Wizard's Castle: Omnibus - Jones Diana Wynne (читать книги онлайн полные версии .TXT) 📗

“How did this fellow get in here?” Dalzel demanded in his trumpet voice.

Before anyone could answer, Flower-in-the-Night performed her part in the plan by bursting out from among the other princesses and throwing herself gracefully down on the steps of the throne. “Have mercy, great djinn!” she cried out. “He only came to rescue me!”

Dalzel laughed contemptuously. “Then the fellow’s a fool. I shall throw him straight back to earth.”

“Do that, great djinn, and I shall never leave you in peace!” Flower-in-the-Night declared.

She was not acting. She really meant it. Dalzel knew she did. A shiver ran through his narrow, pale body, and his gold-taloned fingers gripped the arms of the throne. But his eyes still flamed with rage. “I shall do what I want!” he trumpeted.

“Then desire to be merciful!” cried Flower-in-the-Night. “Give him at least a chance!”

“Be quiet, woman!” trumpeted Dalzel. “I haven’t decided yet. I want to know how he managed to get in here first.”

“Disguised as the cook’s dog, of course,” said Princess Beatrice.

“And quite naked when he turned into a man!” said the Princess of Alberia.

“Shocking business,” said Princess Beatrice. “We had to put him in the Paragon’s petticoat.”

“Bring him closer,” commanded Dalzel.

Princess Beatrice and her assistant lugged Abdullah toward the steps of the throne, Abdullah walking with little mincing steps that he hoped the djinns would put down to the petticoat. The reason, in fact, was that the third thing under the petticoat was Jamal’s dog. It was gripped rather firmly between Abdullah’s knees in case it escaped. This part of the plan made it necessary to be minus one dog, and none of the princesses had trusted Dalzel not to send Hasruel looking for it and prove that everyone was lying.

Dalzel glared down at Abdullah, and Abdullah hoped very much that Dalzel truly had almost no powers of his own. Hasruel had called his brother weak. But it occurred to Abdullah that even a weak djinn was several times stronger than a man. “You came here as a dog?” Dalzel trumpeted. “How?”

“By magic, great djinn,” Abdullah said. He had intended to make a detailed explanation at this point, but under the Paragon’s petticoat, a hidden struggle was developing. Jamal’s dog turned out to hate djinns even more than it hated most of the human race. It wanted to go for Dalzel. “I disguised myself as the dog of your cook,” Abdullah began to explain. At this point Jamal’s dog became so eager to go for Dalzel that Abdullah was afraid it would get loose. He was forced to grip his knees together tighter yet. The dog’s response was a huge, snarling growl. “Your pardon!” panted Abdullah. Sweat was standing on his brow. “I am still so much of a dog that I cannot refrain from growling from time to time.”

Flower-in-the-Night recognized that Abdullah was having problems and burst into lamentations. “O most noble prince! To suffer the shape of a dog for my sake! Spare him, noble djinn! Spare him!”

“Be quiet, woman,” said Dalzel. “Where is that cook? Bring him forward.”

Jamal was dragged forward by the Princess of Farqtan and the Heiress of Thayack, wringing his hands and cringing. “Honored djinn, it was nothing to do with me, I swear!” Jamal wailed. “Do not hurt me! I never knew he was not a real dog!” Abdullah could have sworn that Jamal was in a state of true terror. Maybe he was, but he had the presence of mind, all the same, to pat Abdullah on the head. “Nice dog,” he said. “Good fellow.” After that he fell down and groveled on the steps of the throne in the manner of Zanzib. “I am innocent, great one!” he blubbered. “Innocent! Harm me not!”

The dog was soothed by its master’s voice. Its growls stopped. Abdullah was able to relax his knees a little. “I am innocent, too, O collector of royal maidens,” he said. “I came only to rescue the one I love. You must surely feel kindly toward my devotion, since you love so many princesses yourself!”

Dalzel rubbed his chin in a perplexed way. “Love?” he said. “No, I can’t say I understand love. I can’t understand how anything could make someone put himself in your position, mortal.”

Hasruel, squatting vast and dark beside the throne, grinned more meanly than ever. “What do you want me to do with the creature, brother?” he rumbled. “Roast him? Extract his soul and make it part of the floor? Take him apart?”

“No, no! Be merciful, great Dalzel!” Flower-in-the-Night promptly cried out. “Give him at least a chance! If you do, I will never ask you questions, or complain, or lecture you again. I will be meek and polite!”

Dalzel grasped his chin again and looked uncertain. Abdullah felt much relieved. Dalzel was indeed a weak djinn—weak in character, anyway. “If I were to give him a chance—” he began.

“If you’ll take my advice, brother,” Hasruel cut in, “you won’t. He’s tricky, this one.”

At this Flower-in-the-Night raised another great wail and beat her breast. Abdullah cried out through the noise, “Let me try to guess where you hid your brother’s life, great Dalzel. If I fail to guess, kill me. If I guess right, let me depart in peace.”

This amused Dalzel highly. His mouth opened, showing pointed silvery teeth, and his laughter rang around the cloudy hall like a fanfare of trumpets. “But you’ll never guess, little mortal!” he said as he laughed. Then, as the princesses had repeatedly assured Abdullah, Dalzel was unable to resist giving hints. “I’ve hidden that life so cleverly,” he said gleefully, “that you can look at it and not see it. Hasruel can’t see it, and he is a djinn. So what hope have you? But I think for the fun of it I will give you three guesses before I kill you. Guess away. Where have I hidden my brother’s life?”

Abdullah shot a swift look at Hasruel in case Hasruel decided to interfere. But Hasruel was simply squatting there, looking inscrutable. So far the plan was succeeding. It was in Hasruel’s interest not to interfere. Abdullah had been counting on that. He took a firmer grip on the dog with his knees and hitched at the Paragon’s petticoat, while he pretended to think. What he was really doing was jogging the genie bottle. “For my first guess, great djinn…” he said, and stared at the floor as if the green porphyry might inspire him. Would the genie go back on his word? For one scared and miserable moment Abdullah thought that the genie had let him down as usual and that he was going to have to risk guessing on his own. Then, to his great relief, he saw a tiny tendril of purple smoke creep out from under the Paragon’s petticoat, where it lay, still and watchful, beside Abdullah’s bare foot. “My first guess is that you hid Hasruel’s life on the moon,” Abdullah said.

Dalzel laughed delightedly. “Wrong! He would have found it there! No, it’s much more obvious than that, and much less obvious. Consider the game of hunt the slipper, mortal!”

This told Abdullah that Hasruel’s life was here in the castle, as most of the princesses had thought it was. He made a great show of thinking hard. “My second guess is that you gave it to one of the guardian angels to keep,” he said.

“Wrong again!” said Dalzel, more delighted than ever. “The angels would have given it back straightaway. It’s much cleverer than that, little mortal. You’ll never guess. It’s amazing how no one can see what’s under his own nose!”

At this, in a burst of inspiration, Abdullah was sure he knew where Hasruel’s life really was. Flower-in-the-Night loved him. He was still walking on air. His mind was inspired, and he knew. But he was mortally afraid of making a mistake. When the time shortly came when he had to take hold of Hasruel’s life himself, he knew he would have to go straight to it because Dalzel would give him no second chance. That was why he needed the genie to confirm his guess. The tendril of smoke was still lying there, near invisible, and if Abdullah had guessed, surely the genie knew, too?