Djinn

[Just Old Al]

This is another one from Dinky Inky and myself, with a welcome assist from a character of Shneekey The Lost's in as a cameo..

To be honest, this one is in spots a lot darker than our usual fare.

I do want to warn folks against it. It touches on many of the darker points of the human spirit, and though it comes right in the end it is not a smooth path at all. Those of a sensitive disposition may wish to avoid it.

Lastly, this is Copyright Al Richer. This is NOT TO BE COPIED, PDFed, OR RENDERED as a derived work by anyone. This is where it should remain.

Yours, Al.

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 1

Al strolled along the waterfront of the island town, shaded from the equatorial sun by a light parasol.

He was, as he liked to describe it, in his best “Papa Hemingway” outfit – a light linen shirt, khaki shorts, knee socks, boat shoes and a walnut tan peeling and itching somewhat at the edges where he’d been less than thorough in his application of sunscreen.

Despite the English heritage that would normally have caused him to perish in temperatures over eighty Fahrenheit, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. This was tempered, unfortunately by the fact that his love could not come with him this time despite the temptations of lithe bodies wearing suntan lotion and little else. Compensating for this by sharing photographs of the young men for Rosalynd’s enjoyment was fun…but it wasn’t the same.

As he strolled he enjoyed the scenery and the noise. Vendors with their shops of garish tourist tat, labelled in the four languages of the island (and poorly in English) were arrayed up and down both sides of the narrow street he walked, with the cracked pavement under his feet barely keeping him away from the single-file procession of cabs, rental cars and the occasional motorcycle tour vehicle. The noise and hubbub of the back streets off the waterfront warmed Al’s heart – this was familiar territory to a man who’d been as rootless as he. Just the sheer energy of the commercial district with its combination of vendors, cafes, bars, drunk and not so drunk tourists, gay tour groups under their rainbow banners and just general hubbub was just wonderful.

Altogether too soon, though, Al tired and headed back for his hotel. As he turned the corner and walked back out to the beach and the main road, the commercialism of the boardwalk gave way to the quieter section of town containing the small residence hotels, inns and hostelries that made Al frequent this place. A further ten-minute walk saw him at his hotel, a modest, modern concrete structure next to one of the more popular beaches.

Returning to his room, he deposited his shopping, tucking away the groceries he’d picked up for dinner in the cabinets and refrigerator, and changed into his swimming trunks and a sun shirt. Grabbing his beach bag he headed back out the door of his room, and with a cheery nod walked down the steep stairs headed to the bar at the beach.

Strolling into the bar area he stopped to appreciate the scene as he always did.

The bar itself was an organic shape in cast concrete and painted corrugated steel with flowing walls and walkways around it, with the walls done in a pebbled-dash concrete. The paths were a light colour and in a similar concrete – easy on the feet and grippy whether wet or dry. Past the building and extending from there to the tranquil azure waters were a few rows of loungers, each pair covered by a bright umbrella.

Al smiled. This was his favourite part of the day – lying on a lounger, bathing in the sea and just people-watching. The relaxed attitudes here suited him right down to the ground, as did the complete lack of crowds in the off season.

As he walked into the building and approached the bar Al shouted to the bartender.

“Olá Matheus! Uma espreguiçadeira e uma bebida gelada, por favor!”

The barkeep, a swarthy handsome young man, laughed and began to mix a drink. “Al, your Portuguese STILL sucks! Man, your accent would make my grandmother cry!”

Al slipped his beach bag off his shoulder, dropped it on a conveniently empty barstool and settled down comfortably on another. “Then let’s not tell her I’m here, no? How’s it going, my friend?”

The barkeep chuckled. “Being she’s at home in Brazil, that won’t be hard to do. So, you settling in for the afternoon or is this just a quick dip-and-go?”

“No, I'm going to settle in for the afternoon and relax. Went into town this morning and got my groceries for dinner and for breakfast and got those tucked away in the refrigerator, so I can dedicate the afternoon to relaxation. Might rent a cat tomorrow and go for a sail to the Sisters if I’m feeling suitably insane, but for now, lethargy is the name of the game.”

The barkeep leaned forward conspiratorially as he placed a mixed drink in a large dewy plastic cup on the bar in front of Al. “Here’s your cooler – all fruit, no rum like you like it. You know, Al....you don’t need to eat dinner alone. I’ve had a lady or two ask about you. Or breakfast either....think about it. You are on vacation, after all.”

Al chuckled. “A decade ago I’d have been interested in that. However, I am now married to the most wonderful woman on the planet – who happens to be a dead shot at 200 yards with a scoped rifle. Even if I was interested I’m not that insane!

“More seriously, my friend, I do appreciate your concern on my behalf, but no – I think not. Now, if you don’t mind – I am going to go and ensconce myself in my lounger. Can I trust you to keep these coming?” he said, lifting his punch.

“Certainly. See you then!” The barkeep smiled and nodded and went back to the incessant cleaning and maintenance that an open-air bar requires in a tropical environment.

Al dropped off the bar stool, reclaimed his beach bag and wandered out of the bar, heading down the row of loungers. He had a favourite, down at the end and toward the front in the staggered row. This particular one gave him a perfect view of the traffic up and down the beach, and kept him out of the path of the more boisterous of the frolickers in the sand - a combination he found eminently suitable.

Setting his drink down he pulled out a paperback book and settled into his lounger, contentedly reading and watching the folk walk and play in the surf. Feeling the need for a swim he went off and did so, sliding into the turquoise waters with a grace that belied his years.

Soaking, sunning and reading occupied a good part of his afternoon, till finally feeling the need for a stretch he donned his sandals, put his sunshirt back on and, leaving his gear behind, he went for a stroll at the tideline.

Walking aimlessly along the tideline he found himself somewhat alone, the scree of the gulls above and the rush of the surf at his feet. His mind entered an almost Zen state, absorbing the scene as one flawless picture, the warmth soaking into his soul.

With his mage senses he could feel the power of the land and the water, and the purity of the energy of both, each keeping the other clean through the action of wind and wave, sun and cloud. He revelled in it, happily recharging his spiritual batteries as well as his energy sources as he walked.

As he walked, he felt something – a disturbance in the tranquillity of the leylines and their pulsing glow of healthy energy. Something was present that, while not corrupting, was an intrusion on the natural order of things.

He looked about, scanning his immediate surroundings. The area he was in was a narrow belt of sand to the tideline and a bit past, and above that black volcanic stone, most of it rounded and water-washed, with the festoons of long marine growth on the undersides – not the usual white sand tourist playground. In among the stones something black and gold glinted.

Al walked over and examined it, being careful not to touch it even though it almost demanded to be picked up.

It was a bottle, approximately 500 millimetres tall. From the ornate stopper in the top and the fluted opening that cradled it the neck swooped downward like that of a peacock – long, thin and graceful. This then flared out into a round base, oval in cross-section and intricately worked.

The exterior was picked out and decorated in gold filigree – lines, circles and swoops of gold accenting the black glass. Where the glass was worked the gold accented it, turning the whole into a harmonious work of art.

Though not opaque glass, it could not be seen through, as something...was in it.

It reeked of power.

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 2

Examining it carefully, Al realised what it was. This was a Djinn bottle – the container to which a Djinn was linked. Touching it would release the spirit and bind it to the person unlucky enough to do the releasing.

“This needs to be secured – and now, before someone finds it and picks it up.” Standing back on the sandy area Al drew Power and went to work. While watching for other bathers (thankfully for the moment there were none) he bored a hole twenty feet deep, then levitated the bottle gently to the bottom of the hole and filled in the excavation. Finally, he kicked dry sand over the area to cover the marks left by his meddling.

Shaking, Al headed back for his lounger and another cold drink. The encounter with the spirit had done his equilibrium no good at all and frankly he needed a drink despite his normal attitudes toward alcohol. Heading back down the beach he walked into the bar and hiked up onto a bar stool, with a “Double Jaimeson’s, rocks, now!” to the bartender.

“Al, you sure? I know you don’t drink. What happened?” he asked as he poured a large whisky over ice and passed it to the shaken engineer.

Al had it halfway to his lips when he looked to his left and started, the contents of the whisky glass ending up all over the bar, the front of his shirt and the floor. As the barman passed him a bar towel and he mopped away his sin he realised that the unthinkable had happened, and that the bottle sat there, clean, spotless even, untouched by the salt water or the sand.

As Al stared at it, he realised that the bottom oval contained...eyes.

Feminine, beautiful blue eyes with long curled lashes stared out of the bottle at him – and no doubt, they were looking at him and nowhere else.

“Al, are you OK?” Matheus asked, the concern for his customer overriding his normal tendency to let folks be. “You’re acting....a little odd.”

“Matheus, do you see this bottle?” Al pointed at the intruder sitting innocuously on the bar.

Glancing over, the bartender replied. “Sure. Nice piece. Pick that up from a souvenir seller on the beach? The wife’ll love it.” He then went back to looking at Al, as if trying to decide if calling for medical help might be in order.

Al thought to himself Obviously whatever the Hades this thing is up to is glamouring itself against the mundanes – which is why it’s managed to go uncollected till I wandered by and attempted to plant its arse. How it got out of the hole is another question – and one that I do NOT want to consider as a normal Djinn artefact should most decidedly have NOT been able to. Now, to get this thing somewhere I can make sure it’s not going to harm someone – and to do that I need to be rid of our friendly publican for a moment.

Al dug into his wallet. “Matheus, lad, I need two things from you. First, I need one of the cocoanut sacks you have piled behind the bar. Secondly, this poor old man is feeling a bit ill – would you go and grab my beach bag from my chair for me please?” Al passed Matheus a twenty-euro bill.

Matheus, suspicions confirmed, immediately looked concerned, especially considering Al’s previous behaviour. “Al, do you want me to call the doctor? We have one on call and I can have him here in ten minutes. And what’s with the sack?”

“No, I don’t need a doctor. Just a bit too much equatorial sun for this old Northerner. The sack is just a bit of fun – I’m going to put the bottle in it and roll it up as padding so it survives the trip back.”

Matheus looked relieved. “Okay, then. No problem. I’ll be right back.” He passed over the sack then headed out, leaving the bar deserted.

Al nodded grimly. “All right then, me lovely. In you go.” Opening the sack and collapsing it on the floor Al levitated the bottle, setting it in the sack, then dropped it on its side and rolled the sack around it. A few moments later Matheus returned and soon after Al was back in his suite, with his unwelcome visitor sitting on his kitchen counter.

Staring at the bottle he asked, “All right then – so what in Hades am I going to do with you?”

The bottle with its blue eyes looked back at him imperturbably, blinking as a normal human would. Resisting the urge to just throw the sack over it and ignore it Al pulled up a kitchen stool, turned on a light to brighten the area and reached into the refrigerator for a cold drink. As he did the eyes followed him – the pupils adjusting to the change in light and the position of the eyes shifting in the base of the bottle to track his movements.

Opening the drink and taking a sip, Al seated himself facing the bottle. The eyes swivelled in the interior until they faced him, and stared at him. Al thought to himself after seeing this display, Obviously, whatever is in the bottle is sentient and aware and is paying close attention to me. Let’s see if we can get across to it and figure out what it’s after.

“So, what exactly am I going to do with you, eh?”

The eyes in the bottle tilted at an angle, perfectly conveying a quizzical attitude, then settled down again.

“All right, then. Let’s start from the beginning. Do you understand me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”

The eyes nodded, sliding up and down in an unmistakable manner.

“What do you want?”

The eyes pointed upward toward the stopper, focused on Al, then upward toward the stopper again. After two or three iterations of this Al made a chopping-off gesture and the dance stopped.

“No. Hades, no. Unequivocally, no. Whatever you are offering I do NOT need, want or desire. I have everything in my life that I need and then some, and I am well aware of the strings that gifts from you come with.”

The dance began again – eyes looking up, then at Al, then up, over and over again.

“I said NO. That is that. I am NOT going to deal with you on this. I assume simply asking you to go away is not going to work?”

The eyes darted left and right emphatically several times, then settled down to stare at him again.

“Oh, dear."

Al thought to himself. Dealing with this is going to be a ravening pain in the arse, I need to figure out what it wants over and above the obvious – which it is NOT going to get! – and then detach it from me as quickly as possible.

In any case, this thing has a blast radius – for the moment I don’t want anyone else involved. So much for a holiday… and going home until I can get this thing sorted out.

“All, right then, you – can you talk? Can you communicate?”

A dark mist began to flow from around the stopper and formed a cloudy rectangle above the bottle, with a tail of mist connecting it to the top of the bottle. A gold border appeared in the rectangle, ornate and filigreed like the work on the outside of the glass, and within that, letters formed.

“Yes, of course I can. You need but ask.”

“Trifle theatrical, no? Can you talk?”

The letters disappeared and reformed.

“No, sadly I cannot in this form. If you touch the bottle, however, I can emerge and we can have all sorts of fun together, Master!”

“Oh, NOooooo. No, that is NOT going to happen. You are a big red button that can potentially destroy the Earth and I am NOT going to be tempted into pushing you! I may be many kinds of a fool but stupid I am most wholeheartedly not – and I am WELL aware of Djinn and their practices, thank you.”

The smoky panel cleared again, and this time a picture formed. An elfin face, with pointed ears, short-bobbed hair and a pouty expression formed on the surface and looked at him, lower lip quivering. Tears formed in its eyes and ran down its cheeks.

Simultaneously heartbroken and disgusted Al reached into a kitchen drawer, pulled out a meat skewer and stirred the cloud, shredding it. When it reformed, the words upon it read:

That wasn’t very nice.

“Keep this on a civilised level and we won’t have a problem, now will we? Appealing to my emotions or trying to play the poor frail female with me will not get you anywhere – as I have said before, I am more than aware of Djinn and what usually happens to mortals that fall for their deals.

“So, let’s have the discussion – what is it that drives you to plague my holiday? I have come out here to enjoy the sun, the sand, the people-watching and the tranquillity and ended up dealing with you. This is annoying me. So, what do I need to do to be rid of you?”

A wall of text formed on the rectangle.

“Oh, don’t be that way. Yes, I am a Djinn, but I can offer you some very, very attractive things – all I ask for is my freedom at the end of our arrangement.

Pictures began to form on the rectangle. Al, at the head of a conference room table, directing a corporation. Behind him a window showed industrial buildings denoting a commercial empire.

This image disappeared, to be replaced by one of a penthouse in a high rise – Al recognized New York. The penthouse was lavishly furnished, and he (or a simulacrum of him) sat in a leather wing chair admiring the view out the window while sipping brandy and smoking a cigar. This too then disappeared, and text appeared on the screen.

“And considering you mentioned your holiday – how would this be every day?”

The third image was the lounger he had been stretched out in – but it was alone on the beach. He was surrounded by servants – all of them female, all of them gorgeous, and all barely clad in the thinnest and lightest of silks and jewels. All of them were catering to his every whim, providing drinks and food.

As they did so, others danced for his entertainment, and played instruments providing music for the dancers.

Revolted by the crass display, Al conjured a darning needle and popped the window.

The window formed again.

“Would you prefer boys - the barkeep WAS cute… or both? I won’t judge – I am definitely equal opportunity.”

“I would prefer neither. You are taking me up onto the mountain and showing me the kingdoms of the Earth – and I’m sitting here and telling you it is the off-ramp to Paramus, New Jersey.

“What I am trying to get through to you is that there is nothing you can offer me that I do not already have. Friends, family, fulfilling work, home....I have it all. As a dear friend of mine says, “I want for nothing, so I need nothing.”

“There is nothing you can offer me that I do not have. Now, how can I make you go away?”

“You can’t. I want you to be my Master, so that you will free me. I will give you things beyond your wildest dreams, and together we will elevate you to the status you deserve. Then, you will free me, O Master.”

“Not on a sodding bet you miserable git. Do you know how much PAPERWORK is involved in taking over the world nowadays? No, thanks. I need to think about this.”

With that being said, Al levitated the bottle to the back of the kitchen counter and threw the cocoanut sack over it. As he did his phone vibrated, startling him. Pulling it from his breast pocket he looked at the display, realising that it was the one person he should have expected to hear from - and dreaded.

“Hello, love. I’m a little busy at the moment - can I call you back after dinner?”

“No. No, you can’t. What’s bothering you? Since the middle of the afternoon something’s been bothering you - something big. Tell me. And before you start in with your waffling and your “well, I don’t know if I should” bullshit don’t forget I can be there in no time or less given the number of mages we both know. - so tell.”

“First off, love, whatever you do, DON’T come out here - this has a blast radius. Secondly, I’ve got a bit of Djinn trouble.”

“Gin trouble? You’ve been drinking?” there was a pregnant pause, and Al counted to himself, then Rosalynd’s voice came back. “Ohhhh greaaaaat. Maaaaaarrrrvelous. How in Hades did THAT happen?”

“Honestly, love, I have no idea. I was walking by the tideline, enjoying the surf and people watching and this damn thing fastened itself to me like a limpet. Since then she and I -”

“She?” Al immediately got an impression of furious green eyes staring at him, and knew that despite his present predicament he’d once again managed to step into the plonker. Knowing that back-pedalling was useless he continued.

“I do get that impression, yes, though she is still in her bottle, yes.”

Al got an overwhelming impression of disgust through the phone. “Only you. ONLY YOU. I send you off to a tropical island for a month to go ogle topless women and send me pictures of beach boys in budgie smugglers and YOU HAVE TO FIND A DAMN Djinn TO ADD TO YOUR HAREM! You didn’t have enough of a centaur and a damn Sphinx - you had to add a Djinn to the mix! What next - something nice and calm like an Elder God?

“ So, now that you caught it, what are you going to do with it?”

“That, you annoying equine, is what I was trying to figure out. The first thing I am NOT going to do is bring it home - as I said this thing has a blast radius and I do NOT want it near anything or anyone I care about. Secondly, this is dangerous to any mortal - which means asking any of the mages or any of this realm for assistance with this fey pain in the arse is RIGHT out.

“I think talking to Ialin is going to be my best bet - hopefully with her help I can figure out who can help me deal with this problem with the least possibility of collateral damage. This thing is not funny.”

Rosaylynd’s voice changed - going from irritated to concerned. “I know. Be careful old man - this is not like anything you’ve ever tackled before. Remember - ANYTHING you say can be used against you, so watch your statements, OK? I want you back in one piece!”

“Well understood, love. Not sure what I’m going to do yet, but I will take care.”

“Do what you need to - but come back to me. Love you.”

“Love you!” And with the press of a contact she was gone, and he was alone with his problem again.

“Now, for dinner.” With that Al turned to the refrigerator and began to pull out ingredients for his meal, when he was interrupted by a rattle from the counter behind him. Stopping momentarily, he steeled himself against turning back and then continued his preparations when the rattle occurred again, longer and more strident. He turned back and the rattle occurred again, the bottle wobbling on the counter under its sacking coverlet.

Removing the sack Al stared at the bottle, and the screen formed above it again, words forming on the screen.

“Please leave the bottle uncovered. You do not need to converse with me, and I promise not to disturb you. I have been alone and isolated for a very long time, and seeing another being is a comfort. This is not a trick and you are free to refuse if you wish - I gain no advantage from this.”

Al was simultaneously stricken and suspicious. He well recognized a manipulative trick when he saw one - attempting to emotionally manipulate him was something he had half expected. However, the request was a simple one and he had no reason to deny it - and every reason to grant it and see what further ‘requests’ came along.

The tenor of this request was quite different from the earlier hard-sell from the Djinn, as well. That had been all enthusiasm, and a hard push on the advantages to Al on the relationship. This, on the other hand, was a simple, polite request from the heart, and an explanation of why the request was being made. No pressure, and an acknowledgement as to his having the upper hand in the exchange.

He couldn’t see a reason to refuse.

“Very well. Don’t give me a reason to cover the bottle and I won’t. You are …” and Al stopped speaking. He had been about to welcome the Djinn to share his space - and stopped in time.

Dangerous.

VERY dangerous. Al had no idea whatsoever what binding that statement might have put him under - and realised how woefully out of his depth he was in this situation.Like all fey, Djinn were literal, and his normal courtly speech patterns could get him into severe trouble here.

Shuddering internally at the close call he’d just had, he asked “Do you like Music?”,turning to the radio in the suite.

“Yes, please. Just about anything is good. Not all that fond of rap or country-western, but just about anything else is fine.”

With that Al dialled up some of his beloved rock and roll and began his dinner preparations. Nearby, his counter companion sat, random Lissajous patterns appearing on her screen in time with the music.

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 3

After dinner, Al settled on his balcony, watching the sun settle over the eroded volcano to the west of his residence. As he enjoyed the bright colours he thought about his unwelcome visitor, and the issues it brought with it.

I have survived so far without this fey pest binding itself to me. Mind you, I really have to be careful, though - damned near shot myself in the arse once or twice with Ms Fey in there in the bottle. Bottom line, I am not dealing with a mortal here - and need to be DAMNED careful how I speak and how I handle myself.

