Adijan and Her Genie

by L-J Baker

  “Is that what you dream of?”

  “When I’m not dreaming of Shall, yes. Why? You think I couldn’t make it?”

  “I know nothing of trading. Though, had I been born male, my father would have groomed me to take over our family’s extensive business interests.”

  Adijan pattered across the floor to slump on the sill of the window where Zobeide stood. The vista of lush gardens ravished the eye and shouted even more wealth than the interior decorations. Only a sublimely rich person could squander so much water and fertile land on something he would barely glance at.

  “Ever since I was little,” Adijan said, “I’ve dreamed of being rich. That way my auntie would never have to work again – unless she wanted. And Shali, of course. I’d love to give her everything that would make her smile. Nice dresses. Shining jewelry. All the oranges she can eat.”

  “And, presumably, you could forego wearing rags yourself.”

  Adijan’s smile faded. She sighed and picked at the threads on her fraying shirt cuff. “I always meant to do the right things. But something always went wrong and I’d end up with a hangover and deeper in debt.”

  “You have solved the hangover problem.”

  “Maybe. I’m trying.”

  “Perhaps eliminating your drinking will help in other ways. Would not a reputation for sobriety and dedication enhance your chances of success?”

  Adijan grunted and frowned at the sparkling fountain. If Shalimar married Murad, what difference would it make if Adijan were stone-cold sober or drank herself into oblivion?

  They turned at a polite cough.

  A servant bowed to them. “If you would come this way. My master will see you now.”

  The soaring roof, decorated with vivid murals, and the vast stretch of shining black floor tiles generated an overawing impression of space. It took several heartbeats for her wide-eyed gaze to locate the owner of all this magnificence.

  Despite billowing red robes and an over-sized ruby pinned to the front of his turban, Baktar il-Hassan Deryabar, enchanter of Emeza, cut a disappointing figure. Had Shalimar been telling the story of the great enchanter to some children, she would not have described a pot-bellied man with a dyed beard, who looked like a middling money-lender. Adijan couldn’t help wondering why a man with so much money and magical power didn’t take a few more pains over his appearance. Then again, it was probably because he was so rich and powerful he didn’t have to care what he looked like.

  While she bent in a long, low bow, Adijan glanced aside to see how Zobeide was taking her first look at her lover after twenty-two years. She stood rigid and pale. Not surprising, if she had been expecting a good looking young man.

  “Are you the person who sent this?” Baktar waved the grubby scrap of cloth.

  Adijan waited for Zobeide to answer, but Zobeide looked like she’d been turned to sand. Baktar moved closer. Adijan smelled a thick cloud of pungent murris root perfume. He stank the same as that turd Hadim.

  “Where did you get this?” Baktar waved the cloth in Adijan’s face. “This symbol has a particular meaning with very serious repercussions for you it –”

  “I drew it,” Zobeide said.

  Baktar swung around as if noticing her for the first time. Not the faintest glimmer of recognition illuminated his sagging features.

  “I have changed much,” Zobeide said, “but beyond all recognition, Baktar?”

  Baktar’s eyes narrowed.

  “In this old woman,” Zobeide said, “you see what remains of she who was once Zobeide Ushranat il-Abikarib il-Sulayman Ma’ad.”

  Baktar jumped back and loosed a strangled squeak. “Zobeide? No. That cannot be!”

  “Unlikely, perhaps,” Zobeide said, “but not, surely, impossible.”

  “But – she –” Baktar lifted a hand as if warding off a blow. “Eye preserve me.”

  “The intervening years have not passed without leaving a trace upon yourself, either,” Zobeide said. “But it is marvelous to see you again. You can have no idea how fervently I have wished for this moment.”

  Baktar shook his head. The tip of his tongue darted across his upper lip. He momentarily ripped his startled gaze from Zobeide to glance at Adijan. Nothing he saw there appeared to alleviate his distress.

  “We have heard that Ardashir is dead,” Zobeide said.

  “Oh,” Baktar said. “Yes. Um. Years ago. Eleven. Zobeide. By the Eye…”

  “My congratulations on assuming the legacy, enchanter,” Zobeide said.

