The beach around the lake was lined with the whitest sand Anna had ever seen. She took off her shoes and stepped onto it, surprised to find that it was sharp and prickly between her toes.
Max knelt and poked the sand. He licked his finger. ‘This isn’t sand,’ he said, puzzled. ‘It’s salt!’
If the beach was made of salt, then the lake itself must be very salty indeed. It didn’t sound particularly refreshing, but Anna was too excited about the swim to care. She waded out into the blue water, her feet stirring up a cloud of inky blackness from the cold, dark mud below. It felt wonderful to be so cool.
‘There are islands over there,’ said Max. ‘Do you think we could swim to them?’
Anna had seen the islands too. They were small, craggy things, their jagged sides shaded with whites and yellows and pale browns. Each one looked like a piece of bleached coral. Anna thought the nearest one was just too far away to swim to, although she certainly agreed that exploring a secret island would be a terrific adventure. She found herself lost in a daydream as she waded further into the lake, imagining herself as the captain of a pirate ship, loading up her treasure chest with rubies and sapphires, emeralds and diamonds, amethysts and pearls …
‘I can hear a boat!’ said Max suddenly.
Anna snapped back to reality. A small motorboat had just rounded the coast of one of the nearby islands. It rocketed across the water, its engine whining like a mosquito, leaving a trail of white-tipped waves in its wake.
It seemed to be heading directly towards the spot where the children were swimming.
‘Should we get out?’ said Max nervously.
Anna stared at the boat, confused. Why was someone sailing around in the middle of the desert? ‘Let’s just watch,’ she said.
The children lowered themselves into the water so that only the tops of their heads were showing. They watched as the boat angled away from them, motoring off towards a small wooden jetty beside a shack. As the boat passed by, Anna could see the captain standing behind the wheel, his face hidden beneath a ragged grey headscarf.
‘Boroo va yek ghomghome digar beyar!’ she heard him say. He sounded angry. ‘Ajaleh kon!’
The boat slowed to a stop – and now a new figure appeared. Anna’s eyes widened. Standing at the prow of the boat was a boy without a shirt: a boy whose skin seemed to reflect the shimmering glow of the morning sun. They watched as he dived into the rippling blue water, swimming the short distance to shore and running into the lakeside hovel. He emerged almost immediately with a shiny flask clutched in his hands, swimming back to the boat without stopping for breath. The captain did not help him aboard. The engine spluttered back to life, and the boat cruised away from the beach. In a minute it had disappeared behind another island.
Max stood up, spouting out a mouthful of water like a fountain. ‘So now we know where he lives,’ he said.
Anna nodded. She stared over at the shack, narrowing her eyes against the sun. ‘Ali said he was worried about a rival expedition stealing his notes,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But those two don’t look like archaeologists. What are they up to?’
Max shrugged. ‘Maybe they just want something to read.’
Anna made up her mind. She quickly waded back to the beach, gathering her things together and striding towards the squat little building. She couldn’t hear the boat engine anymore. There would be enough time.
‘Hey!’ said Max. ‘We can’t go in there!’
‘Yes we can,’ said Anna. ‘That boy stole something from the camp. We’re not doing anything wrong if we steal it back.’
It was clear from the look on Max’s face that he thought they were doing something very wrong indeed, but he didn’t dare say another word as they approached the shack. It was an astonishingly ugly building: a mess of planks and nails, with torn nets and punctured buoys decorating the outer walls. Both of the windows had been boarded up.
Over the front door hung two signs, in two languages:
FISHERMAN’S SHACK. PRIVATE. DO NOT ENTER.
‘See,’ said Max. ‘They’re just fishermen. There’s nothing mysterious about that.’
Anna licked her lips. She could still feel the salty lake water stinging the corners of her mouth. She dug her toes into the white crust of beach.
‘I don’t think fish could live in a lake this salty,’ she said, stepping up to the front of the shack. ‘I think these signs are a lie.’
And before Max could protest any further, she pushed open the door.
