The Keys to Paradise, page 40
‘The beasts will need it to begin trade again,’ Petia said. She gazed wistfully at the ruby brooch in her hand, then placed it gently back on the pile. ‘Let’s get out of here. It’s depressing to think of leaving anything.’
Keja laughed. ‘What is even more depressing is that Red Mane is giving all this to us. There’s no challenge. I wish I could steal it!’
Petia continued her search through the spell books. She turned every leaf and studied the many volumes Anji had rescued but to no avail. She found nothing about turning a human into a djinn – or a djinn into a human.
Djinn remained invisible, angry. Petia ached for him. She knew how he must feel, watching the skeleton men regain their humanity, beginning to put on weight and looking normal again. They had been the enemy.
She opened the cover of a book and began again. If it were not possible to change Djinn, it would be no fault of hers. She pushed her hair back from her eyes with quick, catlike preening gestures and settled to the task. Anji stood at her side, and read over her shoulder.
She turned to him. ‘Don’t you have anything to do?’
‘Giles and Keja say I keep getting in the way,’ he answered with a frown. ‘Sometimes I don’t like them very much.’
‘They have much to do before we leave Shahal,’ Petia said. ‘It’s too bad you can’t read, Anji. I need some help.’
‘Will you teach me to read someday? Can I watch?’
‘Of course, but you must be quiet, please. I’ve got to find some way to free Djinn from his spell.’
Petia concentrated on the words. The letters on the page fascinated Anji. Petia had told him that the letters made words, and he knew that words had meaning. Still, he did not understand it. He studied the illuminations of the capital letters and the illustrations that appeared at the top of some pages. Some were gory and others had been drawn by someone with a sense of humour.
Petia reached to turn a page when something caught Anji’s attention. ‘Wait,’ he cried.
‘What is it?’ she said, concerned that he had seen something that upset him.
He pointed to the illustration at the top of the left-hand page. ‘That’s not our Djinn, but it’s like the djinn in the stories I heard when I was little.’
Petia laughed. ‘You’re still little,’ she said, tousling his hair.
‘But it is, Mistress,’ the boy pleaded. He pointed again at the drawing. ‘See, the muscles in his arms and the scimitar pointing. And he’s wearing a vest, but no tunic underneath. And baggy pants. It’s a djinn, like in the stories. And maybe that is the page for the spell.’
Petia examined the page once more, reading the title at the top of the page slowly. ‘For making the eyes of an enemy weep as if there were grains of sand in them. She shook her head. ‘It has nothing to do with djinn.’
Crestfallen, the boy scowled. ‘That’s a djinn,’ he insisted. ‘I know a picture of a djinn when I see one.’ He crossed his arms in disgust. ‘What’s he pointing his scimitar at?’
Petia looked back at the figure. The djinn did hold his scimitar as if pointing. She followed the direction across the page, but nothing unusual appeared on the right-hand page. She read the title once more. Its meaning was veiled. At the top, in tiny printing by another hand, a one-word warning read: Cautiously!
She studied the title, puzzled about the meaning: For XXXXX.
In a flash of inspiration, it became clear to her. She looked at the bottom of the page. A shaft with spearheads pointing both directions gave her the clue. The spell recited backwards would undo whatever it had done in the first place. She began to read the words softly to herself, then realised that she might accidentally turn Anji into a djinn.
When she had finished reading, Petia felt uncertain that it was the correct spell. The word ‘djinn’ did not appear in the spell, but references to a being who would serve, who would do one’s bidding, were abundant. She sucked in her breath. There was only one way to find out if this would work.
‘Djinn, are you here?’ she called.
The spirit materialized and glared at her. ‘What do you want?’ he said sullenly.
‘I think I have the spell of unbinding.’ She almost laughed at the change of expression on his face. She explained that she was willing to try the unknown spell, but the final decision had to rest on Djinn’s shoulders.
‘I’ll try every spell in every book,’ he promised.
‘No, you won’t. Unless you want to be changed into something worse than a djinn. Now compose yourself.’
