The Forbidden Wish (21 page)

The prince calls the soldiers to himself, and they run from the temple.

Just like that, all comes undone.

T
HE DAY PASSES
IN A BLUR.

Sulifer meets with members of the council. There are many hushed conversations in the shadows of the corridors. I don't listen. I withdraw utterly into myself, cowering in my lamp, the darkness around me filled with whispers.

This is your fault.

You failed him.

You've killed him.

I don't try to block out the words, because I know they are true. This is the price of Aladdin's second wish, the wish
I
convinced him to make. The price of every lie is that the truth will always come out. I knew that, I knew it, and yet I still led him into it. And for what? Where is Zhian? Where is my freedom? Why am I still bound to my lamp? Like a smith with a lump of twisted metal, I begin forging my fear into anger. Sooner or later, Sulifer will have to call me from the lamp. When he does, I don't know what I'll do,
Habiba. But I have to do
something
. I can't just let them execute Aladdin.

Later that night, when Sulifer is alone in his rooms, poring over a map on his desk, a knock sounds at the door, and Darian enters. I stir from my black fog to listen.

“Well?” Sulifer rises from his desk. “Where is Caspida?”

Darian hesitates a moment, then says softly, “She's gone. We scoured the palace, but there wasn't a sign of her or her girls. We believe they fled into the lower city, and the guards will be searching all night.”

Without a word, Sulifer steps forward and backhands him, sending Darian reeling into the wall. He freezes there, his back to his father, clutching the stones as if trying to melt into them.

“
Failure
,” hisses the vizier. His entire being transforms, as if he has shed his mask of composure to reveal the true man beneath. “I give you every chance in the world to make something of yourself, and you bring me failure!”

“I found the lamp!” says Darian defensively, turning around.

Sulifer grabs the front of his coat and backhands him repeatedly. “Do not talk back to me, boy! You failed to bring the lamp to me the first time. You failed to wed the princess. You failed to bring her to me.” With each statement his blows grow harder, until blood spurts from Darian's nose. Only then does his father release him, and Darian stumbles away, holding his sleeve to his face.

“Well?” Sulifer snarls.

A bit dazed, Darian drops to his knees and lowers his head. “Thank you, Father,” he says miserably.

“Thank you for
what
?”

“For disciplining me in my youth. I hear and receive your admonishment.” The words are rote, flat. He has said them
many times, I suspect, and the feeling has long been sucked out of them.

“Get up,” says Sulifer in disgust. “I can't stand to look at you, groveling like a peasant.”

Darian rises silently, wiping his nose, as his father draws out the lamp. I cower inside, pulling in my senses, letting the room go dark. I want no part of this. I wish I were back in the cave. I wish Sulifer would call me forth and make his wishes and be done with me. What is he waiting for?

“Where is the thief?” Sulifer growls.

“In the dungeon, like you asked,” replies Darian softly.

“Good,” Sulifer grunts, his fingers drumming the side of the lamp. The sound is deafening, reverberating through me. “The boy shows more initiative and strength than you ever have.”

“Let me have an hour with him. We'll see how his
strength
holds out,” says Darian bitterly.

“Don't be base. We do not act out of such petty pursuits as revenge, as if we were common rabble. Now leave me and go search for Caspida. Look everywhere—she's a sly one, like her mother was. Do
not
fail me again.”

“But—”

“Leave
.
”
The vizier's voice sinks to a sibilant whisper, and Darian slinks away.

Once his son is gone, Sulifer devotes his full attention to the lamp. He leans against a pillar and turns it over, like a man flirting before going in for a kiss, desire and triumph rolling off him in stifling waves.

“I have you at last,” he sighs. “Let us meet face to face.”

He rubs the lamp, slow and measured. I have no choice but to respond.

I pour from the lamp in a thin stream, spiraling and coiling my way to the floor, where I gather like a fine mist. I shift to cobra and rise, eyes glowering, until I am high as his waist, and then I shift again to girl, scales turning to skin, tail into legs, hood into hair. Black silk studded with diamond flecks drapes over my form, and I feel a weight on my hip, where Aladdin's ring rests in a hidden pocket. I dress myself with the night and stare at him with eyes as dark and hollow as the spaces between the stars.

