Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (24 page)

Joseph was dragging the tip of the screw down
the center of the nexus, magically cutting a swath through it. The
nexus itself was blue, the slit within bright white gold. Arcadius
couldn’t tell where the opening led—not that they had a choice
about stepping into it. Mario’s chanting was louder now, his will
attempting to battle through to them in pulses.

“Hurry,” Joseph urged. “His magic is pushing
against mine.”

He held his arm out to Arcadius.

“Ready?” Arcadius asked Elyse. He gripped her
right hand snugly. He noticed her eyes were huge.

“Yes,” she gasped like she’d lost all her
breath.

Arcadius didn’t wait. He slapped his other
palm around Joseph’s.

Joseph pulled them all into the sunny
glare.

Arcadius had traveled this way before, but
the experience never failed to disorient. For long moments all he
saw was light, and all he heard was ringing. Numbness overtook his
body, his thoughts seeming to speed up and slow down at the same
time. Not wanting to accidentally lose his grip on Elyse, he willed
his fingers to stay secure.

“Ow,” she said as their new reality buffeted
them.

She fell forward onto her hands and knees,
less accustomed to the jolt of transition than either of the men.
They staggered but didn’t lose their footing. Elyse sat back on her
sneakered feet, absently rubbing the hand he’d squeezed too
firmly.

“Sand,” she said, stating the obvious.

They’d landed amidst an ocean of empty dunes.
Arcadius turned in a circle to scan their surroundings. Wave after
rippling wave of golden sand stretched to every horizon. At those
horizons, craggy vertical mountains rose. These were the Qaf, the
mountains of the djinn dimension. Every djinn territory possessed a
stretch. Here they wore their most forbidding aspect: no grass, no
trees, and no sparkling white snowcaps. Though beautiful, the
massifs were stark brown stone without adornment.

The time of day appeared different from what
they’d left—the shadows suggesting late afternoon rather than
morning. If that was true, he knew which way was west. At the
moment, the knowledge was of useless.

“This is the Great Desert,” Joseph said,
echoing his conclusion.

“Is that bad?” Elyse accepted Arcadius’s help
to regain her feet. His awareness of her feelings, or lack thereof,
gave the contact an odd poignancy. As she swiped her knees free of
sand, he was very conscious that she’d left her other hand in
his.

“It isn’t great,” Joseph said in answer to
her question. “Our dimension isn’t as linear as yours. The Great
Desert is the equivalent of a distant island from the Glorious
City.”

“The Glorious City is where you live.”

She’d turned to Arcadius. He tried to force
the grimness from his expression. “We’ll get there,” he said. “Just
not as conveniently.”

“At least it’s not deathly hot.” Compared to
Manhattan, the desert’s warmth was wonderful, with a sage-scented
breeze whispering softly across the dunes. The gentle tousling was
curling Elyse’s hair. She raked it back from her pretty face.
“We’re not going to die of thirst, are we?”

“We’re not,” he assured, unable to refrain
from rubbing her hand soothingly. “People live here. And there’s
more magic to draw on in this plane. Even I could cast a spell to
find them.”

Elyse smiled at him. “Even you, eh?”

Had his spirit swooped like this when she
smiled at him before? Had he simply not noticed? The light of the
djinn dimension caused her green eyes to gleam like gems. God, she
was beautiful. He knew then why the nexus had opened for Joseph.
Someone’s heart
had
broken. Unfortunately, it was his.

Joseph pulled Elyse’s attention from Arcadius
by politely clearing his throat. “Forgive me, but I don’t think a
spell will be necessary. Someone seems to be approaching us.”

~

Elyse wasn’t sure what she was looking at.
The shape in the distance was dark and fuzzy, and it didn’t get
clearer when she squinted. A bobbing motion marked its progress
across the golden sands, like whatever it was might be riding an
animal.

Though the rider wasn’t familiar, the animal
somehow was.

“Stay behind me,” Arcadius said in a low
tone.

She stepped a little behind him but she
wanted to see. Soon the image was more defined, though not really
more sensible. A person made of smoke, no larger than a
four-year-old, galloped toward them on a plastic rocking horse. The
toy’s rockers hung a hand span above the sand, each forward lean of
the rider propelling it toward them. Little misty batwings stuck up
from the rider’s back. Elyse couldn’t decide if they were cute or
just devilish.

