Three Wishes: Cairo, page 16
Immediately, the servants brought food and wine to the table in an effort to make their guests feel like the dignitaries they mistook them to be.
Ameerah was just getting started. “Strange to see you sitting here on a throne of lies while you spit in the face of our memories. How do you live with yourself? Your last moments with Khayri; did you at least have the courage to explain your deceitfulness before you stabbed him in the back?”
Two of the servants openly stared at their leader. They had never heard anyone question this man; let alone outwardly defy him. They immediately caught themselves, thought better of it and began to try and get their work done as quickly as possible so they could escape this room without consequence.
Alchemy winced visibly at her words, but quickly gathered himself and smiled flaccidly before speaking politely to his servants. “Please leave us. That will be all for the evening.”
The servants felt no desire to remain for even a second longer than necessary. They scattered through the various doorways and disappeared.
Alchemy sat upright in his chair. “You will not address me in such a tone, young lady. You never married the Prince and you hold no authority here. Tread lightly, or you might just find yourself down a well with only a few seconds of air.”
“Is that what you did to the real king?” Ameerah said quietly.
“What happened between us is none of your concern. I suggest that the three of you say whatever it is you came to say and then make haste with your departure. You are no longer welcome or remembered. I'll explain that the Egyptians made a sudden appearance to commend our rising tide of power and we'll leave it at that. You also are well aware of the consequences if I am not obeyed.”
“What have you done to Khayri?” asked Ameerah.
“That, my dear is none of your concern. You should simply forget that you knew him, be thankful that I’ve spared your lives and the lives of your families and move on,” Alchemy said with the most reasonable tone of voice he could muster. “If it is power you seek, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”
“Power; is that really what you think? Are you so blinded by ambition that you imagine everyone to be as corrupt as you are?” asked Ameerah. She could not help but be thoroughly disgusted by the being that sat before her. After all, this was Khayri’s most trusted advisor and friend, yet he now dismissed the idea that Khayri had ever been important to anyone.
“Wow, Khayri was right. You are thick,” said Atiene.
“Excuse me?” said Alchemy.
“You know; touched, ignorant, not altogether there? Your camel is missing one of its humps?” Atiene explained. “We're here to find our friend, you fool! Did you really think that some little magic trick would keep us away forever?”
“I will no longer suffer these questions and comments,” smiled Alchemy. “You know exactly what I can do to you, yet you stand here daring me to do it. Out of respect for the Prince, I give you this final warning. Any additional displays of disrespect and you simply disappear.”
“Oh, you mean like your integrity?” smiled Rorgue.
“You went on and on about the vast superiority of the wizards. Yet, when you had the chance to prove that loyalty is the greatest power of all, you instead showed your true colors, Alchemy,” said Ameerah. “You proved to be nothing but a spineless, twisted, magical freak, whose ancestors passed down nothing but yellow cowardice to you. You've permanently sealed your fate as nothing but an embarrassing footnote in history! Do you know why your cloning spell didn't work?”
“Please regale me with your theory on magic. I'd be interested to hear it,” smiled Alchemy, though it was obvious, he was bothered by the tone of ridicule in her question.
“It's like dressing up a horse and trying to convince everyone it's a camel. No magic spell in the world is powerful enough to let a dishonorable jester like you mimic a person of such honor and integrity. Your carnival tricks showed their amateurish true colors,” said Ameerah with a level of pity and disgust that finally found its target. “It is because of beings such as yourself that your race is no longer viable in this world. You are the reason that wizards are mostly an afterthought today.”
Her words obviously triggered it. He could no longer fake the smile or the attitude. It was time to put these dogs down. When he spoke, his voice hissed with contempt, “I think you need to take this final thought with you to your graves:” He rose up tall and menacing before them with a glacier cold stare. “I am King. You are nothing! Remember that I did warn you and you spat it in my face! I'll feel no more guilt for this!” With that, his wand appeared and with a massive explosion of crackling blue electricity and sound, the entire sitting room and everyone in it disappeared from view.
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Startling nothingness…
It was if Alchemy had stepped into the middle of a cottony cloud of vapor.
At first, he just thought that he had misjudged and over emphasized the push that he used to bring forth the spell. He thought that his anger might have intensified his magical attack to the point of actually vaporizing everybody and everything in the room. Perhaps this mist was all that remained? But soon he realized that the smoke hadn't cleared and likely wasn't going to. As he checked his wand, he was terrified to see that his hand was now translucent. His fingers had a light blue glow and his entire field of vision was blurred by eerie 'fuzzy' phosphorescence. He immediately started to panic as he sensed his mind functioning as usual, but no solid body was present to obey its commands. He shouted at the top of his lungs but heard nothing. All senses except for his shadowy vision were no longer functioning. As he blindly moved forward he caught a glimpse of a chair directly in front of him and stumbled awkwardly to miss it. It was only then that he discovered that his leg passed directly through the chair.
He was a ghost. His body had lost its substance. He had been transferred to some sort of netherworld of shimmering translucence.
