“A prison for djinn?” Matt scoffed. “Maybe in a city, maybe in Persia where there are cities thousands of years old—but in Tartary, far out in the midst of the central plains, where their idea of a city is a collection of tents?”
Gasim blanched. “How did you know where the babies are?”
“We didn’t.” Matt grinned. “It was just a guess. But we do know now. How about the two mortal babies with them?”
“What about them?” Gasim frowned.
Matt’s spirits soared—Pay dirt! But he kept his poker face on. “Oh, sure! Sure you’ve got four full-sized babies in there together! And what’s keeping the kids alive? They have a prison spacious enough for a wet nurse, too?”
“Fool!” the sorcerer spat. “Do you think we would risk the death of such valuable hostages?”
Matt almost went limp with relief, but he forced himself to stay upright and sarcastic. “Why not? You’re going to kill them anyway. Their parents will never let Evil conquer the world just to save their babies.”
Doubt flickered in the sorcerer’s eyes, but he said, “If their parents do not go back to their homeland as they promised, we will slay one of the infants. We will not have to slay the boy.”
The thought of his baby daughter dead turned Matt’s stomach so much he almost collapsed then and there—almost. “So you’re keeping them alive by magic.”
“Of course,” Gasim said, his sneer comfortably back in place. “Do you really need to have this explained, foolish one? The prison itself provides for them.” Then Gasim frowned, suddenly realizing they had stayed on the topic for an unusual amount of time. “Why are you so concerned with these babes?”
“It could be simple professional curiosity,” Matt hedged.
“Or it could be because he is the father of two of them,” Balkis snapped, “and the djinna we can summon is the mother of the other two.”
Gasim’s face convulsed with terror, but as quickly turned back into a sneer. “Oh, verily! A princess of the Marid will come at your beck and call!”
“So he knows which djinn babies they are, too,” Matt said softly.
“You are too patient,” Balkis snapped. “Let us find a quicker way to learn all he knows.” She lifted the wand.
Gasim cringed away, but started gesturing and rattling out an Arabic verse.
Matt laid a hand on Balkis’ arm. “No, I think it’ll be more speedy to let him meet the worried mother.”
Gasim broke off his verse as a whirlwind sprang up to tower over him. He cringed, covering his head with his arms. The whirlwind shrank down to the size of a dust-devil, its winds slowing until its dust dropped away, revealing Lakshmi, human-sized, slowing in her final pirouette. The sorcerer cried out in terror, trying to scramble away.
Lakshmi jumped to conclusions and advanced on him, blood in her eye.
“No!” Matt cried. “He can’t tell you much if he’s in pieces!”
“True,” Lakshmi said, “but if he knows aught of my children, be sure he shall speak.” She darted forward, zagging when Gasim zigged, and held him up by the back of his collar. Gasim writhed, his neckline digging into his windpipe, his face turning an interesting shade of mauve.
“All he knows is hearsay,” Matt said quickly. “Right, Balkis? … Balkis?” He looked about, in a sudden panic because the girl had disappeared. Then he thought to look down, and sure enough, there sat a small black-and-white cat with a brown nose and chin. Matt remembered the mud and was sure who she was. “Great! So you’ll have to take it all on my word!”
“I trust you,” Lakshmi said, “now.” She regarded the wriggling sorcerer. “What does he know?”
“Uh, you’ll never hear it if he chokes to death.”
Lakshmi turned to him, frowning. “But he cannot utter spells if his throat is pinched!”
“True, but he can’t breathe, either,” Matt pointed out. “Let him down and ask him, okay? You can always kill him later, if you don’t like his answers.”
“I will like the truth!” Lakshmi dropped the man into a pitiful heap. “Or, more to the point, I will accept the truth whether I like it or not, and let him live!”
Gasim rolled to his knees, groveling. “Spare me, O Fairest of the Fair! I abjure Ahriman and all his lies! From this moment forth I shall speak only truth, and devote myself to Ahura Mazda all my days!”
Rumbling sounded all about them, and the ground trembled. Matt fell, but Lakshmi dropped to her knees, digging her hands down through the grass into the soil, and chanted a verse in Arabic—a long verse, but the longer it went on, the less the ground shook. When the earthquake stopped, the djinna came to her feet again, dusting her hands. “That was partly magic and partly prayer—to Allah, the Source and Creator of all. Your conception of Ahura Mazda is but an imperfect understanding of the One God. Still, through the mirror of your Lord of Light, you do look upon the True God. If you seek safety from Shaitan—no matter that you call him Ahriman—if you seek safety, I say, surrender yourself to Allah, and testify that there is no god but God, and that Mohammed is His prophet!”
“I … I will surrender, as you say,” Gasim gasped, staring
up at her in awe.
Lakshmi’s severity seemed to lessen a bit. “Then you shall be safe from the Prince of Lies and his works. Tell me now, unworthy one, what you know of my children.”
“I … only know what I have heard from the high priest of Ahriman, here in Baghdad, O Marid,” Gasim babbled. “The babes are hidden away together, in a place known only to Arjasp the high priest. That is all my master told me!”
Lakshmi was silent for minutes, and Gasim began to tremble again. At last the djinna reached out and prodded him with a toe, none too gently. “Would we learn more if we gave him a bit of pain?”
“No!” yelped the former sorcerer. “I have foresworn Ahriman and his lying ways!”
“I don’t think he did know anything more,” Matt agreed. “He was too quick to boast. If he’d had anything else to bargain with, he would have used it then.”
Lakshmi glowered down at the miserable ball of a man. He glanced up, saw her expression, gasped, and buried his face again.
“I think I shall let him live,” the djinna said, “but I cannot speak for my husband. Go, man, and go quickly, as far from this place as you can!”
“I—I go, Princess!” Gasim scrambled to his feet and backed away, bowing. “Ever shall I acclaim your mercy! Ever shall I pray that you prosper! Ever shall I—”
“Ever shall you go, and speak of the mercy of Allah wherever you find yourself!” Lakshmi snapped. “Begone!”
Gasim gulped down his last thank-you and fled.
Lakshmi watched him go. “How long do you think his conversion will last?”
“Ordinarily, I would have said until he made it back into the city, and among the barbarians again,” Matt said judiciously, “but considering the fright you gave him, I have a notion he’ll bypass Baghdad and keep on going until he comes to a mosque that hasn’t been desecrated. I think this is one conversion that will last, Princess.”
“Will he be able to stop wandering?” asked a mewing voice.
Lakshmi looked down. “Are you there, little friend?” She considered. “Perhaps not. I may have cursed him with lifelong fleeing. If so, he may count himself lightly punished.” She looked more closely at the little cat and frowned. “What has happened to your face?”
The cat stared back at her. “I do not know. What has?”
“Just a little accident,” Matt explained to Balkis. “You didn’t get all the mud off. It’s a problem that has a very simple solution, the next time you change back to a human.”