Castle in the Air Read online

  Abdullah gave in and scrambled about, tearing up strong-smelling shrubs to burn. An eagle or something had nested in the crags above long ago. The old nest gave Abdullah armloads of twigs and quite a few dry branches, so that he soon had quite a stack of firewood. When the soldier had finished smearing himself with the salve, he brought out a tinderbox and lit a small fire halfway down the sloping rock. It crackled and leaped most cheerfully. The smoke, smelling rather like the incense Abdullah used to burn in his booth, drifted out from the end of the ravine and spread against the beginnings of a glorious sunset. If this really scared the beast in the cave off, Abdullah thought, it would be almost perfect here. Only almost perfect, because of course, there was nothing to eat for miles. Abdullah sighed.

  The soldier produced a metal can from his pack. “Like to fill that with water? Unless,” he said, eyeing the genie bottle tied to Abdullah’s belt, “you’ve got something stronger in that flask of yours.”

  “Alas, no,” Abdullah said. “It is merely an heirloom—rare fogged glass from Singispat—which I carry for sentimental reasons.” He had no intention of letting someone as dishonest as the soldier know about the genie.

  “Pity,” said the soldier. “Fetch us water then, and I’ll get on with cooking us some supper.”

  This made the place almost nearly perfect. Abdullah went leaping down to the stream with a will. When he came back, he found the soldier had brought out a saucepan and was emptying packets of dried meat and dried peas into it. He added the water and a couple of mysterious cubes and set it to boil on the fire. In a remarkably short time it had turned into a thick stew. And smelled delicious.

  “More wizard’s stuff?” Abdullah asked as the soldier shared half the stew onto a tin plate and passed it to him.

  “I think so,” said the soldier. “I picked it up off the battlefield.” He took the saucepan to eat from himself and found a couple of spoons. They sat eating companionably with the fire crackling between them, while the sky turned slowly pink and crimson and gold, and the lands below became blue. “Not used to roughing it, are you?” the soldier remarked. “Good clothes, fancy boots, you have, but they’ve seen a bit of wear and tear lately by the looks of them. And by your talk and your sunburn, you come from quite a way south of Ingary, don’t you?”

  “All that is true, O most acutely observant campaigner,” Abdullah said cagily. “And of you all I know is that you come from Strangia and are most oddly proceeding through this land, encouraging persons to rob you by flourishing the coins of your bounty—”

  “Bounty be damned!” the soldier interrupted angrily. “Not one penny did I get from either Strangia or Ingary! I sweated my guts out in those wars—we all did—and at the end of it they say, ‘Right, lads, that’s it, it’s peacetime now!’ and turn us all out to starve. So I say to myself, ‘Right indeed! Someone owes me for all the work I’ve done, and I reckon it’s the folk of Ingary! They were the ones who brought wizards in and cheated their way to victory!’ So I set off to earn my bounty off them, the way you saw me doing it today. You may call it a scam if you like, but you saw me; you judge me. I only take money off those who up and try to rob me!”

  “Indeed, the word scam never crossed my lips, virtuous veteran,” Abdullah said sincerely. “I call it most ingenious, and a plan that few but you could succeed in.”

  The soldier seemed soothed by this. He stared ruminatively out at the blue distance below. “All that down there,” he said, “that’s Kingsbury Plain. That should yield me a mort of gold. Do you know, when I started out from Strangia, all I had was a silver three-penny bit and a brass button I used to pretend was a sovereign?”

  “Then your profit has been great,” said Abdullah.

  “And it’ll be greater yet,” the soldier promised. He set the saucepan neatly aside and fished two apples out of his pack. He gave one to Abdullah and ate the other himself, lying stretched on his back, staring out at the slowly darkening land. Abdullah assumed he was calculating the gold he would earn from it. He was surprised when the soldier said, “I always did love the evening camp. Take a look at that sunset now. Glorious!”

