by Jon Mayhew
‘No, please,’ Cullwirthy shrieked. ‘I have something. I do!’
Ness gave a scream as a new leg burst from Cullwirthy’s other side.
‘Look at you now,’ the djinn spat. ‘Out of all of them I despised you almost as much as Bonehill. A hypocrite, sermonising every Sunday while enjoying the spoils of your evil ways and lusting after Widow Quilfy. What could a worthless insect like you possibly offer me?’
Ness felt sick. Cullwirthy’s head now poked out of the fat, bloated body of a beetle. Fronds and bristles waved from the shining black thorax.
Cullwirthy’s voice had taken on a croaking tone. ‘A Lashkar boy . . . with a silver sword.’
‘WHAT?’ The djinn reared up, seeming to grow in stature.
Ness threw herself behind an armchair as Azuli burst back into the room, howling and swinging the sword – or was it the scimitar that howled?
For a moment, Ness saw real terror on the djinn’s face. He launched himself backward as the sword cut through the smoky air.
‘I know you, djinn, and your name is Zaakiel.’ Azuli’s voice sounded strong and full of authority. ‘Allah can see you and you shall perish.’
Another swing narrowly missed the djinn, sending him tumbling over tables and chairs. Hurling a plant pot at Azuli, the djinn pointed at Cullwirthy, who writhed and quivered on the floor. With an ever-diminishing scream, the Reverend began to shrink. Ness screwed her eyes shut as the djinn slammed his foot down hard on the place where Cullwirthy had been and the screaming stopped.
‘So the Lashkars of Sulayman still march?’ the djinn snarled. His laughter had gone now.
‘You are the last djinn. This is the last sword,’ Azuli said, carving an arc just inches from the djinn’s head.
‘The last sword, eh? But you’re a mere boy,’ the djinn scoffed. ‘Are the Lashkars so desperate? Will they send old women to stop me next?’
‘Azuli, don’t listen!’ Ness cried. She could see the danger. Zaakiel was goading him. Anger and precise swordsmanship never mixed; Ness had learned that very early in her training.
‘The Lashkars will vanquish you, Zaakiel!’ Azuli yelled, his face reddening.
He swung the sword sideways and Zaakiel raised his wrist to meet the blow. Azuli gave a cry of victory as the djinn’s hand went spinning off across the room, spattering green blood over carpet, walls and furniture. The djinn doubled over with a scream of agony. For a moment he remained still and Ness held her breath. Is he dying? But then the creature began to shake. No, he’s laughing, Ness thought. Slowly the djinn raised his head, grinning.
‘Your mistake,’ he panted, clamping his remaining hand over the stump of his wrist. Azuli stood staring helplessly as the blade in his hand began to vanish. ‘The blade is melting but it hasn’t slain me. Now I have something for you.’ He stretched forward and opened his mouth, spitting a fountain of foul-smelling green slime at Azuli.
The boy fell back as boils bubbled up on his face and arms, sweat soaking his clothes. He dropped the scimitar handle and gripped his throat.
‘No!’ Ness threw herself at the djinn but he exploded into smoke as soon as she made contact with him.
‘I would flee if I were you, little Necessity,’ Zaakiel chuckled. ‘He will die and become one of mine. You think me evil and twisted, but life is hard and it will not leave you unscathed, believe me.’
‘Release him, you monster!’ Ness yelled as the djinn swirled around her.
‘I never wished for this,’ he hissed. ‘My silent prayers went unheeded across the gulf of three thousand years. All because I wouldn’t bow to a tyrant.’
‘A tyrant?’ Ness squatted down and cradled Azuli in her arms.
‘Sulayman. A great magician. A wise man. A bully,’ Zaakiel said. ‘We worked with him at first, carving cities out of mountains, turning deserts into lush jungles, building an empire together. But Sulayman became powerful and proud. He wanted us to bow down to him. “I have the wisdom and blessing of Allah,” he told us. “I command man, afrit, animal and tree. I am a mighty potentate.” And then we were afraid. We fled in terror of our lives, killing any who would try to catch us and bring us to kiss Sulayman’s feet. But caught we were. For their disobedience my friends and family were sealed in the tiniest of vessels for all time. Trapped by Sulayman’s curse.’
