Denny looked sceptical for a moment and then said ‘You mean it don’t you?’
I do mean it, she thought.
‘It could do with it,’ Denny observed. ‘So how would you do it?’
‘I was thinking of getting rid of all the Djinn and taking it from there.’
‘Are there many?’
‘Just so’s you’d notice,’ she said sarcastically. ‘And they’re a plague and a rotten confounded nuisance nothing but trouble.’
‘You’re not.’
‘Only because of you, I’ve often thought that the only sensible master is a silent master (on the subject of wishing I mean). I suppose I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘I’m glad you did. I thought you hated me.’
‘Of course I don’t. Why would you think that?’
‘Well, you are stuck here because of me. I do feel bad about it.’
‘I don’t mind really.’
‘Oh? And you were being so honest.’
Tamar smiled sheepishly. ‘It could be worse – it has been,’ she said, remembering the cunning weasel. Sixty seven years of pure purgatory.
‘Still, they say suffering is good for the soul,’ she quipped.
‘I think you’ve suffered enough,’ he said. ‘I want to help you. You deserve your freedom, and I’ve got a plan.’
Now I understand, she thought, why he’s different, why he doesn’t belong in this place.
Unlikely as it seemed, and despite the lack of muscles and charisma, she realized that it was because he was a Hero.
She was looking at him through eyes that were shining with tears. Then to his tremendous embarrassment, and later her own, she did what she now realized she had wanted to do since first setting eyes on him. She flung her arms around him and kissed him passionately.
After hesitating for a few seconds, he kissed her back. And then he fainted.
~ Chapter Seven ~
The plan was a good one. Tamar was impressed when he finally came round and explained it to her. It had taken half an hour of frantic patting on the face and pouring water on him to rouse him, and she had been terrified at what she had done.
There was a reason why Djinn should not have intimate contact with mortals (rule two-seven-two). It should be rule one, she thought furiously. Any longer and I could have killed him. She was pouring cheap whisky down his throat (he did not have any brandy).
The whole incident was tactfully ignored, although they both realized it would have to be dealt with eventually.
The plan he had come up with would not harm the innocent and involved punishing the guilty. Just what you would expect from a Hero, thought Tamar fondly. And it was brilliantly simple. That is to say, it was a simple plan, in that it was not complicated. But it was not going to be easy.
It involved finding Askphrit (The guilty) and Denny refused to use a wish to do so.
‘But he could be anywhere,’ protested Tamar. ‘He may not even be on the planet – you have to wish. How else are we going to find him?’
‘No, if something goes wrong, we’ll need all my wishes. We’ll just have to look.’
‘Look where? Where do we even start?’
‘Here.’ He slapped down a copy of the Yellow Pages.
‘You’ve got to be kidding. What are we looking for, G for Git?’
‘Very funny. No, C for clairvoyant. All we need is something that belonged to him – the bottle.’
‘You’re out of your mind – clairvoyants, that’s not real magic.’
‘How do you know? Look, I’ll admit I used to think they were all frauds, but then I didn’t believe in the Djinn either, until you dropped into my life. It’ll only need one to be genuine. I’ll go through every clairvoyant, seer and psychic in the country if I have to… that’s a good point, look up P for psychic too.’
Tamar was fluttering. His forcefulness was bringing out a hitherto unsuspected liking for being dominated (as opposed to just putting up with it) and his grim determination to help her was gratifying, but she knew in her heart that this was not the way. They would have to access the magic underground and consult a witch or a sorcerer. She was badly out of touch with this world. These kinds of people used to work out in the open of course but had been driven underground some time ago (a long time ago in human terms). That they still existed, she had no doubt, but finding them would be difficult (there’s no such thing as a wizard pride parade) and dangerous, not to mention costly. Not forgetting too, that the people they would be searching for were dangerous in themselves. Not to her of course, but it would be difficult to protect Denny if he refused to use his wishes.