Petia took a deep breath and tried to follow her own advice. She said the words evenly. Afraid to look up at Djinn, fearing that the spell would not work, she concentrated on the words.
As she finished the last word, she closed her eyes. She felt hands pulling her up from the bench and nearly panicked.
Arms swirled Petia off her feet, and she found herself being danced around the room by a handsome young man.
‘You did it, you did it!’ The young man, so much like Djinn but not the spirit, set Petia down, hugged her, then dabbed at his eyes.
Anji tugged at his arm. ‘Is that you, Djinn?’
‘Yes, no. I mean, yes, I was Djinn, but now I’m me. I’m again Hassan, Prince of the Mullaheed Harifim!’
‘I’m so pleased, Djinn – Hassan,’ Petia said. ‘I didn’t want to give up, but I was getting discouraged.’
Word spread through Shahal, and soon another celebration was under way that lasted long into the night. By the time it ended and everyone staggered off to bed, a pact between Hassan and the beasts had been made. He would stay in Shahal and act as a mediator between the beasts and the Harifim.
* * *
The humans began serious preparations for leaving. The two Harifim who had been sent back to the tribes reappeared and conferred at great length with Hassan. The first steps toward a lasting truce between desert clans and the beasts had been taken – and Hassan delivered to Giles five strong desert steeds as payment for all they’d done.
‘It’s time for us to leave,’ Giles said to Petia and Keja. ‘The beasts are caught up in repairing Shahal, and the Harifim brought horses for us. We’ve no excuse to stay now. We’ll head south and find a ship there. There’s no sense going back to Kasha and asking for trouble.’
Petia hoisted Anji up into his saddle. The boy leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear. It flicked in understanding.
Hassan came to Petia and folded her hands in his, then bowed until his forehead touched her hands. ‘Thank you, good lady. I’ll always remember you.’ Petia blushed.
Hassan clasped hands with Giles and Keja, then stepped back. He watched them ride off into the fading light. ‘May the gods guide you and keep you safe,’ he called after them. Red Mane and the other beasts silently watched as they put the spurs to their mounts.
Giles laughed and let the wind rush past his face. Freedom! He cried, ‘To Khelora!’ and the others joined him in the chant.
From the cliffs behind Shahal, a man robed in black threw his hood back. He watched the four horses separate from the Harifim encampment near Shahal and proceed toward a break in the hills to the south.
‘Good, very good,’ he said softly. ‘They have now four keys. And I hold the fifth. The Gate of Paradise will open soon – for me!’ Mocking laughter drifted across the desert, and, swallowed up by the distance, died away.
Book Three
The Key of Ice and Steel
For those printing fools from
Stayton, Oregon
Dale and Ginny Goble
Mike and Susie Horvat
One
Rain pattered against the sodden leaves arching like green umbrellas above the four riders. Fat drops fell into the puddles dotting the forest trail even as distant thunder rumbled with the promise of a more vigorous storm. Even though the trees protected the riders from a direct onslaught, they sat astride their horses soggy and miserable.
Keja Tchurak raised his hand and wiped drops from the end of his straight, aristocratic nose. ‘Can’t we stop and set up camp soon?’ he whined.
Giles Grimsmate turned in his saddle and stared with flinty grey eyes until Keja became uncomfortable. He looked away, again feeling that he slowed them, that he kept them from their fabulous quest because he disliked being cold and wet and uncomfortable.
‘You do well to look away, Keja. Look around you, man.’ Giles swept his heavily muscled arm in an arc, encompassing both sides of the trail. The low ground ran with water, which gathered in pools, then burst through dams of leaves and twigs to run away in rivulets to even lower ground. ‘If you want to build camp in this swamp, you’re welcome. I’m as eager as you are to climb down and find shelter, but not so stupid to want to spend the night up to my arse in water. When I find some high ground, we’ll stop.’