Not sure if uncovering the bottle on request was a good idea or not - was it civilised courtesy or the thin end of the wedge? I’m enough of an interrogator to not fall for tricks like that, but my instructors never really did prepare me for dealing with a half-metre of glass with blue eyes and an Etch-A-Sketch for communicating!

I am so far out of my depth that I don’t know what to do from here - I need help. Obviously, I can’t call in anyone from this realm - any mortal is going to be as vulnerable to the Djinn’s glamors as I am, perhaps even more so. So far, I’ve shown myself fairly resistant to her blandishments - but then again I’m not sure how far she’s turned up the wick, either.

GODSDAMNIT I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS! he thought angrily, then snickered to himself. No, you never do sign up for this insanity, do you? However, it finds you as surely as old Sol rises in the East even on a cloudy day. The question here is - how in Hades are you going to deal with it? And the Answer IIIISSSSS… Pass the buck.

Al went over to the lounger on his small patio. Sitting, then reclining in the early evening shadows took seconds, and composing himself in a light meditative trance but little time more. With the ease of long practice a thought was thrown across the miles and dimensions.


Ialin! Ialin, luv, you there? I need your help!


Ialin! Ialin, meduck, please answer! I need you!


Call and call again, there was no answer. Looking at his watch Al realised that it was night in Maple Plain - and that Ialin was somnolent. She, like her beloved willows, was asleep until the Sun rose tomorrow and while he could have someone from the house go and rouse her, this didn’t seem necessary.


“Until the morrow, meduck, until the morrow. I will call again.” With that Al returned to his suite and its visitor.


The evening passed quietly. Al left the radio on and occupied himself with a walk down to the bar for an evening non-alcoholic nightcap and a chat with the other residents of the hotel. Upon his return he sat and read a book until his normal bedtime, turning off the radio and then retiring to his bedroom and attached bath.


Ablutions took little time though sleep was elusive - his thoughts fixed on his visitor. Finally, he went to sleep, though his dreams were populated with the visions of the day before.


The next morning he woke to quiet music. Walking to the kitchen he found the radio on and tuned to a classical station, and set to a low volume.


“I will swear I turned that off last night - and it was definitely not set to that station. What are you playing at?”


The eyes turned to him, and text appeared on the screen.


“Apologies, Master. I hope I did not wake you.I enjoyed the luxury of the music yesterday evening and did not think that it would be an imposition on your hospitality if I kept it low and did not disturb you with it. If I have overstepped my bounds I apologise, and will not do so again.”


Al stepped toward the bottle and stared into the blue eyes. “I think the question here is how you managed to turn on the radio and tune it - and how much control over your environment you have - to wit, the kitchen knives and other such shiny objects. More the point, am I going to take a nap and find a bottle pressed into my hand when I wake up?”


The blue eyes opened wide, blinked, opened wide again and emphatically shook in a NO! gesture.


“Why in the name of all that binds me would I do that? What a horrible thought! NO!

“I do have some control around me - you know this given I got out of that hole you dropped me into (very poor sport, by the way). Not a lot, not heavy objects, and not at a distance - mostly line of sight. As far as that horrible scenario you suggested, NO! - that would destroy all of the progress I have made toward my freedom and rebind my spirit in the chains I started out in.

“I will bind myself to you only voluntarily, or not at all. I will, however, not simply go away on your demand. I want you for my Master, Master, and that is the long and the short of it.”

Al sat at the counter, face in his hands, and muttered “It is too damned early for this. I need coffee.”

With that statement, the light over the kitchen counter came on and a scene straight from a twisted version of “Cinderella” began. The bag of ground Kona came out of the refrigerator as the carafe of the coffeemaker headed for the sink and filled itself with water at the tap, emptying itself into the reservoir of the machine. A rattle behind Al attracted his attention and he turned, to read:

How much coffee to a full pot of water?

on the Djinn’s screen.

“One scoop per two cups of water - six scoops.”

He turned back to see a filter come out of the cabinet and drop neatly into the machine. With that in place the coffee bag opened as did the kitchen drawer. The coffee scoop tidily measured six scoops of coffee into the filter, closed the machine and set it to work, then the spilled stray grains of coffee chased each other into the sink before his eyes.

Finally, the coffee scoop was rinsed clean and returned to the drawer and the coffee bag closed and returned to the refrigerator, the door closing with a muted THUNK.

Al heard the rattle again and turned back to the bottle. On the screen he read:

“Coffee will be ready in a minute. You need have no fear of drinking it - it’s not charmed or otherwise magical, given that it is all mundane items made in a mundane fashion. In short, it is your coffee, I just made it for you.”

Somewhat rattled, Al answered waspishly “What, not going to have harem girls serve it to me?”

“Somehow considering the reaction I just saw to my making you a pot of coffee, I thought not. If you want to accept me as your Djinn then most certainly - you can have all the side girls or boys you want to serve you coffee, peel grapes for you or whatever. This is just a tiny sample of what I can do for you.”

“Had to get in the elevator pitch, eh?”

“Of course. Coffee is ready. By the way, that carafe was disgusting - I cleaned it before I made the coffee.”

“Thank you - been meaning to do exactly that but it hasn’t been high on my list of things to concern myself with. Now, enjoy your music - I am going to have some coffee and get ready for the day - I have some folks to speak to.”

Pouring a cup of coffee and adulterating it with cream and demerara Al took a sip, then a longer draught. A second long draught nearly emptied the cup, and he refilled it and added cream and sugar again.

“You make a very good cup of coffee.”

“First it is the coffee, then it is the little things like taking over the world….all in a day’s service, Master!” With this, a picture of a laughing face appeared on the screen.

“Oh, very funny. VERY funny. Just what I need - a Djinn with a sense of humour. If there was anything in the world that was going to make me trust you less, that was it.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, or to tell you anything but the full and complete truth. The sooner you figure out I bear you no malice, the sooner I can get you to accept me.My only agenda here is to serve you and earn my freedom, no more and no less.”

“I do not doubt that that is your avowed purpose, Djinn - however there are too many stories of humans accepting the service of Djinn and ending up FAR worse off than they began. I am very happy as I am and have everything I could possibly want - so why do I need you?”

At that statement the Djinn said nothing, her screen remaining blank. However,Al did notice the light in her blue eyes dimming a little, and a blink or two as she turned from him. Feeling a bit like a mood-killer he continued.

“However, that is neither here nor there at present - I need to begin my day. Thank you for the coffee, and if you have a way to help yourself to any of it you are welcome to. For the moment I need to go prepare for my day.”

Al went off to his ablutions, after shutting off the coffee pot and the kitchen light. He could hear the radio changing stations till it settled on light dance music and the volume increased a bit. This for some reason left him uneasy, though the actions themselves were completely harmless.

I don’t know why, but I feel like she is trying to ingratiate herself with me. Frankly, that’s obvious - the coffee, the enthusiastic elevator pitches whenever possible, the reminders of the availability of limitless power and privilege as soon as I touch the bottle.

I need the Other Realm in on this, and fast, before I misstep and this whole house of cards comes crashing down on me.

Al showered and dressed in a light shirt, drill shorts and his usual loafers and knee socks. Pulling his Panama onto his head he stepped from his bedroom out into the main area, only to be greeted by the Djinn.

“Nice Outfit. Back off to town, or going to the beach again?”

“Neither at present. I need to consult with some people on your situation, to put not too fine a point on it. Back in a few minutes. Oh, a word. When the cleaning folks come in, make VERY sure to play mum, please. I do not need you terrorising the staff here. Or would you prefer I tuck you away rather than leave you out where you are?”

The eyes in the bottom of the bottle looked at him sceptically.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I can glamour myself to look completely uninteresting and have many, many times over the years. It is a survival trait when one is contained in a breakable, portable item and REALLY does not want to be stolen.”

“Good. Just remember that please.”

Al stepped out on the balcony, took up his position on the lounger and again sent his thoughts across the miles and dimensions.

Ialin! Ialin, luv, please talk to me - I need you!

This time, the answer was immediate.

Good morning, Al! How is it in the tropics? See any good…palm trees?

Yes, many of them. The flora here is incredible, but that is not why I am disturbing you. I have a serious Djinn problem.

But you don’t drink. Oh. OH. Uh-oh. Do tell.

With an economy of phrase unusual to him Al brought Ialin up to speed on the events of the past day.

So, to put not too fine a point on it I have a very unusual Djinn on my hands. Not only can she affect things outside her container, she has the ability to communicate - and is not at all shy about what she’s offering. To be honest, I am not at all sure that she’s not eavesdropping on us right now.

Ialin did not mince words with her recommendations. All right. First things first you need to leave the mundanes and all of the mortals out of this. This is a fey you’re dealing with and they’re as susceptible to her ‘charms’ as you are so as much in danger. Don’t bring that damn thing home - you need to deal with that damn thing out there.

I thought as much and have informed Rosalynd as well. Please continue. Any suggestions on allies?

Only one - the Drathmir sisters.Not Sterling - the other two. They’re Other Realm so right off the books as far as the Djinn is concerned. The Djinn simply can’t affect them, so they’re safe of any of its mischief.

I concur. Do me a favour if you will - ask To’ryll and U’Uthli if they would meet me here and help me with this. Ask them to come in their human guise, and with clothing suitable for the tropics for a few days’ stay and suits for a day at the beach. We can go there and talk - it should be far enough away.

There was a significant pause, then Ialin spoke slowly.

Do you REALLY want me to tell those two to show up with clothes for a day at the beach?

I can’t see why not. Little Miss Pop Culture will probably show up with Daisy Dukes and her sister will no doubt wear something that would suit a spinster schoolteacher. If they have any question about clothing to wear here, have them ask Sterling - she is one of the few people who knows where I am. As a matter of fact, just have them talk to Sterling for clothing and they can do a quick roundup. If they want to they can raid Cinnamon’s wardrobe back at Alexander, considering she’s about the same build as the elves if taller.

Well….I warned you. On your hormones be it. Not like you don’t have enough problems.

Look, just ask, OK? I’m sure they’ll dress to fit in - they’re very good at that.

True enough <snicker> Will do.

WIth that, the contact faded, and Al raised himself from the lounger

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 4

“Well, that’s that for the time being, then. Now, for some breakfast. I really need to stop talking to myself.”

Reminding himself that he needed to tap the leylines when he went to the beach (the shores were public land in the islands) he went back indoors, refilled his coffee mug and began to rummage in the refrigerator for his usual breakfast makings.

“Breakfast? Then off to the beach, or off to town? Seem a pity to waste the day indoors.”

“Waiting on some company to join me, then off to the beach. Then we’ll be back later in the day. I take it you won’t be in distress if I leave you here to your own devices? We have places to be and things to do, and carting you along would be problematic.

“When the company arrives and they’re in the suite however, I will be covering you - no offence but it’s for a reason. I will uncover you otherwise.”

“No, none of this is a problem at all. Thank you for not covering the bottle, and for allowing me the use of the radio. This is a luxury in comparison to where I have been.”

It was on the tip of Al’s tongue to ask, but he stopped. One must not EVER develop a rapport with the subject of an inquiry - especially one is trying to rid oneself of. Instead Al nodded and began his preparations, cooking his eggs and rashers and serving himself at the bar.

After tidying up and doing his dishes he went out to sit on the balcony with his book. As he did the music began again, lively music but quiet in volume.

About a half-hour later two curvaceous redheads walked out from behind a palm tree that Al knew very well did not have a path or a door behind it. Dressed in loud T-shirts, shorts and sandals, with overnight bags over their shoulders, they looked indistinguishable from any other tourists on the island, but Al knew them well as the human guises of the half-drow Drathmir sisters. He rose and went to them, arms open.

First, he hugged the green-eyed one deeply, greeting her with “To’ryll, gorgeous as always, my friend.” To the other with sapphire-blue eyes he held out his arms, giving her the choice to step into the embrace or not. Step into it she did, and she hugged her tightly, greeting her by name as well.

The blue-eyed one spoke first. “Ialin spoke of your difficulties, Friend Al. How is it that you seem to be able to find situations such as that in places as beautiful as this?” she remarked, waving a hand at the lush jungle that climbed the eroded volcano to the west.

“This is like fersure not cool, Al.” said the other, channelling her days as one of Sterling’s hippie friends, before she had been revealed as her half-sister.

“If I have told you once I have told you a hundred times, Friend Al - do not leave live enemies behind you.” Safyr remarked.

“I am aware of it, believe me To’ryll, U’Uthli. I have no idea how these issues keep finding me, but that is a conversation for another day and a pot of strong tea. The subject of today’s issues is inside and is a fey, so leaving a live enemy is not a choice in this matter as you well know. I also believe that she has long ears as well as pointy ones, and I would prefer not to converse here. I notice you brought clothing, and I assume beachwear as I suggested. Why don’t you change here, and I will as well, and we can go down to the beach and speak there. Then we can come back and you can get a first-hand look at the limpet that’s attached herself to me. If you’d prefer not to, we can just go down and sit in the bar and talk, but it seems a pity to waste the sun and surf given where we are.”

Safyr shook her head. “No, your plan holds merit. It is not often that we have the pleasure of a swim and time in the sun like this. At home, any water that one can swim in is usually occupied by something with sharp teeth, spines or worse.

“As you can see by our clothing, we did consult with our sister Sterling on suitable wear to not ‘stick out like sore thumbs’ as she put it. She took great pains in making sure that we had suitable beachwear so as not to look out of place given our unfamiliarity with the place and its customs.”

Right about then Al began to smell a camouflage-coloured rat, but he kept his peace.

“Let’s go in. Please feel free to use the bath and the back bedroom to change, and I’ll use my bedroom. We can meet in the living room and then depart from there. Be aware that my unwanted guest is under a cocoanut sack on the countertop , something I did deliberately to keep her a bit ‘in the dark’ as to the nature of my guests.”

With that Al retired to his bedroom and quickly changed. Stuffing three beach towels into his pack along with water and sunblock he made his way back out to the main room in time to see Safyr and Emerauld coming out.

“Oh, my.”

Emerald’s suit, while skimpy, was not unexpected - a low-riding pair of jean shorts with very short legs, pockets sticking out at the sides, topped with a midriff-tied gingham top knotted under her substantial bosom. With her hair in a braid she looked ready for the beach and more than ready to turn heads.

Safyr…was another story.

She was wearing a beach cover-up that actually covered nothing, as the gauze it was made from provided nothing but shadows over the healthy redhead who wore it. Under that was a pair of beach sandals, three triangles of material of approximately the sizes of tortilla chips, and a few yards of fairly thin ribbon all in a sapphire blue to match her eyes.

Al could feel his blood pressure spiking as the two sisters came out into the main room and pirouetted, exhibiting their outfits for his approval.

Safyr asked “Will these do?”

To this Al made no reply but to rub his forehead and mutter a bit, then remark, “Remind me to stop at the office and purchase another bottle of sunblock - between the two of you the one I have is going to be quite insufficient unless you know a spell to prevent sunburn..”

Safyr turned to Al and batted her eyes. “Is there a problem with this ‘bathing suit’, Friend Al? Sterling said that it was considerably more than many young women wore on the beach here - she said that many of the beaches here were ‘topless’ and that this suit would be considered conservative.”

“Oh, no. No problem, Safyr. Noooo…problem at all. That suit is entirely acceptable.”

“Are you sure? I could…” Safyr said as she reached to her neck.

“NO! Not necessary. Thank you. Quite perfect as it is. Let’s be off then!” as he turned and rapidly led the way to the door of the suite.

In a few minutes they were down to the bar, and walked in. Some perverse imp in the back of Al’s mind made him slip an arm around Eme and Saf’s waists as they entered, and as he did he yelled to his friend.

“Ola, Matheus!”

“Ola, Al! Same as…” and his eyes bugged out as he saw Al’s companions. Right about at the same time all conversation in the bar stopped as Al and his companions made their way up to the bar itself.

“No, not the same as usual today. I’d like you to meet my ‘nieces’ Maggie and Christine. Maggie, Chris, this is Matheus. He’s been taking care of me down here. Matheus, my friend, we’re going to need three loungers today, and three of your punches, and the two for my nieces should be heavy on the rum - they’re not teetotalers like their old uncle.”

Matheus, no stranger to women in skimpy swimwear, was stunned nonetheless at the sight of the twin redheads accompanying the old man. Once his brain started to function again he finally realised he’d been given a request. “Oh, right - no problem. I think the three on your corner are open. If they’re not then grab one of the waiters and have them set up whatever you want. Go on out and make yourselves comfortable - I’ll bring out your drinks. Charged to your room?”

“Yes, Matheus, thank you.” Al again slipped his arms around Eme and Saf’s waists and they did the same and the three left the bar, to a three-second silence and then a loud rooba-rooba-rooba of gossip as the scene was commented upon.

Once they were out of earshot of the bar Al released his hold, as did Eme and Saf. Al said, “I am sorry, but the vanity of an old man combined with the beauty accompanying me just had to stage an entrance when we walked in. I do apologise for it - it was forward of me to do so.”

At that, and at the stares the redheads were getting from the beachgoers, Eme and Saf each took an arm of the old man and bent in to plant a kiss on his cheek, and hung onto his arm. “Why, ‘Uncle’! ”Safyr said, “do not tell us that you are embarrassed to be seen with us, are you?”

“Yes, ‘Uncle’, we would not want you to be embarrassed, now would we?” Emerald added wickedly.

“Enough out of you two!” Al said, colouring rapidly. “Let’s sit down and get settled. Matheus or one of his minions should be along with drinks in a bit and then we can have a swim before we discuss my problem.”

They reached the corner of the rows of loungers, and selected three together. Al deposited his bag after pulling towels from it and handing them across, and the three headed for the turquoise waters.

*******

Relaxed after their swim, the three stretched out on loungers and the discussion began on what had actually brought them there.

Safyr took a sip of her punch, sat up and looked at the elderly engineer. “This was a very good idea. These drinks are refreshing, though the spirits in them are quite mild. The fruits are very good. What is this spirit called?”

“I believe it’s overproof spiced white rum - a very tasty product made only for local consumption and not exported. For a human, this is not mild. However, you will note that I did tell Matheus to make yours strong as I am well aware of your capacities.”

Safyr stared out at the men and women at play in the surf, most dressed in as little as she wore or less. She drank from her punch again, and realising it was empty, dangled the cup in her hand and asked lazily, “Would your hospitality extend to another of these? I do see why you like it here, Uncle. The scenery is so…nice.”

On the other side Emerauld laughed. “Here we go….” Rolling to the side and facing Al and Safyr, she said, “Yes, I would like another as well. Once we get those, however, I do think we should discuss the problem at hand before we relax any further.”

Waving down one of the waiters, Al ordered three more of the rum punches (his non-alcoholic, of course), and a bottle and two glasses for ‘Maggie’ and ‘Chris’. When these arrived, the three moved from their loungers to a shaded table and sat, glasses between them as they conversed.

First off, Al went into considerable detail with the history he had with this particular Djinn. He described the conversations they’d had, and more specifically the abilities she had to manipulate objects outside of her container - and to move her container from place to place.

“In short, this is not the standard Djinn I learned about in my comparative classes. Her power is not at all confined to her bottle - an example being the pot of coffee she made me this morning, and her operating of the radio in my hotel suite. I have never read anything of a Djinn that could do that at all if confined. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard of one who could communicate as she does.”

Safyr poured two shots of the rum and handed one to Emerauld. On the count of “Three!” they heaved them back, and the glasses struck the metal top of the table with a resounding report. As they did there was an uptick in the sound level from the beach behind them, as the gossip meters clicked upward again. The two sisters grinned, and took sips of the punch. “Quite tame. Very very tasty, though - thank you! A question, however - you keep calling the Djinn “she”. Why?”

Al thought for a moment, sipping at his own punch as he did. “Impressions, really. First off, the eyes in the bottom of the bottle that look out are decidedly feminine - long lashes, blue, slightly almond-shaped and definitely not male. Also, the speech patterns and such come across as female - as you know I am an interrogator and intelligence type and would be attuned to such things. I will confess that the only sex-based characteristics I have seen are images on her screen in the form of facial photos to attribute to that supposition, but I have a fairly firm impression.”

Emerald nodded. “Like no problem, man. We’re cool with it. You do you.” She snickered loudly and reached for the bottle again.

Safyr pondered for a moment, then began to speak. “You have done very very well to resist her blandishments. I will not belabour the ‘sex’ of the Djinn with you - if you say it is a female I will do nothing but agree because as you say you were an analyst in your days as a velg’larn - no offence.”

Al said stiffly, “None taken.”

Safyr continued. “More to the point, the fact that you have survived against her for as long as you have given her powers means one of two things - you are skillful, or she is straightforward. In this case from the sound of it I am starting to think it may be both.” Reaching over and pouring herself a shot, she dispatched it and continued.

