Whatever it was, it would be painful. She worried at the brooch, twisted and tugged.
Old bones creaked as Arjasp knelt by his bed. The bed-skirts lifted, showing a faded but angry blue eye beneath a shaggy white eyebrow next to a blade of nose over a voluminous white moustache and beard. The eye narrowed in anger and Arjasp shouted, “Leave be! Whatever manner of creature you are, let go of that brooch!” A palsied, bony hand reached under the bed, hooked to catch Balkis.
“That’s more than half an hour!” Matt cried. “She isn’t back yet! What’s wrong?”
“Peace, Lord Wizard.” Prester John laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are not her father, you know.”
“No, but I’m responsible for her. She’s only a kid, blast it! I shouldn’t have let her go! Lakshmi, what’s wrong?”
“Something is fighting my spell, striving to hold her prisoner.” Lakshmi’s brow was beaded with sweat. “Lend me strength, husband. You also, wizards! We must have her back and dare not delay!”
Matt seized her hand as she reached for Marudin with the other. John tightened his grip on Matt’s shoulder.
“All together, now!” Matt started singing,
“Will ye no’ come back again?
Will ye no’ come back again?”
But Prester John interrupted, calling,
“If ye will not, Mantrell we’ll send!”
Matt yelped with dismay as the whirlwind caught him up, spun him around, rotated him to the horizontal, spinning, spinning …
Spun. He landed flat-faced on something soft but solid. A skinny hand closed on his wrist, and he wrenched it loose by reflex, snarling. A voice cried out; there was a scrambling, then running footsteps, a creaky old voice calling for guards and assistant sorcerers, and a door opening.
As the surroundings stopped reeling, Matt realized he was under a bed that was lit by a rosy light—and was nose-to-nose with a very frightened Balkis. The cat mewed in astonishment at seeing him—and a brooch fell from her mouth. Matt caught it just as she disappeared.
The little cat squalled with surprise and pain, for she found herself suspended by the forepaws between Prester John and Lakshmi.
“Put her down, quickly!” the djinna said, but the calico cat’s form clouded, stretched, and turned into a teenage girl, standing tall and squeezing the hands that held hers in a panic. “We must help him, quickly! The Lord Wizard is in Arjasp’s private chamber! The sorcerer is calling for guards and magicians! They shall overwhelm him by sheer numbers, and he will be too stubborn to let go of the brooch so that he can escape!”
“What brooch?” Prester John demanded.
“The brooch that has the kittens in it!” she cried. “That foul Arjasp transported them into a jewel, not a bottle—and he has enchanted it with a spell that held it near him, no matter how hard we pulled away!”
“Be sure Matthew will not let it go if it has his children in it,” Lakshmi snapped, “and ours! It is the brooch that has the holding spell?”
“Yes! Enchant it! Make him drop it! Whisk him away!”
“An excellent thought.” Lakshmi, still holding Marudin’s hand, closed her eyes and chanted in Arabic. When she opened them, she seemed much more relaxed, even smiled.
Balkis looked about her. “He has not come!”
“Of course not,” said Lakshmi. “Arjasp would follow such a spell and appear beside us here with all his forces.”
“Then where have you sent him?” Balkis asked, eyes round.
Lakshmi smiled. “Do you not remember the Lord Wizard telling us that he who has babes gives hostages to fortune?”
“You have not sent him there!”
“Of course.” Lakshmi shrugged. “They seemed to like each other well enough, after all.”
The air clouded and developed into streaked and curving colors whirling around a vortex, right there in front of them.
Balkis cried out and ducked behind Lakshmi. Prester John stepped to the fore, but Marudin stepped in front of him, arms out to protect them all.
The color wheel streaked more and more tightly as it turned until it shrank into the contours of a large woman wrapped in a voluminous garment, a fluffy turban, and a look of high indignation. In her arms she held Matt, brooch and all, dripping wet. She dropped him unceremoniously at Lakshmi’s feet and jammed her fists on her hips. “Most embarrassing! Have a care where you send your victims, young woman, and when! I have no wish to have unexpected company arrive when I am in the bath—especially when they arrive in the bath! I can only say it is well that I use plenty of bubbles!”
“I had never thought.” Lakshmi hung her head in repentance—and to hide her smile. “Your pardon, Excellent Dame.”
“Well … there is no damage done, after all,” Fortune said, somewhat mollified. She transferred her gaze to Matt. “Have a care, young man, or I shall send word to your wife, telling her that you come unexpectedly upon poor women in their private moments. Be warned—never involve me in your machinations again, or I shall rig my darts to always land in the wrong squares on your wheel!”
Matt climbed to his feet, all meekness and apology. “I am very, very sorry, Good Dame. I certainly never intended to intrude.” He lifted his head a little, cracking a smile. “However, I must say that you do look grand in a towel and turban.”
“Well! Such cheek!” said Dame Fortune, clearly flattered. “See that you behave yourself in the future!” She turned about and disappeared, leaving behind only a whirling disk of colors and a mollified but very indignant sniff.
