“I didn’t mean to bring the baby,” said the soldier.
“What?” said Sophie. “You were going to desert my—”
“No, no,” said the soldier. “I told the genie to put him where someone would look after him and take me after the Princess of Ingary. I won’t deny I was after a reward.” He appealed to Abdullah. “But you know what that genie’s like, don’t you? Next thing I knew, we were both here.”
Abdullah held the genie bottle up and looked at it. “He got his wish,” the genie said sulkily from inside.
“And the infant was yelling blue murder,” said Princess Beatrice. “Dalzel sent Hasruel to find out what the noise was, and all I could think of to say was that Princess Valeria was having a tantrum. Then, of course, we had to get Valeria to scream. That was when Flower here started to make plans.”
She turned to Flower-in-the-Night, who was obviously thinking of something else—and that something else had nothing to do with Abdullah, Abdullah noted dismally. She was staring across the room. “Beatrice, I think the cook is here with the dog,” she said.
“Oh, good!” said Beatrice. “Come along, all of you.” She strode toward the middle of the room.
A man in a tall chef’s hat was standing there. He was a seamed and hoary fellow with only one eye. His dog was pressed close to his legs, growling at any princess who came near. This probably expressed the way the cook was feeling, too. He looked thoroughly suspicious of everything.
“Jamal!” shouted Abdullah. Then he held the genie bottle up and looked at it again.
“Well, it was the nearest palace that wasn’t Zanzib,” the genie protested.
Abdullah was so delighted to see his old friend safe that he did not argue with the genie. He barged past ten princesses, entirely forgetting his manners, and seized Jamal by the hand. “My friend!”
Jamal’s one eye stared. A tear came out of it as he wrung Abdullah’s hand hard in return. “You are safe!” he said. Jamal’s dog bounced to its hind legs and planted its front paws on Abdullah’s stomach, panting lovingly. A familiar squiddy breath filled the air.
And Valeria promptly began screaming again. “I don’t want that doggy! He SMELLS!”
“Oh, hush!” said at least six princesses. “Pretend, dear. We need the man’s help.”
“I… DON’T… WANT…” yelled Princess Valeria.
Sophie tore herself away from where she was leaning critically over the tiny princess and marched down upon Valeria. “Stop it, Valeria,” she said. “You remember me, don’t you?”
It was clear Valeria did. She rushed at Sophie and wrapped her arms around her legs, where she burst into much more genuine tears. “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie! Take me home!”
Sophie sat down on the floor and hugged her. “There, there. Of course, we’ll take you home. We’ve just got to arrange it first. It’s very odd,” she remarked to the surrounding princesses. “I feel quite expert with Valeria, but I’m scared stiff of dropping Morgan.”
“You’ll learn,” said the elderly Princess of High Norland, sitting stiffly down beside her. “I’m told they all do.”
Flower-in-the-Night stepped to the center of the room. “My friends,” she said, “and all three kind gentlemen, we must now put our heads together to discuss the plight in which we find ourselves and make plans for our early release. First, however, it would be prudent to put a spell of silence upon the doorway. It would not do for our kidnappers to overhear.” Her eyes, in the most thoughtful and neutral way, went to the genie bottle in Abdullah’s hand.
“No!” said the genie. “Try to make me do anything and you’re all toads!”
“I’ll do it,” said Sophie. She scrambled up with Valeria still clinging to her skirts and went over to the doorway, where she took hold of a handful of the curtain there. “Now, you’re not the kind of cloth to let any sound through, are you?” she remarked to the curtain. “I suggest you have a word with the walls and make that quite clear. Tell them no one’s going to be able to hear a word we say inside this room.”
A murmur of relief and approval came from most of the princesses at this. But Flower-in-the-Night said, “My pardon for being critical, skillful sorceress, but I think the djinns should be able to hear something or else they will become suspicious.”
The tiny princess from Tsapfan wandered up with Morgan looking huge in her arms. Carefully she passed the baby to Sophie. Sophie looked terrified and held Morgan as if he were a bomb about to blow up. This seemed to displease Morgan. He waved his arms. While the tiny princess was laying both small hands on the curtain, several looks of utter distaste chased themselves across his face. “Burp!” he remarked.
