“I don’t either,” I said. “But maybe I can get some good advice.” I rubbed my brass ring.
Faddy appeared. “You know I don’t have to answer your summons, mortal,” he said huffily. “But if you really need advice...”
“We are incapable of sailing this ship ourselves, or of properly directing what remains of the crew,” I said. “I suppose that would be too much of a challenge for you, too.”
“You are managing me!” he snapped.
I put on my biggest, obviously fakest, mask of innocence. “How could I possibly do that, when you’re so much smarter than I am?”
“All right!” he glowered. ”I’ll tell you how. Simply have your Siren beckon the remaining sailors toward Cloudland. Then they will do their utmost. It might even be sufficient.”
“But her song will enchant us too,” I protested.
“If you are too stupid to use the tone deaf magic.”
I whacked the side of my head to knock the dottle out. “By Allah, Faddy, you really have figured it out!”
“Naturally, mortal,” he agreed, trying to suppress his inordinate surge of pride. What he wanted most was respect, and in this instance we all knew he had earned it.
“Sylvie!” I called across the water.
In a moment she was there, beautifully bare in the water. “Have you suppressed my spell, Aladdin? I didn’t dare return too soon, lest you dive into the water to pursue me.”
“Suppressed it, mostly, yes,” I agreed. “And I want to thank you for handling those sailors, Sylvie, and for helping us recover the ship.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I am trying to be of service in what ways I can. Of course if you wish to take that more literally—”
It was wickedly tempting, thanks to the lingering suppressed longing of her song. But I couldn’t afford it, as it would mess up our quest and might compromise my relationship with Jewel. Because I might actually make it with the Siren, which was not Jewel’s intention when she referred me to a concubine. Besides, Duban was watching. “Um, no, thanks; I’d never accomplish my mission. Look, we are going to invoke the tone deaf spell again. Then please sing to the three remaining sailors. We want them to do their best to steer this ship toward Cloudland. Will you do that?”
“Gladly. Then I will need to rest; exerting my magic too long tires me.”
“You will be welcome to ring my finger and rest.”
She smiled, appreciating the double entendre. “That will be a pleasure for us both.” More entendre. Sirens really did like to flirt.
“Give us a few minutes, then sing.”
Duban was already taking up his lyre, frowning. He didn’t like to see me teasing the Siren, who was definitely not any ordinary concubine, though he understood that I was managing her just as I was Faddy. A significant part of his growing up would be learning to handle the necessary compromises of life.
Soon the three of us were tone deaf. I waved to Sylvie though I could no longer see her. The song started, faintly, sounding to me like a mere moaning. What a change!
Immediately the three sailors perked up. “What’s that?” one asked.
“That is the Siren,” I informed them. “Singing again. I think she likes you.”
We didn’t have to do anything more. The three sailors worked diligently to get the sails oriented so that the ship moved toward the sound. Even when it faded, they continued, thinking that they were not keeping pace. They were not as good as a full crew would have been, but they managed.
Now that we were nearing our destination, I thought of something I should have checked before. “Sinbad, exactly how do you know your wife is here?”
“I received a message a seer assured me was authentic. This is it.” He brought out a parchment.
I took it and read its brief message. SINBAD STOP YOUR WIFE SURVIVES STOP WE HAVE HER CAPTIVE STOP BRING A SUFFICIENT FORTUNE TO CLOUDLAND STOP HEREIN FAIL NOT OR SHE WILL SUFFER GRIEVOUSLY END
Bemused, I handed it to Duban. “What do you make of this?”
Duban, surprisingly, was impressed. “This thing reeks of potent magic. It is either authentic or a remarkable emulation.”
“Should we trust it?”
“No. It is devious beyond my fathoming. But neither should we dismiss it. Something powerful and I fear evil is operating here.”
I sighed. I was getting a bit tired of harbingers of doom. “I don’t much like powerful mysteries.” I returned the notice to Sinbad.