“What I suspect we may have here is a very, very old Djinn. This is a Djinn that has passed through multiple masters and has never been released, or one master for a very, very long time where wishes for immortality may have been involved.

“Either way, this could be a VERY unstable entity that could do almost anything, or could be an entity that has long since performed its penance for its crimes and deserves to be released of its bondage - and has not been. Determining that will allow us to decide how we deal with her. If the former, it could be difficult. If the latter, accepting her service might be the easiest way to go.” With that she poured another shot and drank it off, then sipped from her punch.

“WHAT?! Are you trying to seriously suggest that I should acquiesce to becoming her master? That is, unless I miss my guess, the road to ruin.” Al took the bottle of rum and moved it across the table, where Emerauld claimed it. “That’s it, you’re cut off.”

Safyr was unrepentant and unswayed. “Look at it this way. If she is truly a repentant Djinn, she will bear no malice, and any service she offers you will be nothing but beneficial. Then, you can free her and she will trouble you no longer.” With that, she reclaimed the bottle and poured herself a shot, downing it with a satisfied WHUFF.

Al, however, was unsatisfied. “That is all well and good. However, how do we tell the former from the latter - and what in Hades are we going to do with the former? I have NO idea what to do with a psychotic Djinn.”

“Stick her in THIS bottle and shake it around a little - she’ll feel a LOT better!” Emerald said, holding up the bottle of rum and shaking it. Al looked at her with alarm, until she winked and glanced toward the spectators behind them, who were watching the discussion raptly.

With a concealed grin he winked back, and palmed a thumbs-up.

Returning to the discussion Al asked again, “What do we do with it if it does turn out to be insane? She’s been reasonable so far, but I’m not sure how long that will last - and I can’t stay here forever for obvious reasons.”

“That, I am afraid, I do not have an immediate answer for. Hopefully, we will be dealing with a reasonable entity and be able to free her - if not I am not sure how we will handle her. That being said, ‘Chris’ and I may be here a few days.”

“Well, enough of this for the moment. Let’s return to the loungers and settle down for a bit. You two can share a table so you can split that bottle you’ve been enjoying. Would you like two more punches as well?”

“Yes, ‘Uncle’, please! This is so refreshing!”. Emerauld said, as they headed back to the loungers.

After another round of punch was ordered the discussion continued, in a more circumspect fashion.

Safyr turned to Al and spoke, the sunlight dappling her hair. “Actually, Al, it occurs to me that we have a solution if your guest does turn out to be completely insane. In that case, it seems to me that you will need to take a trip to Mongolia to visit ‘Maggie’s’ friend - your ex-houseguest. His powers should be well able to deal with her.”

Al thought for a moment, lips pursed as if he had bitten into something bitter. He then nodded slowly, seeing the wisdom of the statement if not taking pleasure in it. “While I don’t disagree that the gentleman in question could likely rid me of my troublesome guest, the effect on her is quite unknown - and is not at all something I would care to inflict except as a nuclear option.”

The sisters looked up. “Nuclear option?”

Al nodded, then held up a finger as the server arrived with the punches. Al selected one, sipped at it, and once the waiter departed he continued. “Nuclear option - scorched earth solution that leaves no hope of redemption or further salvation. It is a solution that I dislike strongly even though, as you put it before, ‘Chris’, I used to be a velg’larn.”

Safyr looked at him, expression neutral. She went to speak, stopped, went to speak again and stopped again. Finally, she looked at her sister for a moment, then turned back.

“Perhaps I spoke hastily when reminding you of your past. I well know that you are no longer such, especially given the times the three of us have seen. Please…accept my apology for speaking as I did.”

Al sat still, the breeze ruffling the shirt he’d thrown back on. After a moment he spoke, his voice sorrowful. “ ‘Chris’, ‘Maggie’, it is I who should be offering an apology. The truth is the truth and should never be skirted around or pushed aside between friends. I should not have been angry at the reminder of what I was.”

Safyr got up from her lounger and came over to Al’s. “No, but being hurtful is not an excuse for blunt speech either. It was who you were. It is not who you are now, S’agt, and never will be again.” She sat at the bottom of his lounger. “Forgiven?”

Al held out his hand. “Forgiven.” Safyr took it, and with a surprising demonstration of strength, pulled him forward into an embrace. She held him for a moment, then released him and hurried back to her own chair.

Emerald smirked at her sister as she scurried back to her lounger. See, dear sister, that didn’t hurt at all, now did it?

The apology did not - it was due. I was cold and should not have tread on his feelings as I did. He did not deserve it.

I was not referring to that. I was referring to the ‘hug’. Despite the mental connection, Safyr swore she could hear the quotes around the word. He will treasure that and remember it long after the slight is forgotten - a small touch, a warmth from one not normally noted for such.

So you have told me. Another century or so, dear sister, and I might remember these things and do them myself.

And on that day I will rejoice.

With that the three of them lay back and enjoyed the sun.

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 5

After a stop in Al’s suite to wash and dress (Al making sure the Djinn was carefully covered before the elves entered), the trio went to dinner. Once seated at a table, the discussion as to specific methods began.

Looking up from his menu Al spoke to his dinner companions as he waited for the server to join them. “While I understand in general what we need to do to establish the Djinn’s bona fides, it seems to me that simple question and answer on her chalkboard isn’t going to do it even with you two present. We’re still limited by the communications medium - thank you, yes, I’ll have the grilled redfish with risotto - and getting past that barrier is going to be our major problem. Opinions?”

‘Chris’ then spoke up, with ‘Maggie’ nodding but keeping her peace for the moment. “We will both have the fried snapper, please, with sauteed vegetables - and rum punches with double shots on the rum, please. Thank you. I agree, ‘Uncle’. The Djinn has no reason to communicate with us at all even if you instruct her to - and frankly getting any useful answers from her will be a matter of happenstance more than anything else.”

‘Chris’ and ‘Maggie’ sat there in white sundresses bound by colourful wide belts, the healthy glow of a day’s outing in the sun and surf showing on them. Al, in drill pants and a white linen shirt, sat across from them, and the three were at a corner table in the bistro so that they could speak comfortably without too much fear of being overheard.

Al sipped from his iced tea. “How does one compel a Djinn? In short, is there any force we can apply to this creature to get it to cooperate with us in investigating its truth or falsehood, or are we simply back on our own resources in figuring that out and trusting to luck that we guess properly?”

‘Chris’ answered, shrugging as she did - a charming gesture which unfortunately did little to cushion the blow of the words she spoke. “Attempting to compel it may be a solution that is worse than the problem. If we have a Djinn that is essentially stable, attempting to impose our will on it (binding it with iron, for example considering it has already fixated on you) could make things far worse by driving it into a rage.”

‘Maggie’ spoke up after taking a draught from her punch. “Seems to me we do not have a lot of leverage on this Djinn to make it let go of ‘Uncle’, do we?” She then looked at her sister.

‘Chris’ nodded in agreement, taking her napkin from the table, spreading it in her lap and helping herself to bread and cheese from the service on the table. “No, we do not. We can either discover that it is harmless and Uncle can release it, or discover it is harmful at which point a trip to the mountains is sadly needed. We really have very few options in between, given that it simply refuses to go away.”

Al, taking a cue from ‘Chris’, did as she had and helped himself to bread and cheese. “I hesitate to suggest it, but speaking of binding - could we bind it with iron, then sequester it? This would get her away from me and we could hand her off to MIB or the like and they could tuck her….okay, I don’t like the looks I’m getting.”

‘Maggie’ spoke up again. “Nice idea, but this Djinn can affect things outside her vessel. Did you say she had handled the coffee pot and a spoon and other items? First off, I think that iron binding might not work, and on the second, she might just get angry.

“That would not be good.”

As the conversation paused, the waiters arrived with their dinner. Al spoke up. “Another round of drinks, please - and make them doubles.”

The rest of dinner went much the same, with warm breezes, music and excellent food and drink to make the time pass. After the initial discussion, an unspoken agreement passed between the three and the subject of the Djinn was not discussed further. Instead, talk of the day at the beach filled the time, much of it centred on the brilliant day they’d had along with the thorough pranking they’d performed on the denizens of the bar.

After dinner, they walked back through the town as the sun lowered in the sky. The bright reds, golds and mauves of the sunset showed in the western sky, colouring yet the tops of the palm trees along the street and on the hills behind them. The lights were on in the streets and the neons in the bars and restaurants lent a cheerful glow even this early in the evening, changing ‘Maggie’ and ‘Chris’s’ white frocks into colourful sundresses whose patterns changed as they walked along.

Finally, they reached the edge of the property of Al’s residence hotel. Turning into the property, a quick walk up the path led them to the entrance to Al’s suite, undisturbed since the morning.

As they entered the lights were on and quiet orchestral music played on the radio, neither of which Al particularly found surprising.

Al walked over to the bottle. As he did Safyr and Emerauld sat in chairs in the living area, removing their shoes and curling up, simply observing Al’s interactions.

“Still here, I see. Haven’t felt the need to investigate pastures new? Had a good day, I hope?”

”No, I want you for my master and that is not going to change. You seem to have investigated new pastures, though. Concubines, odalisques or sister wives? You know, if you had just accepted me as your Djinn we could have done all of this simply without you having to go shopping-”

“I WILL GIVE YOU AN ODALISQUE! SISTER WIVES!” Safyr bellowed as she came up off the couch, going for the bottle. Just as quickly Emerauld grabbed her, bringing her to a halt a metre before she would have gotten her hands on the bottle, to unknown results.

The phone rang in Al’s suite. Waving the elves to silence Al picked up the phone.

“Mr. Richer, we just got a call from the suite next to yours about raised voices. Is everything all right?

“Yes, I’m sorry, Georges - I was watching a stupid reality show and I turned up the volume too loud and it got noisy. I will turn it down. My sincere apologies.”

”Well…thank you. Please do. I realise you have your…nieces…visiting but please keep the noise to a minimum. We do pride ourselves on our quality environment.”

GODSDAMNIT! “I do really apologise - it WAS the television. I’ll just turn it off. Thank you for the call.”

Al hung up and turned back to the now-paused three-way fight. “LOOK, you three. Here is how it is.

“Djinn, These are the people who are going to help me figure out how to deal with you. They are not concubines or sister wives or anything else your imagination comes up with and if I hear any more of that I WILL heave you so far out to sea it will take you YEARS to find your way back, understood?”

”Understood. I apologise for assuming. Handsome man like yourself in my time would never have been alone by choice.”

“You two - this is an inn. The walls are not thick. The manager just flat out accused me of having noisy…whatever. Keep your voices down, please.”

Safyr and Emerauld looked at each other, then at Al. “Really? They thought…”

“Yes. Next question.”

Eme and Saf looked at each other and high-fived, then turned forward attentively.

Al put his hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face, then turned back to the bottle on the counter.

”You will answer any questions they ask you as if I am asking them. No reservations, no half-truths, no lies. YOUR FUTURE DEPENDS ON IT. Am I understood?”

”HOW CAN YOU NOT SIMPLY UNDERSTAND THAT I HAVE NO MALICE? WHY IS THERE ALL THIS SUSPICION? Why can you not simply accept that I want to serve you and give you what you want so that I can have what I want? No lies, no falsehood, just a simple direct exchange.”

Al was adamant. He was going to damned well get an acknowledgement of his statement. This was no longer the affable old man but the Sergeant-Major in command, and this was no longer a conversation.

“AM. I. UNDERSTOOD. ANSWER THE QUESTION.” Al hissed with his face a foot from the eyes in the bottom of the bottle, the question and statement no less intense for being quietly spoken.

The eyes in the bottom of the bottle that had been tracking the action in the room closed, reopened and sagged sadly. No longer looking outward at Al they looked downward at the countertop.

” i understand. i will answer the questions. you do not need to be angry. i have seen too much anger, too much hatred. do not be angry. ”

Al was heartbroken, but he could not let this influence him. This could be a simple act, simply artifice in the service of her goal.

“Safyr.” Al pointed to the bottle. As she moved up Al moved back and sat next to Emerauld. Both to distance himself from the questioning and to be able to avail himself of her insight.

The elf walked up to the bottle, picking up a kitchen chair as she went. Turning it around, she sat backwards on it, her dress pulling back onto the seat and her bare legs showing to each side. Resting her arms on the seat back she said in an emotionless voice “How old are you?”

” I have no real idea. Thousands of years old, I think. I was a user of the powers of the earth, a mage as you call them, imprisoned by Suleiman Ibn Dawud for my wickedness and evil until released by the hand of a master that would free me. When was the reign of Suleiman Ibn Dawud?”

Rather than answering, Safyr asked another question.

“How many masters have you had?”

There was no answer upon the screen for nearly a minute, and the eyes sagged, looking downward. Then, words began to appear, slowly at first, then faster.

” That is a difficult question as well. We Djinn are not creatures of perfection, and we do not remember everything perfectly that we have seen and done. We do remember far too much, though. For a number, multiply the life of a man - the threescore years and ten of the Christians, for example, by however long it has been since the reign of Suleiman ibn Dawud. When you figure the ones who added long lives and the ones who were done in in dark alleys, I expect it averages out. So, for a rough answer, dozens.”

“That is unsatisfactory. I do not believe you have no memory of this, given that your entire life revolved around them. Rethink your answer.”

”I do not remember them. It is better that way. Remembering brings pain, and pain with no escape brings madness. ”

“How many masters have you had?” Safyr asked again, but this time Al rose and stood by her, staring hard into the blue eyes in the bottle. “Answer the question. No lies. You have no choice.”

The pain of the applied cruelty to a helpless subject was more than Al could bear, but he needed to know what he was dealing with.

A thought came to Al. He messaged Safyr and Emerauld Let’s change tack. Harping on numbers and the length of her servitude is not getting us anywhere. Let’s try pulling out individual lifetimes of service and see what they look like.

Do you think we can trust her to strike a balance? Safyr asked dubiously.

I think we might with the help of your sister. Emerauld, luv, is your Truesight getting anything at all from the Djinn? I know my Empathy is - she’s angry and frustrated and we keep poking open wounds, which is not helping her tranquillity at all.

Yes, I have. She is lying of course about the previous masters - she does not want to remember them because it hurts. Sad to say, I think we need to keep poking there. I wish we did not have to - I do not like doing this, and the S’agt does not either I can feel. Nor do you, dear Sister…but we must.

Al took a chair from the table and sat as Safyr did, looking at the bottle.

“Tell us of your first master. And do not tell me you do not remember, for I will not believe you. Tell us of him, and the wishes you granted him.”

” I cannot. I will not. I told you I DO NOT REMEMBER. PLEASE, DO NOT ASK ME.”

As an empath, Al could feel the pain in those statements. He felt the chagrin, the shame, and the deep fear that revealing her actions then would do to the relationship she would try to build now. He could see the distress in the rapid blinking of the blue eyes in the bottle, the film forming on them and sloughing away over and over again, and the distressed quivering like that of a small, frightened animal.

Al spoke gently, quietly, looking into the eyes as he spoke.

“Just tell us. We will not judge. We want to know you better, and this is how we can. Tell us the story of your first Master, and how you served him.”

The blinking of the eyes slowly calmed, and the film slowly went away. Finally, words began to form on the screen in sentences, then paragraphs.

” It was long ago, in the very days of Suleiman Ibn Dawud.

“I had been wicked and finally the Palace guards came for me. Many of them died that day, but following their orders I did not. I thought I was to be handed to the palace torturers, or to be stripped of my powers and sold into slavery as Suleiman had the power to do given to him by his God.

“However, my fate was far, far worse. Rather than being killed, tortured or sold into slavery I was bound as a Djinn, to spend eternity committing penance for the crimes I had committed against Suleiman’s kingdom. Once the binding was complete I was given to a favoured noble in a faraway princedom, to be taken there to perform the first of the grantings that I would perform over the long, hateful aeons.

But, as I said I was a young Djinn, freshly sealed within my prison and just beginning to serve my sentence. Because of this, I had yet to learn any of the lessons that time would teach me. This, unfortunately, did not occur to the noble I was given to, or perhaps he was warned and his ego did not allow him to pay attention to the warnings of humble servants when dealing with anything as silly as a Djinn!

“I got my revenge. When he made his wishes, he got EXACTLY what he asked for.

“He was fighting a war of conquest against one of his neighbours, and wasted one of his wishes telling me that he wanted his archers to be able to shoot twice as far as his opponent’s troops. However, he said nothing about them being able to fire ACCURATELY, and his troops got themselves driven from the field. This then led to a famine at home, because he had been planning on making up shortages in food production by raiding rather than farming as he was a terrible leader.

His next wish involved taking me to the granaries of his capital city and wishing that I duplicate them - because of course his city had full granaries even though his people were starving. However, his granaries also had rats, and if one is told to duplicate the granaries fully this includes…duplicating the rats. Very little of the extra grain was usable by the time the vermin got done with it.

“Many thousands starved that I could have saved, had I not been so willful and angry. It still is in my mind those that died, all those thousands of years ago. I could have saved them.”

Al could feel the deep sorrow, even through the tenuous connection he had to the emotions of the Djinn. A quick query Eme, is this true?

Al turned to look at her, to be shocked at the tears dripping from her face. Every word. Her pain in her actions is true. I wish that it were not, because feeling this hurts.

Al spoke to the Djinn, gently now. “It was many thousands of years ago. There is nothing to be done now but remember them, and not make the same mistake again. Please continue.”

”In the third wish was his downfall. In desperation he took me to the biggest seaport that his princedom commanded. Going out onto the breakwater he commanded me with his final wish to bring the creatures of the sea onto the land so that the people of his country could feast on them. ”

Safyr covered her eyes, and Al uttered a quiet “Gods, no”, half prayer and half wish. Emerauld quietly sobbed in the back, overcome with the moment.

The eyes looked out of the bottom of the bottle, all expression gone as the letters formed on the panel again. They then closed and sagged downwards.

” Judging by your expressions you know well what I did. Now, it would be called a tsunami. I raised a great wave full of the creatures of the sea and brought it down onto the land so that the humans could have the fish. Was it my fault that they could not escape the waters as they poured inland for miles and drowned thousands? Few survived, only those lucky enough to be in boats at the time and far enough away from the impact of the wave.

“I killed thousands. Tens of thousands if you count starvation and the disruption of the princedom and the famine. All because I opposed the foolish little man who would call himself my master. ”

The room was silent at the end of this story. Emerauld and Safyr were momentarily overwhelmed by the story, and Al was shocked by the possibilities radiating from the being that had attached itself to him.

”I have frightened you. I knew telling this was a bad idea. This is not who I am now, you must believe me. I am not that angry Djinn.” The words impressed upon the screen seemed to glow with an almost desperate light of their own, and the eyes below almost pleaded in their expression.

“We understand.” Al said, not because he did but because at that moment he honestly did not know what to say. “You say that you are not that Djinn - then if you have learned lessons, tell us of a master who taught you lessons.”

”No. No more of this. You can see I am not what I was. Why must I do this?”

“One story is not a complete picture. Tell us of a master that taught you important lessons.”

The eyes shook NO over and over and over again, till they slowed to a stop and hung, again, dejected.

” If I must, I must.

“I will not utter his name. He was a brute, the closest thing I have seen to a man with no soul in my thousands of years. He and his band of brigands survived as smash-and-grab raiders along the trade routes on the Silk Road, surviving on their wits and hiding from the leaders of the nation-states along the ways.

“How he obtained me I know not, though I have little doubt a dark night and a sharp blade were involved given my sudden transfer from my previous master to him. He made it very clear that he knew the ways of Djinn, and would not tolerate any trickery on my part. He expected complete obedience, or I would not like the consequences.

“ I remember his first wish. We crept up under darkness to the outskirts of a trade stop - one of the ones between Merv and Qumis in Persia. There were many such then, because caravans did not travel quickly and goods changed hands frequently . This one was small but wealthy, and we were there when no caravans were in. I wondered why we were there, as my master usually preferred to strike targets that were fat with traders.

“He opened my bottle and pointed at the site, with its walls and guards, torches flaring in the night. I asked, “What is it you wish me to do, master?”

His answer was brief. “I wish you to kill all the men. Leave the women and children - they can be sold for slaves, or serve as slaves for us.” He went to open his mouth and I protested. “No, Master! It is against the will of Allah to kill like this!” It was like shouting into a sandstorm. He waited till I finished, then he ordered me…

“…to kill all. Cleanly, with no bodies to bury. Nothing left. They could not be bathed and returned to the earth as Allah wished. It was as though they had never existed at all - and it was my fault. Had I obeyed, wives would have had husbands to mourn, and would have gone to their graves in their time, instead of this ringing silence.

“When I did, there was a great cry over the post, then silence with nothing but the bleating of the animals. At that, the men of my beast of a master poured down the hills and into the post to loot and move in.

“My master looked at me and said words I will never forget. “Never oppose me. There is always worse.” These are words seared on my soul, that I have worked to erase since that day. This is why I work to expunge my sins.”