Sophie jumped and all but dropped Morgan. “Heavens!” she said. “I’d no idea they did that!”
Valeria laughed heartily. “My brother does—all the time.”
The tiny princess made gestures to show that she had now dealt with Flower-in-the-Night’s objection. Everyone listened closely. In the distance somewhere they could now hear the pleasant ringing hum of princesses chatting together. There was even an occasional yell that sounded like Valeria.
“Most perfect,” said Flower-in-the-Night. She smiled warmly at the tiny princess, and Abdullah wished she would only smile like that at him. “Now if every person could sit down, we can lay some plans to escape.”
Everyone obeyed in his or her own way. Jamal squatted with his dog in his arms, looking suspicious. Sophie sat on the floor with Morgan clumsily in her arms and Valeria leaning against her. Valeria was quite happy now. Abdullah sat cross-legged beside Jamal. The soldier came and sat about two places away, whereupon Abdullah took tight hold of the genie bottle and gripped the carpet over his shoulder with the other hand.
“That girl Flower-in-the-Night is a real marvel,” Princess Beatrice remarked as she sat herself between Abdullah and the soldier. “She came here knowing nothing unless she’d read it out of a book. And she learns all the time. Took her two days to get the measure of Dalzel; wretched djinn’s scared stiff of her now. Before she arrived, all I’d managed was to make it clear to the creature that we weren’t going to be his wives. But she thinks big. Had her mind on escaping right from the start. She’s been plotting all along to get that cook in to help. Now she’s done it. Look at her! Looks fit to rule an empire, doesn’t she?”
Abdullah nodded sadly and watched Flower-in-the-Night as she stood waiting for everyone to get settled. She was still wearing the gauzy clothes she had been wearing when Hasruel snatched her from the night garden. She was still as slim, as graceful, and as beautiful. Her clothes were now crushed and a little tattered. Abdullah had no doubt that every crease, every three-cornered tear, and every hanging thread meant some new thing that Flower-in-the-Night had learned. Fit to rule an empire indeed! he thought. If he compared Flower-in-the-Night with Sophie, who had displeased him for being so strong-minded, he knew Flower-in-the-Night had twice Sophie’s strength of mind. And as far as Abdullah was concerned, this only made Flower-in-the-Night more excellent. What made him wretched was the way she carefully and politely avoided singling him out in any way. And he wished he knew why.
“The problem we face,” Flower-in-the-Night was saying when Abdullah started to attend, “is that we are in a place where it does no good simply to get out. If we could sneak out of the castle without the djinns’ becoming aware of it or the angels of Hasruel’s preventing us, we should only sink through the clouds and fall heavily to earth, which is a very long way below. Even if we can overcome those difficulties in some way”—here her eyes turned to the bottle in Abdullah’s hand and, thoughtfully, to the carpet over his shoulder, but not, alas, to Abdullah himself—“there seems nothing to stop Dalzel from sending his brother to bring us all back. Therefore, the essence of any plan we make has to be the defeat of Dalzel. We know that his chief power derives from the fact that he has stolen the life of his brother Hasruel, so that Hasruel must obey him or die. So it follows that in order to escape, we must find Hasruel
’s life and restore it to him. Noble ladies, excellent gentlemen, and esteemed dog, I invite your ideas on this matter.”
Excellently put, O flower of my desire! Abdullah thought sadly as Flower-in-the-Night gracefully sat down.
“But we still don’t know where Hasruel’s life can be!” bleated the fat Princess of Farqtan.
“Exactly,” said Princess Beatrice. “Only Dalzel knows that.”
“But the beastly creature’s always dropping hints,” complained the blond princess from Thayack.
“To let us know how clever he is!” the dark-skinned Princess of Alberia said bitterly.
Sophie looked up. “What hints?” she said.
There was a confused clamor as at least twenty princesses all tried to tell Sophie at once. Abdullah was straining his ears to catch at least one of the hints and Flower-in-the-Night was getting up to restore order when the soldier said loudly, “Oh, shut up, the lot of you!”
This caused complete silence. The eyes of every single princess turned to him in freezing royal outrage.
The soldier found this very amusing. “Hoity-toity!” he said. “Look at me how you please, ladies. But while you do, think whether I ever agreed to help you escape. I did not. Why should I? Dalzel never did me any harm.”
