“In case of what?”
“Sleepiness.”
“I can scarce credit that,” Balkis said.
“I know the feeling,” Matt said. “My credit used to be pretty scarce, too. But it can’t hurt to try.”
Within twenty paces Balkis said in surprise, “I do begin to feel somewhat drowsy!”
“Keep that incense close to the nose,” Matt told her.
“But it is so unpleasant a scent, when it is all in a lump like this!”
“That’s what we need,” Matt told her. Then inspiration struck. “It shouldn’t bother you—I’ve known cats to make much more unpleasant scents.”
Balkis bridled instantly. “There is no need, when we are properly cared for!”
“What ‘we’?” Matt taunted. “You’re a human at the moment.”
“Once a cat, always a cat,” Balkis insisted. “There will ever be much of the feline in me, and when I am in cat-guise, there will always be much of the woman!”
“Then how come toms don’t stay half man?”
“Toms are disgusting! If you wish to blame cats for bad smells, there are your culprits!”
“Yeah, well, at least they do their jobs and catch mice and chase squirrels.”
“Do you mean to imply that I do not do my share of work?” Balkis spat. “Must I recite for you all I have done to save you and help find your kittens?”
“No, you don’t,” Matt said, “and I’m sorry if I’ve given offense.”
Balkis stared, caught flat-footed by the apology. Then she asked, “Why did you make such insults, then?”
“To get us through that field of poppies,” Matt said.
Balkis kept staring at him, then whirled to look back and see the broad sweep of flowers behind them.
“It’s harder to fall asleep when you’re angry,” Matt explained.
Balkis turned to him, a touch more respect in her gaze now. “You are devious.”
“Shh!” Matt pressed a finger to his lips. “I don’t think we should say that word here.”
“What? De … Why not?” It was the student hungry for knowledge who asked now.
“Because of where the word came from. I’ll explain later.” Matt had just realized that devious might come from daeva, the old Persian word for a demon. “Into the woods, okay?”
They went in among the trees and managed a whole four paces before tentacles came snaking out from the roots of the trees to grab their ankles.
“Hold on!” Matt threw an arm around Balkis to keep his feet from being pulled out from under him. She leaned on him, too, managing to stay on her feet. Matt kicked his right foot against the left ankle. Something screeched off in the trees and the tentacles loosened. He kicked his left foot free and snapped the heel against the tentacles on his right foot. A muffled howl sounded off to his right, and the tentacles let go. Matt turned and started tromping on the tentacles holding Balkis. He kicked them off, turned and started them back on the path—and jerked to a stop. He didn’t even need to look down; he knew that new tentacles had grabbed their ankles, and he could see many, many more writhing over the forest path ahead.
“We must work magic,” Balkis said, her voice trembling.
“Right you are,” Matt said. “I don’t think a cat would have any better luck with this than a human.”
Balkis shivered within his arm.
Matt recited,
The tentacles unwrapped from their ankles in a snap and shot back into the trees like window shades pulled and let go. Cries of dismay echoed all around.
“Come on.” Matt hurried Balkis forward. “Let’s get out of this wood before they learn how to unroll themselves!”
But a dozen steps later Balkis cried out and pointed downward. Looking at the trail, Matt saw the prints of two pairs of tiny slippers.
“The djinn twins!” he exclaimed with relief.
“But how did they pass that gamut of grasping tentacles?” Balkis wondered.
“I don’t think they did.” Matt frowned ahead along the trail, seeing the little footprints leading away. “I think the grabbers were positioned here after the children had gone through. The point was to keep them in, not to catch them.”
“But they will do quite well to prevent rescue?”
“Not all that well,” Matt said, starting forward again. “Useless against any adult with magic—and no other kind could have come in here. You watch the trail, lass—I’ll watch the trees.”
Balkis shivered again. “I had not thought … but of course, where there was one sort of monster …”
“There could be others. Yes.” Matt scanned the greenery to either side. “No sign of any yet, but—”
“There are more!”
“Where?” Matt looked about frantically.
“More footprints, I mean! See! Another trail joins this!”
Looking down, Matt saw that the track forked; another pair of small footprints had come down the side trail to mingle with those of the twins’. Both wore round-toed shoes such as Western babies wore. One pair was the same size as the twins, but the other was considerably larger.
“A three-year-old and a six-year-old!” Matt went weak with relief. “My kids! Alive and well!”
“Pray Heaven,” Balkis murmured.
They hurried on down the path, but after a few minutes Balkis began to slow.
Matt slackened his pace impatiently. “What’s the matter?”
“My … loins.” Balkis blushed. “There is some … irritation …”
“Just sweat,” Matt said. “Pardon me, perspiration. I hate to be heartless, but please keep going.”
“I shall … try …” But Balkis went slower and slower, turning redder and redder. “It grows quite painful.”
“I know it’s asking a lot, but …” Then Matt began to feel it, a burning in his loins. “What the hey? Excuse me a sec.” He stepped into the trees, unlaced, looked, and stared. Then he pulled himself together and went back to the path. “I see what you mean.”
“What could it be?”
“If we weren’t both adults, I’d say it was—” Matt broke off. As a father, the adventures of watching a child work his way through diapers and training pants into miniature adult wear were very fresh. Facts clicked together, and he exclaimed, “Diaper rash!”
“Nappies?” Balkis asked, wide-eyed. “But I certainly do not wear them!”
“Neither do I, but the hazards of this route aren’t geared to adults! They’re the kinds of obstacles that children want to avoid, very young children—having to go to sleep when you don’t want to, the Monster Under the Bed, and now diaper rash!”
“We must recite another spell,” Balkis said.
Matt thought of infections, but also thought of the kinds of childhood monsters that could come out of a woods like this, and found he had nothing with which to meet them. “Don’t have much choice, do we? This is one place where we don’t want to be slowed down.” He tried to remember the commercials he hadn’t paid much attention to, back in his own universe when marriage was only an unapproachable goal due to a dearth of the main requirement—i.e., a woman in love with him. One particularly annoying jingle surfaced: