Cimorene smiled slightly. Alianora had apparently gone through with her plan to tell Hallanna about Cimorene's "twisted ankle," and Hallanna had decided to improve the story a little in hopes of reducing the competition.
"Somebody must have gotten mixed up," Cimorene said gently. "You can stop worrying. I'm fine. Is that all you came for? These jars are getting heavy, and I've got work to do."
"Cimorene, we have to talk," Therandil said in a heavy, deep voice.
"Then we'll have to do it while I work," Cimorene declared. She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen, full of annoyance. She had been feeling almost friendly toward Therandil-he had been worried about her, after all-until he said he wanted to talk. Cimorene was quite sure that what he wanted to talk about was rescuing her, and she was annoyed with him for being so stupidly stubborn and annoyed with herself for being annoyed when he was only trying to do the best he could.
Therandil followed her into the kitchen. "What's all that?" he asked as Cimorene put the apron full of jars on the kitchen table and began lining them up.
"Some things I'm checking for Kazul," Cimorene said. She picked up a small jar made of carved jade and pried the lid off. It was half full of green salve. Cimorene put the lid back on and set the jar aside.
"What was it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, reaching for another jar.
"You. Dragons. Us. That looks interesting. Can I help?"
"As long as you don't break anything," Cimorene said. "Some of these are very fragile." Maybe opening jars would make him forget about You.
Dragons. Us, for a while.
"I'll be very careful," Therandil assured her. "This one looks like metal. I'll start with that, shall I?" He picked up one of the larger jars, made of beaten copper with two handles. He frowned at the top, then reached for his dagger, and as he tilted the jar, Cimorene saw that the neck was stopped up with lead.
"Not that one!" she said quickly. She didn't remember picking out that particular jar. It must have been one of the last four or five that she'd scooped up when she heard Therandil calling.
"Why not?" Therandil said, sounding rather hurt. "I said I'd be careful."
The tip of his dagger was already embedded in the lead.
"Kazul said to leave the ones with lead stoppers alone," Cimorene said.
"So put it back."
"If you insist," Therandil said, shrugging. He pulled on his dagger, but it was stuck fast in the lead. "Drat!" he said, and twisted the handle. The dagger came free, and the lead stopper came along with it.
"I should have known," Cimorene said in a resigned tone.
A black cloud of smoke poured out of the jar. As Cimorene and Therandil watched, it condensed into a dark-skinned giant wearing only a turban and a loincloth. He was more than twice as tall as Therandil, and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a stern frown.
"What is it?" whispered Therandil.
"Trouble," said Cimorene.
"Thou speakest truly, O Daughter of Wisdom," said the giant in a booming voice that filled the cave. "For I am a jinn, who was imprisoned in that jar, and I am the instrument of thy death and that of thy paramour."
"My what?" Cimorene said, outraged.
"Thy lover," the jinn said uncomfortably. "The man who stands beside thee."
"I know what you meant," Cimorene said. "But he isn't my lover, or my fiance, or my boyfriend or anything, and I refuse to be killed with him."
"But Cimorene, you know perfectly well-" Therandil started.
"You hush," Cimorene said. "You've made enough of a mess already."
"If he is not thy paramour, nor any of those other things, then what is he?" the jinn asked suspiciously.
"A nuisance," Cimorene said succinctly.
"Cimorene, you're not being very kind," Therandil said.
"What he is matters not," the jinn said grandly after a moment's heavy thought. "It is enough that thou and he shall die."
"Enough for whom?" Cimorene said.
The jinn blinked at her. "For me. "Tis my will that thou and he shall die by my hand. Thou hast but to choose the manner of thy death."
"Old age," Cimorene said promptly.
"Mock me not! Thou and he shall die, and by my hand, ere this day draws to its close!" the jinn cried.
"Do you suppose he means it?" Therandil said nervously.
"Why would he keep bellowing it at us if he didn't mean it?"
Cimorene said. "Do be quiet, Therandil."
Therandil lowered his voice. "Should I offer to fight him, do you think?"
"Don't be silly," Cimorene said. She saw that Therandil was distressed, so she added, "You came up here to fight a dragon. You aren't prepared for a jinn, and nobody could reasonably expect you to challenge "If you say so," Therandil said, looking relieved.
Cimorene turned back to the jinn and saw that he, too, was looking perturbed. "What's the matter with you?" she said crossly.
"Dost thou not wish to know why I will kill thee?" the jinn asked plaintively.
"What difference does it make?" Cimorene said.
"Yes, actually," Therandil said at the same time.
"Therandil!" Cimorene said in exasperation. "Shut up!"
"Hear my story, O luckless pair!" the jinn said with evident relief.
"I am one of those jinn who did rebel against the law of our kind, and for my crimes I was sentenced to imprisonment in this bottle until the day should come when human hands would loose me. As is the custom of my people, I swore that whoso should release me during the first hundred years of my imprisonment I would make ruler of the earth; whoso should release me during the second hundred years I should make rich beyond all dreams of men; whoso shall release me during the third hundred I should grant three wishes; and whoso should release me after any longer span of time I should grant only the choice of what death he would die."
"You're going to kill us because it's traditional?" Cimorene asked.
"Yes," the jinn said. His eyes slid away from Cimorene's, and she frowned suddenly.
"Just how long were you in that jar?" she demanded.
"Uh, well, actually…" The jinn's voice trailed off.
"How long?" Cimorene insisted.
"Two hundred and seventeen years," the jinn admitted. "But nobody ever releases a jinn before the three hundred years are over."
"You're trying to get around your oath!" Therandil said, plainly shocked by the very thought. "You pretended you had to kill us so you wouldn't have to give us the wishes!"
"No!" the jinn said. "Thinkest thou that the granting of wishes alone would so trouble me? Needs must I kill thee and thy fair companion, for I cannot return home and say that thou didst release me and I left thee living! I would be a laughingstock. Never in three thousand years has such a thing occurred"
"Then you shouldn't have sworn an oath," Therandil said sternly.
"I had to!" the jinn said miserably. "It is the custom of our kind.
'Twould be… 'twould be…"
"Improper?" Cimorene murmured.
"'Twould be improper to do otherwise," the jinn said, nodding. "But now thou hast found me out, and what am I to do? If I kill thee, it will violate my oath; if I kill thee not, the remainder of my life will be a torment."
"You could go back in the jar for another eighty-three years," Cimorene suggested delicately.
"I could… go back?" The jinn blinked at her for a moment. "I could go back. I could go back!"
"And in eighty-three years we'll both be dead of old age," Cimorene said. "Since that was my choice of death, your oath will be fulfilled and you can go straight home without killing anyone else or giving them any riches or power or anything."