by ILIL ARBEL
In an instant, the image of Bartholomew and Camellia came into the crystal. They seemed to sit in a cave, at any rate in a rocky environment, huddled to each other, quiet and subdued. Donna cried out, dismayed, “They are imprisoned, I can see that!”
“Yes, so it seems,” said Jaafar, stroking his beard and thinking deeply. “I think I can tell where they are by the look of these rocks. The desert, of course. Where else would he hide them?”
“So what shall we do?” said Fatima.
“Tomorrow morning, first light, we will send many soldiers on flying carpets to this area. We will look everywhere. It’s about three or four hours flight, if I am correct about the location. I will come too, of course. Now, try to concentrate on gazing on the environment.”
It certainly looked like a desert, though not at all like the desert of Great River. A large mountain, with many caves dotting it all over. In front of it, a camp surrounding a large water hole. Purple and blue tents, many camels and horses, large palm trees. A beautiful red sky at sunset.
“Yes, it seems like the kind of place where the Vizier would settle some of his spies, to live in comfort,” said Haroun-al-Rashid.
“Could he keep Aunt Yolanda there as well, do you think?” said Donna, not really daring to hope.
“I don’t know,” said Caliph. “The Vizier is very subtle. He hides himself behind a thousand illusions. I have defeated djinns and demons in my time, but nothing like him.”
In the middle of the night Donna suddenly woke up. “Psst, Wicca,” she heard a hissing voice. “Wicca, wake up.”
She sat up in bed. Outside her window stood a large deer with beautifully branched horns. As she stepped to the window, she noticed that the animal had large wings, much like Camellia and Bartholomew.
“I am Peryton,” said the creature. “I came to take you to Camellia and Bartholomew.”
“But the Caliph wants me to go in the morning with his soldiers,” said Donna.
“Don’t believe him, Wicca. He just wants to lure you into the desert so he could kill you unobserved by the animals. All the humans here are slaves to the Evil Vizier. Only the animals are trustworthy.”
Donna hesitated. She remembered what Taliesin said – most of the animals were trustworthy but strangely shaped. Many humans were not to be trusted. But the Caliph and his friends seemed so concerned, so kind.
“Why do you hesitate, Wicca? Don’t you realize the truth?”
“What are you talking about? What truth?”
“And you call yourself Wicca,” said the creature disdainfully. “Don’t you realize that Jaafar is the Evil Vizier, and that Haroun-al-Rashid is really his servant?”
Donna gaped at the creature. This, of course, could be true. The Evil Vizier was a master of illusions. What would be simpler than to assume the form of the loyal Jaafar, marry the Caliph’s sister-in-law … He took service with the queen of Great River in just the same way, after all, and then became a renegade. What should she do? Well, if the goes, and if Peryton is lying, the Caliph simply will send his troops in the morning to complete the mission. And if Peryton told the truth, then escape seemed necessary. Suddenly she had an idea. “All right,” she said. “Just let me get dressed and take my stuff, and get my lemur.” She really had no choice. But there was one little thing she could do, though, before going. Just in case.
Chapter 10
They flew silently, speedily, Peryton’s powerful wings seemingly tireless. When the sun rose, Donna saw the luxurious camp she had gazed at in the crystal the night before. Peryton started the long descent, and soon the earth came nearer and the glorious sunrise gleamed behind. Then Donna saw something that simply could not be. Peryton’s shadow, strongly delineated on the white sand, was not the shadow of a winged deer. Instead, Peryton cast the shadow of a man. She stepped away a little, suspecting some visual illusion created by mixing her own shadow with his. It didn’t help. The human shadow remained. What could this mean?
Peryton turned his head at her and laughed. Somehow his voice sounded not only hissing but vicious. “Ah, so you noticed already?” he said, coldly amused. “I hoped you wouldn’t until the Vizier came by.”
“I see,” said Donna calmly, hiding the mounting terror. “A human shadow. You are not really one of the animals, are you?”
