“What is this?”
“Don’t touch it, Master! It may be poisoned or worse.” Mustafa had risen and come forward. He grabbed Mina’s collar, as if to drag her and the package away from the Sultan.
“Stop, Mustafa. If it was poisoned, she would be dead by now. She had it against her bare skin,” Prince Hassan said.
“Will it blow up and kill us all?” The Sultan asked Mina. He looked hard into her eyes.
“Of course not, Majesty.”
“How can you trust her, Majesty? Her father was a thief and she is a liar,” Mustafa said.
“My father was not a thief!” Mina spun around and leaped at him. Prince Hassan caught her in mid air and held onto her.
“You see, Majesty,” Mustafa chortled. “She is dangerous.”
“I’m not, Majesty, I’m not! Please let me open the package and prove it to you.”
“Open it then.”
“Master, no!” Mustafa cried. “Let me take the package away. I’ll have it opened safely and bring the contents to you.”
“He won’t, Majesty. If he takes it, he’ll destroy it. Please let me open it here. We have opened it already and there is nothing in it to harm anyone.”
“Let her go, Hussain,” the Sultan said.
Mustafa’s face went white at these words. He let go of Mina’s collar and took a step backwards. His tall figure seemed to have shrunk a little.
“Open the package,” the Sultan said to Mina. She untied the strings and unwrapped the silk.
“Papers, only papers. What are they?”
“They prove that my father was not a thief. I found them in Mustafa’s room tonight.”
“Mustafa?” He glanced around. Mustafa had backed away into the doorway. At these words, he whirled and ran swiftly out of the door. “What is he doing? Guards! Guards! Stop the Vizier!”
Shouts rang out down the corridor and a there came sudden clash of steel. Mustafa reappeared, struggling between two of the palace guards with another bringing up the rear.
“Keep hold of him while I read these papers,” the Sultan ordered. For a few moments, silence fell. When the Sultan had finished, he handed them to his son and said, “Mustafa stole the money and signed the disputed contract, not Abdul. A great injustice has been done to him and his family.”
The Prince turned to Mina. “You always believed your father was innocent.” She started to cry.
“Well, you have proved your case,” the Sultan said. “Guards, remove Mustafa to the dungeons. I will question him later.” They dragged the trembling man away.
The Sultan said to Mina. “You have done well, young lady, although you had to trespass in order to do so. How did you manage this all?”
“I had help, Majesty. This is Shannon, my friend who found the hiding place and the papers.”
“Shannon, what a strange name.” The old man smiled down at her. Shannon could see why Mina had said she liked him, despite the fact that he had not believed her father.
“She’s named after a river in Ireland,” Mina told him, proud of her knowledge.
“Ireland. What a long way to come just to help Mina. You must sit down and tell me all about your journey.”
Chapter Nine
Next day a special banquet was held in the palace to celebrate Mina and Shannon’s discovery. The Sultan ordered that, on this occasion, men and women would eat together. So
Yasmeen was present, looking beautiful in her new green robes. Her hands were still red and rough from all the washing. Prince Hassan, however, did not seem to notice. He sat beside her at the feast and held her hand. He hardly talked to anyone else and he couldn't take his eyes off her.
Shannon had asked the Sultan to invite Laila. She wanted to apologise and return her clothes, although they were rather the worse for wear. Laila wasn’t very pleased until Prince Hassan told her to order some new ones and he would pay for them. She cheered up after that and even danced for the Sultan’s guests. Shannon also retrieved her pyjamas, which she needed to go home. The Sultan had given her a wonderful outfit of embroidered silk to wear at the feast. She knew she wouldn’t be able to explain it to her mother, though, and would have to hide it away.
After the banquet was over, Prince Hassan took Yasmeen for a walk in the palace gardens. Mina nudged Shannon and pointed to them. “I told you he liked her,” she said with glee.
Shannon crossed her fingers hard. “How will you like being sister to a Princess?” she asked her friend.
“Great! As long as the prince in question is Hussain.”