‘I won’t let him die,’ Ness snapped, scooping Azuli up in her arms. ‘Whatever happened thousands of years ago, it doesn’t give you the right to do what you just did. It’s wrong.’
‘You will understand soon, Necessity Bonehill.’ The djinn began to fade. ‘Believe me, you will. The time of mankind is coming to an end.’
Ness staggered to the front of the vicarage, Azuli in her arms. She could feel the clamminess of his skin, the rattling of his breath. He was dying.
Pride went out on horseback and returned
on foot.
Traditional proverb
Chapter Seventeen
Fever
Struggling with the weight of Azuli’s limp body, Ness staggered into people, barging crowds of angry gentlemen aside as she tried to keep hold of him. His breath groaned from his body and she feared that each would be his last. He felt hot then cold and sometimes he would squirm and cry out in his delirium. The gaslights blazed as she pushed through a sea of shocked faces, focusing on her aching arms and legs so as to avoid remembering the images of Cullwirthy’s hideous death.
On she stumbled, gasping, until at last the buildings became more familiar. Once more she found herself in the winding maze of alleys and uttered a silent prayer that she didn’t meet Harmy Sullivan and his gang tonight.
Azuli stared up at her blankly and threw an arm out, making her drop him.
‘Don’t die, you stubborn fool,’ Ness panted as she dragged him by the shoulders through the muddy alleyways. ‘I’ll never forgive you if you go now.’
The alcove and the barrels finally came into view and Ness threw herself at the blue gate.
Jabalah’s face appeared before her. ‘Miss Bonehill, where have you been?’ He stopped when he saw Azuli lying at her feet. Without further questions, he grabbed Azuli and ran through the streets, leaving Ness to trail after.
The night kept people in their homes but it didn’t stop them from peering through windows as Ness passed. More bad news had spread, it seemed. Ness saw Jabalah disappear into Hafid’s house with his feverish burden and she followed.
‘What have you done?’ Taimur screamed as Ness entered the room. Two Lashkars held his arms, otherwise she thought she might have had to defend herself. Azuli lay murmuring on a sofa, shaking his head from side to side.
Ness slumped on to a chair without being asked to sit down and buried her head in her hands. ‘I didn’t force him to come,’ she sighed. ‘We found the djinn. Azuli fought bravely.’
‘And the fiend?’ Hafid asked, hope edging his voice as he stood at Azuli’s head, knitting his fingers together.
‘He tricked Azuli.’ Ness groaned. ‘He was wounded but not killed.’
‘The djinn lives,’ Hafid hissed. ‘And now the sword is gone.’
‘My son,’ Taimur cried, falling to Azuli’s side and hugging him close. ‘So young.’
‘He was brave.’ Hafid laid a hand on Taimur’s shoulder.
‘There must be something we can do!’ Ness cried.
‘There is no cure for the djinn’s plague,’ Hafid said, shaking his head. ‘It is only my protective charms that stop him spreading among us here.’
‘Spreading?’ Ness echoed.
‘The plague is highly contagious, Miss Bonehill,’ Hafid whispered. ‘How many people did you brush against and bump into on your way here?’
‘Oh my Lord. No,’ Ness gasped. ‘That’s what the djinn meant. He wanted me to take Azuli away. The time of man is coming to an end.’
‘You carried Azuli and the contagion through the city,’ Hafid said, his voice half resigned, half angry. ‘Soon it will spread, killing man, woman and child, rich
and poor, heathen and believer, creating an army of Pestilent walkers to do the djinn’s bidding.’
‘I didn’t know . . . I didn’t mean to –’ Ness began.
‘Just like you didn’t mean to open the bottle and let the djinn out,’ Taimur spat.
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Ness said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘I really do.’
‘Wishes,’ Hafid muttered, staring at Ness with his blind eyes. ‘That’s where this all began. A web of wishes that has entangled so many people. We all have wishes, Necessity Bonehill. I wish Azuli was fit and well again, I wish we could find another way to destroy the djinn. I wish we could win in the end. But wishes rarely come true in the way we want them to.’