There was nearly dead silence in the room,other than Eme’s ragged breathing.

Emerauld, love, are you all right? I know this is hellish hard…I feel it as well. Al felt horrid. He felt the agonising chagrin of the Djinn, the pain of having her shame pulled from her bit by bit, and all of it by her own admission and voluntarily.

Every word she has said is true. Please come back here a moment. Emerauld’s voice sounded strange, and as he looked back Al understood why - her runes were illuminated, specifically those involved in her Truesight.

With that Al left Safyr’s side (she had her head down on the chair back) and came back to Emerauld, sitting on her chair arm. With that Emerauld’s right hand, bright with its runes, whipped out and gripped his….

…and he was immersed in an agony of emotional pain and anguish. Added to his own empathic sense was Emerauld’s Truesight connection to the Djinn, which Al had not realised was much deeper than a simple ‘lie detector’.

“Getting what you need ‘Uncle’? Enjoying the pain? Let me make sure you feel all of it. Remembering being a velg’larn are we?” Emerauld grated, staring at him with anger-filled eyes. Twisting her gaze away, she breathed deeply for a minute, not releasing him while the feelings still coursed through both of them. Finally, they started to diminish and Emerauld looked at him again.

“This is what I am getting from the Djinn. She is going through tortures, but being as honest as she can and giving everything she can that we ask for. I am giving you this as information, not to influence but to inform. I know the coin we gamble here.”

Al said stiffly, “No, Emerauld, I do not enjoy this, and I never did. There were things I did when I was a velg’larn that I had to do, things like this, and for much the same coin as we gamble here.” He looked her in the eyes. “ Do not concern yourself. This old velg’larn will never ask you or your sister for help after this again - I am too damaged to be helped, I know.”

With this he returned to the front and again sat on the chair. Safyr looked at him and saw the haunted expression in his eyes, having also heard Emerauld’s hissed pejoratives.

That is not her, that is the pain speaking. Do not take it to heart. Safyr said, looking at him through eyes as haunted as his.

This does not mean she isn’t right. You used the term as well, and correctly. I call on your help too often, and should not. This is the last time. Now, let us do what we must.

Safyr, however, was having none of it. You called us, because you knew we were the best for the situation. You called us; and spared our sister, who while incredibly gifted, lacks the centuries of experiences needed to deal with this sort of trauma. That would have made this infinitely more difficult for you- and for she that is bound.

Never apologise for requesting help. Emerauld is in pain because she understands the knifes' edge that the Djinn danced on more than possibly any save another Djinn, and the emotional toll on the mind that causes those of us with long lives to push it deep, clear to the darkest corners, though it be not the best course of action. This is why she is lashing out rather than withdrawing in like the Djinn has done, because she knows we are here for her. Had it not been for you being there at just that time she needed you back at the beginning of our friendship, I would have lost her forever.

A lone tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. No, I will NOT accept this decision you have made for us Friend Al, you WILL call us whenever we are best suited, do you understand? Even if we are not and you just wish to swim at the beach with your ‘nieces’, call on us. We say Friend, but we mean sister, brother of ours.

Al turned away and blotted his eyes. I do forget, sometimes. We will talk of this later, but for now…unfortunately…back to the task at hand.

Al turned back to the Djinn. She had been waiting, quietly, nothing on her screen and her blue eyes neutral, calmly looking back and forth between the two sitting in front of her.

After a moment more Al spoke up, the words clear in the silent room. “These masters you have spoken of were both long ago, and while you learned from them, these are not things I would do. I would hope that I am wiser than these men, or at least more of a man in the eyes of your God.

“Tell me of one of your masters who was a wise man, and how you worked with him.”

The eyes in the bottle looked at him, blinked, and looked again. Closing for a long moment they shook as if to wipe away the horrors they had relived, and then reopened, looking again between Al and Safyr.

” Not all of my masters were fools, or wicked men. Many were, and they got what they deserved if I could manage it. Some were honestly good men, and others were truly wise. The last were very few.

‘I had been a Djinn about a thousand years when I had the first of my wise masters. How he acquired me I am not sure - I often did not know how I changed masters. However, one day I was released and he greeted me.

He did not demand a wish, or regale me with his deeds and power. He did not bluster at all, which was a significant change from those who dominated or bullied me. In fact once he greeted me he offered me cool fruit juices and sat by his fire in his workroom and read a book.

“I was intrigued. What strangeness was this? No demands, no wishes for gold, or power, or concubines. An hour went by, then two. I wandered around the workroom, examining the alchemical works there. Much of it looked like things I had had in my own workroom before I had become a Djinn.

“Finally, I could wonder no more. I walked up to him and said “Master, what is it-”

“No. Do not call me Master. Call me Alchemist (for I am), call me Sir from respect, call me Jonathan for that is my name but I am no being’s Master.” He was quite insistent on that. I grew more and more puzzled, because he WAS my master no matter what, and I had to obey his wishes. I was very confused.

“Ma- Sir, what is it you wish me to do? Why am I here? Why have you acquired me?”

“At that he chuckled, closed his book and settled back. ”I have not ‘acquired’ you. I have brought myself home a companion. This is what you are going to be to me. I am well aware of your powers, and if they are needed here in the land you and I will make use of them - but not before all other means have been tried and exhausted. Then and only then will you and I exercise your powers.”

“”But what will I do otherwise?”

“You will learn. You will be my companion, here, and keep me company. I have no wife, no family and desire none. I have my servants to care for me and they do this, and I have my alchemy and the works I do for the people of the land, but I grow weary for the challenge of teaching and sharing with another mind.”

“From that day to the end of Jonathan’s days I never again went into the bottle. He and I spent the long days together, with me by his side at first as his assistant in his alchemical workshop. My old knowledge paid off as well as I remembered it, and I learned the changes that take place in a thousand years.

“ This was not all I did. I took over running his household, sending the servants to market and running the thousand little details that make a house comfortable. Jonathan started to fill out his robes and soundly cursed me for it, which I innocently pointed out had nothing to do with magic at all and everything to do with his lack of willpower.

“The biggest part of what we did was study what you might now call ethics. Even then in the old religions and in the new one flourishing there were texts that spoke of how to live a moral life. These often concentrated on silliness like when to pray and how often to tithe, or how to tell when dawn was when in the desert but spoke to nothing of how to treat human beings.

“This is what Jonathan and I concentrated on - the morality of humanity. This was what I had lacked as a mage and what ended me up a Djinn. Jonathan was giving me the education I sorely needed without the tortures inflicted by my previous masters.

“The years went by, and Jonathan prospered. While a few made fun of him for his young wife who somehow never had babies underfoot, most respected him for what he knew and hired him for his knowledge of how to heal their animals and make their crops grow better. This he did well, and those who consulted him paid well for his services and did not hesitate to recommend him to others.

“There were only two occasions where he and I had to use my powers to deal with problems.

“There was a plague of locusts that was sweeping in, and Jonathan had me generate a strong wind that blew most of them out to sea. This way the save looked like the grace of Allah or Yahweh rather than anything that might cause suspicion of the old alchemist and his (by then) ageing wife.

“Ageing? Yes. As a Djinn I do have powers over and above those of the wish, and I made sure to glamour myself as Jonathan aged. All except to him, though. To him I stayed the same, so that he remembered me for what I was. That was critically important so that if needed he could use my powers for any important purpose.

The second time was the worst. A plague had developed in the land, and no isolation, no quarantine stopped it. It killed in days, and the incubation period was long enough that it could take root in a city and strip it to the walls, spreading itself before the first person sickened and died.

“Jonathan and I talked long of this one before we dealt with it. Instead of stopping it, or wishing our city clear, we wished a stronger version…that DID NOT KILL. Within months, the killer version had been driven out by the version we came up with and people sickened, but they did not die.

“They thanked their gods, but Jonathan and I smiled at each other and drank our wine.”

Al asked “What was Jonathan’s full name, Djinn - do you remember?”

”No, I do not. I remember his laugh, his face, but not his name. Why?”

“Well, two thousand years in advance you and he invented germ theory and immunisation with a competing species. Other than the fact that you wished the species into being, this was not done again for another 1700 years. However, I interrupt. Please continue.”

”Huh. Never would have thought.

“Sadly, the third wish went wasted. Jonathan died as an old man, well-loved by his community.

“Before he died he asked me a question. Did I feel that I had served the penance I had been set by Suleiman Ibn Dawud? If I felt so (and HE WOULD NOT make that decision for me - it was mine and mine alone to make) then he would free me that second and I could go on my way with his blessing on his death, inheritor of his possessions and property. If not, he had arranged for someone to come and get me and he wished me good fortune in my further travels.

“What did I wish?

“Every fiber of my being screamed for freedom, demanded to be set free and be done with the tortures. I had been a slave of countless masters over a thousand years - why subject myself to more?

“However, my soul knew that I had not done my penance. The crimes against the human race I had committed, and the ones I had done since becoming a Djinn had not been expurgated yet. I had yet to serve, much as I did not want to.

“At that answer he smiled up at me. “I would have released you. Yet, I knew your answer. Kiss me, my Djinn, and say goodbye, for I must go.” I kissed him on the forehead and he breathed his last. At that I called in the servants and ordered that his body be prepared for burial, and the elders told of his death.

“I went to my bottle and for the first time since my arrival, closed myself in. I cried.

“Now, cover the bottle and leave me alone. I do not wish to talk any more. I have had enough of your ‘kindness’.

With that, the eyes turned away toward the wall and the screen dissipated.

Al, Emerald and Safyr walked out onto the balcony. Half-exhausted, they looked at each other and back in through the window at the bottle sitting there on the counter.

“Opinions?”

“Too tired. No opinions tonight. Talk in the morning.” Emerald could barely keep her eyes open.

Safyr concurred. “I cannot think right now. I need sleep.”

Al nodded, in hardly better shape. “Agreed. You two take the bedrooms. I will sleep out here on the couch. Sleep as long as it suits you - we have no schedule to observe here.”

“No need to sleep on the couch, Al. We can share.”

“What?” Al turned back to Safyr and blinked, owlishly. Between the fog of exhaustion and the potential of the answer he was having trouble parsing that last statement.

Safyr chuckled. “Emerauld and I can share a room and you can have your bedroom. There is no need to put you out of your room for us.”

“Thank you. I was not looking forward to sharing a room with the Djinn.”

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 6

The next morning dawned clear and bright, as days in that part of the world tend to. Al awoke as the sun crept over the eroded hills to the East,lighting the jungle on the side of the volcano like a forest fire of gold. As he lay in bed, the line of light crept down the side, slowly lighting more and more of the hill, detailing the foliage in gold as the gentle breezes rustled it inaudibly.

Aware of his guests and responsibilities to them he got up, hurriedly found his way to the en-suite and performed his ablutions. Finding his way back to his bedroom he dressed in his usual and walked out to the kitchen, retrieving the coffee from the refrigerator and starting a pot. As he did, he retrieved the tea, prepared the pot and turned on the electric kettle, knowing well the habits and tastes of his companions.

Stepping to the radio, he turned it on, tuning the dance music station the Djinn had had on the day before and keeping the volume low to avoid disturbing the sisters in case they were still asleep. This, however, did not produce the expected rattle from the bottle asking to be uncovered. Considering the stresses of the day before, Al was unsurprised.

Finally the coffeemaker beeped, signalling that a pot of caffeinated goodness was ready. Al pulled down a mug from the cabinet and filled it, adulterating it with his usual cream and demerara sugar.

Sitting at the bar and sipping, he contemplated his visitor and thought.

Safyr was right. This is a very, very old Djinn, considering she dates back nearly three thousand years. All of that said, she seems to be remarkably sane and coherent, or if not, she is simulating it remarkably well considering the stress we put her through yesterday with that series of tales we forced her to tell.

Of course, she could be making it all up from whole cloth, but the pain Emerauld and I felt was real - and I defy ANY being to fool Emerauld when she is raising her aspect from the Lord and Lady. No being is sociopathic enough to fool Truesight.

Al shifted on his stool and looked at the bottle under its hessian sack. What to do, what to do, what to do….what AM I going to do with you? You seem trustworthy, but then again, I have seen much poison in beautiful bottles. He frowned, and knocked back the remainder of his cup, sliding off the bar stool and heading for the coffee pot.

In response, the pot disengaged itself from the machine and came to meet him. He stopped, surprised, and the pot hovered. He held out his cup and the pot obediently filled it, leaving room for cream and sugar, which followed in the air in globes, dropping tidily into the liquid. A swirl stirred the coffee, and Al sat back down again, utterly bemused.

Setting his mug down he rose, walked to the counter and lifted the sack, folding it back and setting it aside. Returning to his seat he again claimed his mug, sipping at the coffee, and said, “Trifle bloody theatrical, eh? Walt Disney would have loved it. Nice to see I shouldn’t have bothered with the sodding sack - obviously.”

“Good morning and yes, true enough. I apologise for the subterfuge, but it’s your own fault for treating me like a budgie. Cocoanut sack, indeed. More to the point, I decided hiding my abilities was a poor idea considering the relationship I am trying to build with you and your two warriors.

“Speaking of them, did you have a pleasant evening? I promise I did not look.”

“You have an evil mind, Djinn. We went straight to bed after finishing up conversing with you - it was exhausting for all of us. And NO, we did NOT do any of the things you are suggesting. Next question.”

“ Why? They are absolutely wonderful, and you deserve companionship. Man like you should not be travelling alone.” The Djinn seemed actually puzzled, and was asking more for clarity than to stroke his ego or advance her own position.

Al sighed, trying not to get upset. “I have a wife, and she is truly wonderful. These two are battle companions and are like sisters to me. We have stood side by side in battle and have shed blood together - I would no more think of them as bed companions as I would as servants to work in my fields.”

“Things are very different here. I have a wife - one, and one only - , no mistresses, concubines, odalisques or other such cluttering the place I live. I have no need for such, for my wife and I have a marriage of the ages and she and I are all each other need.”

“That poor woman. No one to help her. Please tell me that she at least has servants to help her run your household.” The Djinn’s response was emphatic.

At this point Al had a sneaking suspicion that his chain was being jerked, but he decided to go along with the attempt at humour given the stresses of the day before. “It isn't my household, it is hers. We married less than ten years ago, and she was a widow. She has all of the servants that she could possibly need, and a grand estate.

“She is a very wealthy woman, but I want none of that. I have my business, my friends, my home with her and everything I could possibly want. Her children have accepted me and love me as their own, her grandchildren call me grandfather and treat me like a king. I am the luckiest man in the world.”

For a minute, nothing came up on the Djinn’s screen. The grey, smoky background of it roiled slowly like oil and water stirred behind glass, but nothing appeared. Finally, words appeared, slowly.

“You… are impossible. How can I compete with this? How can I offer a man with happiness and tranquillity happiness and tranquillity?

“No. This cannot be true. You and your little playmates are trying to fool me into leaving. This is just a lie to get me to leave. You think that if I think that you cannot be induced into accepting my service that I will simply move on and that I will simply go away and find another.

“No. There is a way. No matter how happy, how content or how tranquil your life is there is always SOMETHING that a man wants. EVERY man has a desire somewhere in his secret heart of hearts that he will never reveal - and I will make you reveal yours to me.”

Al was unmoved. “Really? This is you taking your best shot? You’re starting to disappoint me. You quite simply cannot tempt a man who cannot be tempted, or coerce a man who cannot be coerced. I told you when we first met that I have everything I need, so I want for nothing.”

Al heard a stirring behind him, and turned to see two barefoot, sleepy redheads in shorts and T-shirts appear from the second bedroom. On seeing this vision Al rose and switched on the electric kettle with a cheery “Tea in a few minutes, ladies.” He then fished out mugs, and replenished the cream pitcher and sugar containers.

Emerauld and Safyr ensconced themselves at the small kitchenette table, the chairs of which had been put back after last evening’s discussions. Al, playing the host, got out placemats, silverware and crockery and set place settings for each before returning to his perch at the bar, ready to deal with the kettle.

Eventually it clicked off and Al proceeded with the ritual, amusedly noting that he was unassisted by the Djinn (who did not feel the need to ingratiate herself to the two women, it seemed). Tea steeped and mugs served, he refilled his coffee cup and joined them at the table as they sipped their way to consciousness.

“So, what have you and our friend been talking about this morning?” Safyr asked, tilting her head towards the bottle on the counter. Al began to speak but in this he was interrupted as text began to scroll (exasperatedly, he thought) up the Djinn’s screen.

“WE have been discussing the fact that HE is absolutely impossible to deal with! Completely calmly and without any swagger at all he tells of treasures most men would kill to get. A grand estate, a thriving business, friends, family, a loving wife (rich, no less) and he treats it all as matter-of-factly as the rising of the Sun or the wetness of water!”

Upon reading the missive Safyr chuckled, but there was no humour in it. “No, he most certainly does not. He thanks his Gods every day for the miracles that he has been given. We were there when he began his journey to what he has today, and it was not a smooth one. Someday, perhaps, he may tell you of it, but not today.”

Emerauld looked over at the bottle, and said “I was the one who pulled the bullets from his bleeding flesh, and mended his broken bones with the help of my Gods. I do not think that either he or I will take the gifts he has been granted as routine.”

With that she stood, circled the table, and wrapped her arms around Al, hugging herself deeply to him. In his mind Al heard I was awful to you. It was the pain talking, and I do not deserve to call you friend any more. Can I ask your forgiveness? For his part Al took her hands and held them, content to be in her loving grasp after the tumult of the night before and answered To’ryll, as you are here helping me and the pain was MY fault, there is nothing to forgive. I am the one who should be asking forgiveness. When she released him he stood, and turning to her embraced her deeply, both of them settling into each other as the intimates they were.

Safyr smirked. “Had I realised it was hugging time, I would have finished my tea more quickly.”

Words appeared on the Djinn’s screen. “AHA! I KNEW IT! LIAR! No man would embrace a woman like that if they were not lovers! I KNEW there was more here than met the eye!”

Suddenly Safyr looked startled. “More than meets the eye. More than meets the eye. Al, have you cast a Dispel Illusion on this bottle?”

Reluctantly releasing Emerauld, Al answered, “Why, no. Honestly, it never occurred to me to use magic on it given the possibilities for backlash or some sort of untoward issue. Should I have?”

Looking disgusted with herself, Safyr answered, “No, but *I* should have.” Standing and holding her hands toward the bottle, she began to chant in Drow. A glow formed around her hands, and around the bottle, intensifying as the chant continued, then fading as the words died away.

Turning, Safyr asked Al, “I want you to tell us exactly what you see when you look at the Djinn. Please be detailed - this could be important.”

Al thought hard, then responded. “A glass bottle, about 500 millimeters high. The glass is black, and is intricately worked. Base is oval in cross-section, but round in appearance from the top and is decorated with filigree which is picked out in gold.

“Neck of the bottle is long and thin, and has a fluted top. The stopper-”

“Stop right there. You see a stopper?” Safyr’s gaze was intent, looking straight into the old man’s eyes for any sign of trickery.

Confused but trusting, Al continued. “Yes, I do. It is also glass, as ornate as the bottle and in the same style. Round and black, and also covered in the filigree picked out in gold like the body of the bottle itself.”

Safyr looked at Emerauld, who looked back.

“Al, there is no stopper. The bottle is open.”

“Ohfuckme.” The words slipped from Al’s mouth before he could stop himself. “My apologies, ladies, for the coarse language.”

“Well, thank you for the offer, Friend Al,” said Emerauld, “but I do think that Mistress Daisy might get a wee bit upset with both of us if I accepted.”

Safyr cuffed her sister sharply in the back of the head, following it up with a curse in Drow. “Enough out of you - this is serious. In short, there is NO reason whatsoever for the Djinn to have stayed in the bottle - the seal is long gone, as is the stopper that it was attached to. She could have left any time during her sojourn here - or long before - for that matter.

“The question is - why are you still in there?” Safyr asked this question while addressing herself directly to the eyes, which were wide open and presenting the best appearance of terrified that a set of disembodied eyes could master.

To Al’s horror, Safyr grabbed the bottle, inverted it and yelled, “All right you, OUT!” and started to shake the bottle upside down. The eyes on the inside oscillated up and down in the bottom of the jar rather like ping-pong balls until Safyr stopped shaking, then they oscillated to a halt.

Banging her hand on the bottom of the bottle Safyr tried again to dislodge its occupant. “She IS a bit of a slow Djinn, is she not?” Safyr remarked, alternating between shaking the bottle and thudding on the bottom with her fist.

“Safyr! No! You’ll hurt her! Stop, Please!” Al pleaded, to no avail. Emerauld just stood back, arms crossed, and contemplated the whole scene, evidently figuring that her sister had gone mad and that she was going to wait till the first flush had run its course before intervening.