She tried to explain all of this to him. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. It’s not worth it. Maybe we should just forget it.’
Denny laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not going to forget it; I think it’s worth it. It’s sweet of you to be worried about me …’
Sweet!
‘… but what about you?’ he finished.
‘Oh, I’m all right, it could be worse.’
‘It could be a lot better too – I wish ...’
Tamar put a finger, hurriedly, to his lips. ‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try,’ he finished lamely.
‘Spoken like a true Hero.’
‘Like a what?’
‘Oh you are you know. I should know. I’ve been around for a long time, and I’m a smart girl. Only the Hero comes to the rescue of the damsel in distress, you know.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m not a Hero; I’m damn scared if you want the truth, how heroic is that?’
‘Maybe I should do this part on my own.’
‘Oh yes, what kind of Hero lets the damsel go off and do the dangerous part on her own?’
‘Discretion is the better part of valour.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I won’t be in any danger – I’m immortal, and I’d probably get on better if I didn’t have to worry about you.’
‘I suppose you have a point, even if you are eviscerating my male ego as you make it. But still, I don’t know. You may need me for something; you never know.’
‘I do need you for something, and you don’t have a male ego. Look, I need you to be alive and well when I find him. If it makes you feel any better, I’m no ordinary damsel.’
‘I know.’ He looked at her steadily, in such a way that it made her heart pound. ‘And it’s not because you’re Djinn either.
‘No, I’m not letting you out of my sight, he reiterated. ‘I can’t sit at home twiddling my thumbs and worrying myself sick about you. I’m coming too, and that’s final. You can’t stop me anyway; I’m the master – for the time being – right?’
Tamar sighed. ‘Right.’
‘Good, so where do we start?’
‘At the coast.’
~ Chapter Eight ~
‘I probably should have mentioned before’ said Denny, – ‘I can’t swim.’
‘It’s okay,’ Tamar grinned, ‘you couldn’t follow me where I’m going even if you could. Just don’t fall in.’
‘I get seasick too – I just found out.’
‘You didn’t have to come.’
He did look bad though. He was hanging over the side of the boat looking distinctly green. Tamar had always believed this to be a mere figure of speech – live and learn. The water was choppy, but not too bad. To Denny it felt like being in the middle of a tornado.
‘How do you know they’re here?’ he asked.
They were in Ireland, having been to several other parts of the coast in England and Wales.
‘I just know,’ she told him ‘I can sense it; right, let’s go back to shore and drop you off. I’ll swim out, and you can stay on nice, dry land.’
Denny did not have the will to argue. He was feeling like a burden, although Tamar was being terribly nice about
it.
* * *
Back on terra firma he watched in fascination as Tamar leaped off a rock transforming in mid-air into a mermaid.
‘My God!’
She dived gracefully into the water and with a flick of her tail she was gone, leaving Denny to gnaw at his fingernails.
Tamar had decided to start with the mermaids because they were the only magical creatures that she felt fairly confident of finding quite easily. Also, mermaids tended to be frivolous and thoughtless and would chatter away quite unwarily. If they knew anything, Tamar felt sure she would get it out of them. If they knew anything.
About ten miles out, she began to feel the magic, another five, (and pretty deep now) she saw them, silvery flickers of light flashing through the water. She began to wonder just what she was doing, what would she say to them? Then again, if it came to that, if they could point her in the direction of a witch or a sorcerer, what then, what did she expect them to do? How would a witch, for example, help her to find Askphrit – the νόθος’? And, even if she could, why would she? Hmm, she thought, got to find one first, one thing at a time.
Without warning, she was surrounded by twittering, giggling mermaids.