  It was indeed glorious. Clouds had come up from the south and had spread like a ruby landscape across the sky. Abdullah saw ranges of purple mountains flushed wine red in one part; a smoking orange rift like the heart of a volcano; a calm rosy lake. Out beyond, laid against an infinity of gold-blue sky-sea, were islands, reefs, bays, and promontories. It was as if they were looking at the seacoast of heaven or the land that looks westward to Paradise.

  “And that cloud there,” the soldier said, pointing. “Doesn’t that one look just like a castle?”

  It did. It stood on a high headland above a sky-lagoon, a marvel of slender gold, ruby, and indigo turrets. A glimpse of golden sky through the tallest tower was like a window. It reminded Abdullah poignantly of the cloud he had seen above the Sultan’s palace while he was being dragged off to the dungeon. Though it was not in the least the same shape, it brought back his sorrows to him so forcefully that he cried out.

  “O Flower-in-the-Night, where are you?”

  Chapter 11

  In which a wild animal causes Abdullah to waste a wish.

  The soldier turned on his elbow and stared at Abdullah.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” said Abdullah, “except that my life has been full of disappointments.”

  “Tell,” said the soldier. “Unburden. I told you about me, after all.”

  “You would never believe me,” said Abdullah. “My sorrows surpass even yours, most murderous musketeer.”

  “Try me,” said the soldier.

  Somehow it was not hard to tell, what with the sunset and the misery that sunset brought surging up in Abdullah. So, as the castle slowly spread and dissolved into sandbars in the sky-lagoon and the whole sunset faded gently to purple, to brown, and finally to three dark red streaks like the healing claw marks on the soldier’s face, Abdullah told the soldier his story. Or at any rate, he told the gist of it. He did not, of course, tell anything so personal as his own daydreams or the uncomfortable way they had of coming true lately, and he was very careful to say nothing at all about the genie. He did not trust the soldier not to take the bottle and vanish with it during the night, and he was helped in this editing of the facts by a strong suspicion that the soldier had not told his whole story, either. The end of the story was quite difficult to tell with the genie left out, but Abdullah thought he managed rather well. He gave the impression he had escaped from his chains and from the bandits more or less by willpower alone, and then that he had walked all the way north to Ingary.

  “Hmm,” said the soldier when Abdullah had done. Musingly he put more spicy bushes on the fire, which was now the only light left. “Quite a life. But I must say it makes up for a good deal, being fated to marry a princess. It’s something I always had a fancy to do myself—marry a nice quiet princess with a bit of a kingdom and a kindly nature. Bit of a daydream of mine, really.”

  Abdullah found he had a splendid idea. “It is quite possible you can,” he said quietly. “The day I met you I was granted a dream—a vision—in which a smoky angel the color of lavender came to me and pointed you out to me, O cleverest of crusaders, as you slept on a bench outside an inn. He said that you could aid me powerfully in finding Flower-in-the-Night. And if you did, said the angel, your reward would be that you would marry another princess yourself.” This was—or would be—almost perfectly true, Abdullah told himself. He had only to make the correct wish to the genie tomorrow. Or rather, the day after tomorrow, he reminded himself, since the genie had forced him to use tomorrow’s wish today. “Will you help me?” he asked, watching the soldier’s firelit face rather anxiously. “For this great reward.”

  The soldier seemed neither eager nor dismayed. He considered. “Not sure quite what I could do to help,” he said at last. “I’m not an expert on djinns, for a start. We don’t seem to get them this far no
rth. You’d need to ask some of these damn Ingary wizards what djinns do with princesses when they steal them. The wizards would know. I could help you squeeze the facts out of one, if you like. It would be a pleasure. But as for a princess, they don’t grow on trees, you know. The nearest one must be the King of Ingary’s daughter, way off in Kingsbury. If she’s what your smoky angel friend had in mind, then I guess you and me’d better walk down that way and see. The king’s tame wizards mostly live down that way, too, so they tell me, so it seems to fit in. That idea suit you?”