Finally, with an indescribable noise and an even more indescribable reveal, the Djinn was expelled from the bottle. Nearly nude in filmy silks she hit the floor with a thud in front of Al, a horrified expression on her face. As she did her outfit flickered to pantaloons and a vest with satin slippers on her feet, a skirt and blouse with pumps and hose, a 1950s dress suit with high heels and seamed stockings, a cocktail dress and open-toed sandals and finally settled on the outfit that the elves wore - a loud tourist T-shirt, pair of poplin tropical shorts and barefooted like the elven sisters.

Lying on the floor she looked up at the three faces.

“Hello?”

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 7

Al looked down, stunned. Safyr, considerably quicker off the mark having instigated the entire incident, reached a hand down and asked “Can you stand?” Emerauld, also showing considerably more presence of mind than the old man (who was still doing a creditable imitation of a poleaxed steer) went to draw the curtains and the Djinn asked “Please, don’t draw the curtains. The sun feels good. I miss it.”

Emerauld turned to Al, who waved her away from the drapes. Al, turning to the Djinn, finally understood what he was looking at - and started to function again.

“Can you help me up, please?” she said, reaching to Al. Al, ever the gentleman, began to reach down until he stopped and gestured to Safyr, who gently helped the Djinn to her feet.

Utterly bemused at the change in circumstances, Al looked at his guest. Superficially, she bore a striking resemblance to Safyr as a Drow, with blue skin, pointed ears and generally Elvish facial characteristics. However, she was taller than the sisters were in their native form, being approximately five and a half feet tall barefoot as she was. At the moment her primary facial expression was one of confusion and fear, as she’d been thrust from her controlled environment out into the suite unexpectedly.

Al spoke. “Please, sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea?”

The Djinn spoke, panic-stricken. “No, Master. What would YOU like? I will fetch it!” She turned to the coffee pot and promptly fell to the floor in a tangle of her own feet, nearly hitting the floor hard if Safyr had not interposed herself and gone to the floor with her.

Well, that’s interesting. She’s either been in that bottle too long or that pounding Saf gave her shook her up. Either way, slow and steady wins the race for the moment.

Safyr untangled herself from the Djinn and between Safyr and Emerauld they got her into a chair. Al sat across from her and the elves took chairs to either side.

“Are you all right? I am sorry at the shaking up you received. Safyr honestly shouldn’t have done that, “ Al said, spearing his blue-eyed friend with a glare that went completely ignored, “but why, indeed, were you pretending to be bound to the bottle when you were not? All that claptrap with the screen and such was completely unnecessary when we could have just talked to each other.”

The Djinn was beginning to settle down. She was looking out the sliding doors at the bright sunshine, for the day had fully dawned and the breeze was a zephyr in the palm trees.

Al mind-spoke to Safyr and Emerauld Is it me, or is someone seriously sensory deprived?

Safyr mentally nodded, and Emerauld concurred. I have been like this, in…training. It is not a happy feeling. Not at all. She hungers for the sunshine, which makes the fact that she could leave her bottle even more insane.

The Sergeant-Major spoke, and Eme and Saf looked up and at him. Follow my lead.

“Before all of this happened we were going to have coffee or tea, then break our night fast. Do you eat, and is there anything that you do not eat? Also, would you rather have tea or coffee, and do you take cream or sugar in it?”

“No, Master, I-”

“Enough. I am NOT your master, you are not my Djinn, and that is what we will speak of today. Now, food, coffee, tea?”

The Djinn sat silently for a moment, then meekly said “I enjoy coffee, very strong with cream and honey if you have it, sugar if not. Sweet please. I eat all foods. I used to not eat pork because of the rules of halal, but that was long ago and I have not observed that for a long time.”

Emerauld began to rise from the table and Al waved her back down. He went to the pot, poured a cup and adulterated it, set it on a saucer and returned to the table. The Djinn took it and sipped from it, and an expression of indescribable bliss crossed her face.

On the other side of the table Al was quickly forced to dial back his empathic sense, as the simple cup of strong Kona had nearly produced an orgasmic reaction in the attention-starved Djinn.

Safyr turned to Al as the Djinn greedily sipped her coffee and asked All all right, old man?

Al smiled and replied. I was right. Someone almost wet her knickers if any at the taste of a cup of coffee. Now, it’s good coffee, but not THAT good. That poor thing has been in a dark hole for a LONG time.

“I am going to order us some breakfast from the restaurant kitchen. First off, Djinn, I need to know if your control of your appearance extends past your clothing. Somehow, I don’t think having the restaurant staff deliver breakfast here when I have a guest who is blue and has pointed ears will go over well with the management.”

“Especially considering the noise complaint last night, O Master.” she said, impishly, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. “To answer your question, yes, they do. You had rattled me a bit,” she said, levelling a dagger-filled look at Safyr, “otherwise I would have dealt with that as a matter of course. Any requests?”


“None in particular. I do expect normal human and nothing particularly notable, so traceability is not an issue, please.”

The Djinn smiled.”No problem.” She stood and moved to the centre of the room. A bright light shone and she began to turn, and the outlines of her body were briefly visible as she pirouetted in place. The light faded and in seconds she sat back down, still in poplin shorts and a T-shirt bearing an ad for Bombay Sapphire.

The reaction of the others was immediate. The elven sisters broke out in immediate laughter, pounding the table and guffawing. Al was stunned, and immediately began cursing.

Curvaceous, medium height and Titian-haired, her face bore the classic bone structure and freckles of a redhead. Across her breastbone the freckle line continued, hiding beneath the sleeves of her shirt.

“Triplets. TRIPLETS. NO ONE WILL BELIEVE THIS. YOU do all realise this, right?” Al was strikingly unamused.

The third addition to the improbability smiled, breathed in (doing Al’s blood pressure no good whatsoever) and said “You wanted me to blend in. You have two women here that you are going about with - who will notice another? That reminds me - can I have another cup of coffee, Master?” She batted her eyes innocently and looked at him.

“Yes. I will call in breakfast. Assume a full American for all of you?” Two nods from the Elves and a puzzled look from the Djinn sufficed and he went to the phone.

The phone burred, then burred again

”Front Desk. Can I help you?”

”This is Al in Suite 10.I’d like breakfast sent up, please.”

”Certainly, Al. What would you like - one full English?”

”No, the order is a bit larger. I need one full English with a side order of fried potatoes, three full Americans with waffles, whipped cream and fresh fruit on the side, carafes of orange and mango juice and extra bacon and sausage. My nieces are visiting and they’re extra hungry.”

”Your…nieces. Indeed! It should be about twenty minutes. Coffee and tea?”

“No, got plenty of that. Soon as we can and make sure we have any serving pieces we need, please. Thanks!”

Al hung up, realising that he was likely never going to be able to come back here again without hearing about this trip. Turning back to the table he saw that the Djinn was on her second cup of coffee and that someone had refilled his mug and adulterated it for him.

Al spoke to the Djinn. “Breakfast will be here in about 20 minutes. Would you like to move out onto the balcony until then? We could eat out there as well. You looked like you would enjoy being in the sunshine.”

She looked sheepish again. “Can we?”

Al answered in the affirmative, and all picked up their mugs and moved to the table on the patio. The Djinn immediately claimed the seat in full sunshine despite the warmth of the day, sitting with her eyes closed and allowing the sun to warm her. Again, Al could feel the pleasure in her peaking as she soaked in the rays. Coupled with the coffee it was nearly too much for Al to bear, even with the gain turned all the way down on his empathy.

You poor damned soul. What in Hades am I going to do with you? This could all be an act, though after the hells you went through last night telling us those stories I have my doubts. Still, if there’s the slightest bit of doubt I can’t let you loose on the world - and I have to destroy you.

I am too damned old for this.

The time passed in a companionable silence, with Safyr and Emerauld enjoying their tea, the Djinn sunning herself contentedly and Al sitting and worrying to himself what he was going to do to resolve this situation. As he did, he heard a voice in his head, and glancing to his right saw that Safyr was the one speaking to him.

Be at peace for the moment. Let us break our fast, have our drinks and relax and then we will begin again. Having her out here where we can see her body language will be a great help, as will be being able to talk and not deal with that horrid little screen.

Al glanced over at Safyr, and after a glance at the Djinn (who was blissed on coffee, endorphins and solar radiation) nodded. I agree. I am not going to rush this. We applied pressure yesterday and she held steadfast to her stories. Today, I want details - first, why is she free of the bottle but still a Djinn! There is something extremely odd going on here, and none of it has precedent from the literature.

There was a knock from the door, and Al got up. “Back in a trice with breakfast, ladies. Could someone see to more tea and coffee?” He went to the door of the suite and opened it only to be met by his bartender friend Matheus and a trolley bearing stacks of covered dishes, all exuding wonderful smells.

“Ola Matheus! And to what do I owe this suspiciously personal service? You’re not part of the kitchen staff, and have repeatedly and vociferously told me so.”

Matheus looked a trifle chagrined, and wheeled the trolley in the door. “Well, I was checking in for my shift and heard that you had an order for you and your nieces. I figured I’d be heading this way anyway, so I figured I’d drop it off-”

Al finished his sentence for him. “And get yourself another chance to ogle my nieces in the process, eh?”

Matheus grinned and shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”

Al laughed. “Fair play, fair play. Wheel that out to the balcony - we’re eating out there.” Saf, Eme - BIG smiles for Matheus. I want to bedazzle him while he’s counting…to three.

Matheus wheeled the trolley to the balcony, positioned it against the wall, and like the professional he was, began to serve. As he took the first plate he turned around and asked “Who had the full English…” when the pyrotechnics of three buxom redheads smiling at him struck simultaneously. He froze, and Al had to nudge him rather forcefully to get his breakfast.

From there, poor Matheus was lost. Al had to continually nudge him to keep him moving, until the breakfasts were served and the carafes of juice, servings of fruit and extra bacon and sausage set on the table.

Al reached to his pocket, but his wallet was inside. “Let’s step indoors for a minute. Ladies, start eating, please - don’t wait for me.” With that, Al led the bemused bartender inside, where perhaps the glamour of the three redheads would wear off enough to allow coherent conversation to happen.

Matheus turned to Al once they were inside. “Al, no bullshit. THREE? TRIPLETS? How the hell…”

Al gently turned him toward the door and gave him a little nudge. “A gentleman never tells. Look, let me catch you with a tip later - I need to get back to my guests. You know I’m good for it.”

Matheus waved dismissively. “Sure, man. On the house on this one. I have GOT to hear this story, though….please.” With that, he left, and Al returned to breakfast.

If the coffee was a precursor to the rapture when eating breakfast, then it was a pale one. Any reserve she had collapsed at the sight of the large plate of food she’d been presented with - eggs, sausage, bacon, waffles with whipped cream and cut fruit.

Safyr and Eme exclaimed their pleasure at theirs, but the Djinn nearly swooned. Greedily she picked up utensils and attacked the plate, stuffing her face and enjoying every bite. Nothing escaped her attentions, though much of the food must have been unfamiliar.

“Slowly, slowly! No one will take it from you, and we are not under time pressure. Enjoy it. We are here to enjoy breakfast, not eat in moments.” Al said, and the Djinn stopped, a sad look on her face. She put her utensils down and said ”I am done.” and stopped, though she eyed the rest of the food on her service.

Al kicked himself. DAMNIT! Slave mentality. No fast moves, and preface everything. Gently, gently. “No, you’re not. Please continue. You seemed concerned that you needed to rush or that there was a time limit on the meal. Enjoy the food, the sunshine and being outside. If there is anything you would like, ask.You are not a slave. You are not MY Djinn. We will discuss this today. Please continue. I am sorry I interrupted you.”

With that, the Djinn began eating again, but she was frightened, the interruption a reminder of the situation. It took her a time to regain her gusto for the food, but regain it she did and soon the plates were all clean, and a good part of Al’s as well where she’d noticed the different foods he was eating.

During this time, Safyr, Emerauld and Al had been talking, both about the situation and about the Djinn and her behaviour.

Sadly, this seems to be one badly hurt young woman. Her time as a Djinn has left her with some deep scarring from her series of so-called ‘masters’ and the experiences of her three thousand years. She has learned the lessons she needed to learn, but she has learned many other things as well.

Al, you err badly. She is not a woman. She is a Djinn. Yes, you see a young woman, just as when you look at us you see young women. She is three thousand of your years old. We are older, and look much the same. Please, you must remember this.

Safyr was adamant on this point, and rightfully so. Everything rode on perspective, and this was vital.

However, we are dealing with what we have in front of us. The reaction to my telling her to slow down was not a confident being - that was a slave that’s been beaten one too many times. Remember, “There is always worse.” Do we want to continue those horrors? I do not know that my moral fibre - the one you two have poked me in SEVERAL times over the past twenty-four hours, I might add - probably will not allow me to do that.

He mentally pointed to the Djinn, who was happily stuffing down the second half of Emerauld’s waffle with a generous helping of berry compote. Right about now Al could swear berry compote caused reactions in Djinn that he personally did not want to examine too closely but she was VERY happy.

Do you want to condemn that to death with no good reason? I do not.

Nor do we - but this is why you brought us here. It may be that she is too dangerous. REMEMBER, she wants to be YOUR Djinn! Can you be a Jonathan and teach her what she needs to know until such time as you feel you can make her free? Can you accept that as a full time job? If so, what happens to RE? What happens to MIB?

What happens to Rosalynd?

Safyr stopped there, but that was enough. In her opinion,Al had lost sight of the long term aspects of the problem, but the elven sisters had made them clear.

After breakfast, Safyr, you and I need to go to the back bedroom and talk. This is draining. Emerauld, can I ask you to keep our friend here company?

Certainly, Friend Al. Emerauld replied. Her love for the Sun will make that simple. We have two loungers here and a bit of sunbathing once we change clothes will be in order.

Marvellous idea. There are plenty of cold drinks in the refrigerator, and cold water aplenty so help yourselves. I think there’s even a beach shower out there if you get too warm, not that I’d ever use it in khakis.

With that, the rest of breakfast passed in a companionable silence, other than requests to pass dishes and so on. As they ate, Al watched the Djinn, amazed at her ability to pack away food. Finally, though, the plates had all been hoovered clean, after–breakfast cups of coffee and tea poured and the four participants settled back to relax after a very good breakfast.

Sad to disturb her tranquillity but mindful of having to do so, Al spoke after a few minutes.

“Djinn?”

“Yes, Master?”

Al twitched, but had little to say on the subject for the moment as they really hadn’t defined her status.

“Safyr and I need to talk for a while. Unless you object, Emerauld and you are going to stay out here and get acquainted with the loungers and sunbathe for a while. Is this acceptable? Emerauld, do you have some more suitable clothing you can lend our friend between what you and Safyr brought - I assume you will wear what you wore to the beach yesterday?”

“Yes, Friend Al - I will care for her needs. You two go on.”

With that Safyr and Al took their leave, stepping into the master bedroom. Al closed the door and drew the curtain, blocking the view to the patio where Eme and the Djinn were. With that, Al cast a silence spell around the room, chastising himself for not doing it the previous day and saving himself considerable embarrassment. Saf sat at the small table in the room watching him with ice blue eyes and no expression, while Al finished by turning on the lights in the now dim room and seating himself.

Safyr began. “I would think our discussion was complete. The Djinn needs to be examined swiftly, and possibly packed off to Prroul for destruction. Now that she is not restricted to the bottle it will be considerably more difficult, but as she trusts you implicitly, it seems to me that trickery may be useful there.”

Al’s temper rose. “In Hades it is settled! SHE, SHE is not a thing to be discarded because she may, MAY pose a risk that you consider an issue. Trickery? Lies? Deceit? Is this what we’ve come down to? Take a being that has suffered three thousand years of tortures and simply LIE to her to shove her into a final oblivion? And you call me velg’larn with a sneer in your voice.”

Safyr was unrepentant in her attitude, leaning across the table at Al. “IT IS A Djinn! DJINNI are creatures of deceit and lay ruin to all they touch. Do you really want to take this unsheathed sword, dangerously sharp, home to Maple Plain and let it swing free among your family and friends with no guarantees as to its safety? If you do then you are a bigger fool than I took you for - your head turned by a pretty face and THESE!” With that, Safyr reached down, palmed her breasts, and pushed them together and up, releasing them to fall back into place and blinking her bright eyes at Al with an approximation of a simpering wanton thing, motions which revolted Al.

Al’s voice turned flat - the gentle old man had left the room and the Sergeant-Major was now in full possession of the conversation. “Obviously, you have forgotten my abilities. A pretty face will not turn me, nor a simpering phrase. However, there is ONE thing you are forgetting.

“THIS is not an IT - this is a SHE. This WOMAN - and WOMAN she started life, not Djinn, born from her mother’s womb, was taken before Suleiman Ibn Dawud and punished unimaginably by being turned into a Djinn. This is a punishment she has suffered for three thousand years, at the hands of endless masters. Punishment she deserved for her crimes, but I very much doubt that Suleiman intended it to last the endless weary millennia that it has.”

Al looked Safyr directly in the eyes, holding her gaze with the power of his own across the small wooden table. “Do not objectify her. She is not your enemy. We are here to help her if we can, and destroy her if we absolutely must and only as a last resort.”

Shaking her head, Safyr reiterated her position. “IT - I repeat IT - has gotten to you. IT is no longer human. IT is a Djinn and cannot be trusted. Did you not see the blue skin, the pointed ears, the magic? We should just take it to Prroul and be done with it. After three thousand years we would be doing it a kindness.”

Al rose from his chair and began to pace. Then he turned and in a flash was in Safyr’s face with a pointing hand, shouting.

“IT! IT is a Drow! See the blue skin, the pointed ears, the magic? It is a Drow and should be killed on sight!” Turning, he pointed in the direction of her sister and repeated, "IT is a Half-Elf! Look, it cannot make up its mind to look Elf or Human! It is a Half-Elf and should be killed on sight! Poor half-breed creatures. We should just kill them - it would be doing them a kindness!”

Al sat again as Safyr stared at him, expression inscrutable.

“I remember a decade ago when two half-elves came to us at Alexander House to help us in our battle. We knew nothing of Half-Elves or Drow and we took them into our hearts. It was later we found out that their own people had sworn their deaths and to kill them on sight, and one had left to save the other, half-mad though she was.

“Remember, not all that long ago, you were the monster as was your sister, as was I in my time, also not all that long ago. In our own way we are all monsters and must all find our redemption. In helping others find their way to the light we find our own way there.

“Can you help me try and help one more soul find their way back?” Al wanted to hold out his hand to Safyr, but wasn’t sure if it would be taken, or taken as a sign of attack given the level of tension in the room.

Safyr sipped at her tea and made a face. “Cold. Al, There may BE no way back. That is what I fear. Djinn have been redeemed, but one never hears about the successes, just the failures.”

“Safyr, love, we can just try. Now, hopefully those two have not gotten into the rum out there. I would like to be able to come back to this hotel again.” With that Al rose and stood, uncertain of where to go from there.

Safyr sat silently, expression unreadable, and Al worried, hoping he didn't push too hard, fearing he didn't push hard enough. Either would be disastrous, one to his relationship to his elven sisters, and the other to the tortured soul who had washed up on his shores.

"Friend Al, give me a moment. I need to meditate. May I trouble you for some tea? I will be out for it in a few minutes." She handed Al the now-cold mug, and as she did her hand touched Al’s, and he flinched a bit. With that, Al left, uncertain. As the door to the room clicked closed Safyr dropped to the carpet in lotus position, and closed her eyes. A cleansing breath, then another, then she sent a thought out.

"Quichon, a moment if I may?"

A soft sibilant reply followed after what seemed like aeons. "What isss a moment, but the passing of time? Ssspeak."

"I have been foolish, spoke words without thought beforehand, and have hurt a friend, nay, one who is family, though not of blood. I am uncertain how to repair the rift.”

"Words, once spoken, cannot be taken back. You and I have had this discussion before. The damage is done, the wound exists." Safyr could see her teacher even through the intervening miles, for the connection between them was that strong. Quichon sat in a meditative state, pondering a moment before replying. His eyes were closed, but Safyr was not so foolish as to believe he was not tracking everything in his area anyway.

"So then, there is nothing that can be done?" Safyr's retort was perhaps a bit more hot-tempered than she might have wished.

"Any wound may become fatal if left untreated to fester and rot. Yet that does not mean every wound is guaranteed to be fatal. When you are wounded, what do you do?"

"Treat the wound, cleanse it, bind it to staunch the bleeding and to prevent things getting in." Safyr responded. The old lizard often took his time to get around to his point, especially if he felt she was being particularly dense.

"So, how does one treat a wound not of body but of emotion? How does one cleanse the wound so that it may heal?" Quichon's Socratic method of instruction was often annoying, but rarely went far from the mark.

"That is precisely my question!" Safyr's exasperation crept into her tone of voice. She didn't notice his tail as it whipped around to whap her in the back of the head. It wasn't a particularly strong blow, intended as a warning to his pupil. This was all the more impressive considering the circumstance. Only the Scaletail could manage to mentally biff her from thousands of miles away and make it feel like he was right there.