It should be pointed out here, that “mermaids” is a bit of a misnomer. There is nothing human about them at all for one thing. They are less half fish, half woman, and more all fish that has evolved to look partly human. A pale, silvery colour all over, although, in some, the “tail” part is darker, the scales continue all the way up the “torso”, and no mermaid ever wore a boob tube of any kind. The faces are more or less human like, with features that are pale and pointed, except that their ears are inset into the skull and their eyes are dark and liquid with no whites showing, rather like shark’s eyes, giving them, to modern eyes, a rather Roswellian look. The fabled long, golden hair of the mermaid is, in fact, a mass of tendrils interspersed with silvery almost invisible filaments which stretch out for around fifty feet and are of the same nature as those of the sea creature, Cyanea capillata, known to sailors as the “lion’s mane” or “fearful stinger”. These filaments are deadly in the extreme, and the pain of them stops the heart; death is slow and torturous. Mermaids may look pretty and indeed be vapid and vacuous, but they are also as deadly as many other sea creatures.
‘Look girls,’ cooed one, ‘a new one.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Oooh! Isn’t she pretty?’
‘Let’s comb her hair.’
‘New seashells for her ears.’
‘Oh darling, isn’t she dull? Try this,’ tittered one, draping her in bioluminescent seaweed like a feather boa.
‘Much better.’
‘Do you sing? Not that sailors just aren’t what they used to be sweetie. But we do our best darling, don’t you know?’
‘I remember Captain Nemo, such a darling.’
‘I remember Sinbad.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Where do you hail from?’
‘I ...’
‘What are the sailors like there?’
‘Um ...’
‘Are you all by yourself?’
‘I ...’
Either mermaids had grown even more foolish than they used to be, or else it was so dim in this part of the sea that they could not see her properly. In either case, they obviously had not realized that she was not a real mermaid. And, despite the questions, they did not seem particularly interested in whence she came. (In any case, not one of them had waited for an answer) So much the better.
‘I’m from Greece,’ she announced.
‘Grease? – Sounds horrible. Is it called that because of that, like, pollution thingy?’
‘Not grease silly,’ said another, ‘Greece – it’s a country.’
‘Land?’ said the first one, looking puzzled.
‘Bor-ing.’ said yet another, and the subject looked like being dropped.
Tamar, however, was not giving up that easily.
‘So, you won’t have heard of Circe then?’ she ventured, she was making it up as she went, and this seemed as legitimate a way as any to introduce the subject of witches. It felt like the whole ocean erupted in squeals.
‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I? Anyone seen her lately?’
‘No didn’t she die? I think she died, wasn’t she a ...’ the voice sunk to a whisper, ‘a witch?’
‘Sorceress, yes.’
‘Didn’t she run that Siren outfit?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Lousy rotten impostors.’
‘And turn all our choicest sailors into a petting zoo?’
‘So I heard.’
‘The bad old days, huh?’
‘So, why do you ask?’
‘What? Oh I was just ... Oh all right, I’ll come clean girls. There’s a new sorceress in town. At least that’s what I heard.’
‘What’s a town?’
‘I mean hanging – swimming around. I don’t suppose you girls have seen anything.’
‘The only witches I know of are on land, they hang around in ovens.’
‘Ovens? That you cook in?’ Tamar was perplexed.
‘Don’t they get pushed into them by children?’ said another frowning prettily.
Tamar suddenly saw daylight. ‘Actually, I think you mean covens,’ she said
‘Yeah, groups of three or more, safety in numbers you see. If the humans catch them, they burn them.’
‘In the ovens?’ said the dim one.
‘It’s not ovens stupid; it’s covens,’ snapped the knowledgeable one.
‘Oooh, pardon me.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Oooh ...’
‘Shut up! Yeah, I was saying, covens for safety. They give them code names for cover, so the humans won’t find out about them.’
Tamar was listening with her mouth open, hanging on every word with open fascination. The mermaid preened, and prattled on; obviously proud of her knowledge ‘Yeah code names like the WI whatever that means and the Women’s Liberation Front.’
‘Huh, I always thought that lot were a bunch of witches,’ thought Tamar inconsequentially. Mind, you, it made sense in a way, just another way of gaining influence in human lives. Cunning too: giving ‘em what they did not even know they wanted.