“That,” said the elderly Princess of High Norland, “is because he’s not found you yet, my good man. Do you wish to wait and see what happens when he does?”
“I’ll risk it,” said the soldier. “On the other hand, I might help— and I reckon you won’t get too far if I don’t—provided one of you can make it worth my while.”
Flower-in-the-Night, poised on her knees ready to stand, said with beautiful haughtiness, “Worth your while in what way, menial mercenary? All of us have fathers who are very rich. Rewards will shower on you once they have us back. Do you wish to be assured of a certain sum from each? That can be arranged.”
“And I wouldn’t say no,” said the soldier. “But that’s not what I meant, my pretty. When I started on this caper, I was promised I’d get a princess of my own out of it. That’s what I want—a princess to marry. One of you ought to be able to accommodate me. And if you can’t or won’t, then you can count me out and I’ll be off to make my peace with Dalzel. He can hire me to guard you.”
This caused a silence, if possible more frozen, outraged, and royal than before, until Flower-in-the-Night pulled herself together and rose to her feet again. “My friends,” she said, “we all need the help of this man—if only for his ruthless, low cunning. What we do not want is to have a beast like him set over us to guard us. Therefore, I vote that he be allowed to choose a wife from among us. Who disagrees?”
It was clear that every other princess disagreed mightily. Further freezing looks were turned on the soldier, who grinned and said, “If I go to Dalzel and offer myself to guard you, rest assured you’ll never get away. I’m up to every trick. Isn’t that true?” he asked Abdullah.
“It is true, most cunning corporal,” Abdullah said.
There was a small murmuring from the tiny princess. “She says she’s married already—those fourteen children, you know,” said the elderly princess, who seemed to understand the murmur.
“Then let all who are as yet unmarried please raise their hands,” said Flower-in-the-Night, and most determinedly, raised her own.
Waveringly, reluctantly, two-thirds of the other princesses put their hands up, also. The soldier’s head turned slowly as he looked around them, and the look on his face reminded Abdullah of Sophie when, as Midnight, she was about to feast on salmon and cream. Abdullah’s heart stood still as the man’s blue eyes traveled from princess to princess. It was obvious he would choose Flower-in-the-Night. Her beauty stood out like a lily in the moonlight.
“You,” said the soldier at last, and pointed. To Abdullah’s astonished relief, he was pointing at Princess Beatrice.
Princess Beatrice was equally astonished. “Me?” she said.
“Yes, you,” said the soldier. “I’ve always fancied a nice bossy, downright princess like you. Fact that you’re a Strangian, too, makes it ideal.”
Princess Beatrice’s face had become a bright beety red. It did not improve her looks. “But—but—” she said, and then pulled herself together. “My good soldier, I’ll have you know I’m supposed to be marrying Prince Justin of Ingary.”
“Then you’ll just have to tell him you’re spoken for,” said the soldier. “Politics, wasn’t it? It seems to me you’ll be glad to get out of it.”
“Well, I—” began Princess Beatrice. To Abdullah’s surprise, there were tears in her eyes, and she had to start again. “You don’t mean it!” she said. “I’m not good-looking or any of those things.”
“That suits me,” said the soldier, “down to the ground. What would I do with a flimsy, pretty little princess? I can see you’d back me up whatever scam I got up to—and I bet you can darn socks, too.”
“Believe it or not, I can darn,” said Princess Beatrice. “And mend boots. You really mean it?”
“Yes,” said the soldier.
The two of them had swung around to face each other, and it was clear that both were entirely in earnest. And the rest of the princesses had somehow forgotten to be frozen and royal. Every one of them was leaning forward to watch with a tender, approving smile. There was the same smile on Flower-in-the-Night’s face as she said, “Now may we continue our discussion, if no one else objects?”
“Me. I do,” said Jamal. “I object.”
All the princesses groaned. Jamal’s face was almost as red as Princess Beatrice’s, and his one eye was screwed up; but the soldier’s example had made him bold.