It might not have been a real fisherman’s shack, but the stench was certainly believable. Anna held her nose as she looked through the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The shack contained no rods or nets. It didn’t even have any fish. Instead, it was filled with …
‘More papers!’ said Max, peering in.
The room looked just like the big white tent that the children had stood in the night before. Papers of all shapes and colours were stuck up and down the walls, scattered around the floor like a blanket of crinkled snow. Charts and maps were overflowing from the workbench that stood against the side wall, each one marked with a complicated array of notes and arrows. Only the wardrobe and a grimy mattress in the corner gave any indication that someone might be living there.
Against the far wall stood a shelf stacked with an odd array of old and dusty things. Anna regarded it curiously, stepping into the room to get a better look. There were broken stone tablets covered in weird and intricate carvings, and there were other stones too, each one an unusual shape. Anna picked up a long, curved rock. The hooked end was pointy and sharp – like the tooth of a monster that had stood in the desert for a thousand years.
‘I know where you’re from,’ she muttered. ‘I know where all of this is from!’
‘Anna!’ said Max suddenly. ‘I can hear the boat!’
Anna almost dropped the tooth. The whine of the motorboat was droning through the air once more, getting louder every second. She quickly replaced the rock on the shelf and darted back to the doorway. To her surprise, Max stopped her.
‘We can’t run away now!’ he said, his eyes wild. ‘They’ll see us on the beach! They’ll know we’ve been in here!’
But where else could they go? Anna looked out the front of the shack for a hiding place, but the buoys were too small, and the nets were too frayed. What were they going to do?
‘We’ll have to hide in the wardrobe,’ said Anna decisively. ‘The boy will probably run in and out, just like he did before. Then we can get out of here for good.’
It was a terrible idea – a bad, stupid, dreadful idea – but it was the only idea they had. Someone was already splashing about in the water outside. Without thinking about it any longer, the children climbed into the creaking wardrobe, frantically pushing aside the row of dresses hanging on the rack. Max whimpered as he stumbled over a life-sized cat statue hidden in the shadows; Anna almost knocked him over as she crammed herself inside, pulling the wardrobe closed. She hardly dared to keep her eyes open, but still she found herself peeking through the crack in the door.
The whole shack rattled as the front door burst open. In walked the boy with the glowing skin – but this time he was not alone. Beside him stood the boat captain, his dark robes whipping in the breeze like the wings of a bat. His eyes glared out above the headscarf, black and fierce.
‘Bezaresh zamin,’ said the captain.
The boy was carrying something. Anna watched as he placed the object on the table: another piece of stone, dripping with thick black mud. The boy stepped back into the corner of the hut, his head bowed.
The captain began unwinding his headscarf. A long black beard poked out from beneath it, bushy and wild – and then the face of the captain was revealed. Dr Sassan was standing before them, his mouth curled into a wicked scowl.
Max gasped. Anna threw her hand over his mouth to shush him, although she was breathing very heavily herself. What was going on?
Sassan picked up the muddy
stone and dipped it in a small bowl of water. He cleaned off the mud and held the stone close to his face, staring at it intently, his eyes darting back and forth between the stone and a page of notes tacked to a sideboard.
‘Bee masraf,’ he said. ‘Another worthless find.’ He glared at the boy. ‘You have failed me again.’
The boy didn’t say anything.
‘You are bound to obey me,’ said Sassan, his soft voice dripping with venom. ‘I have told you to find me the tomb of Zareen. I command you to find me the ring of power!’
The boy raised his head. ‘I do not know where it is,’ he said.
The doctor threw the rock at the wall. It bounced off with a loud bang, almost hitting the boy.
‘We will go out again,’ said Sassan nastily. ‘You will swim deeper this time, all the way down into the silt. You will suck the filth into your lungs, if that’s what it takes. You will find me a stone I can read, and you will do it quickly, before that accursed professor completes his translation.’ He spat on the ground. ‘Find the tomb before he does, or else I’ll send you to pluck the eyes from his head!’