  Baktar nervously fiddled with the large, clear gem sparkling from his earlobe. The unusual stone, which had looked as colorless as a bead of air, twinkled all colors of the rainbow. “Yes. I – um – yes, I did. I successfully secured the legacy from him. I – I am the enchanter of Emeza. I am. I have that power.”

  “There could be no better man,” Zobeide said.

  Baktar blinked.

  “Ardashir was an enchanter without peer,” Zobeide said. “No one could know that more intimately than I. But you are the better man.”

  An oily smile slid onto Baktar’s lips. While Zobeide spoke her admiration for him, Adijan watched Baktar straighten and relax.

  “And so,” Zobeide concluded, “you fulfilled your part of our plans without me. Despite your too-modest misgivings about your ability to do so, I always had faith that you would prevail over Ardashir. It was a shame, in retrospect, I allowed you to persuade me to challenge Ardashir, rather than yourself.”

  “Those plans,” Baktar said. “So long ago.”

  “Yes,” Zobeide said. “We were much younger. And naive.”

  “You really are Zobeide?”

  “Strictly speaking, no. I am not, currently, human.”

  “Oh.” Baktar’s eyes narrowed. “But you look…”

  “Grey,” Zobeide said. “Don’t let this appearance deceive you. I am still a creature of enchantment. Adijan removed the illusion from my form.”

  Baktar’s eyebrows twitched, and he looked at Adijan.

  “While Adijan can modify my appearance,” Zobeide said, “she cannot break the enchantment. To undo what Ardashir wrought requires an enchanter of skill.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Baktar said. “An enchanter. So, you – you aren’t free?”

  “Not yet,” Zobeide said.

  Baktar nodded. His fingers paused from restlessly stroking the fabric of his robe to fiddle with the gem in his earring. “Yes. Perhaps – you’re still bound to the enchantment. This changes –”

  “Baktar,” Zobeide said. “I know that you –”

  “I’ll call for refreshments.” Baktar clapped. “We – we need to think about this surprising development. Zobeide. Who’d have guessed? Here you are.”

  “I’m sure you can understand my impatience,” Zobeide said.

  “Please.” Baktar indicated a set of divans arranged for the use of several people. “Relax. You must’ve come a long way. Qahtan, was it?”

  Adijan allowed Baktar to steer her to a seat. Zobeide frowned as she took the divan beside Baktar’s. She did not press her request for liberation while the servants milled about them.

  “Well, well, well.” Baktar nibbled a fig, then dropped it back on the plate. “This is quite – you gave me a surprise. I never dreamed that – that you’d return. Here. But here you are. Zobeide. After all these years. Who would’ve thought?”

  “Baktar,” Zobeide said. “If you could –”

  “Qahtan?” Baktar said. “Isn’t that near Pikrut? That’s a long way to have come. Is that your home?”

  “Yes, sir,” Adijan said. “But, with all due respect, it is closer to Ul-Feyakeh than to Pikrut.”

  “Ul-Feyakeh?” Baktar’s fingers stilled as he lifted a slice of chilled melon to his mouth.

  “That is where the magical necklace came into my possession, exalted one,” Adijan said. “From the enchanter Remarzaman.”

  “Remarzaman had it?” Baktar threw his uneaten melon slice back to the plate. “The snake! He
told me –”

  “You have been searching for me?” Zobeide said.

  “What?” Baktar said. “Oh. Yes. Of course, I’ve been looking for the necklace. You couldn’t possibly think that I wouldn’t?”

  “No, Baktar,” Zobeide said. “Not for a heartbeat did I doubt you. I know that if anyone can break the –”

  “Ardashir – may the Eye have welcomed him into Paradise – told me you were unable to perform any spells, incantations, or anything now that you’re – you’re like that,” Baktar said. “That is true?”

  “When did Ardashir not speak the truth?” Zobeide said.

  “True.” Baktar nodded. “He was not always straightforward, or without guile, but he did not lie.”

  Unlike him, Adijan thought. Baktar was lying hard enough his beard should turn blue. He hadn’t been looking for Zobeide.