Matt sagged. “I suppose I have to thank you for the rescue, Princess—but it was a bit of a shock.”
“You are welcome.” Lakshmi snatched the brooch from his hand and frowned, studying it. “How shall we enter here?”
“Isn’t the point to bring them out, not go in?” Matt asked.
“I do not trust it,” Lakshmi said. “They might be caught between my spell and whatever force holds them.”
“Even so!” Balkis said. “I felt stretched between the pull of your spell and Arjasp‘s wards!”
“So he works that way, huh?” Matt frowned. “That means somebody has to go in and bring them out, all right.” He turned to Prester John. “You’d better march on and attack the city, Your Majesty. We’re going to have our hands full for a little while.”
“If you say it,” John said, but he seemed doubtful.
“Be warned,” Balkis said. “I overheard Arjasp order a messenger to China, to send troops to aid his forces against your soldiers.”
“I regret that we shall not be able to accompany you,” Lakshmi said, gaze still intent on the gem, “but we must recover our children first.”
“Indeed,” John said, decision firming. “I shall see if I can remove this canker that plagues us. May good fortune attend you!”
“After she’s dried off,” Matt said, with an apprehensive glance at the region of air where the color wheel had been. “Thanks, Majesty. See you in Maracanda.”
“In Maracanda,” John confirmed. He turned his horse and rode back to his troops.
Matt turned to join Lakshmi in gazing at the gem. “I’ll go.”
“They are my children,” Marudin said. “I shall go.”
“We shall all go.” Lakshmi held up the brooch. “Gaze into the gem—let it seem to grow to fill all the space about you—let yourself become lost in it.”
Matt gazed, feeling as though he were being hypnotized, and heard Lakshmi’s voice droning in Arabic. He was just realizing that she was speaking in rhyme and meter when the rosiness of the quartz seemed to envelop him and pull him in.
He found himself trying to walk, but the pink fog about him seemed to be sticky, clinging to him, trying to hold him back. “Are we there yet?” he called.
“Not yet,” Lakshmi’s voice answered, seeming distant. “Strive, wizard! Press on a little longer!”
Then, abruptly, the mist pulled back, cleared—and Matt saw what had been making it red. Two flames
burned brightly before him, each ten feet tall, each with eyes toward its top—narrowed eyes that glared down at them as though seeking to pierce them. The flames began to move toward the companions; at the bottoms they divided and became legs, stamping forward on feet of coals.
“Avaunt!” Lakshmi cried, her voice dropping into a strange accent. “Thou dost stand betwixt me and my babes!”
The fire roared higher and kept on coming.
What happened next was too fast for Matt to follow. All he saw was the two djinn moving in blurs and little bits of flame flying everywhere. He did manage to make out that Marudin was taking the left-hand flame and Lakshmi the right, but not exclusively. He knew he had to do something to help. The only thing that came to mind was,
“O Rising Sound of the Rain
That comes on with the speed of a train!
To a parched and thirsty brain
Comes a sudden, needed rain!”
A deluge struck, and a hiss like that of a thousand serpents went up with a cloud of steam.
” ‘Nothing succeeds like excess,’ “ Matt quoted to himself, and called out one more:
“On the djinn let it rain
As it pours on the flames!
Hail this downpour
That’s our visitor!”
Sure enough, the stinging drops hardened into half-inch balls of ice. Matt gave it ten minutes, until he saw the last of the flames die down. Then he called out,
“Turn off the tap!
The rain we have lapped!
No need for a flood—
Nip the rain in the bud!”
It wasn’t exactly a bud, more like an overblown rose—but the rain slackened. When it lifted, the two djinn were lying, spent and gasping, near two small piles of very dead coals.
Balkis let out a cry and dashed to Lakshmi. Matt thought that was a good idea and went to Marudin. He picked up the djinn’s wrist, felt for a pulse, and wondered if djinn had blood—but if they didn’t, they certainly had an equivalent, for Marudin’s pulse was strong and steady. Matt held a hand in front of his nostrils and felt breath. He scanned the prince anxiously, but didn’t see any signs of injury except some red patches that faded even as he watched.
“I can see no wounds,” Balkis called anxiously, “yet still she sleeps and does not revive.”
“I think that fight took an awful lot out of them,” Matt said, thinking as he said it. “Energy, I mean. Also breath—the flames used up all the oxygen, that close to them. That’s probably what knocked them out.” He sat back on his heels. “I think they’ll revive on their own if we just wait long enough.”
“We dare not!” Balkis spun to him, eyes wide. “Surely Arjasp knows we have come into the gem! If he did not see us take it, then surely the fall of these sentries will have told him!”
“You’re right.” Matt stood up and turned away. “We’ll have to let them recover on their own.” He gave Balkis a long, steady look. “It’s going to be very scary. There might be worse than this.”
“Do you think I am afraid?” Balkis stood up, back straight, chin high. “Well, so I am! But I shall press on! Four kittens are in peril!”