Anna felt a chill in her stomach. The boy from the boat remained silent. Sassan snarled, pointing at him with a crooked finger. Glimmering beside the doctor’s knuckle was a silver ring – a ring that sparkled with a brilliance that seemed impossible in the half-light of the shack. The boy shuddered at the sight of it, sinking down against the wall as Sassan continued to glower.
Anna had to grab her own arm to stop herself from shaking. She hated the man for what he had said – hated him more than she hated anyone – hated him for the tears she was desperately trying to blink away. Nobody was allowed to talk about the Professor like that. Anna wished that she could run from the shack right now, to warn the Professor, to protect him. But she needed to be still. Soon Sassan would return to his boat. Soon they would be safe.
And then Max lost his balance. He fell towards Anna as if in slow motion, clutching at her shoulder to steady himself, his pale face twisted in terror. Anna automatically reached out to stop herself from falling over as well – and her hand bumped into the side of the wardrobe with a sickeningly loud thud.
Sassan’s head whipped around. He stared at the wardrobe, his fierce eyes narrowed to slits. The boy was looking too. He had a very puzzled expression on his face.
‘Khodet ro neshan bedeh,’ said Sassan. ‘Who is there?’
Anna could feel Max trembling. She took a long, slow breath.
‘Yes, master,’ said the boy suddenly. ‘I will swim deeper than before. I will find you the map. I will find you the ring of power.’
The doctor turned back to the boy. His eyes flashed. ‘What are you waiting for, then?’ he barked. ‘Get back to the boat!’
The boy scurried from the room.
Anna’s heart had been beating so fast for so long that she was worried it might collapse from exhaustion. She stared out through the crack in the wardrobe, hoping with all her might that the doctor would leave the hut as well. But Sassan seemed to be deep in thought. He stood surveying the collage of papers plastered across the shanty walls, his hands on his hips.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Baleh. Aan aanha ra gool mizanad.’ He bent down to the bottom tier of the shelf, rubbing his hand over a collection of items that Anna had not had time to look at. He picked up a strange metal jar and kissed it on the lid.
‘Movafagh bashi, dooste gorosneh man,’ he said.
He placed the jar upright on the table. A second later he was gone, striding out into the desert sun.
7
A GHOULISH CURIOSITY
ANNA AND MAX WAITED UNTIL THE WHINE of the boat engine could no longer be heard before they finally tumbled out of the wardrobe. Max fell to the floor, swallowing big gulps of air; for the last few minutes, he had barely dared to breathe.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he panted.
Anna couldn’t have agreed more. Max jumped to his feet and ran across the room, throwing the door open.
A ray of sunlight shone into the shack. It fell upon the curved body of the metal jar, lighting it up with a shine so bright that it might have been a lamp. Anna stared, suddenly transfixed. The old stones on the shelf had been interesting, but she knew they probably wouldn’t be valuable to anyone but the Professor and his friends. This jar, she was sure, was a real treasure. If Sassan had stolen it from the campsite, shouldn’t it be returned?
‘Hurry up!’ said Max. ‘They might be coming back!’
Anna made her decision. Quick as a flash she grabbed the jar, running out of the shack with the treasure in her hands. It was heavier than she had expected. She tucked it under her arm as Max led the charge back along the salty shore. He slowed down as they came back in sight of the camp, looking rather cross.
‘Good one,’ he said. ‘Now you’re a thief as well.’
Anna felt her face flush as she set the jar down in the sand, dropping her bag beside it. The jar looked to be made of copper or brass, or maybe even tarnished gold, and it was engraved with curling patterns that seemed to swirl and change before their very eyes. The lid was sealed with wax.
‘We have to tell Ali,’ said Max urgently. ‘We have to tell him that Sassan is a bad guy – tell him what he said about Dad, and that he’s making that boy steal things. Then he can get arrested, and we can go home.’
Anna bit her lip. She still felt a desperate urge to rush to the Professor’s side, to make sure that no-one – Sassan or the boy – could do anything to hurt him. She imagined repeating to Ali and the Professor everything they had seen and heard. Then she imagined the doubtful looks on their faces.