‘But I haven’t seen any out here,’ the mermaid continued. ‘Just let them try it! We’re not having any more of their nonsense. Setting up on islands – Sirens! Sailors are getting pretty thin on the seabed as it is.’
But Tamar had lost interest, she slipped away unnoticed and headed for shore.
There was a shark behind her, unusual for these waters, but not a problem.
Then she sensed it; it was not a shark. There was a power there such as she had never felt before. It gripped her, and she panicked. What had power like that, stronger than Djinn magic? Nothing that she knew of, but the world had changed. It had her; she could not move; she had never felt such fear. I’m going to die. She closed her eyes. Then, abruptly it let her go, and she shot toward the surface, but only for a second. Still shark shaped it opened its jaws and bit down on her “tail”. She screamed and thrashed, but she could not get free. Her head broke water, and she began to scream in earnest.
‘HELP, HELP, HELP! DENNY!’ She was only a few yards from the shore. Denny looked up and saw her struggling in the water, bloody surf foaming around her. He ran waist deep into the water as she was pulled back under; he reached down not without some reservations, into the water and grabbed her hand. The jaws melted away; the thing was gone. Denny lifted her awkwardly; he was pretty weedy and the tail was large and heavy. He laid her down on the sand gently and sat beside her helplessly.
‘Oh my God … Oh my God ...’ he kept repeating.
She grabbed his hand. ‘I’m OK, thanks to you.’ She sighed, ‘thank God you were there.’ She had stopped saying “Praise Allah” some time ago. Although she sometimes still th
ought it.
‘What was that?’ he choked, ‘I thought you were invulnerable. What ... my God Tamar, I thought ... I thought ...’
‘It – I don’t know what it was,’ she stammered. ‘It looked like a shark – felt like one too.’
He looked at her tail. ‘You’re bleeding, it looks quite serious. Can you change back? What can make a Djinn bleed?
‘I don’t know; I can’t make it stop.’
She changed back to a human form; there was a huge gash in her right leg, exactly like a shark bite. Denny gathered her up into his arms. ‘I’ll take you to a hospital.’
‘Denny, you can’t, I’m not human, they’ll probably notice.’
‘So, what can I do?’
‘Just take me back to the hotel, I’ll be okay. – And Denny.’
‘Yes?’
‘You were right, I needed you. I’m glad you came.’
‘So am I.’ He answered fervently.
* * *
Although Tamar had used teleportation for the long journeys – to save on airfares, Denny had insisted on hiring a car for local travel, to avoid being conspicuous, which was fortunate now since Tamar’s powers were severely weakened.
Tamar was healing fast; it had been so many years since she had felt any pain that the sensation was not entirely unpleasant. But Denny was agitated.
‘Don’t be silly darling,’ she said (the effect of the mermaids’ chatter was taking longer to wear off than the pain) ‘this just means that we’re on the right track. That was probably old Askphrit – the νόθος – himself. Maybe we got him worried. If we keep it up, maybe he’ll come to us. Now do sit down, you’re making me dizzy.’
Denny sat on the bed, averting his eyes from the large bloodstain on the sheets. There was going to be trouble later on from the landlady, a jolly bustling type, with all the sympathy and compassion of a barracuda, a reveller in the misery of others carefully disguised as concern for their welfare.
Getting Tamar past this Job’s comforter, limping badly, with blood pouring down her leg had been a feat of ingenuity worthy of the organisers of the under tens /over sixty fives annual potholing expedition.
‘Maybe we should just pack it in after all,’ he said, glancing meaningfully at the bloody eiderdown. The fact that the bed had on it, an eiderdown, should tell you all that you need to know about the place where they were staying.
‘Oh – yes,’ she said and waved her arm vaguely at it. The stain disappeared.
‘See? Good as new. - And look,’ she extended her leg, now fully healed.