“I am Peryton,” said the deer. “I told you the truth. And if you were better educated, you ignorant, stupid Wicca, you would have known what I meant. I have no alliance, I am neither human nor animal, and I hunt anyone or anything – for the benefit of those who pay the highest price.”
“So now you will kill me? Or deliver me to the Vizier?”
“Yes, I may have to do either, but first I have a surprise for you. If you will like my surprise, I will not have to hurt you. I would greatly prefer that because killing humans is so very messy.”
“Messy? This is your only objection to killing?”
“Yes, Wicca. My only objection. Of course, it’s also boring, unless I am hungry. You see, I am so powerful that no human weapon can prevail against me, so when I kill any of you I don’t even have the fun of a good fight. Now, get into this tent. Someone is waiting for you.” Having no choice, she obeyed.
Donna gaped. At the furthest part of the large, elegant tent, on a throne-like chair, sat Aunt Yolanda. She wore an improbable outfit consisting of a long leather coat decorated with gold thread, and a pith helmet, as if about to join a safari.
Sobbing, Donna ran toward her aunt, and threw herself into her arms. “Why are you crying, Donna?” asked Aunt Yolanda calmly.
“Because I found you! Because I was afraid you were …” she could not bring herself to finish her sentence or stop crying. Gilbert, on the other hand, remained calm. He leapt off Donna’s head and sat on the ground, surveying the scene and ignoring Aunt Yolanda as if she were a total stranger.
“Oh, I’m quite all right,” said Aunt Yolanda casually. “I’m visiting with the Vizier.”
“Visiting? I thought you were kidnapped. We all thought –”
“Who thought? These stupid camel and donkey? The aging queen and her incompetent prime-minister?”
Donna stared at her aunt. Strange, she thought. How did Aunt Yolanda know about the animals? And why was she so cold, so unfeeling? Moreover, Aunt Yolanda never insulted anyone, human or animal, never spoke of anyone with such contempt, and always treated everyone as worthwhile.
“So let me tell you about this place,” continued Aunt Yolanda. “It’s marvelous. The Vizier is truly a great wizard, and he intends to do wonderful things for Great River.”
“Like starving the inhabitants and stealing the water?” Said Donna. Why didn’t Gilbert greet his favorite person, she wondered. And why didn’t Aunt Yolanda even try to approach him?
“Oh, the inhabitants,” said Aunt Yolanda carelessly. “They are not important. He will settle his own people on Great River, since there are untold riches to be collected there. We will be extremely wealthy, Donna.”
“I am not interested in being wealthy. I never thought money mattered to you, either. And what about my Wicca studies?” How come Aunt Yolanda didn’t ask her about her travels, and if she felt well, and if she was hungry…
“Don’t worry about that, child. You’ll have the best training any Witch could ever hope for. We’ll start you at the Wizards’ School Island, and from there – who can tell? We’ll make you extremely powerful. Now give me the Cinnabar box, I must put it in a safe place.”
“It belongs to the queen, really. What are you going to do with it?” asked Donna hesitantly. She was extremely suspicious now, but still, this was Aunt Yolanda!
“I’d much rather you didn’t argue and ask silly questions. Just give me the Cinnabar box, and I’ll handle all the necessary arrangements,” said Aunt Yolanda.
That did it. Aunt Yolanda never objected to questions, she simply answered them, fully and concisely, whenever one wanted to know something.
“No,” said Donna resolutely
“You are not Aunt Yolanda.”
“Whatever in the world do you mean, Donna?”
“You are someone in disguise. Maybe that is why you are wearing this insane outfit. Illusion, probably, and you don’t know what Aunt Yolanda normally wears.”
“Nonsense. This is the way people dress here, so I wear it too, out of courtesy.”
“The clothes don’t really matter. Whatever Aunt Yolanda wears, she would never talk the way you did about the queen or the prime minister, or my animal friends. If you were Aunt Yolanda, wouldn’t Gilbert jump on your lap? And how do you know about the flying animals, anyway?”
“Crystal ball,” said Aunt Yolanda curtly. She seemed angry, her green eyes flashing. But she controlled her temper. “Now, are you going to give me the box?”