“Stout heart.” Matt smiled. “And this way, at least the fear won’t take you by surprise. Let’s go, and hope the djinn catch up with us when we need them.” He took her hand and stepped over the piles of coals.
The pink mist closed about them again.
CHAPTER 30
“When shall we become small enough to fit into this gem?” Balkis asked.
“I hate to say it,” Matt said, “but I think we already are.”
“What!” Balkis’ hand yanked tight on his.
Turning toward her, he could barely see her through the mist. “I think this fog all around us is the outer shell of the gem. We‘re not just tiny, we’re almost microscopic.”
Balkis only stared at him with wide, dark eyes. Matt turned and started walking again. He felt a slight tug on his hand, then she came with him.
Only a few steps later the mist began to lighten. A few steps after that it thinned, then was gone—and Matt and Balkis stopped, staring at an astounding landscape.
They stood at the top of a rise. Before them, a meadow filled with red, white, and pink flowers fell away to a rose-colored stream. Beyond the water stood a forest of rosebushes grown into trees, with reddish bark and russet leaves filled with dusky pink blossoms. Above them, the sky stretched, pink and translucent.
“It is enchanted,” Balkis breathed.
“Literally, I’m afraid,” Matt agreed.
But Balkis wasn’t listening; she had raised her gaze to the sky. “Surely that cannot be the surface of the gem!”
“I think it is,” Matt said. “At least we’ll walk in the midst of loveliness. Let’s go.”
But they were only a few steps down the hill before he stopped again.
“What troubles you?” Balkis asked.
“Those flowers,” Matt said, “the red ones.”
“What of them?” Balkis looked more closely. “They are only poppies.” She frowned. “Why do I know of such?”
“A memory left over from infancy,” Matt suggested, “and they’re triggering one of mine, from childhood. They remind me of a story I once read.” He fished in his pouch and came up with the two lumps of incense the priest had given them in Samarkand. “Hold this under your nose, lass, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Sleepiness.”
“I can scarce credit that,” Balkis said.
“I know the feeling,” Matt said. “My credit used to be pretty scarce, too. But it can’t hurt to try.”
Within twenty paces Balkis said in surprise, “I do begin to feel somewhat drowsy!”
“Keep that incense close to the nose,” Matt told her.
“But it is so unpleasant a scent, when it is all in a lump like this!”
“That’s what we need,” Matt told her. Then inspiration struck. “It shouldn’t bother you—I’ve known cats to make much more unpleasant scents.”
Balkis bridled instantly. “There is no need, when we are properly cared for!”
“What ‘we’?” Matt taunted. “You’re a human at the moment.”
“Once a cat, always a cat,” Balkis insisted. “There will ever be much of the feline in me, and when I am in cat-guise, there will always be much of the woman!”
“Then how come toms don’t stay half man?”
“Toms are disgusting! If you wish to blame cats for bad smells, there are your culprits!”
“Yeah, well, at least they do their jobs and catch mice and chase squirrels.”
“Do you mean to imply that I do not do my share of work?” Balkis spat. “Must I recite for you all I have done to save you and help find your kittens?”
“No, you don’t,” Matt said, “and I’m sorry if I’ve given offense.”
Balkis stared, caught flat-footed by the apology. Then she asked, “Why did you make such insults, then?”
“To get us through that field of poppies,” Matt said.
Balkis kept staring at him, then whirled to look back and see the broad sweep of flowers behind them.
“It’s harder to fall asleep when you’re angry,” Matt explained.
Balkis turned to him, a touch more respect in her gaze now. “You are devious.”
“Shh!” Matt pressed a finger to his lips. “I don’t think we should say that word here.”
“What? De … Why not?” It was the student hungry for knowledge who asked now.
“Because of where the word came from. I’ll explain later.” Matt had just realized that devious might come from daeva, the old Persian word for a demon. “Into the woods, okay?”
They went in among the trees and managed a whole four paces before tentacles came snaking out from the roots of the trees to grab their ankles.
“Hold on!” Matt threw an arm around Balkis to keep his feet from being pulled out from under him. She leaned on him, too, m
anaging to stay on her feet. Matt kicked his right foot against the left ankle. Something screeched off in the trees and the tentacles loosened. He kicked his left foot free and snapped the heel against the tentacles on his right foot. A muffled howl sounded off to his right, and the tentacles let go. Matt turned and started tromping on the tentacles holding Balkis. He kicked them off, turned and started them back on the path—and jerked to a stop. He didn’t even need to look down; he knew that new tentacles had grabbed their ankles, and he could see many, many more writhing over the forest path ahead.
“We must work magic,” Balkis said, her voice trembling.
“Right you are,” Matt said. “I don’t think a cat would have any better luck with this than a human.”
Balkis shivered within his arm.
Matt recited,
“With service oracular,
Banish tentacular
Members like rope
That blindly do grope
To catch and to hold up.
Let them all now be rolled up!”
The tentacles unwrapped from their ankles in a snap and shot back into the trees like window shades pulled and let go. Cries of dismay echoed all around.
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