The Paladin of the Night

by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman

  “No, no. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. And my head is spinning. If I could just sit down. . .”

  “Certainly, Master. You do seem pale, sort of chartreuse. Lean on me.”

  Kaug draped his massive arm over Pukah’s slender shoulder. Groaning, the young djinn staggered beneath the weight.

  “Where to, Master?” he gasped.

  “My favorite chair,” said Kaug with a weak gesture. “Over there, near my cooking pot.”

  “Yes, Master,” Pukah said with more spirit than breath left in his body. By the time the two reached the huge sponge that the ‘efreet indicated, the young djinn was practically walking on his knees. Kaug sank into his chair.

  Pukah, suppressing a groan, slumped down on the floor at his feet. Sond had lapsed into silence, whether in order to hear better or because he was unconscious the young djinn didn’t know and, at this point, didn’t care.

  “You were not present at the battle that took place around the Tel, were you, little Pukah?” said Kaug, settling his massive body in his chair. Leaning back, he regarded the young djinn with a mildeyed gaze.

  “You mean the battle between Sheykhs Majiid and Jaafar and Zeid?” questioned Pukah uneasily.

  “No,” said Kaug, shaking his head. “There was no battle between the tribes of the desert.”

  “There wasn’t?” Pukah appeared much amazed, then recovered himself. “Ah, of course, there wasn’t! Why should there be? After all, we are all brothers in the spirit of Akhran—”

  “I mean the battle between the tribes of the desert and the armies of the Amir of Kich,” continued Kaug coolly. Pausing a moment, the ‘efreet added, “Your mouth is working, little Pukah, but I hear nothing coming out of it. I didn’t accidentally hit something vital, did I?”

  Shaking his head, Pukah found his voice, somewhere down around his ankles. “My. . . my master and the. . . the armies of—”

  “Former master,” amended Kaug.

  “Certainly. Former mmaster,” Pukah stammered. “Forgive me, noble Kaug.” Prostrating himself, he hid his burning face against the floor.

  The ‘efreet smiled and settled himself more comfortably in his spongy soft chair. “The outcome of the battle was never in question. Riding their magical steeds, the troops of the Amir easily defeated your puny desert fighters.”

  “Were. . . were all . . . killed?” Pukah could barely force himself to say the word.

  “Killed? No. The objective of the Imam was to bring as many living souls to Quar as possible. The orders of the Amir, therefore, were to capture, not kill. The young women and children we brought to Kich to learn the ways of the One, True God. The old people we left in the desert, for they can be of no use to us in building the new world Quar is destined to rule. Your master and his spahis we left there, also. Soon, bereft of their families, broken in spirit, weak in body, they will come to us and bow before Quar.”

  A strangled sound from Sond was expressive of defiance.

  Kaug gazed at the elder djinn sadly. “Ah, he will never learn gratitude, that one. You are intelligent, Pukah. The winds of heaven have switched direction. They blow, not from the desert, but from the city. The time of Akhran is dwindling. Long did Majiid call for his djinn to come to his aid, but there was no answer.”

  Glancing through his fingers at Sond, Pukah saw that the older djinn had ceased struggling. Tears flowed from Sond’s eyes, dripping into the puddles of sea water on the floor beneath him. Pukah turned his head from the distressing sight.

  “The Sheykh’s faith in his God is beginning to weaken. His djinn will not come at his command. His wife and children were taken captive. His eldest son—the light of his eyes—is missing and all assume him to be dead—”

  Pukah lifted a strained face. “Khardan? Dead?”

  “Isn’t he?” Kaug’s eyes stabbed at him.

  “Don’t you know?” Pukah parried the thrust.

  They stared at one another, mental swords clashing, then Kaug—falling back—shrugged. “The body was not discovered, but that means little. It is probably in the belly of a hyena—a fitting end to a wild dog.”

  Lowering his head again, Pukah endeavored to gather up his widely scattered wits. “It must be true! Khardan must be dead! Otherwise, he would have called on me to come to his aid!”

  “What are you mumbling about, little Pukah?” Kaug nudged the djinn with his foot.

  “I was. . . er . . . remarking to myself that I am most fortunate to be your slave—”

  “Indeed you are, little Pukah. The Amir’s men were going to burn your basket and sell that lamp but I—recognizing them as the dwellings of fellow immortals—was quick to rescue you both. Only to be set upon in my own home—” The ‘efreet glowered at Sond.