“No,” said Donna, retreating. “No, I won’t.”
Something was happening to Aunt Yolanda’s face. It was shifting, changing, as if made of computer images. Donna retreated further. Her aunt’s clothes, her hair, all became misty, gray and swirling. She turned into a whirlwind, swift and purple, and took herself out of the window. The elegant tent began to move, rumble and shake. Donna turned, grabbed Gilbert, and ran out as fast as she could. When she stood at a safer distance, she looked back. The entire oasis, tents, palm trees, water hole, animals – all shifted, turned, swirled like a desert mirage. In a few minutes not a trace remained of the camp. Instead, a collection of dilapidated wooden shacks stood around a filthy, tiny water hole and some miserable vegetation.
“Gilbert, I am beginning to wonder if it won’t be better to join a rock group after all,” said Donna. “I don’t recognize magic when it’s right in my face. I can’t believe I didn’t see the place was a mirage. And yet, why don’t they just seize and kill me and take the Cinnabar box? Why do they only trick, and threaten, and play stupid games?”
Gilbert whined. He seemed to be just as fed-up with magic as she was. However, she spoke too soon.
“There is no escape, Wicca,” said the hissing voice of Peryton behind her. “Did you really think I would go away? I am so sorry that you disliked my little surprise. I thought the Vizier put up a beautiful illusion, but I suppose neither of us took human emotions into consideration, so we didn’t realize you will see this was not your aunt. Didn’t she look accurate, though?”
“Very,” said Donna cautiously. “I almost believed it.” She tried to prolong the conversation, but would he fall for it?
“Well,” said Peryton, “we must be off. I have to take you to the Vizier as soon –”
But before he could finish his sentence, an avalanche of flying carpets swooped down on him. There were so many soldiers, flying carpets and flying animals, that the sun seemed to be eclipsed. Peryton fought. The soldiers threw giants nets around him. They could not kill him, but the nets, perhaps helped by magic, seemed to hold him prisoner. As soon as the strong horns slashed one net, another ensnared him. Donna crouched on the ground, holding Gilbert tightly against the pocket where she kept the Cinnabar box and protecting him with her arms. She hid her face in his soft fur and waited until Peryton’s shrieks and the soldiers’ cries were quieter. Then she looked up and saw Jaafar, wearing a soldier’s outfit, jumping off one of the carpets and landing next to her.
“I am sorry, Jaafar,” she whispered. “I should have never doubted you, but when he said you were the Vizier … and Taliesin warned me against the humans …”
Jaafar smiled. “Well, it all ended well. Very intelligent of you to leave this little note to Roxanne about going away with Peryton. I guess you trusted her because she was an animal?”
“Yes, and I figured she would know if you were the Evil Vizier or not. So I took a chance and left that little note in the bathroom under her balalaika when I was dressing, and Peryton didn’t even suspect.”
“Very, very wise, little Wicca. Roxanne came straight to me, of course. Haroun-al-Rashid will use enchantment on Peryton and send him to another reality, hopefully forever. And the soldiers are releasing all the prisoners,” said Jaafar kindly. “Let’s go and see if your friends are there.”
The shacks held many human and animal prisoners, all in pitiful condition. Chained to the walls and kept under magical formulas, they seemed sick and half starved. In one of the shacks Camellia and Bartholomew sat huddled together, reduced to almost skin and bones. Donna ran and hugged them both silently. Camellia sobbed and wrapped her wings around Donna, and Bartholomew muzzled her wet cheek and leaned his thin face on her shoulder. None of them could speak.
~~~
The heavy wooden door burst open, and the prime minister ran into the queen’s room with the unseemly haste that he usually succumbed to at moments of strong emotion. “Your Majesty!” he cried. “The agents and the little Wicca are back in Great River! I saw them flying in my crystal!”