"Calmness and patience, Safyr. Do not take that tone of voice with me." Quichon's voice was as level as it ever was, one eye peeked open a crack to give her a baleful side-eye.

"Apologies, Master. I let my frustration get the better of me." Safyr apologised.

"And I accept your apology. Now that we have answered your question, what else is it you need?" Quichon's lips peeled back in what might otherwise have been considered a smile were there not so many very sharp teeth involved. How he managed to give these impressions from afar is something Safyr always wished to have as a skillset.

"I..." Safyr caught herself this time, and pondered. Then she realised what the cryptic lizard meant. "Apologise. But, I fear that this is too great a rift for a mere apology."

"I have always had difficulty comprehending the many emotional states of mammals, so perhaps I am not an expert in this. However, it seems as though it would at least be a starting point, no? As a proper warrior, accept the blame for your actions. Do not deflect, do not defer, do not excuse. Accept that you have wronged him, acknowledge that you have hurt him, express your desire to not do so again. Only from this foundation can you progress. Perhaps he shall not accept your apology, some wounds are fatal. But if you do not at least do this, then it is certain to fester, and the rift will grow too great to mend." Quichon shrugged, then added. "Perhaps once that is done, you can explain your actions, so long as you do not attempt to excuse them. A Djinn is a most dangerous thing. I would likely have given nearly the same advice: destroy it and rid the world of the danger. Then again, I am well known for being... cold-blooded."

Quichon's dry humour was occasionally hard to discern, yet here it seemed he was as much making a pun as a statement of fact, both figuratively and literally. "He... is likely not so. I do not know him as well as I know you, but from my brief visit it seemed to me that he was one who valued second chances. Perhaps he is willing to take the risk because he does not see the Djinn as an 'it' but a person. Just as he sees elves as people, or dryads as people. It is an uncommon gift for humans, growing rarer still or so it seems to me. He has his moral code he follows. Perhaps it shall lead to his ruin, but that is his choice to make. You may warn him of consequences, but you may not dictate his actions."

Safyr absorbed his monologue wordlessly. Then she contemplated the words carefully. Finally, she placed a fist in a palm, and bowed, sending the gesture along hoping he'd 'see' it, "I thank you for your wisdom."

"Wisdom hoarded is wisdom wasted. Now, a wound needs to be treated promptly if it is to heal properly." This was a clear dismissal, as he returned to his meditating pose, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.

Meditating on this, she thought, "That is exactly what Friend Al said. Clearly I still have much to learn. But first, I must repair a wall..."

Slowly, moderating her breathing, she returned to the warmly furnished room, the texture of the handwoven carpet under her legs, the scent of the air blowing in from the window in her nostrils.Taking cleansing breaths she returned her body to operation and stood, finding herself energised from the meditation despite the energy usage from contacting her mentor.

Returning to the main room she went to the balcony area to find Emerauld, the Djinn and a rather flustered Al.

“What is the problem, Friend Al? We got a bit too warm and rinsed off with the beach shower, then lay out again on the recliners.” This voice was Emerauld, who had changed into her bathing suit from the day before. Her skin glistened with water, and she looked up at Al while shading her eyes.

The Djinn was another story. Wearing a pair of very abbreviated tight red shorts topped with a white T-shirt, she was thoroughly soaked and only the suggestion of a red halter top under the T-shirt kept her outfit anywhere near propriety in Al’s aggrieved opinion.

“It’s so NICE out here in the Sun, Master!” the Djinn said, Stretching and arching her back, to predictable results for Al’s blood pressure especially when Emerauld noted the action and duplicated it, holding it for emphasis.

“You are going to come to a bad end, Emerauld…a bad end indeed.” Al muttered. However, he did not turn away from the sight.

Walking up behind him Safyr spoke one word: “Al”. At that Al turned, and seeing Safyr’s grim expression he braced himself.

“What is it, Safyr?” he said warily, knowing the elf’s predilection for enthusiastic solutions to discussions.

“Just this.” With that, She reached out, opened her arms and enveloped the astonished old engineer in a fierce hug, squeezing him tightly and closely. Rather than the small, furtive hug she had delivered before on the beach this one was heartfelt, and went on and on.

Resting her head against his, she mind-spoke to him, also sharing it with her sister whose jaw was dropping at the sight. My brother, I find myself apologising to you again. It is not the Djinn who is the monster here, but me for the way I am acting over her. I should not-

Al turned his face to hers and kissed her on the forehead to stop her barrage of words. Sister, you did what you should have done. You came as a warrior should have, prepared to defend me from a threat and save me from myself, if needed. The only thing I can fault is the strength of your love and your fervour. We must let her speak for herself before we decide and we must be just, as those who would have judged against us would not have been.

Safyr looked up at the old man, and there was a tentative smile on her lips. You would forgive so easily? With the offence I have committed against her, and against you you simply wipe it away in a few words of love and guidance?

With that, Al frowned. Are you insincere? Do you lie to me? Are you honourless, ShadowKnight? With that Al’s arms tightened around Safyr, as if he expected to be struck.

Safyr was shocked. NO! I HAVE HONOUR! I would NEVER lie to you! She began to pull back but Al held on, and she stopped. Why would you say that?

Al smiled, and rested his forehead against hers. Because, dear Sister, I know you and my other loved Sister over there. Why would I do anything else but ask for what I want from you? You and my other dear Sister are two beings who, if offended, forgive and if you offend, ask forgiveness. Then we work together in love to resolve the problem. Why would we do anything else?

Mental clapping resonated in the link. Welcome to the human race, dear Sister. And thank you, dear Brother, for acknowledging me.

Al had a sudden mental vision of himself from the back, sent by Emerauld. The reason for it was immediately evident - Safyr’s reaction to the statement of “welcome to the human race” was the Elvish equivalent of two raised middle fingers, explaining both the spike of annoyance he felt from Safyr and the spike of glee from Emerauld.

The Djinn asked, “Are you all going to fight?” in a concerned voice, sliding to a sitting position on her lounger and getting ready to move out of the way.

Reluctantly disengaging from Safyr Al remarked “No, not at all. We were having a mental conversation. I am sorry - that was very rude of us. Please relax. We will warn you next time we have such a conversation. In a little while I would like us to start talking again - are you up to it?”

It was like a cloud passed across the sun - the demeanour of the Djinn changed dramatically. Her posture changed, her shoulders stooped, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed and her reluctance spiked dramatically in Al’s empathic senses. “Yes, I guess so. If we have to.”

“Very well. Make yourself comfortable till then.”

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 8

An hour later, they were all gathered in the common room of Al’s suite, with cold drinks in hand. Safyr was sitting at the head of the coffee table, with the Djinn and Emerauld on the couch and Al sitting in a chair opposite the couch, facing the two seated on its leather surface. All had changed back into indoor wear of shorts and tunics, for this was not the time nor place for beach frivolity.

Someone is decidedly nervous. She’s changed back to her default appearance, and I’ve rarely seen a more closed off-posture. Unfortunately, there is little I can do here to make her feel more comfortable, for we need answers plain and simple. As Al saw, the Djinn sat on the couch, knees together and feet planted flat on the floor, back curled away from the seat back. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she looked downward at the surface of the coffee table, not looking anywhere else.

Looking side to side Al caught the eyes of the elves and then glanced toward the Djinn. His glance conveyed his meaning, as both nodded, understanding well his concern at the stress level conveyed there.

Al spoke, kindly but firmly. “Djinn.”

She looked up, startled, and responded. “Yes, Master!”

Letting the honorific slide for the moment he continued. “There is a very large question in the room right now. Quite simply, how is it that the bottle is open and you can come and go as you please, but you're still imprisoned as a Djinn? In all of the literature I have read I have never heard of such a thing, and neither have my companions. How is this possible?” As he finished he looked levelly at the Djinn, capturing her gaze. Now was not the time for prevarication, and the sooner direct answers were obtained the better.

The Djinn tried to look away but couldn’t, glancing away then looking back into Al’s eyes. A minute passed, then more, as she struggled with the truth, then finally began to speak.

“That was the gift of my last master. She was an Andalusian, a wild woman and full of her own convictions. It was odd, given she was a chemical engineer and worked all over the world.”

Al looked surprised and the Djinn looked at him sceptically. “You doubt me? What is it you question, that my master was a woman, or that she could have been an engineer?”

“If anything, the former. I have female engineers working for me in my business, and very good they are. How many female masters have you had?” Irrelevant to the question though this was, Al was curious, and curious as to what the answer would be.

The Djinn answered sadly. “A few, and they were neither the best nor the worst of my masters before it occurs to you to ask. A few were harridans, a few timid souls, and one or two were good women. I helped them all to the best of my abilities, but for the ones who served humanity best I really worked hardest.”

“Tell us of your last master.”

“She found me in the dump of an oil company lab in Egypt. She was working as assistant to a fool of a chief engineer who was contracted to one of the oil companies out there, and who spent most of his time dumping all of the workload on her, screaming at her, and trying to seduce her. Pig.

“The higher-ups were coming in for an inspection and M’Sieur Salop had decided the lab needed a cleanup and detailed Rima to get it done, supervising a bunch of the local help and making sure the lab wasn’t picked clean in the process. While the old crates, waste, broken bottles, empties and other trash were going out the door one of the workmen found me and tried to hide me for his own.

“Rima spotted him and the fun began. After a short sharp argument with the end of a plank my bottle ended up in her possession and the cleaning went on. I know this clearly - I was watching the entire time - as I watched you.”

Al gestured irritably. “All well and good but this is not telling us how you have the freedom you do. Move along.”

The Djinn flinched, and looked down. With that she picked up the narrative.”In her quarters that night she examined the bottle and finally, opened it. I came forth and the poor thing nearly dropped dead in shock. It took her some considerable time to come to the realisation that she had just found a Djinn, and that I would serve her! However, come to it she finally did, and we began to plot.“ The Djinn giggled then, a most uncharacteristic sound but a merry one.

“From then on on that job I was her ‘cousin’, staying with her for a while. There were rumours about a divorce, and I modelled myself after her, with her lustrous black hair, brown eyes and curvy figure. This served several purposes, the first of which was keeping M’Sieur Cochon away from her.

“At the same time she taught me of the world, as I had been in the bottle some hundreds of years at that time. We also spoke of my purpose in helping her and my desire to be free, and how I could work toward it. It was obvious to her that I was nowhere near ready to be alone and free in the world as I was, so as we travelled together and she worked she taught me how to, as she put it, “survive in the world”.”

Al leaned forward, hands on the coffee table. “Lies. All lies. What tricks did you play to do this? What did you do to your poor master Rima? I believe none of this. And, of course, you can’t prove any of it so it’s all your word we have to take, poor little Djinn.”

Emerauld stood. “Al-”

AL shouted “Silence!” At the same time Al spoke Follow my lead.

Emerauld sat again, dire consequences glowing in her eyes. Safyr, too, sat, her crystal-blue eyes boding ill for the elderly engineer sometime soon.

“So, do tell us of your master and how she did this…and why. I find this fascinating - the djinn who was to serve was served by her master. Oh, this is just riveting.”

The Djinn looked at Al sullenly, angrily. “Will you listen, or are you convinced I lie?”

Al waved airily. “Please do continue.”

“We did this for many years. Sometimes I was Rima’s ‘cousin’, sometimes her ‘secretary’, but always at her side. I learned much from her and became a good chemical engineer myself - my alchemical bent from long ago put me in good stead even though the concepts I thought I knew were laughable, and my ability to feel the concentrates in a solution or ‘help’ a process coalesce paid for itself many times.

“There were also times Rima sent me away, to live on my own. The first time was terrifying, being away from my bottle and away from my master what would I do? I think that first night I slept none at all but sat up in my room waiting for the sun to rise so I could run back to my Master.

“It got easier and easier, though, and she sent me away for longer and longer times.

“One time when I was away I felt a terrible shock. Finishing the business Master had sent me on I hurried back to Paris (where we were then) and found her smiling. She handed me a glassine envelope, and I opened it and poured it out onto a specimen dish.

“It was sand. Sand? No, it was ground glass. I then looked at my bottle - my prison, the source of my misery lo these years and noticed the change.

“The stopper was missing. The barrier that held me in was gone. No more could I be imprisoned within. No more could I be told to go within and held against my wishes.

“No more.

“I cried, and Rima held me. I asked, “Why?” “

“She smiled at me and said, “This is the last step, Djinn. From here if you behave as your heart and your mind tell you is right, then you can be free.”

The room was dead silent for ten, then twenty and thirty seconds. Then Al sat back and laughed harshly, the sound grating on the ears of all present. The elves heads’ swivelled toward him and two sets of aggrieved thoughts spun toward him.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!
WHAT MADNESS HAS TAKEN YOUR SOUL, OLD MAN?

Al laughed harshly again then spoke, his words cutting like knives.“Then why are you not free? What did you do to prevent your master from giving you your freedom? What new deviltry did you do to keep it from yourself? Djinn are Djinn and cannot be trusted, and I’ve done well to keep you at arm’s length, it seems.

”None of this is provable, none of it is anything but gossamer. All we have is the lies of a Djinn who would say anything to find her next victim, er Master. What say you, Djinn? WHY ARE YOU NOT FREE?”

The Djinn’s head was bowed, and Al noticed that spots of water stained the shorts that she wore. She sat for a moment, then raised her head, wearily, and spoke again. As she did, she pointed out of the window at the sea.

“Out there you see the Atlantic Ocean. It is beautiful. It sometimes is cruel. It wrecks boats, it kills people and destroys them without a trace.

“Rima and I were here on a holiday like yours, Master. We played in the sun, we enjoyed the food, slept in rooms in a hotel near this one. It was not as palatial as this one, but we loved it. And we talked. We talked, oh, we talked.

“We talked of my future, and what would happen when she freed me. We honestly had no idea what would happen, whether I would remember her or not or she remember me, but we hoped we would.

“We talked of my career. I should go back to school - I had a good knowledge of chemistry and chemical engineering and could easily go into it as a career, studying in Paris, Berlin or even in America.

“However, Fate had other things to say.

“It was in May, 1964. Rima, my beloved master, had gone for a swim while I read. I remember it to this day, reading a paper on using platinum as a catalyst to improve the yield on refining processes in continuous petrochemical refining. I was curled up on the couch and I heard her shout even though I was far away. She had been caught in a rip current and swept out, away from the beach. While a strong swimmer she had gotten exhausted…and drowned.

“By the time I reached her she was gone - and I could do nothing, for once life is gone it cannot be restored. I had lost my loved master, my dearly loved Rima and my chance to be free.

“I came back to the room, returned to my bottle.”

Al sat, stony-faced. “And you have not emerged since then or attempted to find a master?”

The Djinn shook her head. “No.”

“I don’t believe you. Why wait a half century to potentially find a new master and release?”

The Djinn was openly crying now. “I needed or wanted nothing. In my view the last chance I had at freedom was gone in a stupid accident, and the master I loved as well. Why go on? More foolish men and women, more greed, more stupidity, more useless filling of wishes. Why? I tire of it all.

“Without the bottle to contain me and with my powers if I chose I could wipe you all away, but I am not that Djinn, and have not been for millennia. All I wanted was to sit in the dark and cry. It was all gone. My beautiful Master, my freedom, my way out of my chains…all gone.” Suddenly, the Djinn sat up a bit. “No. It was not all gone, now that I think of it. I have things I can show you.” She closed her eyes, and in a minute or so there was a thumping at the balcony door. Al rose and opened it, and sitting there was a leather briefcase, dust-caked, mildewed and obviously the worse for wear for the passage of time.

“The hotel we were staying at never managed to locate any next of kin for Rima, so her belongings stayed in storage along with mine as I had ‘disappeared’ after her death. This is her briefcase.” On lifting it, the Djinn finally broke down and sat on the floor with the case in her lap, sobbing violently. Al simply stood, arms akimbo, and Emerauld went to her and sat next to her, comforting her as best as she could.

While this was happening Al heard a loud voice in his head. No-Longer-Friend Al, what the Hate are you doing? That is not questioning, that is torture. You are scoffing at the last memories of a young woman-

IT is a Djinn, remember? At the moment I seek the truth. Yes, I am being cruel. I need to know if this is true. This is CRITICAL. If it is, she is safe to free. If not, Mongolia.

I hate this HATE HATE HATE HATE. I am too old for this, Safyr.

While the severity of her expression did not change, the tenor of the thoughts she sent to the old man did. I understand. It is one of the things we must do to be the protectors we are. What are you trying to do?

The old man shook his head, looking at the sobbing Djinn on the floor hugging the dusty briefcase to her chest. Gods, I wish I knew, Safyr. I am nearly convinced that she’s harmless, but…and that’s the problem. The ‘but’. If I am wrong, what am I loosing on the world - and on myself and my family? For myself I deserve what I get for my mistakes, but my family does not deserve the consequences of my stupidity.

I despair, Safyr.

Do not despair. The answers will come, they always do. As I have heard Eme say, “It is better to be lucky than smart.” Perhaps we will be both, in time. Safyr smiled quietly at him, a small smile.

Al, not wanting to break character, looked back unblinkingly, but Safyr knew of his appreciation. Meanwhile, sensing a diminishment in the distress of the Djinn, Al stepped over and helped Emerauld to her feet. Unthinkingly, he offered his hand to the Djinn as Safyr shouted “NO!” and jumped to knock him away.

The Djinn took his hand, and with his help took her feet, holding the briefcase.

Stunned, Al looked at the Djinn. She looked back, calmly, and said, “No, we are not bonded. As I said to you before, I will not become your Djinn unless you voluntarily accept me and tell me so. I will not do so by trickery.”

Turning away, she went to the table and set the briefcase down onto it. She looked down at it, fondly, and twirled the combination lock on it, setting the digits. “She set the digits on this to the day she found me.” With a click, the latch opened and the strap flipped back, and the top opened, exposing the long-untouched contents.

“Here - look at this.” The Djinn pulled out a photo album, as worn and mildewed as the briefcase. As she opened it the cover tore, the fabric finally yielding to the time and environmental assault it had suffered the past half-century and more. Haunted-eyed, the Djinn set it tenderly aside and began to flip the pages of the album.

Tears again began to drip from her eyes as the photographs went by, until one caught her eye. “Here! Here!” she said, pointing to the photo at the top of the page. It showed a smiling black-haired woman of Moorish descent, looking into the camera with a twinkle in her eye. She sat at a desk cluttered with papers, and on the desk at the front in pride of place sat the Djinn’s bottle. The next picture showed the same woman with a piece of rubber tubing and a glass pipette, eyes crossed as if pretending to smoke from the Djinn bottle as though it were a hookah. The laughter in her eyes was infectious, and Al smiled despite himself.
On another page was a photo of the older woman with a younger one, the same Moorish stamp upon her features, but Al recognized her eyes immediately even though they were brown. “Is that you?” he asked, pointing to the mildewed black-and-white photo.

The Djinn sighed. “Yes, it was. As I said, I travelled with her as her secretary and no one questioned it. Oh, I am sure there were whispers about the two single ladies travelling together even then but at that time a proper lady was expected to have a companion, so my presence was expected.”

Turning back to the briefcase she dug in again, and pulled out two slim wallets. “These were our passports. Mine was originally Egyptian and obtained through the graces of a bit of baksheesh and a suitably pliable official. When Rima returned home I took Spanish citizenship and this way travelling was not a problem, and we had a proper official layer over the original illegal one.”

Al steeled himself - this was going to be painful.

“Sit down. Leave this.”

“But I have more to show you!” the Djinn pleaded, turning back to the briefcase.

“SIT. LEAVE IT.” Al barked, blessing himself for the silence cantrip he’d cast this morning.

The Djinn sat again on the couch, if anything more miserable in her demeanour and posture for not being allowed to continue with her demonstration and Al’s discounting of it.

“This is all well and good, but it still doesn’t give me a reason to accept you as my djinn. For all I know, you are absolutely barking mad and will destroy me and mine the first chance you get.”

She looked up, startled. “But I just told you - I SHOWED you-”

With a wave of his hand Al dismissed the contents of the table. “You could have manufactured that as easily as transported it to the door. Again, You Have NO BONA FIDES, and NO way to prove one.

“By your own admission, from the day you had the seal of Solomon pressed onto your bottle you have travelled through time causing pain, destruction and death. From your first master’s dissolution in the sea to your last master’s”

This comparison resulted in two simultaneous mental cries from the elves, both wishing him death, dissolution and the horrors of torture for his callousness. Hating himself, he ploughed on.

“None have seen fit to free you. Why is that, Djinn? WHY?”

On his words something broke within the demeanour of the Djinn. She slowly rose from her seat, and her blue eyes now glowed red. Her voice was a chorus of voices - a dissonant chime of simultaneous cries that raised the hackles on Al’s neck.