Then we saw a cloud on the horizon. Was a storm forming?
“That’s Cloudland,” Sylvie said behind me.
I jumped, and she laughed. “We’re there!” I said, gratified.
“Soon I’ll ransom my wife,” Sinbad said.
“Ring me,” Sylvie said to Duban.
The boy was grumpy. “Why?”
She smiled at him. “You know it is not meet for such as you to see a naked women. You might get unboyish ideas.”
“Maybe you should turn her over to me for the duration,” I said. “So you can avoid those ideas.”
He couldn’t argue, though it was clear that he secretly wished he could do exactly that. Sylvie took my hand, Duban invoked the magic, and she curled around, diminished, and wound up around my little finger. She squeezed it suggestively, already flirting.
And I could read her mind. But it was not focused on seduction at the moment. I don’t like this, Aladdin. Mistress was right: there is great danger here for you. I can feel it.
“Nothing my scimitar can’t handle, I trust,” I murmured, as much to bolster my own confidence as hers.
Yes, your scimitar can’t handle it. I don’t know what it is, but it’s awful. Aladdin, you really should turn about and go home. There is nothing for you here but doom.
But I couldn’t do that. We had to save Sinbad’s wife. Then we could go home.
Sylvie sighed and went to sleep, recuperating. She had done a lot of singing. I saw that this time she had curled herself backwards so that her perfect face and breasts showed clearly in miniature. She as flirting even in her sleep. Nevertheless my eyes lingered guiltily on that lovely little torso.
As we sailed on, the cloud seemed to lift and expand. It became a fog atop a mountain on a large island whose base was a green jungle. There was a town there, with a harbor. Our destination.
“It seems we didn’t catch the Siren, this time,” Sinbad said to the sailors. “But she is surely in the area. When we dock you may rest or take shore liberty, as you choose.”
They elected to rest. Now that the siren was silent, they were aware of their extreme fatigue.
We tied up at a pier. The portly harbormaster was there to greet us. “Who are you, and what be your cargo?” he inquired.
“I am Sinbad, here to ransom my beloved wife. These are my companions Niddala and Nabud, who helped me gather the treasure.”
“Welcome, Sinbad and company. We have been expecting you. This way, please.”
This was entirely too easy. But what could we do? We followed the man off the pier and to a stately administration building. In its central chamber was what appeared to be an ornate metal coffin with a glass lid.
“This is an image of your wife,” the harbormaster said. “She is not here, but in the cloud above. This is merely to allow you to verify that she lives, and will be delivered to you when the ransom is paid.”
We went to the coffin and looked in. And I went rigid.
The sleeping woman inside was lovely beyond belief. And she was my own beloved wife, lost many years ago along with our son.
“Yes!” Sinbad said. “That is she!”
She was his lost wife too? How could that be?
“Mortal, this is mischief,” Faddy murmured in my ear. He of course recognized my wife, having seen her many times in the past.
Mischief? This was disaster!
Chapter Sixteen
The woman in the glass casket was both my ex-wife and Sinbad’s current wife? How could this be? Indeed,
I suspected sorcery. Powerful sorcery. I thought about, and wondered of what mischief Faddy had been speaking of.
“Faddy,” I said to the lesser djinn, sub-vocalizing my words so only he could hear my words. “Who, exactly, do you see here?”
“Why, a beautiful djinn maiden, of course.”
I nodded and raised my voice. “Nabud, who do you see here?”
My stepson came over and looked into the glass coffin. His little jaw dropped in disbelief. “Myrrh? I don’t understand!”
Just as I suspected. Magic of the strongest type. We were all seeing those women who had had the most meaning for us. For me, the woman in the glass casket could have just as easily been Jewel. Was the illusion only confined to the glass case, or was the woman herself shrouded in such magic? If so, who was she then? Was it truly Sinbad’s wife? A mirage? Or something far more devious?
Sinbad had not heard any of this, so lost was he at the sight of his wife. He was touching the glass absently and whispering words only he could hear.