Mina and Shannon did not follow Yasmeen and the prince. They stayed with the Sultan and told him all about their adventures. He was particularly interested in Shannon’s harp and said it seemed like an interesting object to own. He liked magical things. He already had a lamp with a genie inside and a magic carpet. The harp would be just the thing to add to his collection.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but my harp is not with me and I don’t know how to bring him here. He didn’t tell me.”
“That is a pity.”
“Perhaps that’s why Ceol would not come with me,” Shannon thought. “In case the Sultan tried to collect him. I wonder how he knew. I must ask him when I get home.” But she never did. She forgot all about it because she was granted her greatest wish.
“I'd love to own a magic carpet,” Shannon told the Sultan. “That’s why I wanted to come to your country, to ride on one.”
“You did?” asked the Sultan. “Well that is a wish I can easily arrange. My son will take you and your friends for a flight.”
“Oh, Your Majesty.” Shannon clapped her hands with glee.
“Think of it as my personal thank you for coming here and helping us find out the truth about Mustafa.”
Soon afterwards, Shannon, Mina, Yasmeen and Prince Hassan were seated on the most beautiful carpet. It was silky, woven in spirals and zig-zags of blues and greens and reds. Prince Hassan asked Shannon, “Where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere at all would be wonderful.”
The Prince nodded, stroked the carpet and murmured some words. With a shiver the carpet rose up into the air and began to move forwards. Before long, they were skimming the rooftops of the ancient city, with Mina and Yasmeen pointing out all the sights. Shannon recognised the market and the roof where she had spent the day, before breaking into the palace. They flew over the desert, seeing camels and sand dunes and palm trees round the oases. Then they hovered over the sea and passed tiny islands fringed with surf. They saw elephants and tigers, high mountains and rolling fields. At one point, Shannon cried out as she spotted the Great Wall of China. It looked like a huge snake curling across the landscape and nothing at all like the pictures she had seen. She must remember to tell Mrs. Brodie about it when she went back to school.
Even the most wonderful experience, though, must end and excited people become tired at last. Darkness had fallen and the lights of the cities sparkled below them as Prince Hassan ordered the carpet to return to the palace. The carpet settled gently onto the top of the highest tower. Shannon stepped reluctantly down onto the ground.
“Thank you, carpet. That was marvellous,” she said. The carpet shivered all over.
“You have pleased it.” The prince smiled at her. “You are a polite little girl, Shannon, as well as a clever one.”
“Thank you, Your Highness, for giving me this treat. I will never forget it, but now I must go back to my home.”
“Oh, no!” Mina cried. “Please stay. We'll have such fun and I would miss you so much!”
“Do you have to leave?” asked Yasmeen. “I've hardly spent any time with you and you've changed my life and made all my dearest wishes come true.”
“I don’t know how long I've been away and my mother might be worried about me. I'd love to stay, but I can't.” She spread out her arms and Mina rushed to give her a hug. Then she hugged Yasmeen. She held her hand out to the prince, but he brushed it aside and hugged her too.
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“Goodbye, Mina, Goodbye Yasmeen, Goodbye Your Highness, please thank your father for his kindness to me.”
“Safe journey. Come back and visit us as often as you can.”
“Come for the wedding,” Mina said with a cheeky grin at her sister.
“I will,” Shannon promised. She had tears in her eyes as she carefully whistled the Aladdin theme backwards. Sparkles flashed and she heard the sound of rain pelting against her window.
“Did you have a good time?” Ceol asked her. She thought he sounded a bit guilty.
“Marvellous. A bit scary at times, but the magic carpet ride was ace!”
“Tell me later,” he said. “It’s almost breakfast time here. Get into bed quickly and pretend to be asleep.”
Obediently Shannon changed into her pyjamas and hid the clothes she had been wearing at the back of her wardrobe. She got into bed and yawned.
“I’m so sleepy,” she said, curling up. She didn’t get a chance to sleep for more than a few minutes, though. She had hardly closed her eyes, when Vickie called,
“Shannon, Shannon, wake up, sleepyhead, breakfast time.”