Giles stretched his arthritic, tired limbs and looked at the others, slumped in their saddles, soaked blanket over their heads lending little protection. Petia Darya and Anji, the two Trans who made up half of the company, said nothing. Miserable, hissing like the part feline that she was, Petia barely guided her horse. Young Anji let his plod behind. Both seemed content to let the more experienced Giles make such decisions.
Giles looked ahead into the dripping forest and muttered a small prayer that they would find high ground soon. He wanted out of the wet as much as anyone, even the catlike Trans. He hoped that the foul weather was not an omen of things to come on this, their last adventure.
They travelled two miles before the track began to rise. Giles sat erect in his saddle and peered into the rain, finding a knoll worthy of a campsite. He called back to the others.
‘That ought to do.’ He swung down from his horse, tying it loosely to a nearby tree.
Keja slid from his mount, also. His foot landed in a puddle of water and slipped on the leaf mould beneath it. He sprawled, cursing all the gods supposedly protecting thieves from such ignominy. Petia foresaw Anji’s laugh and motioned quickly with her hand, cutting him off before he began. The trail had been long and tempers frayed. Anji’s mirth would only provoke an angry outburst from Keja.
She dismounted, grabbed Keja’s arm and assisted him to his feet. Then she turned quickly to Giles before Keja could mutter that he didn’t need any help from a woman.
‘We’ll need to build shelter,’ Giles said. ‘Branches from those conifers will shed the rain. I’ll cut some small limbs for the framework.’
They worked silently, their mood so depressed by the weather that they didn’t dare talk to each other. Giles’ long years as a sergeant during the Trans War enabled him to build a shelter quickly. The others simply cut and carried and let him work. The sooner the shelter was built, the sooner they had a chance of finding a modicum of comfort.
By the time Anji had found the first dry wood, a lean-to shelter offered protection from the storm. Anji arranged the stacks carefully, making sure that there would be enough wood to last through the night. Assured of adequate – and dry – fuel, he went to bring the horses into the wood and find the best shelter possible for them. The animals were Anji’s special love. Giles paused in his work and watched the boy. At times he wondered if the Trans could speak with the horses. He shook his head and sent droplets flying from his thinning grey hair and returned to his work.
Keja warmed with the activity and his mood improved. He silently helped Anji unsaddle and remove packs and wipe the water from the animals as best they could. When they returned to the shelter a small fire blazed into life, Petia carefully encouraging it.
‘Make you wish you were back in the desert, Keja?’ Giles grinned at the small thief.
‘The next quest we go on, let me choose the place,’ Keja said. His tone came lighter and joking. ‘Somewhere moderate, balmy days, cloudless nights, and no snakes, please. And women. Lots of willing wanton women eager for a passionate night with one such as myself.’
‘Impossible,’ scoffed Petia. ‘Not even passing through the Gate of Paradise will give you all that.’
She ducked when Keja tossed a pine cone at her.
‘What do you think lies behind the Gate?’ he asked. ‘I think it is riches and leisure.’
‘At the moment, all I want is dry and warm,’ muttered Petia.
As the fire burned higher, the companions spread their blankets and cloaks to dry, and Giles and Petia tended the kettle of stew.
The sound of rain and the occasional stamping of the animals disturbed their meal. Each kept to his own thoughts. Only when Giles stuffed and lit his pipe did they stir from wild dreams of what finding the fifth key to the Gate of Paradise would grant each of them.
‘I told you we should have waited until spring,’ Keja said. ‘We could be sitting around a warm fire in the inn at Sanustell. And keeping an eye on those people at Callant Hanse. I don’t trust them.’
Giles chuckled. ‘The keys were still there, weren’t they? You insisted on seeing the other three when we deposited the fourth. They brought the box out and we all had to sign before they opened it, just as we agreed. What makes you think that they’d risk a two-hundred-year-old reputation to steal our keys? Especially when those four keys to the Gate are worthless without the fifth?’
‘Yes, but these are the keys to the Gate of Paradise. They’re not just your everyday keys, you might say,’ Keja said. ‘I sweated rivers in the Bandanarra desert and faced a snake as big as a room and hungrier than a beggar to get that last key. And I say that the closer we are to having all five keys, the bigger the risk leaving them there.’