Ness hung her head. The room seemed to spin and she screwed her eyes shut, only to see the djinn’s leering grin; Cullwirthy twisting and writhing as he transformed; Azuli’s grey face, bathed in sweat and blistered with sores. Faster and faster the images whirled and spun around in her mind’s eye until she felt like she was falling, tumbling into a dark abyss. The last thing she saw was Jabalah leaping forward, his arms outstretched to catch her as she fainted.
Ness floated in a dream through mist and fog. Once more she felt cold and alone, unable to see a hand right in front of her. The djinn’s voice whined in her ear like a mosquito, sometimes far off, sometimes close to.
‘In the darkness of my first century trapped in the bottle, I vowed that anyone who let me out would have a thousand of my blessings and three wishes.
‘And sure enough, after two hundred years of waiting, of listening to the tide rush against the walls of my tiny prison, I felt the pull of a net drag me to the surface of the dark sea.
‘The light blinded me, burned my skin, sent me screaming into the sky, but the joy of freedom made me immune to pain.
‘A simple fisherman stood holding the bottle and staring at me, slack-jawed and drooling. His face creased into a mask of greed as I told him my tale of woe and gratitude.
‘“My first wish?” He leered at me and then glanced down the coast. “My neighbour lives but a mile from here. He has everything I have not. A beautiful wife, a fine boat, happy children. How I hate him. Bring me his head.”
‘“His head?” I repeated.
‘“Has all that time in a bottle made you deaf?” the fisherman snapped.
‘“Has this man wronged you?” I asked. “Has he taken something that is yours?”
‘“You swore to grant me three wishes,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Now do as I say.”
‘I still can’t think of that first poor soul without a shiver of remorse. He sat quietly at his hearth after a hard day mending nets and pitching his boat. His pretty young wife sat teasing the children at his feet.
‘Until I burst in, that is.
‘“Now bring the wife and make her agree to marry me,” the fisherman snarled when I returned with his neighbour’s head. “Terrify her. Threaten to eat her children if she does not agree.”
‘Just you wait, I thought, as I returned to the house where the woman still crouched in the corner of the room, her wide-eyed children clinging to her.
‘“You have done well.” The fisherman grinned a crooked grin and hugged the woman to him. “Now return to your bottle.”
‘“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “But your third wish. You could have wealth and power, all that you desire.”
‘“I have this woman, her husband’s boat and twice as much sea to fish now, thanks to you,” laughed the fisherman. “And I can sell you on to the next man who wants three wishes for a fortune and then that’s his lookout. Now go, return to your bottle.”
‘With a heavy heart, I slipped back into my black prison and listened. I listened as he drove the poor woman to an early grave and her children became his slaves, all thanks to me.
‘Time hardens you, Necessity Bonehill. Man’s cruelty toughens your heart, burns it to a hard, blackened cinder.’
‘Let Azuli live,’ Ness cried, lashing her hands out into the white mist as if she could grab the djinn. ‘I beg you. Let him live. You don’t have to be so wicked.’
‘I don’t think I can help myself any more,’ the djinn whispered. ‘Besides, it seems the matter of Azuli is out of my hands. Four days to go, I believe.’
Ness sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. Once more she lay in Jabalah’s house. It was quiet. The morning’s activity had begun outside. Day four, Ness thought. What now? How can I ever get an answer to my question if I can’t find my parents?
She leapt up, calling for Suha.
Suha came running in from the kitchen, drying her hands. ‘Necessity, what is it?’
‘Azuli,’ Ness gasped, grabbing Suha’s shoulder. ‘Where is he? I must see him.’
‘Steady, my dear.’ Suha smiled, trying to ease Ness back into her bed. ‘It is a miracle but Azuli has come through the fever –’
Suha didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as Ness jumped up and hurried out into the street, ignoring the stares and the coldness of the cobbles on her bare feet. She barged past wide-eyed old men carrying bundles on their shoulders and women with crates of squawking chickens, straight to Hafid’s quarters, past Jabalah, who stood open-mouthed as she thundered into Hafid’s chamber.
Azuli was sitting up, devouring a huge chunk of fruit cake. Taimur sat grinning at his son. Ness threw herself forward and pulled Azuli into a tight hug, sending cake and plate spinning on to the floor.