  “Forgive him, Master. He thinks with his pectorals.” Where is Asrial? Pukah wondered. Much like Kaug, he was darting glances here and there in an effort to locate her. Has she heard? A sudden thought occurred to him. If she has, she must be frantic with worry.

  “I—I don’t suppose, Kind Kaug, that you could reveal to me the fate of my mast—former master’s—wives?” Pukah asked warily.

  “Why do you want to know, little Pukah?” Kaug yawned.

  “Because I pity those who must try to console them for the loss of such a husband,” Pukah said, sitting back on his heels and regarding the ‘efreet with a face as bland as a pan of goat’s milk. “The Calif was deeply in love with his wives and they with him. Their sorrow at his loss must be terrible to witness.”

  “Now, as a matter of fact, it is a great coincidence, but Khardan’s two wives have disappeared as well,” Kaug said. Leaning back in his chair, the ‘efreet regarded Pukah through narrowed eyelids.

  It may have been his overwrought imagination, but Pukah thought he heard a smothered cry at this. The ‘efreet’s eyes opened suddenly. “What was that?” Kaug glanced about the cave.

  “Sond! Moan more quietly! You disturb the Master!” Pukah ordered, leaping to his feet. “Allow me to deal with him, O Mighty ‘Efreet. You rest.”

  Kaug obediently leaned back and shut his eyes. He could sense Pukah hovering over him, staring at him intently. Then he heard the djinn padding away on his bare feet, hastening toward Sond. The ‘efreet heard something else, too—another grieving moan. Opening his eyes a slit, he saw a most interesting sight. Pukah had tucked his hands beneath his armpits and was flapping his elbows frantically.

  Sond stared at him, bewildered, then suddenly took the hint—for that’s what it obviously was—and began to groan loudly.

  “What do you mean by that dismal howling?” Pukah shouted. “My Master is in enough pain as it is. Shut up this instant!” Whirling about to face the ‘efreet, Pukah grabbed hold of a largish rock. “Allow me to knock him senseless, My Master!”

  “No, that will not be necessary,” Kaug muttered, shifting in his chair. “I will deal with him myself.”

  Pukah flapping his arms. Pukah with wings? The trail had taken an unusual turn and the ‘efreet, in trying to follow the path, had the distinct impression he’d become lost en route. He knew he was getting somewhere, but he needed time to find his way.

  “Sond, I confine you to your chirak!” The ‘efreet snapped his fingers and the djinn’s body slowly began to dissolve, changing to smoke. The smoke wavered in the air; two eyes could be seen, fixed in malevolent fury on Kaug. A simple gesture from the ‘efreet caused the lamp to suck the smoke out of the air, and Sond was gone.

  “And what is your will concerning me, My Master?” Pukah asked humbly, bowing low, his hands pressed against his forehead.

  “Return to your dwelling. Remain there until I call for you,” Kaug said absently, preoccupied with his thoughts. “I am going to pay my homage to Quar.”

  “A safe and pleasant journey, Master,” said Pukah. Bowing his way across the floor, the djinn retired precipitously to his basket.

  “Ugggh,” grunted Kaug, heaving his bulk up out of the chair.

  “Ugggh,” Pukah
mimicked, his ears attuned to ascertain the ‘efreet’s departure. “One of his more intelligent noises. The great oaf! Pukah, my friend, you’ve fooled him completely. He has neglected to confine you to your dwelling, and while he is gone, you may leave it to search for your lost angel.”

  Materializing inside his basket, Pukah found it in a state of general disarray—the furniture overturned, crockery smashed, food scattered about. Having previously shared his dwelling with a snake, who had not been very neat in his personal habits, the djinn was accustomed to a certain amount of slovenliness. Ignoring the mess, Pukah set the bed to rights, then lay down on it and waited, listening intently, to make certain the ‘efreet had really gone and that this wasn’t some sort of lamebrained trick to trap him.

  Hearing nothing, Pukah was just about to leave his basket and go search the cave when he was nearly suffocated by a flurry of feathers. Silver hair obscured his vision and a warm, soft body hurled itself into his arms.

  “Oh, Pukah!” Asrial cried, clutching at him frantically. “My poor Mathew! I have to find him! You must help me escape!”

  Chapter 4

  “This would seem to indicate that their Calif, this Khardan, is not dead,” Quar mused.

  Kaug found the God taking a stroll in His pleasure garden, Quar’s mind occupied with the march of the Amir’s army south. This jihad was a weighty matter, so much to do; making certain the weather was perfect, preventing rain so that the baggage trains did not founder in the mud; forcing disease’s deadly hand away from His troops; keeping the magic of Sul flowing into the horses, and a hundred other worries. Quar had frowned at Kaug’s interruption but, since the ‘efreet insisted it was important, magnanimously agreed to listen.

  “That is what I think as well, O Holy One,” said the ‘efreet, bowing to indicate he was sensible of the honor of sharing like beliefs with his God. “The djinn, Pukah, has the brains of a mongrel, but even a dog knows when its master is dead and the news came as a complete surprise to Khardan’s lackey.”

  “And this you tell me about the wives. It is certainly mysterious,” Quar said offhandedly, sinking his white, perfectly shaped teeth into the golden skin of a kumquat. “What do you make of it?” A speck of juice dripped onto the costly silk robes. Irritably, the God dabbed at it with a linen napkin.

  “Pukah brought up the matter, Magnificent One. When I asked him why he was interested, he lied, telling me that Khardan cared deeply for his wives. We know from the woman, Meryem, that the Calif hated his head wife and that his second wife was a madman.”

  “Mmmmm.” Quar appeared entirely absorbed with removing the stain from his clothing.

  “It was when I mentioned that the wives had disappeared that I heard the strange sound—as of someone stricken with grief, Holy One. I am convinced that there is someone else present in my dwelling.” Kaug scowled, his brow furrowed in thought. “Someone with wings. . .”

  Quar had been just about to take another bite of the fruit. His hand stopped midway to his mouth. “Wings?” he repeated softly.

  “Yes, Holy One.” Kaug described Pukah’s peculiar behavior and Sond’s reaction.

  “Promenthas!” murmured Quar softly. “Angels in company with djinn of Akhran! So the Gods are fighting me on the immortal plane as well!”

  “What is it you say, Holy One?” Kaug drew nearer.

  “I said this strange winged intruder has probably taken advantage of your leaving and fled,” Quar said coldly.

  “Impossible, My Lord. I sealed my dwelling before I departed. I thought I should lose no time in bringing you this information,” the ‘efreet added deprecatingly.

  “I do not see why you are so concerned with this Khardan!” said Quar, plucking another kumquat. “All my people have become obsessed with him! The Imam wants his soul. The Amir wants his head. Meryem wants his body. This Calif is human, nothing more—the blind follower of a dying God.”

  “He could be a threat—”

  “Only if you make him one!” Quar rebuked sternly. Kaug bowed. “And what are your instructions concerning the djinn, My Lord?”

  Quar waved a delicate hand. “Do what you want. Keep them as your slaves. Send them where we send the others. It matters little to me.”

  “And the mysterious third party—”

  “You have more important things to occupy your time, Kaug, such as the upcoming battles in the south. However, I give you leave to solve your little mystery, if you like.”

  “And would my Lord be interested in the outcome?”

  “Perhaps some day, when I am bored with other foolishness, you may share it with me,” Quar said, indicating with a cool nod that the ‘efreet’s presence was no longer wanted.

  The ‘efreet, bowing again, evaporated into the blossomscented air.

  As soon as Kaug was gone, Quar disgarded the semblence of negligence that he wore in the presence of the powerful ‘efreet. Hastening back into his sumptuous dwelling, he entered a Temple, whose exact duplicate could be found in the world below, in the city of Kich. The God lifted a mallet and struck a small gong three times.

  A wasted face appeared in Quar’s mind, its eyes burning with holy ecstasy. “You have summoned me, Hazrat Quar?”

  “Imam, among the people of the desert we captured must be some who are related to this Khardan, their Calif.”

  “I believe there are, Holy One. His mother and a halfbrother . . . or so I am told.”

  “I want information regarding this man, this Calif. Attain it any way possible. It would be ideal, of course, if you could convert one or both to the true faith.”

  “I hope to convert all the desert nomads, Holy One.”

  “Excellent, Imam.”

  Feisal’s face disappeared from Quar’s sight.