The Robin Who Didn’t Like Heights
One day, Rory’s sister, Rosie, began to strut around the edge of the nest.
“Look at me!” she shouted.
Rory jumped up beside her but he fell back with a thump. He tried again. He clutched one of the twigs. For a moment he stayed there. Then he fell to the bottom of the nest.
“What happened?” Rosie asked.
“I don’t know!”
“Try again.”
“No. My bottom hurts.”
Rory told his mother all about his fall. She said “Never mind, you’ll do it.” But whenever Rory tried, he always fell.
When Rosie hopped onto a nearby branch and hung there, shrieking with delight, Mother Robin was very pleased but, she said to Rory, “I’m worried. You must try to fly too.”
“I feel dizzy when I look down, Mama.”
“Don’t look down.” Mother Robin told Rory. “Jump!”
Rory jumped. His claws hooked onto the edge of the nest and he held on, swaying. After a while, his step became firmer. Soon, Rory could jump up and down and walk around. Then his mother perched on a branch and said, “Jump to me.”
“I can’t Mama!”
“Yes, you can. Now!”
Rory closed his eyes and jumped. A twig brushed his toes and he grabbed it. He bounced up and down.
“Why did you close your eyes?” his mother asked.
“I didn’t want to see the ground, Mama.”
“A fine pickle we’re in now!” The nest was a long way up. “Follow me.” His mother started to jump and they reached the nest at last.
“Well done, Rory.”
Next morning, Rosie tumbled out of the nest. She flapped her wings and started to fly.
“What a clever girl,” said Father Robin.
Rory knew that he would never be able to fly.
“Can’t I try another day, Mama?”
“No. The cat is away. It’s the best time. Jump when I call three. One! Two! Three!”
Rory felt the air flow past him but he closed his eyes again. Something hit him and he rolled over and over in the middle of the lawn.
“What are we going to do now?” Mother Robin asked in dismay.
“Teach Rory to take off,” Father Robin said.
Mother Robin taught Rory to take off, but he kept gliding back.
“Mama, I’m too tired!” he wailed.
“Rest and I will bring you your supper.”
It was getting dark. Mother Robin made Rory a bed under the apple tree and snuggled up to him. In the morning, she went to find breakfast.
Rory flapped his wings to get warm. Then he saw a huge pair of eyes coming right towards him. The animal started to leap. With a squeal of fright, Rory spread his wings. He felt a pain and he flapped madly. He heard a yowl as Tiddles hit his head on the apple tree. Rory was flying properly at last, but he couldn’t turn round.
There was a dark opening ahead of him. Next minute he fell onto the dusty floor of Farmer Jones’ hayloft. Rory shook himself and looked at his wing. One of his feathers was broken and he had a long scratch, but he had been lucky.
The hayloft looked onto a muddy yard. Raindrops were going past his nose.
“This is good,” he thought. “I’m not getting wet. I wonder when Mama will find me.”
But his parents thought the cat had eaten him.
Rory was hungry and cold. He found an old box. Rory climbed in and pulled some straw over him. When he woke up, he found seeds and juicy woodlice to eat. This was a feast. There was even a big puddle to drink and to wash.
The farmyard was a busy place. Rory loved the shiny new tractor which made funny noises, putt, putt, roar. Cows came in to be milked and mooed. He tried to mimic the sounds and began to sing. One day, when he warbled, someone answered him!
“I’m here,” he shouted.
A female robin landed on the windowsill. She was much prettier than his sister.
“I’m Rhoda,” she chirruped, “who are you?”
“I’m Rory.”
Rhoda flew round the hayloft.
“It’s lovely to have so much space.”
“It’s lonely sometimes.”
“I saw lots of thrushes and jackdaws nearby.”
“They don’t come here.”
“Well why don’t you go to them?
Rory didn’t know what to say.
“Have you always lived here?”
“No, I used to live with my parents and my sister.”
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Rosie.”
“I know her. Rosie told me her brother was eaten by the cat.”