I motioned for the young wizard to follow me to the far side of the room, noting that the harbor master was watching us suspiciously. “It is dark magic, I said. “It’s not really an image of Myrrh, or an image of my own dying wife.”
“I do not understand,” he said.
I explained to him my theory behind the image and what I had seen and what Sinbad was obviously seeing. Duban nodded. “It makes sense. What creature could invoke such magic?”
“My guess is the same creature who tried to destroy both of us,” I said.
Duban set his jaw. “Prince Zeyn. I am not afraid of him.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m not either.” Although I wasn’t exactly sure of that. Heavens, on some level, even my stepson made me a little nervous. No doubt this was a common reaction to any non-magician to folk as powerful as Duban and Prince Zeyn.
“So what do we do, Father?” asked Duban.
I am always surprised when he seeks my counsel, for he is such a wise boy. But then I remind myself just that: he is just a boy, in the end, his experience and wisdom only minimal.
“Let’s keep this to ourselves,” I said. “It does him no harm thinking that this is his wife. And for all we know, it really is. Or she is still nearby.”
“I suspect a trap,” said Duban.
“So do I.”
“But if we play along,” said Duban. “Won’t we be stepping right into it?”
“Only if we were unsuspecting,” I said. “We will be ever vigilant.”
I had just spoken the words when the harbor master stepped forward. “Now that you have seen her, my friends, perhaps it is time to negotiate a payment.”
“I want to see her in person,” said Sinbad, rising regretfully from the image. “I want to see her live.”
“This is not possible,” said the harbormaster.
Sinbad spun on the man, fists clenched. “And why is that?”
The harbormaster merely blinked. “Because you are all under arrest.”
He clicked his fingers and men poured through the two doorways into the room, swords drawn. Instinctively, Sinbad and I drew our own weapons as the guards surrounded us.
Or, rather, tried to surround us.
Duban raised his little arms and closed his eyes and said, “Duck, Father.”
I did, pulling Sinbad down with me, as a mighty shockwave rocked the air above us, bursting from Duban’s hands. The men were all thrown from their feet, hurled across the room and into the far walls. And, in some cases, through the walls.
I loved my stepson!
I grabbed his hand and pulled him along, as Sinbad and I moved quickly through the downed men, who were not killed, merely stunned. As we raced through the wooden structure, I heard the harbormaster shouting orders for our pursuit.
Outside, I saw something that shouldn’t have surprised me. Our ship was being unloaded and our three Siren-song shiphands had been slaughtered, their corpses tossed into the harbor. At least they would never again be haunted by the sweet, sweet Siren song, whose memory still haunted my thoughts.
“Where to, Aladdin?” asked Sinbad, jolting me from my reverie.
But our answer was obvious. “To Cloudland,” I said.
“But how?”
I thought of the rug I had procured from the Siren’s cavern, the magic carpet. “Follow me!”
And they did, and soon we had descended down upon the harbor, where most of our vast treasure, including the ambergris, had been unloaded. The treasure was lost, no doubt. And I was beginning to suspect the payment was to the harbormaster all along, while Prince Zeyn had no use for human treasure. His true prize was control. Control of the human race, perhaps.
It was just three of us, but we were a mighty three. Sinbad and I hacked and fought our way to the ship, moving through armed men who were nowhere near as skilled with the sword. Duban played his part as well, causing havoc and confusion with his magic, and soon we were upon our vast treasure.
Seeing it all here, especially the gifts I had selected for Jewel, made my heart heavy, but there was no time for such reflections. More men were pouring down into the harbor, and I saw the concerned looks on Sinbad’s and Duban’s faces. After all, they did not know what magic I had up my sleeve, if any at all.
There! Amid the golden cups and priceless jewels, was the rolled up carpet, which I quickly fetched and unrolled.
“A carpet?” blinked Sinbad. “You had us risk life and limb for a carpet?”