The queen sat by the window with her head leaning heavily on her thin hands. Slowly she raised her eyes to her old friend. “They are back?” she whispered. “Are you sure? I have given up all hope, my friend. I am worn out …”
The prime minister strode purposefully to the crystal ball and removed the black cloth. He adjusted the buttons on the gold box and put the ball squarely on the table before the queen. An image shimmered and coalesced. There could be no mistake – Donna, sitting on Camellia’s back, Bartholomew by their side, the two animals flying vigorously against the gray, stormy sky, covered with clouds that never rained.
Outside, the hot dry wind blew as usual, driving the dust against the heavy glass of the window pane. The queen stood and gazed, wordlessly, at two half-starved flying animals and one young girl, the three of them supplying the only thread of hope left for a dying world.
Chapter 11
An uneventful flight that took forever, Donna felt, but by now she was so used to it she never even felt sick. Idly she wondered how the animals found any guideposts – the desert never changed.
“We are near the palace,” said Camellia, as if she read her thoughts. “Look, here are some refugees.” A small band of people, wearing gray and black tattered robes and shouldering small bundles of belongings, marched toward something that looked like a mountain. As they grew nearer, though, Donna realized her mistake.
The mountain-like structure was an enormous building, constructed from sand-colored, rough stones. It loomed so high that the clouds hid part of the roof. Around it stood ramshackle, rickety little gray huts, dry as bones, and black tents. A few withered trees and thorny desert bushes sprouted around the little village. For all its size, the palace still looked like an island in the ever encroaching waves of yellow-gray sand.
“These are the shanty towns we told you about,” said Bartholomew, “the ones created for people whose water sank into the ground. Poor devils.”
“At least they are alive,” said Donna practically.
“Exactly – and now perhaps they will be saved,” said Camellia joyfully. “Well, Bartholomew, we are finally home. Landing time!”
They landed precisely, beautifully, just in front of the enormous wooden gate of the palace. At the same moment, the gate creaked, slowly opened, and out came the queen and the prime minister.
“Welcome,” said the queen softly. “Welcome, my dear friends. How I missed you.” She put her arms around the necks of the two animals and stood quietly for a few minutes with her head bowed as if giving thanks for their safe return. The prime minister patted the animals on their backs, weeping openly and rubbing his eyes.
Then the queen raised her head to look at Donna. Donna gazed into the huge, black eyes, full of sadness, love, and understanding that encompassed all that there was in the world. They reminded her of Shape-Changer’s eyes. It’s the Wicca soul, a thought suddenly crossed her mind. The thought felt almost alien, as if it belonged to someone older than herself, perhaps her own Wicca soul.
“Welcome, my child,” said the queen. “You are brave and resourceful, and I don’t have the words to thank you for all you have done.”
Too overwhelmed to talk, Donna took the Cinnabar box out of her pocket and handed it to the queen. Before the queen could take it, though, an enormous shadow suddenly fell on the ground and a sound of thunder crushed Donna with its violence. Mist, cloud, and shadow mixed to surround her, swirling like a purple whirlpool and isolating her from her companions.
“Well, Wicca, we meet again,” rumbled the cloud. “What a pleasant reunion.”
Donna could not answer. Her throat was too dry for speech and her mouth felt as if it were frozen.
“Hand me the Cinnabar box, Wicca,” said the cloud.
Donna did not move.
“Wicca, I have no time for the likes of you. If you don’t obey, I will destroy Senior Witch Yolanda, plain and simple.”
The terror that flashed through her was so intense she stopped feeling. She froze into a statue of ice in the eye of this living storm. Something, though, tagged at her consciousness, strong enough to restore her capacity for speech.
“Then why don’t you kill me, Vizier?” she asked in a hoarse voice. “You had many opportunities. Why are you wasting your time talking to me now?”
A powerful rumble shook the cloud and the earth under her trembled. She stood her ground.
“Why don’t you just take the Cinnabar box, Vizier? Is there a reason you cannot do it?” She could not believe she had uttered these words, actually challenging this frightening being.
Purple lightning shot through the cloud and through the sky above it. The blue mouth was twisted in rage and the yellow green eyes blazed. She winced and stepped back a step or two, expecting the final blow. Nothing happened.