“I am the jinni of the lamp,” I intone. “Tell me your wishes three, that I may grant them and be rid of you.”

His eyes feast on me. He takes his time replying, circling me while I stand rigid. As if to prove that I am real, he reaches out and strokes my hair, then trails his fingers down my cheek. I resist the urge to shudder, and when his fingers stray too close, I snap at them with tiger fangs, my teeth closing on empty air.

Quick as a striking snake he slaps me.

The pain is sharp but fades quickly. I shift at once to a black leopard, snarling and crouched. I cannot hurt him, but I spring anyway, all rage and fangs.

I am thrown back at once, before I ever touch him, skidding away across the floor to land in a heap against the wall. I lose my form, shifting to smoke in an effort to shed the pain that comes from the magical rebuff.

“I have read of your kind,” says Sulifer, watching me pitilessly. “I know all about your vile tricks and treachery. Fiend of fire, hear me well:
I rule you
. Attempt to cross me and you will suffer for it.”

“And I know of you.” Re-forming into a girl, I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what you want. You dream of raising up the great Amulen Empire from the ashes of the past, when your people ruled
all the lands from the east to the west. You want to be conqueror and emperor.” I walk to his desk and spread my hands on his map, the parchment crinkling beneath my palms. Sulifer moves to stand behind me, watching with silent intensity.

“When Roshana ruled from the great city of Neruby,” I say, “it was said no man could reach the edge of her dominion if he rode for a year and never stopped. There were more cities in her empire than there are stars in the sky.” I turn to him. “I can give you anything in this world, Vizier. I can deliver you the nations. And I will do it gladly . . . if you'll only stop Aladdin's execution.”

He laughs, a small, contained sound, but coming from him it seems the height of hilarity. “You'll help me whether you like it or not. I believe that's the whole
point
of you.”

Bristling, I snatch the map and rip it in two, letting the pieces drift to the floor. “Then you're a fool! Say your wishes, and let's see how well they work out for you! I've destroyed smarter men than you with their own words.”

His face hardens, put on guard by my threat.

“But if you free Aladdin,” I say more gently, “I will not twist your wishes. I will serve you in both deed and spirit.”

He pulls the chair from the desk and sits, his fingers strumming thoughtfully on his knee as he watches me. I stand, hands spread, waiting for his reply like the condemned awaiting her sentence.

“No,” he says, and he gives me a small smile.

My hands curl into fists, and I grow as heavy as if I were made of marble, rooted to the ground. I can see no mercy, no room for bargaining in his eyes. I have known a thousand and one men like this, Habiba, and I know that he takes pleasure in my pain.

“Then make your wish,” I say in a flat tone, my eyes half lidded.

He leans forward, his gaze fervent. “I wish for all the jinn to bow to me, calling me lord and obeying my every command.”

Holding his breath, he waits, eyes glowing.

I almost want to laugh, but my spirit is still too heavy, so I simply sigh. “I told you I can give you anything in
this
world. The jinn are not of this world, and so they are not in my power to give.”

Sulifer's face transforms. He is again the man who beat his son, who watched his niece defy him from her father's throne. His fury is a swelling wave, dark and deep, rushing like a juggernaut to shore. I can see it getting larger and nearer in his eyes.

And then the wave breaks.

He bursts from his chair, face red. He raises a hand to strike me, but I dance away, shifting to smoke and rendering him powerless to touch me. So instead, he grabs an inkwell from his desk and hurls it against the wall. Black, oily liquid splatters everywhere.

“You cannot subjugate the jinn,” I say, re-forming behind him. “Do you think Nardukha would be so stupid as to let such things happen? You're hardly the first human to try it, and you won't be the last.”

I get some small satisfaction from seeing his frustration. Sulifer sits back in his chair to stroke his beard. The wave of anger recedes, falling back into the sea, until once again he is still and cool.

“No matter,” he says, a tremor still in his voice like an angry tic. “There are other ways.”

He falls silent for a moment, his fingers tapping and his gaze distant as he thinks. Then he picks up the lamp and slams it onto the desk.