“I didn’t get eaten. I flew here and I couldn’t get back. My family never even looked for me.”
“They thought you were dead. They’ll be so happy. Let’s go and tell them.”
“I don’t think we should.”
“Why not?”
Rory didn’t want Rhoda to think him a coward. Then Rhoda remembered something else Rosie had told her.
“Don’t you fly well?”
Rory nodded glumly. “I get dizzy.”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Can you fly from this beam to this bucket?”
“I’ve never tried”
“Try now.”
Rory flapped his wings. Suddenly he was beside her.
“Do you feel dizzy?”
“No, I could put my feet down.”
“Try from the pail to the windowsill.”
Rory managed that too.
“Rory could fly home,” Rhoda thought, “if he flies low enough.”
Rhoda coaxed Rory down from the loft and out of the door.
“I’m really flying” Rory chirruped happily. It felt good to be flying with Rhoda.
Rory could see the old nest. Strange, it didn’t seem so high any more.
“Mama, I’m home!” he called excitedly.
Next minute Mother Robin was hugging him. “Everyone come here! Rory’s home!”
“Where have you been, son?” asked his father.
“In Farmer Jones’ hayloft. Rhoda showed me the way home.”
Rory never had problems flying again. He always flew low enough not to be dizzy, but high enough to keep away from cats. When they had babies, Rhoda taught them to fly properly.
Sun Sun Escapes
Crack! Sun Sun opened an eyelid. It seemed heavy. Tap! Tap! Tap! A shower of small pebbles splattered onto the marble floor. Crack! He opened the other eyelid. Another shower of pebbles. Sun Sun yawned and shook himself. Whole chunks of stone fell off him, covering the floor with lumpy white powder.
“Strange,” he thought, peering down from his perch, “I’m covered in dust.” Sun Sun was upset. He was a neat dragon and proud of his red-gold scales.
He looked around him, at the tall echoing room. Odd. He re
membered falling asleep on this wide ledge, halfway up the old temple wall. The day had been sunny and he had been awake far too long. Life had been so interesting. He had not wanted to return to his cave with his family. His bossy Aunt Li told him to hurry up or he’d be left behind. Perhaps she had been right.
“Where am I?” Sun Sun thought. The ledge seemed exactly the same, but it wasn’t attached to the temple any more. It was in a room full of shadows and the smell of old stone. “No one's around and everything is far too quiet. I must find somewhere I know.” He spread out his wings and glided into the centre of the room. Immediately strong white lights sprang up and a siren wailed. “This music's awful,” Sun Sun thought. “Temple bells are prettier. But the lighting is better than oil lamps or candles.” He flittered through several rooms, filled with strange objects. In the last room of all, he found things he knew - incense burners, sacred scrolls and statues of the Buddha. “Civilisation at last!” But everything looked dusty, as if no one had used them for a long time.
Sun Sun examine the pictures on the wall, familiar scenes of pine trees, cherry blossoms and even dragons! Sun Sun hovered over a painting he thought was his Uncle Fong. “Why is Uncle Fong in this temple?” he asked himself. “He’s a terrible old rascal.” The painted dragon frowned at Sun Sun, just as his uncle did, when Sun Sun was a noisy dragonet. Sun Sun flew off, looking back in case Fong flew after him. He was glad the old dragon stayed still.
Sun Sun came into a hallway with a branching staircase. “I wonder where this goes.” Sun Sun thought. He flew halfway down and stopped dead beside a picture. A man was sticking a long knife into a dragon that looked just like his Auntie Ping.
“How horrible! Poor old Auntie wouldn’t hurt a fly. That nasty man is killing her!” He tried to blow flame into the man’s face, but only a tiny trickle came out of his muzzle. The layer of dust on St George’s face smoked a little. “I must have been asleep for ages,” Sun Sun realised. “My fires are almost out. I must find some sunshine to stoke them again.” He couldn’t leave, though, without doing something. He ripped his claw across St George, leaving a in the paint. Ten years later the people who cleaned the picture would be very puzzled.
Stories for Seven Year Olds Page 4