Oh, BUGGER. Now I've done it. Got my reaction, all right. Now comes the fun bit - surviving it.

Emerauld and Safyr went to move in on the Djinn but Al waved them back, as he had a feeling that even their powers would do little at this point. She was focused on him, and that was all right. They would be all right, and worst-case the Djinn would leave after whatever happened to him.

The Djinn screeched, the tone a parody of a loving croon, turning quickly into a shriek.“Why, Master. You ask why. The WHY is because NONE CARED. NONE CARED for the DJINN. IT WAS JUST A DJINN. WHY SHOULD ANYONE CARE! It was a cursed being, doomed to serve for eternity or until someone released it - but not today.

“Never today. Why release it? It is useful!

“NEVER TODAY - FOR THREE THOUSAND YEARS! NO ONE CARED!

Her voice turned into the croon again, and she floated from the floor, drifting toward Al. “Do you want me to serve you now, Master? Do you like me as I am, now that you have shown yourself what I am? Do you want me to show you what I can do…Master?”

She stared at him, eyes glowing, and then slowly the light in them went out and she settled to the floor, slumped back to the couch. “I have had enough. It is obvious that you have no use for me and want nothing but to torture me.” With that, she dissolved into a mist and swiftly travelled to her bottle,sliding inside before any could react.

Safyr reached the bottle and picked it up, staring down into the opening. “No. Come back out. Do NOT make me shake you back out of there again!”

With that the bottle tore itself free of Safyr’s grasp and planted itself back down on the countertop with a decisive CLICK. From the top a voice spoke, a bit hollow as though from a megaphone. “No. I refuse to. You have no interest in me as your djinn - all I am to you is a plaything to torture. You, Master, and your demons want nothing more than to hurt. So, here in my bottle I will stay, and you can take me to Mongolia.”

Al, stunned, asked, ”Mongolia? What did you say?”

“I heard every word you and your demon sisters said to each other. I am a Djinn - my powers are those of the mind as much as yours, mage. I heard you planning to destroy me. Why, then did you torture me first if this is all you wanted to do? This was nothing but cruelty.”

Al’s mind spun, and he found himself muttering “oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no….” over and over again. Behind him, strong hands grabbed his arms as Emerauld steadied him, holding him upright till his thoughts stopped reeling.

Crossing his arms across his body, Al grasped Emerauld’s hands, taking solace in her physical presence at his back as he tried to think of a path forward from this disastrous point.

Thankfully, Safyr was still thinking clearly where Al was decidedly not. Snatching up the bottle again she looked down the open neck and reiterated her demands. “Come OUT. Whatever you heard or think you heard you decidedly did not hear everything - and that is critical. Now, come OUT!”

Again the Djinn was adamant. “NO! I will NOT! You have decided I am to be ended, and after three thousand years of this miserable existence I will not fight you. Take me to my fate and be quick about it - I seek my judgement from my God for I have not had a fair one here.”

Safyr spoke again, harshly. “Nonsense. Djinn, do you want to live? Do you want to be free? Do you want to be done with that bottle for all eternity? Speak, and speak truly, for this is your chance.”

The mist issued from the bottle and the Djinn rematerialized, standing inches from Safyr. “WHY!? NONE of you are interested in giving it to me! You dangle it in front of me and torture me with my own memories, forcing me to remember all of the horrors and nightmares of three thousand years!” She turned and pointed at Al, hand and finger quivering like a knife embedded in a target. “MY…MASTER WOULD NOT LISTEN! NO MATTER WHAT I SAID, HE WOULD NOT LISTEN! FINALLY, I BROKE DOWN AND IT IS ALL ENDED! NONE WOULD WANT A DJINN THAT SHOWED ANGER, THAT WAS NOT SERVILE, THAT TALKED BACK! BY MY OWN ACTIONS I CONDEMNED MYSELF TO DEATH!”

With that the Djinn threw herself onto Safyr and began to weep, great soul-deep bellows of pain and heartache escaping her.

Safyr, please explain to her. I doubt she would believe me if I told her the sun came up this morning at this point. Al said, still held by Emerauld. Somehow, we need to calm her.

Safyr nodded but said nothing, holding the Djinn as she cried. Minutes went by and finally, the tempest slowed and stopped and Safyr reached to a nearby box of tissues and handed the Djinn a handful to dry her eyes.

“You are wrong. Whatever you heard, whatever you think may have happened here, this is not the end and he has not condemned you.”

The Djinn turned to Al. “But-”

Al looked at her steadily. “You would not believe me right now. Listen to her. She knows me and can speak for me right now. Please, talk to her.”

The djinn turned back to Safyr, confusion written large on her face. “But…what…. I do not understand. I grew angry. I showed my power against one who would be my Master. You SHOULD destroy me!”

Safyr took her hand and guided her to the couch. Together they sat, and Al, finally starting to function, fetched them tea and coffee and sat again as did Emerauld, Emerauld sitting on the wing of Al’s chair and holding his hand.

Safyr began. “Djinn, my Sister and I are far older than you. You know we are not human as you call us demons, but demons we are not. We are from another realm, one that connects to this in only a few places. We were trained, battle-hardened to survive and have done nothing but for thousands of years for we are outcasts from our people.

“When we came into this realm, we came into contact with Al, who is the Human equivalent of us. He too was a warrior, fighting hard after a lifetime as a warrior to recapture his humanity. Because of that, he has spent his life giving ‘second chances’ to those beings that cross through his life who need them.

“When we met him he and his family offered us a home, a place to be ourselves and to live even knowing nothing of us. For we were outcasts, my sister by decree and me by choice because of her. I was told to kill her and take my place in the clan. Instead I took my things and her and left. Instead of offering us death as all other races did they offered us a home - and for that I can never forget.”

The Djinn sagged. “He will never offer me that. I am Djinn. I am fit for nothing but killing. Too dangerous. You said that yourself. I HEARD YOU in that very room behind us, before you talked to your Master.”

Safyr nodded. “Yes, you did hear me say that. And did you hear his response to what I said? He pointed at ME and said I was a Drow half-breed, and fit for nothing but killing. He then pointed to my sister and said she was a half-elf and fit for the same. You were listening, but were you paying attention?”

“Yes, I did hear that. I didn’t believe it. I assumed you knew I was listening in and that was for my benefit. Considering everything I had heard I believed you had no plans but to destroy me.”

Safyr looked disgusted. “Stupid Djinn. DO YOU THINK we would have gone to all of this trouble to try and talk to you and pry information out of you if we had just planned to destroy you? That would have been five minutes, one shadow step - and done. You would have been a memory and no more. Then my sister and I could have enjoyed a holiday here with ‘Uncle’ and he one with his ‘nieces’ with no concerns other than eating and drinking ourselves sick.”

Safyr pointed at Al, who flinched involuntarily. Emerauld squeezed his hand as Safyr said “He called us in for two reasons. One, we are immune to you because we are from the Other Realm, so not human mortal. Second, he knew that no matter what we would act to protect the world and his family no matter what happened to him. HE DID NOT CARE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM AS LONG AS OTHERS WERE SAFE.”

The Djinn looked over and addressed a question directly to Al. “Is that true?”

Al put his hand over his heart. “True as anything can be. I wasn’t going to let you anywhere near my friends or family unless you could be proven to be harmless, even if it cost my own life. As they said, I am a warrior. Life is coin to be spent, but not squandered uselessly.”

Safyr continued. “With us here, we could be Hate’s minions and help him. We needed to establish beyond a shadow of a doubt that you could be trusted before he accepted you, otherwise he had to…” and Safyr’s speech trailed off.

The Djinn grew angry again. “I answered all of your questions. I told you everything! Why did you not believe me!”

Emerauld thought-spoke to the Djinn. Can you hear me?

The Djinn answered. Yes, I can. Why do you speak to me this way? The others cannot hear us if we speak in this manner. Is this the reason?

Emerauld shook her head. I need to show you a story - a story of an old man, a half-mad elf, and their first meeting. It will be quicker if I show it to you than tell you the story, and you will learn what that old man has done for me and my sister, and what we did for him, and TO him in the process.

At the same time you can learn what kinds of Hate people can be put through learning to trust each other.

Images began to appear in the Djinn’s consciousness, slowly at first then faster and faster. A wood-elf in the trees. An old man with a rifle, practising on a target range with others. Elf and man and stilted conversations. Hatred and disgust and an attraction to power as the rifle was modified. The handback, and a dangerous treading to the edge for the old man as his berserker was revealed to him, unshielded by the fictions he had told himself for decades to soothe his conscience.

From here, things sped up.

The old man, recovered from his brush with dissolution, practising with the modified weapon. His discovery of the magical properties built into the weapon, and his amazement at them.

Then the battle. This flashed by, other than the point where Al and his dam were wounded and Emerauld saved them. The Djinn saw how the hated old man had become precious to Emerauld, and she to him.

Do you see, now? Do you see the Hate I put that old man through before I learned to trust him? I very nearly drove him to dissolution and it was only the love of his dam that saved him. I CERTAINLY did not. I was the problem, not the solution at that time.

Dam? I am confused. He is married to a…horse? That is a bit…odd.

Emerauld was unamused at the digression. Centaur. CENTAUR. FOCUS, DJINN.

With you, the stakes are much higher. It is not just his household, or his life, but the world that could be in danger if he makes a mistake with you. This is why he has pushed as hard as he has with you. Have you not heard him chanting “Hate HATE HATE!” This is his self-loathing for what he is doing to you. He despises himself right now, and more every time he had to push you.

However, he is dancing on the edge of a dagger at the very edge of his abilities - and very good he is at this from a lifetime of doing it - to make that determination. He refuses to let any being go without redemption because he sees all beings as people, be they half-mad elves, djinni, half-ton killing machines, dryads, fey, elementals, salamanders or anything else.

You may kill him, but he will try.

While this conversation was going on Safyr and Al sat, contemplating the two in conversation.

What in Hades is going on in there, Safyr meduck?

I suggest that Emerauld is sharing a personal story and does not wish to air it where you can hear it for fear of upsetting you further. It has not been a particularly tranquil day for you, and you are not a young man. She said the last a bit guardedly, understanding Al’s sensitivity at being thought past his abilities.

Al’s lips quirked and he nodded. This holiday is turning into far less of a holiday and far more of a mission impossible and I would prefer not to consider it. I would much prefer to be on the beach watching you and your sister cavort in the surf. The sheer level of collisions and tripped-over tongues among the other guests was epic.

Before the conversation could continue the Djinn stood up. There was a look of tranquillity on her face, and she walked around the coffee table over to Al, prompting him to stand and dislodge Emerauld from her perch on his chair arm.

The Djinn took his right hand in both of hers and lifted it to her breast, holding it there. She looked into his eyes and hers were shining with unshed tears.

“Master, I understand what you have been trying to do. You cannot be sure that I can be safe no matter what I do or say. Your sisters have explained this. There is only one thing to do.

“Please take me to Mongolia. I will be at peace, and you will be safe. ”

[Just Old Al]

Author's note: I thought to let this go till Monday, but decided not to. Story will finish on Monday.


Chapter 9

Al swallowed hard, and looked into her limpid, lovely blue eyes. “I will do as you wish, but you must answer questions for me first. Would you not prefer to just go away and find another master? I am sure you can find another easily.”

She looked back.”No. I chose you. You have the soul of a Jonathan, of my beloved Rima. I could tell you would be the one who could give me what I needed. It is not to be, and I will not search out another though I could.” Her tone did not change, and this chilled Al.

“You could just go and not find another master. You do not need to remain in your bottle, so you could live out among the humans. You are immortal. Why throw that away?” Al was almost pleading, trying to get her to change her mind.

The Djinn was adamant. “I have no use for a half-life among the mortals. I will either someday be free or I will not be at all. I have had that offered and you will not snatch it from me. Give me what you have promised!”

Al took his hand back from hers, took her right hand in his left and held it to his lips. “Then before I grant your wish, I have one more question. What are the words I must say to make you my Djinn?”

She looked at him doubtfully. “Why are you cruel even now? I have conceded. I will not fight.”

Safyr laughed. “Slow Djinn. Why should you fight? He is telling you you have won!” She then laughed again, a marvellous, merry sound that Al for one could never get enough of. This set off Emerauld who also started laughing.

The change in the Djinn was like the rising of the sun over the desert. From the tranquil, resigned look on her face, joy dawned in her eyes, reaching and animating the muscles in her face moments later. Then her entire countenance lit up and her eyes glowed quite literally blue in the ecstasy of her realisation.

“MASTER!” she exclaimed, grasping his hand in both of hers again. “This is no” and her eyes and features dimmed again “trick, or ‘test’ for the Djinn again, is it?”

“No, it isn’t, my Djinn. No one is going to Mongolia today, especially not you. What are the words I must say to claim you as mine?”

“Simple. You have never touched my container. All you need to do is grasp it with intent and the task is done.”

With that, Al walked over to the kitchen counter. He looked back to the three and asked the Djinn, “Is this what you wish?”, only to be reassured by a vigorous nodding of her head and a huge smile.

With that, Al deliberately reached to the bottle and grasped it. As he did he felt an energy, not unlike that of the leylines which fed his mage powers, flow into him. At the same time the smile on the Djinn’s face got even wider and she unceremoniously launched herself across the room. Al barely had the time to turn around and release the bottle before he ended up with a double armful of pneumatic blue Djinn.

As he did, his phone rang.

Peeling the Djinn off of his shirt front Al reached to his pocket and extracted his phone, glancing at the display and then holding it to his ear.

“Yes, dear!”

All right, two-legs, whatthefuck just happened? I promised I wouldn't call but I just got a charge down the bond that made the drug dealer thing look like pancakes at the Owl Diner.

“Talk.”

“Well, dear, at the moment I happen to have just inherited a Djinn. Safyr and Emerauld are here and yes, there is a plan in place, never fear.”

”There had damned well better be a plan in-” and the Djinn snatched the phone, obviously having figured out its use.

“Oh, Wife Of My Master! I cannot wait to meet you! We will take SUCH good care of him - he will want for NOTHING! Is it true you are a centaur? How does that work in the bedroom?-” at which point Al snatched the phone back and said “Talk later dear!” and disconnected the phone, turning it off against the inevitable tirades that would be sent down the wire at him if he did not.

“Not a WORD out of you two. Am I understood?” Al glowered at the elves, who looked quite staid and sober except for the gales of laughter Al was absorbing mentally.

“You do realise that Mistress Daisy is going to blame you for the centaur commentary there, I expect? You will never live that down.” Emerauld was completely unapologetic about chaffing him over it.

“ENOUGH. We have things to do, and someone here needs to be our focus and not the sideshow of my wife’s number of feet at any one time.” Al looked down at the Djinn who was still wrapped around his torso, and quietly asked, “Would you mind?”

She looked up and said, “Of course not, Master!”, untangled herself and stepped back.

“Very well, then.” Al looked at his watch. “Oh, dear - nearly one! I for one feel the need of a celebration in honour of my new Djinn. What do the rest of you think?”

Emerauld and Safyr nodded, and Safyr asked, “Back to the beach with three ‘Nieces’ this time, ‘Uncle’, or should we go to one of the other beaches?” she asked, a wicked grin on her face.

Al frowned. “Please. The way things are going, I am never going to be able to come back here as it is. If I go back to the beach again with the three of you, I will likely manage to get myself banned from the country. No, I had something slightly more sophisticated in mind for the four of us. Note, I said FOUR, Djinn.”

“Yes, Master.”

“We are going to have a proper tea. Before we get started, however, I am going to go out and clean up the detritus of breakfast and set it outside the suite. This way, we can enjoy our proper tea outside and our dear Djinn can enjoy the sun as she wishes. Emerauld, can you help me? Safyr, can you see if our Djinn has any needs tended to?”

Emerauld and Al stepped outdoors. The cart from breakfast sat against the wall, and the silverware, serving dishes and plates from the morning sat with glassware on the table as the staff had not been able to tidy. Between them, Al and Emerauld tidied the space, piling plates and glassware on the cart.

As they did, they talked.

“Brother, what do you have planned? As that interruption of your telephone call showed, the introduction of the Djinn to your household would be interesting at best, and full of bullets at worst. She is a wonderful creature, but interesting does not begin to describe it.

“Your conversation with Mistress Daisy is going to be a lively one, especially considering the subject of marital habits of mixed centaur-human couples and how that came up in conversation.”

Al nodded as he piled a stack of sticky dishes on the cart’s lower shelf. Standing, he huffed, wiped his brow and answered. “Oh, don’t I know it. I am going to be paying for that for a VERY long, long time. However, yes, I do have a plan, which will become evident. In the meantime, sister mine, let us make sure not to mind-talk as our eavesdropping little Djinn has very long and pointy ears.” He grinned, and they continued their task.

Emerauld stopped, carefully faced away from the windows, and asked a question.“One other thing - why are you planning a celebration of her becoming your Djinn? It seems to me that you are celebrating her service rather than finding a way to free her. I do not understand, brother.”

Al stopped tidying for a moment, leaning against the wall and looking out to sea. When he did this, Emerauld joined him, realising he was preventing eavesdropping. “There is a method to my madness, dear sister of mine. Do you remember the stories of her first master last night and the mischiefs that she played upon that poor fool? This is going to be an opportunity for her to do the same to me.

“I am going to specify what we want to eat and drink and how it is to be served and on what china and so on and so forth in all sorts of lovely detail - but I am NOT going to go into detail upon poisons, palatability, or anything else. You and your sister, being from the Other Realm, will be safe, but I will not. We shall see what Miss Djinn gets up to.”

Emerauld moved closer to Al and wrapped her arms around him. “You take your life in your hands doing this. Do you have a death wish? It concerns me to see you treat your life in such a cavalier manner.”

Al turned toward her in her grasp. “It’s the easiest way to know. If anything happens, she will not be free, you two can take her to Prroul and we are done with the issue. If nowt happens then we know and she can be free. It’s the last test, meduck.”

Eme rested her head on Al’s chest. “You need to stop risking your life, old man. This is not the path the Lord and Lady have set for you.”

Al, humphed, the sound reverberating in his chest. “From here, sister mine, it surely doesn’t look that way. Every blessed time I let my guard down it’s elves, or dryads…now a damned djinn! I have no peace!” The frustration and exhaustion in his voice was evident, and the general disgust with the unpredictability of his existence as regarded the paranormal.

Emerauld hugged him, trying to bring him some sort of tranquillity. She looked up at him again and said, “When you get home, and I don't want you to rush, spend time just sitting with Ialin. She is good for you. Also, let us know and we will come as well. Perhaps some time in the forests walking with us will do you well.”

Al looked down, an evil glint in his eye. “What, don’t want to go back to the beach and work on your tan?”.

Emerauld snickered and released him. “Only if you buy us more of that spiced rum, ‘Uncle’.” With that, they returned to the cleaning.

Soon they were done, the cart trundled out the door to be picked up by the staff. The four got together again in the main room, and Al turned to the Djinn.

“Here is what I wish-” he started, and the Djinn, horrified, put a hand over his mouth.

“Master, you must NEVER use that word around me! I cannot help but take it as a command and you do not want me to do that! There are many things I can do with my power that do not require a wish - do not waste those!”

Can you hear me, Djinn?

Of course, Master!

I will do as I WISH - there is a method to my madness. Now, follow the images in my mind…

Al took the Djinn to a long ago time and a trip to Claridge’s. They walked into the Reading Room, with its elegant patterned Art Deco furniture and cream napery. Sitting down, they were presented with a classic tea from a chrome and glass cart, where in pride of place on the top was a multi-level tray of petits fours and other delicate treats, surrounded at its base by plates of scones and savoury finger sandwiches. In between all of these items were pots of butter, clotted cream, jams and preserves to be used as desired on the scones and other items.

The table itself was set with coffee and tea pots, cream and sugar servers and china in the elegant green and white chevron pattern banded with silver that was a trademark of the hotel, and crystal glasses for water and the champagne he’d ordered that day complemented the elegant repast.

The table linens all matched the cream napery of the tables and everything was spotlessly, micrometrically perfect as only a tea in a London hotel could be.

In his memory, Al looked across the table.

Who is Barbara, Master? the Djinn asked, as Al started to cry.

No one you need concern yourself with. he replied brusquely. Can you remember this and reproduce the food, linens, serving pieces, cart and so on?

Sounding a bit hurt, the Djinn replied, Yes, of course, my Master. I can do this with no difficulties, have no fear.

Let us return to the demons. Al laughed, even as the remains of the tears still trickled down his face. I am never letting them live that down.

He spoke in the room, a loud interruption after the silence of moments before. “I have lunch in mind - a proper celebration. However, proper clothing is in order.

”Djinn, I require that the three of you be dressed formally and elegantly for the proper tea that I just showed you, and that I be wearing a proper white linen suit for such.”

Al took a deep breath. “I wish that the proper formal tea that I showed you should be laid out on the balcony, and that proper clothing for we four should be put out in the bedrooms for us to change into. Do you understand, Djinn?”