Everything had changed in an instant. It was almost as if he had cast a spell on himself and winked out of existence. His world was crumbling, but he didn’t panic. To his credit, he immediately began to take stock of his current situation in the hopes of finding a solution. His mind had already begun rapid fire thoughts trying to piece together the answers he sought.
Okay. He no longer had a physical body or even physical gray matter to deal with. There were no limitations there. He wasn’t dead because his mind was working at full capacity and better than it had ever been. He found that he could process information instantly and efficiently, though he sadly realized that there was no physical outcome to his commands. He would think about an action and then remember that he had no actual substantive body to carry it out. Though his hearing was gone, he thought he actually heard a faint sound just out of reach of his mind. He concentrated on that infinitesimal murmur; applying more and more focus to it until he determined that he was actually hearing the thoughts of those in this general vicinity.
“True to their word… it worked.”
“Dead?”
“Where now? Egypt? Khayri?”
“Mother, Kamila?”
There was some small measure of relief when he realized that he was, at least in some small part, still part of the physical world. He had never really left the dining chamber and was currently hearing the thoughts of those still in attendance. Once he could recognize that the faint rumblings he sensed were actual thoughts, the picture in the room began to clarify and he could actually see the faint outlines of his trio of executioners.
Everything had changed, yet with unlimited mental capacity; he was quickly clarifying the situation and gaining new understanding.
He floated closer to Ameerah's face and focused only on that. He then projected his thoughts with as much mental power as he could summon.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?” he mentally screamed.
He was thrilled to see her rub her eyes and he heard her flickering thought about being so tired and having some ringing in her ears.
Victory!
“I'm not dead just yet,” he thought. “I can communicate and I can see who I'm communicating with. Now it's just a matter of refining these new elements.” But he immediately felt more exhausted then he had ever felt before. These were new muscles that would need to be trained and exercised.
The importance of leading and ruling disappeared in an instant. Alchemy would need his entire new arsenal of talents to achieve basic survival. For the next few years, he haunted the palace and tried, at various times to communicate with those who inhabited it. He no longer was able to find any of the three who had somehow sentenced him to this life without life. No matter. He would find a way. Over time, he was able to make his voice heard almost instantly when he discovered that he could incorporate his magic into his communications. He determined that with enough practice, he might be able to 'push' his target and for an instant, control another person’s mind.
He worked feverishly until he finally 'pushed' one of the servants into scratching his nose. He celebrated like he had been crowned king of the world with that small victory. But he didn't dwell on it for long. He was building a new skill set he never even knew he had and seeing potential for a plan that included these new talents.
Alchemy was not one to surrender. Life had dealt him this unfortunate hand, but he would not be kept down. The Plan was going to be renovated dramatically, but it was still in play. On a positive side, he was now immortal and without the cumbrances that a physical body demanded. His end game didn't change one bit. He had to be able to communicate without draining his entire mental reserve and at the same time, he had to be able to inhabit a subject in order to have a physical body to do his mind's bidding.
His return from nothingness finally peaked when he entered an unsuspecting guard who mistakenly invited him into his mind and decided it was time to step off of the palace wall and plummet to his death. For that brief fall and climax, he again felt wind in his lungs and truly alive for the first time in years. He later cursed his decision as he felt the power of control on the helpless guard. Rather than proving he could override a human mind and reprogram it with thoughts of his own, he would have been wiser to prove he could inhabit a mortal body and use it to obtain his goals. But nonetheless, he knew it was time to start his journey back to relevance.
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To this day, Alchemy had no idea how his curse had been concocted by three mere mortals, but they had somehow stumbled upon a method to erase him from his old life. He also realized that he still survived because the three of them lacked the conviction necessary to actually kill an unsuspecting target no matter how much they hated him. It also wasn't lost on him that he had actually done the exact same thing to his former king. But Alchemy also knew that he would have no hesitation moving forward and doing what was necessary to regain his footing in the physical world. It was the difference between the king of the beasts and the other animals in the kingdom.
This had been a long road back, but he had always fantasized about a trip to Egypt and the unification of two proud cultures. He also hoped that he might be able to find Ameerah still alive in Egypt. He had a new bag of tricks and was eager to test his skills outside his former home. He decided that he would leave Transjordan and head to Egypt. He would need a vessel and by sheer dumb luck had stumbled onto the pitiful Katar as he made his way east.
Alchemy smiled as he looked at his new reflection in the mirror. Control over this mortal had been almost too easy. This needy, weak creature had opened the door and invited him in. The fight for control of his body was almost laughable. Katar reinforced everything that Alchemy thought about humans. Here was a mortal who suffered from his own inaction and the ability to do what was necessary to achieve his goals. This poor creature had languished in a pool of indecision with every dream just a hair's width away. Yet now he was relegated to the rear echelon of his own mind; struggling to experience the sensation of his own lungs ever again filling with air. Katar was an afterthought and would likely never run through Alchemy's mind again.
But Ameerah.