Well, then
, she thought, working to
get her brain to accept this reality. Clearly, they weren’t in
Kansas anymore.

“Friends!” cried the small being on the
peculiar steed. It rose in the plastic stirrups to wave at them.
“It is I, your ifrit friend, Samir! See how beautiful I have made
the horse which you graciously gifted me!”

“Oh, boy,” Joseph muttered beneath his
breath. “What are we in for now?”

The ifrit, Samir—who Arcadius and Joseph
appeared to know—swung off the horse in a dashing manner. He wasn’t
a child. Children weren’t that graceful. He dropped to one knee
with his smoke fist pressed to his presumably smoky heart.
“Honorable sirs, have you come to request a return favor?”

As Samir returned to his feet, Elyse saw
glowing yellow flames where a human would have had eyes. She didn’t
know what to make of his manner, but those eyes seemed very
intelligent. Her hand rested on Arcadius’s back, which was bare and
warm and still marked by his bird tattoo. Though she didn’t
remember touching him, she was glad for the contact. The ifrit had
just sniffed the air and peered straight at her. She forced herself
not to flinch before his alien gaze.

“You brought a human with you,” he exclaimed,
sounding surprised and perhaps a bit repulsed. “Are you hoping to
trade for her?”

Excuse me?
Elyse thought.

“That is not your business,” Joseph said
sternly.

Arcadius crossed his arms, projecting
disapproval without a word. Samir looked from one tall man to the
other. Although he was made of smoke, Elyse swore she could see the
ifrit’s mental wheels turning.

“What would you like Samir’s business to be?”
he asked.

Joseph glanced at Arcadius, who nodded for
him to handle this.

“Samir,” Joseph said more respectfully. “Have
you knowledge of the caravans hereabouts?”

“Of course,” said the ifrit. “Samir knows and
is known everywhere.”

“We would appreciate an introduction to a
tribe from which we could expect hospitality, one that wouldn’t
harm our human companion.”

Samir cocked his smoky head to the side. “All
the tribes near here are ifrit.”

“Some ifrit are more tolerant than others,”
Joseph observed.

“You have presents?” Samir asked.

“You have witnessed my gifts yourself,”
Joseph said calmly.

Elyse interpreted this to mean he didn’t have
the sort of “presents” Samir referred to. Samir seemed to reach the
same conclusion. His smoke face formed a clear frown. “All guests
need presents.”

“Not all presents are things.”

Samir’s yellow gaze slid to Elyse again.
“
She
would make a good present.”

Arcadius’s broad back tensed beneath her
palm. Sensing this wasn’t the time for a lecture on women’s lib,
Elyse held her tongue.

“Samir,” Joseph said, drawing the ifrit’s
attention his way again. “You let us worry about our guest gifts.
Can you discharge your debt to us or not?”

Samir looked longingly toward his waiting
plastic horse. It sat on the sand now, a perfectly ordinary
slightly old-fashioned toy.

“Oh, my God,” Elyse blurted. “That’s Melanie
Turner’s old rocking horse! I stored it in the basement after she
died, in case her mother returned for it.”

“
My
horse,” Samir said fiercely.

His voice hissed like a fiery wind. Elyse
blinked and shut up.

“Yes, it’s your horse,” Joseph soothed. “Our
companion has no wish to reclaim it.”

Elyse supposed she didn’t. Melanie’s mother
had moved away years ago. “You
have
made it beautiful,” she
said.

Samir regarded her slightly less hostilely.
“I also made it fast.”

“Impressively so,” she agreed.

This compliment warmed him even more. “The
little girl’s pain from her illness is still inside it. I haven’t
drunk it all up yet.”

Elyse didn’t know what to say to that. She
hoped her face wasn’t horrified.

“So we’re all agreed,” Joseph said smoothly.
“The horse is yours, and your debt to us will be discharged once
you provide us an introduction to an honorable tribe of
nomads.”

Samir thought this over. “Agreed.” He mounted
his plastic steed. “Follow me,” he threw over his shoulder.

They followed at a necessarily slower place,
their feet shushing through the seemingly endless sand. Though
their guide soon grew distant, neither Arcadius nor Joseph appeared
concerned that he would ditch them.

