brother was. He turned this way and that, clutching his ears and yelling with pain, the picture of a djinn at his wits’ end. Finally he folded his great wings and became a dog himself.

  He was a very huge dog, something between a donkey and a bulldog, brown and gray in patches, with a golden ring in his snub nose. This huge dog put its gigantic forepaws on the arm of the throne and stretched an enormous slavering tongue out toward Valeria’s face. Hasruel was trying to seem friendly. But at the sight of something so big and so ugly, Valeria, not unnaturally, screamed harder than ever. The noise frightened Morgan. He screamed harder, too.

  Abdullah had a moment when he was quite at a loss what to do, and then another moment when he was sure no one would hear him shout. “Soldier!”he roared. “Hold Hasruel! Someone hold Dalzel!”

  Luckily the soldier was alert. He was good at that. The Jharine of Jham vanished in a flurry of old clothes, and the soldier leaped up the steps of the throne. Sophie rushed after him, beckoning to the princesses. She threw her arms around Dalzel’s slender white knees, while the soldier wrapped his brawny arms around the neck of the dog. The princesses stampeded up the steps behind them, and most of them threw themselves on Dalzel, too, with the air of princesses badly in need of revenge—all except Princess Beatrice, who dragged Valeria out of the brawl and began the difficult task of shutting her up. The tiny Princess of Tsapfan meanwhile sat calmly on the porphyry floor, rocking Morgan back to sleep.

  Abdullah tried to run toward Hasruel. But no sooner did he move than Jamal’s dog seized its chance and got away. It burst out from under the Paragon’s petticoat to see a fight in progress. It loved fights. It also saw another dog. If anything, it hated dogs even more than djinns or the human race. No matter what size the dog was. It sped, snarling, to the attack. While Abdullah was still trying to kick his way out of the Paragon’s petticoat, Jamal’s dog sprang for Hasruel’s throat.

  This was too much for Hasruel, already beset by the soldier. He became a djinn again. He made an angry gesture. And the dog went sailing away, end over end, to land with a yelp on the other side of the hall. After that Hasruel tried to stand up, but the soldier was on his back by then, preventing him spreading his leathery wings. Hasruel heaved and surged.

  “Hold your head down, Hasruel, I conjure you!” Abdullah shouted, kicking free of the Paragon’s petticoat at last. He leaped up the steps, wearing nothing but his loincloth, and seized hold of Hasruel’s great left ear. At this Flower-in-the-Night understood where Hasruel’s life was, and to Abdullah’s great joy, she jumped up and hung on to Hasruel’s right ear. And there they hung, raised in the air from time to time when Hasruel got the better of the soldier, and slammed to the floor when the soldier got the better of Hasruel, with the soldier’s straining arms wrapped around the djinn’s neck just beside them and Hasruel’s great snarling face between them. From time to time Abdullah caught glimpses of Dalzel standing on the seat of his throne under a pile of princesses. He had spread his weak golden wings. They did not seem much use for flying with, but he was battering at the princesses with them and shouting to Hasruel for help.

  Dalzel’s trumpet shouts seemed to inspire Hasruel. He began to get the better of the soldier. Abdullah tried to get a hand loose so that he could reach out to the golden ring, dangling just by his shoulder, under Hasruel’s hooked nose. Abdullah freed his left hand. But his right hand was sweating and slipping off Hasruel’s ear. He grabbed— desperately—before he slipped off.

  He had reckoned without Jamal’s dog. After lying dazed for most of a minute, it stood up, angrier than ever and full of hatred for djinns. It saw Hasruel and knew its enemy. Back across the hall it raced, hackles up and snarling, past the tiny princess and Morgan, past Princess Beatrice and Valeria, through the princesses eddying around the throne, past the crouching figure of its master, and sprang at the easiest piece of djinn to reach. Abdullah snatched his hand away just in time.