  “Excellently well, military friend of my bosom!” said Abdullah.

  “Then that’s settled, but I don’t promise anything, mind,” said the soldier. He fetched two blankets out of his pack and suggested that they build up the fire and settle down to sleep.

  Abdullah unhitched the genie bottle from his belt and put it carefully on the smooth rock beside him on the other side from the soldier. Then he wrapped himself in the blanket and settled down for what proved to be rather a disturbed night. The rock was hard. And though he was nothing like as cold as he had been yesterday night in the desert, the damper air of Ingary made him shiver just as much. In addition, the moment he closed his eyes he found he became obsessed with the wild beast in the cave up the ravine. He kept imagining he could hear it prowling around the camp. Once or twice he opened his eyes and even thought he saw something moving just beyond the light from the fire. He sat up each time and threw more wood on the fire, whereupon the flames flared up and showed him that nothing was there. It was a long time before he fell properly asleep. When he did, he had a hellish dream.

  He dreamed that around dawn a djinn came and sat on his chest. He opened his eyes to tell it to go away and found it was not a djinn at all, but the beast from the cave. It stood with its two vast front paws planted on his chest, glaring down at him with eyes that were like bluish lamps in the velvety blackness of its coat. As far as Abdullah could tell, it was a demon in the form of a huge black panther.

  He sat up with a yell.

  Naturally nothing was there. Dawn was just breaking. The fire was a cherry smudge in the grayness of everything, and the soldier was a darker gray hump, snoring gently on the other side of the fire. Behind him the lower lands were white with mist. Wearily Abdullah put another bush on the fire and fell asleep again.

  He was woken by the windy roaring of the genie.

  “Stop this thing! Get it OFF me!”

  Abdullah leaped up. The soldier leaped up. It was broad daylight. There was no mistaking what they both saw. A small black cat was crouching by the genie bottle, just beside the place where Abdullah’s head had been. The cat was either very curious or convinced there was food in the bottle, for it had its nose delicately but firmly in the neck of the flask. Around its neat black head the genie was gushing out in ten or twelve distorted blue wisps, and the wisps kept turning into hands or faces and then turning back to smoke again.

  “Help me!” he yelled in chorus. “It’s trying to eat me or something!”

  The cat ignored the genie entirely. It just went on behaving as if there were a most enticing smell in the bottle.

  In Zanzib everyone hated cats. People thought of them as very little better than the rats and mice they ate. If a cat came near you, you kicked it, and you drowned any kittens you could lay hands on. Accordingly Abdullah ran at the cat, aiming a flying kick at it as he ran. “Shoo!” he yelled. “Scat!”

  The cat jumped. Somehow it avoided Abdullah’s lashing foot and fled to the top of the overhanging rock, where it spat at him and glared. It was not deaf then, Abdullah thought, staring up into its eyes. They were bluish. So that was what had sat on him in the night! He picked up a stone and drew back his arm to throw it.

  “Don’t do that!” said the soldier. “Poor little animal!”

  The cat did not wait for Abdullah to throw the stone. It shot out of sight. “There is nothing poor about that beast,” he said. “You must realize, gentle gunman, that the creature nearly took your eye out last night.”

  “I know,” the soldier said mildly. “It was only defending itself, poor thing. Is that a genie in that flask of yours? Your smoky blue friend?”

  A traveler with a carpet for sale had once told Abdullah that most people in the north were unaccountably sentimental about animals. Abdullah shrugged and turned sourly to the genie bottle, where the genie had vanished without a word of thanks. This would have to happen! Now he would have to watch the bottle like a hawk. “Yes,” he said.

  “I thought it might be,” said the soldier. “I’ve heard tell of genies. Come and look at this, will you?” He stooped and picked up his hat, very carefully, smiling in a strange, tender way.