  Settling back on a silk brocade sofa, Quar noted that he still held the kumquat in his hand. Regarding it with complacence, he slowly closed his fist upon it and began to squeeze. The skin ruptured, the juice flowed over his fingers. When the fruit was reduced to an unrecognizable pulp, the God tossed it casually away.

  Chapter 5

  “We must escape! We must get out of here, Pukah!” Asrial cried distractedly. “That terrible monster is right. Mathew has disappeared! I searched for his being in my mind and could not see him! A darkness shrouds him, hiding him from my sight. Some dreadful thing has happened to him!”

  “There, there,” murmured Pukah, too dazzled and confused to know what he was saying. The beautiful creature appearing out of nowhere, her soft hands clinging to him, her fragrance, her warmth. The djinn had just presence of mind enough to take hold of the soft hand and draw the angel down with him upon the bed.

  “Let’s relax and think about this calmly.” Pukah brought his lips near the smooth cheek. How did one manage about the wings? They were bound to be in the way. . .

  “Oh, Pukah!” Asrial sobbed miserably, lowering her head. Pukah found himself kissing a mass of wet, silver hair. “It’s all my fault! I should never have left him!”

  Putting one arm around her waist (sliding it under the wings), Pukah held Asrial nearer. “You had no choice, my enchanter!” he whispered, brushing aside the hair. “The fish told you to come.” His lips brushed her fevered skin.

  “What if it was a trick?!” Asrial sprang to her feet with such energy that her wings swept Pukah off the bed. “It could have been a ploy of Astafas’s, an attempt for that Lord of Darkness to steal Mathew’s soul! Oh, why didn’t I think of this before?! And your master, Khardan. He must be with Mathew. He is undoubtedly in danger, too. Let’s leave, Pukah, quickly!”

  “We can’t,” said the djinn, picking himself up off the bottom of the basket.

  “Why not?” Asrial stared at him, startled.

  “Because”—Pukah, sighing, sat down upon the bed—”Kaug sealed the cave before he left.”

  “How do you know?”

  Pukah shrugged. “See for yourself. Try going back out into the ocean again.”

  Asrial closed her eyes, he
r lips moved, her wings waved gently. Her eyes flew open, she looked about eagerly and her face crumpled in disappointment. “I’m still here!”

  “Told you,” said Pukah, lounging back on the bed. Reaching out, he patted a place beside him. “Come, beloved. Rest yourself. Who knows how long Kaug will be gone? We’re trapped here together. We might as well make the best of it.”

  “I—I think I would prefer a chair,” said Asrial. Her face flushing rosy red, she glanced about the djinn’s dwelling in search of an article of furniture that was not smashed, missing a leg, or most of the stuffing.

  “Not a whole piece of furniture in the place except the bed, I’m afraid,” said Pukah cheerfully. He owed Kaug one. Two in fact. “Come, Asrial. Let me comfort you, distract your sorrowful thoughts, take your mind from your trouble.”

  “And how will you do that, Pukah?” Asrial asked coolly, the flush subsiding from her cheeks. “If I am not mistaken, you are attempting to seduce me, to . . . make love to me. That’s completely ridiculous! We do not have bodies. We can’t feel physical pleasure!”

  “Tell me I didn’t feel this!” Pukah said grimly, pointing to his swollen lip. “Tell Sond he didn’t feel that drubbing he took!” Climbing out of bed, the djinn approached the angel, hands outstretched. “Tell me I’m not feeling what I feel now—my heart racing, my blood burning—”

  “Sond didn’t!” Asrial faltered, taking a step backward. “You don’t! You’ve just tricked yourself—”

  “Tell me you don’t feel this!” Grabbing the angel around the waist, Pukah pressed her body close to his and kissed her.

  “I . . . I didn’t. . . feel a thing!” gasped Asrial angrily when she could breathe. Struggling, she tried to push Pukah away. “I—”

  “Hush!” The djinn put his hand over her mouth.

  Furious, Asrial clenched her fists and started to beat on the djinn’s chest. Then she, too, heard the sound. Her eyes widening in fear, she went limp in Pukah’s arms.

  “Kaug’s back!” whispered the djinn. “I’ve got to go!” Pukah vanished so suddenly that Asrial, bereft of his support, nearly fell. Weakly, she sank down on the bed and crouched there, shivering, listening to what was happening outside the basket.