  “And do you think I would still be enslaved in this humiliating and degrading way,” Zobeide said, “had I the faintest shred of opportunity to liberate myself?”

  “True,” Baktar said. “Ardashir knew he’d have to craft something extraordinary to contain you.”

  “Now, as you can understand, I am most eager to be free,” Zobeide said. “Adijan has urgent business elsewhere and must sail on the evening tide. So, Baktar, if you would be so good as to –”

  “Leaving?” Baktar said to Adijan. “So soon?”

  “I need to get home, sir.” Adijan tugged the necklace out from under her shirt. “This is it.”

  “What?” Baktar frowned. “Oh. Yes. That.”

  “The poem contained no reference to how the enchantment can be broken,” Zobeide said.

  Baktar looked surprised. “Naturally, not. Ardashir was beyond such carelessness.”

  “Are there any conditions that either Adijan or myself must meet before you can liberate us?” Zobeide asked.

  Baktar’s gaze flicked to Adijan. “You want to – you are prepared to voluntarily give up this power over her?”

  “Yes,” Adijan said.

  “We’re ready whenever you are,” Zobeide said. “Would you prefer we retire to your workroom?”

  Baktar rose and wandered behind his divan. He fiddled with his earring. Adijan was prepared to bet every curl she would ever earn that Baktar had given Zobeide and her predicament almost no thought since the day Zobeide had been ensorcelled.

  “You can do it,” Zobeide said. “You, of all people, can do it.”

  Baktar didn’t look so sure. Zobeide stepped toward him with one hand held out in a wildly uncharacteristic imploring gesture.

  “You can, Baktar,” Zobeide said. “When I’m free, we can finally live our dream.”

  “What? Oh.” Baktar made a vague hand gesture. “Our dream. So long ago. We were young.”

  “Now we are not so young,” Zobeide said. “But, surely, that does not obviate our plans? Rather, should we not treasure all the more the time we have left? We have both seen, done, and suffered much while we’ve been apart. Now, older and wiser, we can fulfill our ambitions with that much more determination.”

  “I – um. I have a son. I’m planning to groom him to succeed me to the legacy.”

  Zobeide stiffened as if he’d slapped her face. “A son?”

  “Yes,” Baktar said. “He’s a good boy. Fifteen. He’ll make a fine apprentice when the time comes. Our – well, plans change, you see.”

  “But –”

  “I didn’t expect you to come back,” he said. “Not – not at all.”

  “Though you have been looking for her,” Adijan said.

  Baktar shot her a glare.

  “You must have married just a few years later,” Zobeide said.

  “Um. Three,” Baktar said. “She’s dead now. A fever. Not even Ardashir’s medicines could sustain her.”

  “May the Eye hold her safe in Paradise,” Zobeide said. “You have other wives?”

  “No. Just the one. I have my son. I don’t suppose while you’ve been gone that you – well.” Baktar cleared his throat. “Given the nature of the enchantment, you weren’t exactly… um.”

  Zobeide’s lips tightened. “What I have endured was wholly against my will. And I will be obliged to you when you break me free of this hateful slavery.”

  “Yes. I can see how you would. But – but it’s not that simple.”

  “You have his legacy! You’re one of the most talented enchanters. What Ardashir did, Baktar can undo.”

  “Yes. You’re probably right. But – but I’ve no notion how to do it.”

  A dark expression flashed across Zobeide’s face.

  “It’s a big legacy,” Baktar said. “Very big. Eleven years have been insufficient for me to have examined more than a small fraction of it.”

  “But Ardashir’s contribution should be easy to find,” Zobeide said.

  “Yes. But – but Ardashir’s contribution is not the smallest of those made by the legacy’s previous holders. Not at all. A large and complicated body of work. And intricately wound in with what has come before. It’s fascinating to delve into the workings and shape of – but you don’t need to hear that.”

  “Adijan must leave soon,” Zobeide said. “Perhaps the solution is for me to help you examine the legacy for Ardashir’s records. For he would not have failed to have recorded what he did to me – in painstaking detail. In that, we shall discover our answer. And quickly.”

  “The legacy?” Baktar looked startled. “You wish me to open up the legacy to your examination?”