  There seemed definitely to be something wrong with the soldier this morning, as if his brains had softened in the night. Abdullah wondered if it was those scratches, although they had almost vanished by now. Abdullah went over to him anxiously.

  Instantly the cat was standing on the overhanging rock again, making that iron pulley noise, anger and worry in every line of its small black body. Abdullah ignored it and looked into the soldier’s hat. Round blue eyes stared at him out of its greasy interior. A little pink mouth hissed defiance as the tiny black kitten inside scrambled to the back of the hat, whipping its minute bottle brush of a tail for balance.

  “Isn’t it sweet?” the soldier said besottedly.

  Abdullah glanced at the wauling cat on top of the rock. He froze, and looked again carefully. The thing was huge. A mighty black panther stood there, baring its big white fangs at him.

  “These animals must belong to a witch, courageous companion,” he said shakily.

  “If they did, then the witch must be dead or something,” the soldier said. “You saw them. They were living wild in that cave. That mother cat must have carried her kitten all the way here in the night. Marvelous, isn’t it? She must have known we’d help her!” He looked up at the huge beast snarling on the rock and did not seem to notice the size of it. “Come on down, sweet thing!” he said wheedlingly. “You know we won’t hurt you or your kitten.”

  The mother beast launched herself from the rock. Abdullah gave a strangled scream, dodged, and sat down heavily. The great black body hurtled past above him—and to his surprise, the soldier started to laugh. Abdullah looked up indignantly to find that the beast had become a small black cat again, and was most affectionately walking about on the soldier’s broad shoulder and rubbing herself on his face.

  “Oh, you’re a wonder, little Midnight!” The soldier chuckled. “You know I’ll take care of your Whippersnapper for you, don’t you? That’s right. You purr!”

  Abdullah got up disgustedly and turned his back on this love feast. The saucepan had been cleaned out very thoroughly in the night. The tin plate was burnished. He went and washed both, meaningly, in the stream, hoping the soldier would soon forget these dangerous magical beasts and begin thinking about breakfast.

  But when the soldier finally put the hat down and tenderly plucked the mother cat off his shoulder, it was breakfast for cats that he thought about. “They’ll need milk,” he said, “and a nice plate of fresh fish. Get that genie of yours to fetch them some.”

  A jet of blue-mauve spurted from the neck of the bottle and spread into a sketch of the genie’s irritated face. “Oh, no,” said the genie. “One wish a day is all I give, and he had today’s wish yesterday. Go and fish in the stream.”

  The soldier advanced on the genie angrily. “There won’t be any fish this high in the mountain,” he said. “And that little Midnight is starving, and she’s got her kitten to feed.”

  “Too bad!” said the genie. “And don’t you try to threaten me, soldier. Men have become toads for less.”

  The soldier was certainly a brave man—or a very foolish one, Abdullah thought. “You do that to me, and I’ll break your bottle, whatever shape I’m in!” he shouted. “I’m not wanting a wish for myself!”

  “I prefer people to be selfish,” the
genie retorted. “So you want to be a toad?”

  Further blue smoke gushed out of the bottle and formed into arms making gestures that Abdullah was afraid he recognized. “No, no, stop, I implore you, O sapphire among spirits!” he said hastily. “Let the soldier alone, and consent, as a great favor, to grant me another wish a day in advance, that the animals might be fed.”

  “Do you want to be a toad, too?” the genie inquired.

  “If it is written in the prophecy that Flower-in-the-Night shall marry a toad, then make me a toad,” Abdullah said piously. “But first fetch milk and fish, great genie.”

  The genie swirled moodily. “Bother the prophecy! I can’t go against that. All right. You can have your wish, provided you leave me in peace for the next two days.”

  Abdullah sighed. It was a dreadful waste of a wish. “Very well.”

  A crock of milk and an oval plate with a salmon on it plunked down on the rock by his feet. The genie gave Abdullah a look of huge dislike and sucked himself back inside the bottle.