“Lovely ladies,” he said, “we are frightened, me and my dog. Until we got snatched away up here to do your cooking for you, we were on the run in the desert with the Sultan’s camels at our heels. We don’t want to be sent back to that. But if all you perfect princesses get away from here, what do we do? Djinns don’t eat the kind of food I can cook. Meaning no disrespect to anyone, if I help you to get away, my dog and I are out of a job. It’s as simple as that.”
“Oh, dear,” said Flower-in-the-Night, and seemed not to know what else to say.
“Such a shame. He’s a very good cook,” remarked a plump princess in a loose red gown, who was probably the Paragon of Inhico.
“He certainly is!” said the elderly Princess of High Norland. “I shudder to remember the food those djinns kept stealing for us until he came.” She turned to Jamal. “My grandfather once had a cook from Rashpuht,” she said, “and until you got here, I’d never tasted anything like that man’s fried squid! And yours is even better. You help us to escape, my man, and I’ll employ you like a shot, dog and all. But,” she added as a grin brightened on Jamal’s leathery face, “please remember that my old father only rules a very small principality. You’ll get board and lodging, but I can’t afford a big wage.”
The grin remained broadly fixed on Jamal’s features, “My great, great lady,” he said, “it is not wages I want, only safety. For this I will cook you food fit for angels.”
“Hmm,” said the elderly princess. “I’m not at all sure what those angels eat, but that’s settled then. Does either of you other two want anything before you’ll help?”
Everyone looked at Sophie.
“Not really,” Sophie said rather sadly. “I’ve got Morgan, and since Howl doesn’t seem to be here, there’s nothing else I need. I’ll help you, anyway.”
Everyone looked at Abdullah then.
He rose to his feet and bowed. “O moons of many monarchs’ eyes,” he said, “far be it from one as unworthy as me to impose any kind of condition for my help on such as you. Help freely given is best, as the books tell us.” He had got this far in his magnificent and generous speech when he realized it was all nonsense. There was something he did want—very much indeed. He hastily changed his tack. “And freely given my help will be,” he said, “as free as air blows or rain bedews the
flowers. I will work myself to extinction for your noble sakes and crave only in return one small boon, most simply granted—”
“Get on with it, young man!” said the Princess of High Norland. “What do you want?”
“Five minutes’ talk in private with Flower-in-the-Night,” Abdullah admitted.
Everyone looked at Flower-in-the-Night. Her head went up, rather dangerously.
“Come off it, Flower!” said Princess Beatrice. “Five minutes won’t kill you!”
Flower-in-the-Night seemed fairly clear that it might kill her. She said, like a princess going to her execution, “Very well,” and, with a more than usually freezing look in the direction of Abdullah, she asked, “Now?”
“Or sooner, dove of my desire,” he said, bowing firmly.
Flower-in-the-Night nodded frigidly and stalked away to the side of the room, looking positively martyred. “Here,” she said as Abdullah followed her.
He bowed again, even more firmly. “I said, in private, O starry subject of my sighs,” he pointed out.
Flower-in-the-Night irritably twitched aside one of the curtains hanging beside her. “They can probably still hear,” she said coldly, beckoning him after her.
“But not see, princess of my passion,” Abdullah said, edging behind the curtain.
He found himself in a tiny alcove. Sophie’s voice came to him clearly. “That’s the loose brick where I used to hide money. I hope they have room.” Whatever the place once had been, it now seemed to be the princesses’ wardrobe. There was a riding jacket hanging behind Flower-in-the-Night as she folded her arms and faced Abdullah. Cloaks, coats, and a hooped petticoat that evidently went under the loose red garment worn by the Paragon of Inhico dangled around Abdullah as he faced Flower-in-the-Night. Still, Abdullah reflected, it was not much smaller or more crowded than his own booth in Zanzib, and that was usually private enough.
“What did you want to say?” Flower-in-the-Night asked freezingly.
“To ask the reason for this very coldness!” Abdullah answered heatedly. “What have I done that you will barely look at me and barely speak? Have I not come here, expressly to rescue you? Have I not, alone of all the disappointed lovers, braved every peril in order to reach this castle? Have I not gone through the most strenuous adventures, allowing your father to threaten me, the soldier to cheat me, and the genie to mock me, solely in order to bring you my aid? What more do I have to do? Or should I conclude that you have fallen in love with Dalzel?”
Wizard's Castle: Omnibus Page 40