‘You have no faith, Keja,’ Petia said. ‘Giles is right. A mercantile house like the Callant Hanse isn’t going to throw over a reputation it took centuries to build, even for keys to the Gate of Paradise. It’s only fools like us who do such things.’
Giles laughed and tamped more tobacco into his pipe. ‘They don’t even know what those keys open,’ he pointed out. ‘If I hadn’t thought the keys were safe, I’d never have left them, now would I? We’ve suffered too much to casually lose them.’
Anji pulled the blanket closer about his shoulders. ‘I’d rather be back in Bandanarra than in this miserable dripping forest,’ he said.
Giles looked at the boy, kindness in his eyes. ‘Desert heat is normal to you. We were all born here in the north and are used to cooler weather. But even I could do with a little less of this autumn rain.’ He peered out from beneath the edge of the lean-to. Clouds obscured the stars and he saw no moon. ‘I don’t think it’s going to stop.’
‘Does it ever quit?’ The boy looked plaintively at Petia.
She reached out and tousled his wet hair. ‘You’ve forgotten already how beautiful it was on Bericlere when we first arrived. We have seasons here. Autumn begins with the summer heat still in it and slowly gives way to the cold of winter. You’ll become accustomed to the diversity it lends to our lives. It’s not like desert where each day is like every other, the entire year round.’
‘That’s not true!’ The boy pulled his head back angrily from beneath Petia’s hand. ‘It rains in the desert,’ he said. ‘Just because you never saw it…’ He lowered his head and sulked, trying to feel more sorry for himself than he actually was.
Petia stared at the two men and shook her head. They understood and fell silent. Anji had been through much – more than any of them. Petia had rescued him from slavers. She knew, in part, the prejudices the boy had endured because of his Trans heritage, but she came from Trois Havres where most were Trans. Petia stroked Anji’s head until the boy’s tenseness faded.
Keja poked at the fire with a stick, then rose to fetch a piece of rope from his pack. He settled again and worked at binding the frayed ends.
The boy’s voice broke the silence again. ‘We were followed today.’
Keja’s fingers grew still. Giles leaned forward, his eyes searching the boy’s face. Petia drew a breath.
‘By whom?’ Giles asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Anji said. ‘Maybe the man in black we heard about in Bandanarra. The desert people knew nothing of him but I think he was there to watch us.’
Petia nodded. ‘I felt the mind of a catamount today. It was upset, but I thought that we intruded on its territory. I didn’t give it a second thought, except to make sure that it kept its distance. But there might well have been someone else.’
Giles shook his head and reached for a fire brand. Between puffs of re-lighting his pipe he said, ‘It’s a reminder that we need to be on guard. He turned to Anji. ‘How do you know we were followed?’
Anji looked at Petia. ‘She’s been teaching me to use my Trans senses. Nobody ever did that before. When my mother sold me into slavery I was a dumb fetch-and-carry servant. So I’ve been practising hard. I heard the catamount, too.’ He avoided Petia’s eyes. ‘But I tried to go beyond the big cat. There were several horses and I caught the barest sense of men. They were quite a way behind us, I’m sure.’
‘I’ll backtrack in the morning,’ Giles said, venting a huge sigh. The old soldier wondered if he would spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting for the knife to descend. ‘Thank you, Anji. I had hoped we wouldn’t need to do this so soon. Let’s set the watches.’
Even when the others stood watch, Giles lay awake, listening hard and worrying. He knew they had been lucky thus far – in spite of their travails, they had been lucky. With the man in black actively following, if it even was the mysterious stranger in the desert, danger mounted for all four of them.
When the wet, grey morning came, Giles ached in every joint. He ordered the others on ahead, then went tracking.
* * *
The following evening they sat in a common room of a rustic mountain inn nestled in the foothills of the Adversaries, a mountain range stretching several hundred miles towards the even colder northlands. Giles, bone-tired, wanted to retire early. Petia pressed him for what he had learned.