‘Azuli! Thank God you’re all right. I thought you’d be . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she became aware of the stony looks that greeted her.
‘Miss Bonehill,’ Jabalah said, wrapping a large blanket around Ness’s shoulders. ‘However pleased you might be to see Azuli fit and well, I’m not sure it is becoming to charge through the streets in your nightdress and to appear so unclothed before the Elders of the Lashkar.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Ness gave a shy grin and glanced around, noticing Hafid was there. She pulled the blanket tight about her. ‘But what happened? How did he recover?’
Azuli gave a beaming smile of his own. ‘I’m tough. Allah must have given me the constitution of an ox. No djinn can defeat me.’
‘The brains of an ox, I’d agree, running off with our greatest weapon,’ Hafid murmured. ‘Praise Allah that you survived but I suspect it was more than your robust good health that saved you, Azuli.’
‘The djinn is toying with us perhaps,’ Taimur said, getting to his feet. ‘Like a cat with a mouse.’
‘With the sword gone, we cannot defend ourselves,’ Jabalah sighed, rubbing a fleshy palm across his forehead. ‘Even with it, it was doubtful we could defeat the djinn.’
‘Our options are greatly reduced but there is still some slight hope,’ Hafid said. ‘We must continue to seek the djinn and fulfil our promise. We must try to destroy him or we must die in the attempt.’
Arrogance diminishes wisdom.
Traditional proverb
Chapter Eighteen
Enemy at the Gate
‘Hope?’ Taimur glowered at Hafid. ‘What hope is there? Without the sword, what weapons do we have against the djinn?’
‘The wisdom of Sulayman is ancient,’ Hafid croaked, stroking his chin. ‘But we have forgotten much of it over the centuries. We have relied too much on one weapon. Our people have hunted and fought many djinns. They can’t all have found victory with one clean blow of a silver sword!’
‘There are other ways to stop the djinn?’ Ness said, a shiver of excitement running down her spine.
‘There is always another way,’ Hafid murmured, staring intently at Ness. She shivered, forgetting he was blind. ‘Your father, for all his faults, knew that. Or how could he have outsmarted the djinn in the first place?’
‘We think that Father asked seven people to open the bottle,’ Ness said, not liking the way Hafid spoke about her father as if he were gone already. ‘The last one would have wished it back into the bottle and the others were suppo
sed to share their new good fortune with him.’
‘Ingenious,’ Hafid murmured, shaking his head. ‘What is it about the number seven?’
‘The djinn gave me seven days,’ Ness said, her heart sinking. ‘Did he need time to settle old scores? Did he put off granting my wish so he could kill Lumm and Cullwirthy? He would have got Quilfy too if the vicar hadn’t done it first. If only I’d known.’
Hafid lifted his head, and if Ness hadn’t known he was blind she would have sworn he was staring at her. ‘And what was it you wished for, Necessity? You still haven’t told us.’
‘If I’d known what I do now, I’d have wished for the djinn’s death,’ Ness whispered, casting a backward glance to the gates and the horrors beyond. ‘As it was, I made a foolish wish about my parents.’
Hafid nodded and smiled. ‘You wished they loved you?’
Ness gave a start and felt her face flush red.
Hafid sighed. ‘Not foolish at all, if I understand things correctly.’
‘Thank you,’ Ness muttered, staring at the ground.
‘But time is not on our side. Bonehill was a clever man but he did not defeat the djinn alone,’ Hafid said, raising his voice. ‘We must make a trip to Jesmond Street.’
‘Jesmond Street?’ Ness said, frowning.
‘A wise man lives there,’ Hafid said, nodding his bald head. ‘An antiquarian scholar and an old acquaintance of your father’s. He may be able to help us.’
‘Some dusty scholar of books and a friend of the Bonehill’s into the bargain?’ Taimur snorted. ‘It’s a warrior we need now, not some short-sighted old librarian!’
‘Forgive me, Taimur,’ Hafid said, giving a tight smile, ‘but I fear it is you who is being short-sighted. It is brains, not brawn, that will win this battle.’
Ness opened her mouth to speak but an ashen-faced old man hobbled in and whispered to Jabalah, who turned a similar colour on hearing what he had to say.