  “We had an agreement,” Zobeide said. “We still do. Before I challenged Ardashir, we agreed that I was to share the legacy with you. Now that you have it, there is no bar to our undertaking.”

  “Um.” Baktar tugged at his earring. “I – you’re right, we did agree to share. But – but, you see, we can’t. Our – our misguided pact was invalid.”

  “Misguided?” Zobeide said. “Invalid? How?”

  “Well, strictly speaking,” Baktar said, “you’re not human.”

  Zobeide finally looked angry. Adijan wanted to cheer her on, except she needed to keep out of this argument.

  “I was as human as you, before I confronted Ardashir,” Zobeide said. “And I shall be again, as soon as this enchantment is broken. Baktar, do you suggest that –”

  “Are you blaming me for what happened?” Baktar asked.

  “No,” Zobeide said. “I was merely attempting to remind you that I have not always existed thus, nor shall I forever. Free me, Baktar.”

  “I – I can’t,” he said. “But – but I shall, naturally, search the legacy for the key to your emancipation. In the meantime, why don’t you wait for – how remiss of me. Of course, you must be my guests.”

  “Time is a luxury we do not have,” Zobeide said. “Adijan must leave the city today.”

  Baktar spread his hands. “That is regrettable, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t free you. Perhaps – perhaps it would be best if Adijan left the necklace with me. Yes, then I could –”

  “She can’t be parted from it,” Zobeide said. “Ardashir thought of every inconvenience. It may only be removed when the owner is dead.”

  The furtive glance Baktar directed at Adijan made her wish Zobeide had not spoken.

  “Can you not just look now?” Zobeide continued. “I’m sure you are more than equal to the task of breaking this enchantment.”

  “I shall,” Baktar said. “Of course, I shall. My first priority. But it will take time. It – it can be draining to lose myself in the legacy too long. I need to rest first. Perhaps you need to rest, too, if you have traveled so far. I’ll have my servants show you to rooms. You will, of course, be my guests.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Adijan said. “May the Eye bless you for your generosity. But we’re staying at an inn. I must leave before the afternoon tide.”

  “This gives me no time,” Baktar said. “It cannot be done.”

  “And I cannot remain,” Adijan said.

  Zobeide looked unhappy.


  “You’re going back to… Qahtan, was it?” Baktar said.

  “Yes,” Adijan said. “But I’ll return to Emeza as soon as I can. Perhaps, then, the magic can be ready to free us all.”

  Zobeide’s expression was understandably disappointed.

  “Free us all.” Baktar nodded. “Yes. That is the very thing we need to do. I’ll have my man escort you back to your lodgings.”

  “There’s no need, sir,” Adijan said.

  “Baktar.”

  Zobeide stepped toward him and clasped his hand. For a moment Baktar looked if he might pull away.

  “Baktar, I know you can find the way,” Zobeide said. “I trust you. I have always trusted you. Please, will you not search the legacy now?”

  “I wish I could. But – but I’m so weary. I have been flying on my carpet. You have no idea how that can drain you. I must rest. In a day or two, I shall throw myself into this search. Nothing will distract me until I have the answer. You can trust me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adijan derived no comfort from having her suspicions about Baktar proved correct. Enchanters had a nasty habit of using words in ways that weren’t just lumps of sound with only one meaning. Words, she was rapidly learning, could be wickedly effective weapons; and no more so than when they allowed someone to deceive herself about what had been said and meant.

  “I understand,” Zobeide said as they walked away from the Enchanter’s House. “But could you not delay just a day?”

  “I have fifteen days to get back. I have a feeling it isn’t going to be enough. Even if the strongest winds blew a boat straight from here to Pikrut, and I rode the fleetest horses from Pikrut to Qahtan. I might even be too late now. I can’t wait.”

  She glanced back at the Enchanter’s House, feeling the same unease that had struck her cold when Zobeide mentioned how the necklace might be taken from her. She also regretted their incaution in disclosing her plans to go to the docks that afternoon.

  “If we could just give Baktar a little time,” Zobeide said. “I know your ex-wife –”

  “It wouldn’t make a difference if we waited years,” Adijan said.