“Back inside, jinni. I need to think.”

I am almost glad to return to my lamp. There I can sink into a fugue, trying to numb myself to the guilt and terror poisoning my
spirit. He sits for some time by the light of a single candle, staring into the shadows and thinking hard.

Then, at last, he calls me out again. I hover before him, little more than a shadow myself, and wait.

“I wish to possess an army,” he begins, “more numerous than the stars, invincible to any and all forces either of Ambadya or of this world, able to overcome any enemy, requiring no sleep, food, or water, and obedient to my every command.”

Slowly my form solidifies, until I'm a girl in black robes, and I breathe in the magic of Sulifer's wish. His will is like water, patient and persistent, dark and cool. It fills me up until I am leaking with it.

His eyes glitter in the candlelight as I walk past him, toward the balcony adjoining his rooms. It looks out to the palace gardens and the dark hills to the north. This night is blacker than most, with no moon to grace the sky. But the stars are visible, perhaps brighter for the deepened darkness.

The vizier follows me out, watching closely, as if suspicious I will betray him. He need not worry. I will grant his wish, every word of it.

“There is only one thing more numerous than the stars,” I say, looking up to the heavens. “And that is the darkness that holds them.”

I open my hands, palms up, and let the magic flow through me. It spreads and grows and thickens, dark and quiet as oil flowing across glass. In the gardens, in the hills, on the walls around the palace, shapes take form. Shadows with the aspect of men, a hundred, a thousand, a million, more. They grow and then stand, staring around with eyes inky black. Wherever there is darkness, there stands a shadow man, gripping a shadow spear and a shadow shield. They are barely visible at all, for they are the night itself.

A guard patrolling the northern wall stops, blinking at the gloom, uncertain if his eyes are playing tricks on him. He waves the torch he carries, but the shadows only slip behind him.

Sulifer is watching him.

“I give you an army of shadows, O Master,” I say to the vizier. Exhausted from the effort, I lean on the balcony rail. “And here is how you will call them. Once to summon, twice to dismiss.”

I hold out a hand, and on it forms a black ram's horn hung on a strap of leather. Sulifer takes it, almost reverently. He runs his hands along its curling length, then puts the smaller end to his lips and blows. A deep, rich note sounds across the palace grounds, and the guards on the wall look around in confusion. At the call, all the shadow men turn and stare up at Sulifer, waiting.

“Give them a command,” I say.

He licks his lips, then starts when a shadow man appears at his elbow. The vizier looks the soldier up and down and cannot help but smile.

“Kill that guard,” he says, pointing at the man on the wall.

The shadow vanishes, and in less than a moment, a scream goes up below. The guard howls as a black spear cores him, then disappears, and he drops to his knees. His scream cuts off then, and he falls heavily.

Sulifer laughs.

“This is perfect!” he says. “This is—this is even better than the jinn!”

He turns to me, triumph bright in his eyes. “This is a force to conquer the world.”

“Yes, O Master,” I reply.

He turns back to the waiting shadows and blows his horn twice, and the shadow men vanish, sinking back into the darkness from
which they were born. Twice more Sulifer summons and dismisses the shadow army, until he is satisfied no trickery is afoot.

“Well done, jinni,” he says at last. I can see he is more pleased with himself than with me. He spent hours thinking of that wish, checking it for any cracks or loopholes.

I'll admit, it's a fairly solid wish, as wishes go.

Sulifer turns to go inside, and I linger, looking around at the shadows that wait to spring to the vizier's bidding.

When he commands me back to my lamp, I go with a bitter smile.

•   •   •

It is one hour before dawn and Aladdin's execution.

Sulifer is fast asleep, the lamp resting beside his pillow. I drift smokily inside it, indistinct, unhappy fog, until I suddenly hear footsteps in the room. Four guards stand at the entrance to his chambers, but these steps come from the direction of the window, below which is a three-story drop.

Curious, I stir and slide against the walls of the lamp, feeling for the intruder. The footsteps draw closer, soft and slow, and a thrill runs through me when I recognize Caspida. Perhaps all is not lost.