The look on the Djinn’s face was panic-stricken. “You did not need to waste a wish for this, Master! I could have done this and more without wasting a wish! Why did you waste a wish!”

“I am the Master here, Djinn. Do as I wish. First the clothing, then we prepare, then the food. Do it.”

Wide-eyed, she nodded.

“It is done.”

“Very good. You three ladies go and get cleaned up, then dress. I am not going to try and compete with you for the bath and will simply wait until you are done - my ablutions will take considerably less time.” With that, Al settled down on the couch and relaxed, hoping that the rest of his plan went as well as it had gone so far.

Sooner than he expected three beautiful ingenues from the 1960s wandered out of the back bedroom. Al expected that they would be dressed alike, or at least similarly, given that the Djinn’s contact with fashion had been limited. However, he could not have been more wrong.

Safyr sauntered out first, in a dark blue tea dress of a classic design. Her skirt was asymmetrical and billowy in blue fabric to match her eyes, knee-height in the front but ankle-height in the back, with petticoats of dark blue tulle underneath. The material itself was printed in a field flower pattern, the stalks of the flowers climbing from the hem of the dress up the skirt and into the bodice, burrowing underneath the canvas waistband. The bodice itself was daring, being tightly fitted and sleeveless with wide straps to the shoulders, and a deep-plunging neckline running to the waistband filled with a panel of the deep blue tulle fabric.

Emerauld followed, and her dress was as elegant and fashionable, but totally different.

She stepped out of a Vogue magazine from the 1960s, and the mental giggle she shared with Al said that she could tell he enjoyed her choice. A tight green dress, belted at the waist with a cummerbund containing a bow decorated her elegantly. Extending to the knee and with a short sleeve at the top, it had a daring plunge to its neckline to lend an elegant but forward look. This was paired with closed toed sandals also in green and a small hat with lace extensions, pinned to her braided red hair.

They stepped aside and as they did the Djinn appeared, her dress elegant, harmonious with theirs, but unique to her.

White like the suit he had requested for himself, it had the flared, pleated skirt like Safyr’s tea dress without the asymmetrical hem. Also like hers it came to the waist into a belt of blue fabric, gathered into a large bow at the centre whose tails flowed back down over the skirt emphasising the beauty and simplicity of the outfit. Above, the fitted bodice of the dress extended into short sleeves at the arms and continued into a conservative scoop neck at the top.

As they stood casually posed, they looked cool, elegant and ready to step into the trendiest island restaurant, or Claridge’s itself.

The two elven sisters looked as they always did, but the Djinn had chosen to return to the look she had had with her previous Master. It suited her well, as the dark Moorish colouring and curvaceous build was a wonderful offset to the pale, freckled look of the redheaded elven sisters. She had, however, kept her blue eyes, Al was amused to note.

Al applauded. “Bravo! Exactly what I had in mind - an elegant set of ladies with whom to share an elegant tea. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready myself.” With that, he headed off to his bedroom and the bath.

He headed off and found a classic white tropical linen suit laid out for him complete to the vest, white shirt, regimental tie (proper for 1 Para, he noted) and all of the accessories including, he noted with approval, a proper cane and lace-up shoes with spats. Dressing and preening for effect and with a drop of scent applied, he stepped out to a smattering of female approval.

“Are we ready to eat? I know I am. Djinn, if you would, please.” he asked.

She nodded and smiled, and it was there.

Al frowned.

“Djinn, I told you this was for FOUR. The table is set for three. Unless you intend to peel grapes and feed me reclining on the couch then we are short a place setting. FIX it.”

“But Master, it is not right.”

“Did you eat with us this morning?” Al inquired, reminding her of his earlier statement.

“Yes, but I was not your Djinn then.” She looked at him as though this was obvious, and to her it was.

“Be that as it may. Four. Now.”

A blink of time, and there were four place settings. “Much better.”

Al, as always, was the perfect host. “Emerauld, would you pour the tea? Safyr, I will leave the wine in your hands, and I think on this occasion I will indulge in a glass myself. Djinn, you and I will serve the savouries and then people can select whatever they like for scones and petits fours.”

Once Safyr had poured the wine and the plates had been filled, Al took his glass and raised it, tapping on it with his knife. The other three stopped and looked at him.

“I need to propose a toast, and to apologise.”

With that, the Djinn immediately began to protest. “Master, you did what you thought you must. You should not-”

Al raised a hand, and she fell silent.

“I do not apologise for necessity, but for the fact that life made it such. And I toast my Djinn, wonderful creature that she is!” At that the three drank, and the Djinn sat and blushed.

“Well, everyone, eat. Enjoy your tea, and champagne. Today is a marvellous day, for one who should never have been sequestered has come to the sunshine again!”

With that they fell to the sumptuous spread. Conversation was light and inconsequential, mostly about the sisters’ time at the beach and the antics of the local young male population trying to catch their eye despite the protecting mantle of their ‘Uncle.’.

After a long, leisurely time and another bottle of champagne tea was over. The sandwiches had been magnificent, the pastries decadent, the scones light and all of the trimmings had been perfect. Even the Sun had been moderate after Al had drawn Power and created a light shade spell, dimming but not blocking the glorious Sun of the tropics.

As they ate Al was careful to try everything, or at least a bite of it given his concerns. Looking at his sisters he felt their emotions and their joy in the delicate cuisine.

Finally, though, tea was over. Nothing untoward had happened other than the usual slip-ups, mishaps and bobbles that happen at tea, along with Safyr and the Djinn getting into a snit over the last of the chocolate cream cakes until the Djinn, forgetting herself for a second, made more.

Al came to his decision.

“Djinn, I have a task for you.” Al said. “A difficult task, so you must tell me if you are not prepared to handle it, and you must be honest with me. Can I trust you to be honest with me even if it hurts?”

“Yes, Master. I will always do that.”

“Come here, Djinn.” Al pointed to a spot in front of him, and the Djinn obediently walked to it and stood. Al reached out and took her in a hug. As she wrapped her arms around him he spoke in her ear.

“Djinn, are you ready to be free? Are you ready to have no Master but yourself? Speak now, if you are.”

She stiffened in his arms, and he thought she was going to pull away from him. Instead, she looked up at him and said in a very small voice, “Yes, I think I am.”

“Are you sure? None would fault you if you wished to stay a while with me and get your footing and learn of the world. I will not be an onerous master, I promise.”

She shook her head, a small movement against him, then looked up again. “If I do not, I will not. Then days will become weeks will become years and we will become comfortable, and I risk the chance of losing my freedom again. I must grasp it…before I learn to love you as I loved Rima.”

Letting his arms fall, Al released her. “When do you wish to go? Do you wish to stay a day or two and rest before you go?”

She laughed. “Such concern! First you did not want me, then you were afraid of me, and now you are concerned for my well-being! Make up your mind, old man!” She sobered, then thought. “I should put together a bag - clothing and travel items. If your sisters would help me I would be beholden to them.”

“Safyr, Emerauld, would you?”

“Gladly.” With that, the three headed for the back bedroom. Al thought for a moment, wiggled his hand in a complex manner and a portal opened. He reached through and grasped and a lightweight nylon travel bag came back through, with the portal closing behind it.

Al knocked at the back bedroom door and opened it, shoving the case through and pulling the door closed.

Soon the three women returned to the main room. The Djinn towed the nylon bag, which now had one of the sisters’ travel bags strapped to the top of it, and the two sisters followed behind.

“She is as ready as we can make her from the baggage we had and what she created. Good that she does so now before her powers change, so that she is at least prepared for a short while.” Safyr said. Emerauld nodded, agreeing with her sister’s words.

Al was ready for her as well, having dug into his own resources. He handed her a slim envelope with the RE logo and address in the top corner. “Here. I don’t have a wallet for you, but I do have a thousand in cash in US currency, as well as an RE AMEX credit card. You know what a credit card is?” The Djinn nodded. “If you need it don’t hesitate to use it. I am not worried about covering your expenses initially if I need to while you get your feet under you.”

The Djinn laughed. “You have little to fear on that account. You would be amazed how much gold lies under the sands - and I know where it is. I believe I have a few little nest eggs that can still be hatched. However, if I need it, I will use it, and I thank you for caring to offer it.”

Al handed her another item - a business card. “Here is a contact within an organisation called MIB. Tell them I sent you. They will help you establish a legitimate mundane front so that you can go on about your life unmolested by any powers that be.” He handed her another card. “And if you need it, here is mine. I will always be there for you, despite any words my wife may want to have with you.” Al grinned impishly.

Then, there was a silence. This silence had begun in rage three thousand years before, had extended through horrors untold over the aeons, through few joys, many sorrows, and to this one second of ringing silence.

“How do I release you?” Al asked, breaking the silence finally. “Is it something as mundane as smashing the bottle, or verbal or a component of both?”

“No,” the Djinn said.”You need only say “I release you” three times to do so. As my master the words have import and they will perform the task.”

“English or Arabic?” Al was being pedantic but he wanted this to WORK.

“Good question. If you speak Arabic or can parrot it then let us do it that way. “

With that, the Djinn went to Safyr and held out her arms. Safyr flowed into them and they hugged deeply, exchanging goodbyes. After a heartfelt moment Emerauld joined them and the three hugged together, then they slowly separated.

The Djinn returned to Al, still dressed in the tea dress she had worn that afternoon. “With an outfit like that, meduck, you can go anywhere in the world and be treated like a lady. I would stay out of the Fertile Crescent till you read up on the history of the past century or so, though. It’s not terribly nice there right now.”

The Djinn considered his words and nodded, absorbing the import of them. “I think Paris for the moment, or perhaps Spain. Oh, would you please take care of Rima’s briefcase for me? I will see you in a few years for it.”

“I would be happy to, meduck. Ready?”

“Not yet.” She came over to the old man and clutched at him fiercely, nearly hugging him breathless. She then kissed him on the cheek and said, “Thank you for everything, my last Master”.

Letting go, she stood back and away. Al then started chanting - “'ana 'utliq sarahak - 'ana 'utliq sarahak - 'ana 'utliq sarahak”

On the first, the Djinn’s appearance changed back to her default blue with the filmy garments that she had worn when she first came from the bottle. With the second and third her appearance changed, becoming more and more human until she looked much as she had in her time with her master Rima. Her clothing returned as well, making her look much as she had before but human, oh, so human.

On the third chant, the bottle, impregnable fortress that it had been, shivered and fell apart from the top down, rendering itself into a puddle of glass dust on the countertop. After that, the puddle sublimated away, leaving nothing but vapours behind to mark its passage from existence.

She took a deep breath, then another, then another, then screamed “FREE!” at the top of her lungs. She spun in place, then ran to the window and looked out, opening the balcony door to breathe the hot tropical air.

Turning back she ran over to Al, grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted “Make a wish!”

Al said, “I wish for a million dollars!”, bursting out in laughter at the look of joy on her face.

“NO!” she said, and laughed merrily.

Soon she calmed and began to take stock of her situation. “I am still a mage, it appears, “ she said, opening a portal and reaching through it. “This will make things easier, at least initially.” Closing the portal, she looked at the handful of snow she had collected, and walked to the sink to dispose of it.

Al was stern, chiding her at her nonchalant air. “It may, but remember two things. The common folk cannot see you using magic, and whatever you do harm NO ONE using magic or the consequences will be dire.”

She turned to the old man, a haunted look in her eyes. “Remember who you are lecturing about the consequences of magic. I know well what they are.” she said bleakly, and Al nodded. He had indeed forgotten for a moment, but the reminder brought the reality forcefully into focus.

The moment came, finally. Steeling herself she opened a portal, picked up her bag and began to step through into the quiet alley on the other side. Turning back, she said “Goodbye, all of you. I will never forget you.”

Standing back to let her cast, Al started. “Wait a minute. What is your name!” he shouted. “We’ve always called you Djinn. Can’t exactly bloody-well do that now can we?”

She stopped before stepping through the portal.“When I was born, my father gave me the name Wardat Alsahra', or in English Desert Rose. Many grew to hate and fear that name before Suleiman Ibn Dawud imprisoned me. Just call me…Sandy.”

And with a few steps, she was gone. Behind her the portal closed with a SNICK, cutting off the view. The room was silent, the three alone with the memory of she who had left them.

Turning away, Al sagged heavily, his pace and demeanour showing his years and the stress of the past few days. Turning to the sisters he spoke, attempting to lighten the moment.

“So, off to the beach, then?”

“No beach for you, brother. Sit down here.” Emerauld said. She tried to guide him to one of the armchairs, incidentally the one in which he had interrogated the Djinn that last time. “You need healing - your body has been under strain since that Djinn showed up on the beach. Now, let me cast on you…”

“No, Eme, I will be all right. We need to get that tea set under wraps before the hotel staff see it - that will be difficult to explain as will the cart.” As he said that, he glanced out the window, realising that the remains of their tea had been tidied and that the balcony was as it had begun. “Well, perhaps I will have a sit down, then.”

With that, he sagged into the armchair, into the strangely empty-feeling suite.

[Just Old Al]

Chapter 11

TIme passes...

Ari and Al sat at the table in Al’s office, going over the appointments of the day.

“At 10 you have a new customer coming in - an MIB recommendation but it’s mundane tech - they’re another subcontractor. They need some analysis equipment but stock equipment isn’t going to do it. They need some mods done, nothing fancy but it isn’t something that they feel they want to farm out to a job shop in case they ask questions.”

Al nodded, and jotted a note in his notebook. “Are they supplying the gear or are we supplying everything and giving them a turn-key setup? There are advantages in both, so wondering if they’ve made up their minds either way on that.”

Ari nodded as she’d already asked that question. “Neither. MIB is supplying it and we’re going to pass on a turn-key rig for remote installation. Why they’re not supplying it in the final configuration I have no idea but hey, we make money out of the deal so what the heck I’m not going to complain. Now, you want to meet with her or do you want me to?”

“Her?”

“Yeah. One man shop. Little engineering works specialising in chemical engineering. New to the MIB lists from what I see - just relocated in from Europe, where she worked for them there. Pretty good from what I hear. So, you or me?”

“You have enough on your plate. I’ll take it.”

Honestly, Al was intrigued. The job itself was a routine enough bit of clean-room machining that any of his engineers could handle, or he himself could do on either side of the wall. However, the company interested him. Few enough things did anymore, and had for a long time. He hadn’t wound down his interest in RE, but that was mostly habit rather than enthusiasm.

“So, on to the next item…”

The conference wound down, and then one thing led to another. He was sitting at his desk when his desk phone rang - it was Ari.

“Al, your 10:AM is here.”

“Very good, Arania. Please send her in. Thank you.”

Al stood behind his desk as the door to his office opened and a lady entered, laptop bag slung over one shoulder. Al walked out from behind his desk and smiled brightly, introducing himself with “Welcome to Richer Engineering, Ms…?”

She grinned brightly and with a motion of her hand suddenly turned blue-skinned and pointed eared. “Oh, I think you know who I am, Master!”

To say Al’s reaction was sharp was an understatement. From a half-metre away and holding out his hand for a handshake to behind his desk and ready to throw a tangle spell was the motion of a heartbeat.

For her part, from the merry reaction she’d had her immediate change was to deep sorrow and chagrin. “Oh, Master, I am SO sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you like that!” In a moment, she changed back to the Mediterranean skin tone she’d had and held her hands out in a placating manner. “I truly am sorry - I didn’t realise you’d take it that badly!”

She went on. “Please. I am not here to bother you. I have come to ask you for help, both for my business and for myself personally. I really do apologise….can we sit down?”

Al’s heartrate had finally returned to something measurable, and his thoughts to something coherent. He stepped out from behind his desk and uttered one word, “Sandy?”

She smiled impishly. “The one and only!”

With that Al closed in and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, whispering in her ear “I never thought I’d see you again…I’m so happy!” With that he released her and held her at arm’s length, asking “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for three things, Master-”

Al interrupted her - he was entirely done with the dominant title. “First, you can lose the ‘Master’. You, like every other being in the Universe I respect, gets to call me Al. Now, continue. Come to think of it, no, sit down, then we’ll continue.”

He showed her to a seat at the table in his office, then busied himself at the Teasmade. “So, three things. First….?”

“First, if you managed to keep them, I would like to have Rima’s briefcase and papers.” Sandy asked. “I realise I was imposing by leaving those with you, but I dared not bring those along, not knowing what situation I was going to drop into when I left your guardianship.”

“Understood. Wait one, please.” Al took his phone from his pocket, pressing a speed dial. “Smokey, temperature controlled storage. The Haliburton in the space marked ‘Rima-1964’, please bring it to me in my office. Yes, NOW. Thank you.”

“It’s on the way. Next problem.”

Sandy began to speak, stopped, tried again three or four times, then gave up and held up a finger in a ‘wait’ gesture. Taking several deep breaths, she then continued. “I had forgotten. I had forgotten that about you. Why did I doubt you would have them?”

Breathing deeply she continued. “Now, for my business. The appointment I made was entirely legitimate. I need a remote sensing turnkey solution with the MIB gear - it won’t be a big set of changes, but they need to be done properly. “ Sandy dug out a sheaf of papers, and she and Al bent their heads over them as they sipped tea.

Soon, there was a knock at the door and Smokey entered, lugging a large Halliburton case. “Here y’go boss - where d’ye want it?” he asked.

“Up here on the table please.” Al said, clearing the tea things and Sandy’s papers. With a CLUNK the case was placed on the table and Smokey left, with a polite “Ma’am” to the visitor.

Sandy reached to the case, but Al stopped her. “Just a word before you open it. Consider the condition it was in, which was to put it politely awful. Mildew, mould, insect damage, rot…nasty.”

Sandy looked at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “I know. I still want them.”

Al went on. ”Well…they are not completely that way now. When I got back I handed them to a conservator who was able to preserve them and still a lot of the effects of the tropical climate. They are not pristine, but they are quite good. Please see for yourself.”

Sandy opened the aluminium case. Inside was Rima’s briefcase, swaddled in archival wrap. She lifted this and inhaled sharply.

The briefcase had been cleaned, the leather rehydrated and much of the damage of the tropic climate mitigated. Supple again, the green leather shone under the office light, displaying the patina of a loved antique and not a neglected relic from a closet.

“Open it.” Al said, when Sandy hesitated. “The lock still works, and the combination has not changed.”

Sandy dialled the numbers and touched the latch, and the flap opened, the top opened, and she reached inside and found the photo album and removed it.

“But…but this was torn. It fell apart when I showed you the pictures. What happened?”

“They asked me what to do. I told them to find silk to match and recover it. You and Rima deserved better.” Al said gently. “ All of the photos have been cleaned and remounted as best they could. They are not perfect, sadly, but they are there. You have your memories.”

Slowly, Sandy flipped through the pages of the album, communing with her dead master. As she did, the tears began to come, slowly dropping to the pages, each carrying the sadness and the love from now back to that time. Al sat next to her, holding her and supporting her in her journey.

Finally, she closed the album and turned to the rest of the papers in the case, looking through them. “Most of this is useless, but I wanted them anyway - they were hers.Thank you.”

“It was nothing. I knew these items needed conserving and didn’t know when you would be able to, so it fell to me.” Al was deferential, though the cost of the conservation hadn’t been trivial.

“And now, Master, we come to the third reason I am here - and one I need your personal help on. While I have been free, and freedom has been good, I have realised that I have been dragging a three-thousand-year weight - and that is the mental burden of my servitude. It colours everything I do and every reaction I have. You saw it back on the Island, and it is still with me to this day and I fight it constantly.

“I will never truly be free until I can free my mind of the horrors my masters have inflicted on me - and I need your help, my last Master, to rid me of this.

“I need your help to find a psychologist who can handle the paranormal world - a parapsychologist, so to speak. Can you help me do this? I am three thousand years old, but I am a child in this world. I need someone who can advise me.” She looked at him anxiously, fearfully.

Al thought rapidly. This was almost bonding again. Did he want to have her relying on him again for psychological dependency? And he shook his head disgustedly - of course he did. She was no different than any other veteran of any other war, or any other victim of trauma - except hers had gone on far, far too long.

He took her hands. “Of course I will. I’m not sure where you’re living now, but we can find a good clinician you can work with who has knowledge of the paranormal. You understand it will be a LOT of work - there are no easy fixes?”

She nodded. “I understand. Can you stand up, please?”

“Certainly.” He stood. ”Why-” He got his answer when he found himself once again with a double armful of pneumatic blue (ex-) Djinn. As he hugged her back Ari opened the door, stating, “Al your 11 o’clock is going to be Okayyyyy all righty then talk to you later…” as she turned around and left, slamming the door behind her.

Al looked down at the blue-again Sandy and said “You are going to get me in trouble, you know that.”

Sandy laughed and said “Looks like a bit too late for that.” and hugged him hard again.

“Thank you, Al.”

FIN - but not the end...