“Not just any carpet,” I said. Having already mastered such magical flight, I sat in the center of it and soon it was hovering a few feet off the ground. “Climb aboard,” I said. “And I suggest you two hurry.”
They did, each finding their own corner, and I gave the silent command, and soon we were soaring just above the heads and outstretched swords of the pursuing guards.
I soon angled the carpet up.
Up to Cloudland.
Chapter Seventeen
And what a flight it was!
Sinbad had described it, but the reality was far more impressive. The base of the island was a normal tropical jungle, but close inland the mountains rose steeply toward the great capping cloud. Too steep for trees; there was only clinging brush and bare rock. But then it angled less sharply, and trees resumed. These were larger, and the higher the slope rose, the bigger the trees became, until they were giants such as I had never before seen. It almost seemed that the island must sink into the sea from the sheer weight of these monsters.
We had escaped the men, flying beyond arrow range. They had not anticipated a magic carpet. But more mischief was coming. “Look!” Duban cried.
I looked where he pointed. A huge shape was flying toward us. It was a roc bird! We could not get beyond its range.
“Maybe it’s illusion,” Sinbad said. “Like the one at Zombie Isle.”
“That one was out of its natural territory,” I said tightly. “This one isn’t.”
Faddy appeared. “Right, Aladdin. This one’s real. They use them to ferry men and goods to Cloudland.”
“Do you have a suggestion how we can deal with it?”
“If all three of you jump off the carpet, the roc may have time to catch only one or two. You’re bird food.”
“Begone, spook!” I snapped. He faded out with a chuckle.
Meanwhile the big bird was zooming close. “I’ll jump first,” Sinbad volunteered with a smile that was more like a grimace. “Maybe you can loop down to catch me before I splat on the slope.”
That wasn’t much help either. I thought fast. “How are you at illusion, Duban?”
“I haven’t tried it.”
“Try it. See if you can make us look like something uninteresting, like a flying log.”
Duban didn’t argue. He focused, gestured, and a giant book appeared between us and the roc.
“He meant a tree log, not a ship’s log book,” Sinbad said with a slightly better smile.
“I thought that was wha
t I was conjuring,” Duban said, disgruntled. “I told you, I haven’t tried this before.”
But it seemed the book would do. It drifted away from us, then began to fall. The roc swerved to intercept it, forgetting us for the moment. It would surely catch on soon enough, but this did give us a reprieve from immediate attack.
Now our ascent had to become vertical, because it was the tops of the trees we wanted. Their huge trunks rose into the cloud above and disappeared. It was almost as if they grew in white water, upside down, their circular cross sections plunging into the base of the level cloud.
We ascended toward that foggy layer. We hovered close beneath it.
“We’ll be blind when we enter that,” Duban said grimly.
“Maybe there’s an avenue between cloud-banks,” I said without much hope.
“The bird’s back,” Sinbad said. “It looks annoyed.”
“Illusion books don’t taste very good,” Duban said, almost smiling.
“Enough with the gallows humor,” I said. “We’ve got a problem.”
Indeed, the roc was zooming toward us from below, rising like a Chinese rocket, its eyes blazing, its beak open. It was big enough to take us all in one gulp.
“If we can’t see in there, neither can it,” Sinbad said, looking up at the cloud-line.
I angled the carpet precipitously and shot upward into the cloud. It looked like an impending crash, but it was only mist. We were hidden. But I didn’t take a chance; I veered to the side within the fog.
Sure enough, a huge shape blasted past us, the draft almost tipping us over. The roc had gone for the place we disappeared.
We all had the wit to keep silent. I steadied the carpet, and we hovered, hardly breathing.
Nothing happened. The roc had evidently lost us and flown on.
But now we were lost ourselves, having no idea where we were or where to go.
Something loomed nearby. Was it the roc? No, it was the wall-like trunk of a tree. We could vaguely see it from up close.
Well, that was a guide. “Going up,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so the big bird would not orient on it.