Arcadius rubbed her arm before taking her
hand in his. Elyse wasn’t sure he knew he’d done it. His manner was
preoccupied. She felt preoccupied herself. She was in the desert of
the djinn. She’d been magically transported. If the sand hadn’t
been such a chore to trudge through, she’d have concluded she was
dreaming.

Arcadius’s steps slowed unexpectedly. “You
understood Samir,” he said to her.

Elyse’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t I supposed
to?”

“He spoke our language. I’ve heard being
around djinn helps humans comprehend our tongue. I guess Joseph and
I have rubbed off on you.”

“Handy. I don’t suppose you could teach me
French that way.”

He smiled absently, his attention moving to
other things. “What shall we do about a guest gift?” he asked
Joseph.

“Hope his sorcerers aren’t as powerful as me.
I expect I can provide some service he’ll appreciate.”

“Assuming you’re willing to provide it.”

“Assuming,” Joseph agreed.

“Guys,” Elyse said. “Are we in trouble
here?”

“No,” Arcadius denied at the same time Joseph
said, “Not exactly.”

Elyse coughed out a little laugh. She looked
at Arcadius. “You said before that ifrits are demons among your
kind.”

“I also said they aren’t necessarily
evil.”

“They aren’t necessarily good,” Joseph felt
compelled to put in.

“Ifrits don’t love God,” Arcadius explained.
“They believe in Him, because that’s hardwired into all djinn, but
they don’t obey His laws. They’re also . . . sensitive about
humans.”

“You mentioned your people believe God raised
humans above the djinn, and that He ordered you to bow down to
them.”

“That is correct.”

“So basically,” Elyse said, “it’s like Uncle
Vince’s resentment of Grandpa Saul on steroids. Grandpa Saul played
favorites, and Vince couldn’t get along with my dad because of it.
I’m human, and a woman, and these tribesmen aren’t going to want to
play nice with me.”

Arcadius’s sigh was a reluctant
admission.

“There is one thing we can count on,” Joseph
said, clearly trying to inject a little optimism into the
discussion. “Only the most degenerate djinn wouldn’t observe the
rules of hospitality. These will be higher-level ifrits than Samir.
If we can get an invitation to break bread with them, we’ll be safe
until the next sunset.”

“Except we probably need a present to get the
invitation.”

Neither of the men denied this.

“I should have grabbed our briefcase,” Joseph
said, shaking his head in irritation. “Even if I was being sucked
into a lamp, emeralds are always suitable.”

They didn’t have emeralds. They had the
clothes on their backs and the shoes on their feet . . . and the
things in their pockets.

“What about my Swiss army knife?” she
suggested, remembering the gleam that had lit the men’s eyes when
she brought it out. “It’s the SwissChamp model. It has thirty-three
implements. If I were a nomad, I’d want one.”

“Hm,” Arcadius said. “That might do. I doubt
a nomad will have seen one before. Novelty is a great
temptation.”

“I recall it’s a little plain,” Joseph said,
“but if we blinged it up . . .” He stopped walking to look at her.
“Would you be willing to give me your wedding ring as well?”

“Uh,” she said, taken aback. Despite
everything that had happened, she felt wrenched by the idea. “I . .
. guess so. Under the circumstances, I don’t actually need it.”

“I’ll give you a new one.” Arcadius blushed
as soon as he said the words, obviously still embarrassed about his
kind but unnecessary warning that he wasn’t in love with her. “I
mean I’ll supply another to replace it.”

“I know what you meant,” she assured him.

Amusement cured her niggling reluctance. She
slipped the ring off her finger and handed it to Joseph. The Swiss
army knife took longer to twist free of her key ring.

When he had both, he cupped them between his
hands. He closed his eyes, furrowed his brow, and whispered a quick
prayer. Light flared behind his fingers, turning their edges red.
He opened his palms. Elyse leaned forward to see the outcome.

“Ooh,” she said. Her old army knife was
better than new. It was—as Joseph had said—“blinged up.” He’d used
the gold from her ring to plate all the steel gadgets, which no
longer had a scratch on them. The diamond sparkled brighter than
she remembered, replacing the Victorinox cross-in-a-shield logo.
“Now
that
would be any handygirl’s best friend.”

“I only polished it up a bit,” Joseph said
modestly.

“It’s very good,” Arcadius praised. “No
djinni could resist it.”