  Snap! went the dog’s teeth. Gulp went the dog’s throat. After that, a puzzled look crossed the dog’s face, and it dropped to the floor, hiccuping uneasily. Hasruel howled with pain and sprang upright with both hands clapped to his nose. The soldier was hurled to the floor. Abdullah and Flower-in-the-Night were flung off to either side. Abdullah dived for the hiccuping dog, but Jamal got there first and picked it up tenderly.

  “Poor dog, my poor dog! Better soon!” he crooned to it, and carried it carefully away down the steps.

  Abdullah dragged the dazed soldier with him and put them both in front of Jamal. “Stop, everyone!” he shouted. “Dalzel, I conjure you to stop! We have your brother’s life!”

  The struggle on the throne stilled. Dalzel stood with spread wings and his eyes like furnaces again. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Where?”

  “Inside the dog,” said Abdullah.

  “But only until tomorrow,” Jamal said soothingly, thinking only of his hiccuping dog. “It has an irritable gut from eating too much squid. Be thankful—”

  Abdullah kicked him to shut him up. “The dog has eaten the ring in Hasruel’s nose,” he said.

  The dismay on Dalzel’s face told him that the genie had been right. He had guessed correctly. “Oh!” said the princesses. All eyes turned to Hasruel, huge and bowed over, with tears in his fiery eyes and both hands clasped to his nose. Djinn blood, which was clear and greenish, dripped between his great horned fingers.

  “I should hab dode,” Hasruel said dismally. “It wad right udder by dose.”

  The elderly Princess of High Norland detached herself from the crowd around the throne, felt in her sleeve, and reached up to Hasruel with a small lacy handkerchief. “Here you are,” she said. “No hard feelings.”

  Hasruel took the handkerchief with a grateful “Thang you” and pressed it to the torn end of his nose. The dog had not really eaten much except the ring. Having mopped the place carefully, Hasruel knelt ponderously down and beckoned to Abdullah up the steps of the throne. “What would you have me do now I am good again?” he asked mournfully.

  Chapter 21

  In which the castle comes down to earth.

  Abdullah did not need to give Hasruel’s question much thought. “You must exile your brother, mighty djinn, to a place from which he will not return,” he said.

  Dalzel at once burst into melting blue tears. “It’s not fair!” He wept and stamped his foot on the throne. “Everyone’s always against me! You don’t love me, Hasruel! You cheated me! You didn’t even try to get rid of those three people hanging on to you!”

  Abdullah was sure Dalzel was right about that. Knowing the power a djinn had, Abdullah was sure Hasruel could have flung the soldier, not to speak of himself and Flower-in-the-Night, to the ends of the earth if he had wanted to.

  “It wasn’t as if I was doing any harm!” Dalzel shouted. “I have a right to get married, don’t I?”

  While he shouted and stamped, Hasruel murmured to Abdullah, “There is a wandering isla
nd in the ocean to the south, which is only to be found once in a hundred years. It has a palace and many fruit trees. May I send my brother there?”

  “And now you’re going to send me away!” Dalzel screamed. “None of you care how lonely I shall be!”

  “By the way,” Hasruel murmured to Abdullah, “your father’s first wife’s relatives made a pact with the mercenaries, which allowed them to flee from Zanzib to escape the Sultan’s wrath, but they left the two nieces behind. The Sultan has locked the unfortunate girls up, they being the nearest of your family he could find.”

  “Most shocking,” Abdullah said. He saw what Hasruel was driving at. “Perhaps, mighty djinn, you might celebrate your return to goodness by fetching the two damsels here?”

  Hasruel’s hideous face brightened. He raised his great clawed hand. There was a clap of thunder, followed by some girlish squealing, and the two fat nieces stood before the throne. It was as simple as that. Abdullah saw that Hasruel had indeed been holding back his strength before. Looking into the djinn’s great slanting eyes—which still had tears in the corners from the dog’s attack—he saw that Hasruel knew he knew.