‘Sassan isn’t like the other adults,’ she said slowly. ‘He’s dangerous. Really, really dangerous. If he finds out we’re onto him, he might do something crazy.’
Max scrunched up his face. ‘We could at least show Ali the shack.’
‘Maybe,’ said Anna. She squeezed her hands together. ‘But what if Sassan does something to him as well?’
‘Fine,’ said Max. ‘I don’t know what to do. But we are not letting that man hurt Dad, and we are not keeping that jar!’ He stamped his foot. A spray of sand brushed over the jar, swishing against the brass.
And then the children heard the tap.
It was a soft, small tap. If the desert hadn’t been so quiet, they might never have heard it at all. The second tap was louder than the first, and the third was louder still. It continued, louder and louder, faster and faster, until there was no mistaking where the tapping was coming from.
It was coming from inside the jar.
‘There’s something in there,’ said Anna breathlessly.
The children knelt down in the sand. With every tap the jar seemed to tremble with the faintest of shivers, so tiny and slight that they might have been caused by the wind.
Anna moved her face as close to the jar as she dared. ‘Hello,’ she whispered. ‘Is there somebody in there?’
The tapping stopped.
Max stood up and took a big step back. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘I don’t like this at all.’
‘Shhh!’ said Anna. ‘Listen!’
A new sound was coming from the jar. It started off as a tinkling, like the trilling of a glockenspiel – and then suddenly it was a voice, echoing and strange.
‘Salam,’ it said.‘Mitavanid be man koomak koonid?’
‘Hello!’ said Anna. ‘Are you okay?’
The voice changed. It was smaller now, delicate and afraid. ‘Help me!’ it said. ‘I am in great danger!’ Anna was startled. ‘Who is that?’ she said. ‘Where are you?’
‘Help me!’ called the voice again. ‘I am trapped! I am drowning!’
Max gave Anna a worried look.
‘Do you think …’ he began uncertainly. ‘Do you think that sounds a bit like Isabella?’
Anna’s blood ran cold. Isabella was one of her best friends in the entire world – but surely she was safe in Romania, not trapped in a jar in the I
ranian desert. Anna wiped the sweat from her face, her instincts torn. Even if the voice didn’t belong to Isabella, shouldn’t she still try to help?
‘Please,’ said the voice, and it was fainter now, as if the speaker had almost given up entirely. ‘I am begging you …’
It didn’t have to say any more. In an instant, Anna had drawn the white knife from its sheath. She brought the blade down upon the wax seal with a mighty blow, splintering it into a hundred pieces.
‘Hold on!’ cried Anna. ‘We’re coming!’
With the seal gone, the brass lid came away easily in her fingers. Anna snatched up the jar and stared down into its open black mouth, desperate to free the girl inside.
An acrid smoke began to billow out into the air. Anna choked as the foul stench rushed into her nostrils; she fell retching to the ground, dropping the jar onto the sand. She watched aghast as the smoke resolved itself into a solid form.
The ghul stretched its hairy black limbs high into the sky. It reared its shaggy head, shaking its long mane back and forth. It gnashed its wicked teeth, its serpentine tongue darting out to taste the air.
‘Free!’ it cried, and now it spoke in its true voice, a harsh, wolf-like bark. ‘Free at last! Free to fly and fight and feed and feast!’
The creature was so delighted to have escaped that it didn’t seem to notice the two children sprawled on the sand. Anna felt too terrified to move. The monster had appeared so quickly – so terribly – that her brain was struggling to catch up, unable to believe such an awful beast was now standing right before her. She saw Max start to edge away, his face twisted in panic; she managed to will herself into crawling after him, making her move as the ragged creature howled at the sky.
But the ghul had not forgotten them. It pounced swiftly, trapping each of the children beneath a large and hairy hand – although now that she could see it up close, Anna realised the ghul wasn’t hairy at all. It was smoky, sizzling away like a chimney fire, polluting the air with its very presence. It smelt like burning garbage.
The Genie Rings Page 4