Even now, thoughts of her were spat out like so much spoiled food. He told himself that evolved beings didn't seek revenge, but his thoughts focused on little else. In the dark and damp recesses of his mind, he fantasized about her comeuppance. Her face was the face he saw through the years of suffering and the reshaping of his powers. It had been a very long time since their last confrontation. He would concede that she’d won that battle. But she would be much older now. Even in this frail and weakened state, he'd still enjoy the pleasure of killing her with the bare hands of whatever mortal he possessed. A cold shiver of anticipation ran down his new spine as he became almost giddy with the thought of her painful death. He had already planned this down to the last exquisite detail.
He would convince someone close to her to invite him in. He would see that trust in her eyes and then, when she least suspected it, he would choke the life out of her. That look of shock and betrayal would be ample payment for the inconvenience she’d caused him. But the bonus would be that final realization that it was he who was the one doling out the punishment. He would see that look of acknowledgement in her eyes as they hazed over, locked into their final position and stared into eternity. The Plan had morphed to accommodate some well-deserved payback.
He couldn't help but smile at the fantasy this sweet revenge would bring. But he would have to be careful and live in the background. Ameerah had some sort of power to see through him and even the aged woman he pictured could still prove to be a worthy adversary. But Alchemy would have his revenge. He'd be present when Ameerah took her shuttering last breath.
The Plan was back on course.
Reflection Rejection
As the Sultan walked through his beautiful indoor garden, he could not help but reflect on the glorious victory he had achieved. For the first time in his life he could see Enna, not as the emotional and excitable girl she had been, but as the sophisticated woman she was becoming. Some had questioned his motivation when she had been exposed to the male-dominated schools and the expensive tutors. They had trumpeted their opinions as to where women belonged in the world. But his wife had always pushed for this. It seemed that Dina had always envisioned more for her daughter and, when he witnessed his Enna’s comfortable banter with the King of Nubias; he realized that as always, Dina was right.
Enna was polite, witty and yet all parties seated at the table were well aware of her goals at the start of the meeting. She didn't flitter around the edges of their most delicate negotiations, as many politicians he had seen. Rather, she was forthright, honest and spoke exactly what came to her mind. At first he worried because it had been so long since he'd been part of a negotiation where this much honesty was brought forward. But before he could pause the dialog and take a short respite to tone down her enthusiasm, he noticed that heads around the table were nodding with approval at this refreshing approach.
In the end, she gave in on several points (that truthfully, she didn't care about to begin with), but won every important battle that she engaged in. Most importantly, all parties walked away from the table feeling satiated with good will and everyone felt that they'd won. Enna could not have handled the situation with more grace or elegance. By the end of negotiations, even the King of Nubias didn't think his first born son was good enough for Enna.
The Sultan smiled. He would be the first leader in this territory to declare a woman to be his successor. He no longer felt that his daughter should be measured by a husband. If she married, that would be wonderful, but his daughter would rule. She was born for it; the equal of any man, and he had no doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing. He was positive that there would be dissenting view points, but he was quite sure that his daughter could handle any challenges and he would help her through the eventual transition. And with this one important decision, he felt that he was finally starting the process of healing. His heart still ached for his beloved Dina, but now, it was because of how proud she would have been in the growth of her daughter.
He still remembered the day Enna was born. His initial reaction to being told that his first child was a daughter had been one of visible disappointment. Each leader wanted a first born male heir to pass their legacy onto. Daughters were, of course, important because they made grandchildren and were nurturers and caregivers. But the birth of a son would complete a circle of life that dated back to the dawn of man. His depression grew when he was informed that his wife had experienced some complications during the process and it was feared that she might not survive the ordeal. He remembered sulking like a schoolboy and wondering how he could have such misfortune. He had even refused to meet his new child by saying, "Not until we are together as a family.”
Buried deep inside was regret that they had even chosen to conceive. After all, this was only a daughter and now, his lifelong love lay unconscious before him. He knew this wasn't his daughter's fault, but he was the king and irrationality was his right. The only time he left Dina was when the nursery staff brought his daughter in to feed. He felt strongly that he would wait until Dina viewed their daughter with him. And if she died; well, that was a discussion for a later date.
For three days he waited at Dina's bedside praying to the gods that she be granted more time. Finally on the fourth day, he noticed that the color had returned to her cheeks as she slept, and that her breathing seemed less labored.
When her eyes finally opened, the Sultan's mood brightened. His prayers had been answered and he would again have his true love at his side. Tears were still streaming down his face when their child was finally brought in. His relief was mixed with a measure of guilt for the negative thoughts he had wasted on regret surrounding Enna. He instantly fell in love with this bubbling little squirming collection of arms and legs. Since their first meeting, he had loved her without reservation. They had suffered the same strains as any normal relationship, but the pride he felt now was certainly a bonus he had never expected. This young woman had proven to be better than any number of sons he could have had. How could any daughter made from the miracle that was his now departed wife been any less than perfect? He could not have felt more secure with his decision: Enna would be the next Sultan.
