As they often did in the late afternoon, when the sun was ripe and the day hazy, the Queen and the Jinni walked together in the shade of the Jewel Gardens in the heart of the palace, which the Queen had wished for and the Jinni shaped for her. They spoke of many things, of past wars and rulers, of faraway lands, of gods and jinn. For the Jinni had lived long and seen much, and the Queen, possessing a keen mind, had many questions.
At last the Queen said, “Thou hast become a friend like unto a sister to me. I favor not only thy counsel, but thy company. May I ask thee anything?”
And the Jinni answered, “I have had many masters, but none like you, O Queen. I am honored to be thy friend, and surely I will answer whatever thou ask of me.”
“Then what troubles thee?” the Queen replied. “For I know the look in thine eye—thy thoughts are tossed as the storm-driven sea.”
“It is true, Habiba,” said the Jinni. “For I am afraid.”
“What dost thou fear?” cried the Queen. “Name it, and I shall slay it for thee.”
Taking the Queen’s hands in her own, the Jinni replied, “Long has it been forbidden that a jinni and a human may bear any love for the other, yet you have become sister to my heart.”
“Who dares forbid us?” asked the Queen.
“The one they call Nardukha, the Shaitan, who rules the jinn and all of Ambadya. He is as old as the gods, and none may defeat him. If he knew of the love I bear thee, swift would be his wrath. For this is the first rule of the jinn: that no jinni may love a human. For always must our allegiance be to Nardukha, and none else.”
“Then let him leave his hall beneath the earth and tell me so himself,” said the Queen. “For I do not bow to the laws of fearmongerers. He forbids this and he forbids that, but he is not all-powerful. Even the Forbidden Wish may be spoken, and there is naught he may do to stop it.”
At this the Jinni raised a mournful cry. “What dost thou know of the Forbidden Wish?”
“Thou once told me that none but the Shaitan might free thee from thy lamp, but I know it is not so. For I could wish thee free, and there is naught he could do to stop it.”
“It is true,” the Jinni replied in distress. “But every wish has its price, and the price of the Forbidden Wish is thy life. Thou must swear upon the souls of thy people that thou wilt never speak those words. If thou shouldst suffer for love of me, I would never forgive myself. We have already transgressed the law that divides man and jinn, and I fear our time together is running out.”
“Do not say such things,” said the Queen. “We have today and yesterday, and we will seize tomorrow. We will have all the time in the world if we are clever enough to take it.”
“What use is time against the might of Ambadya?”
“Dear Jinni.” The Queen smiled. “Time is the strongest magic of all.”
—From the Song of the Fall of Roshana,
Last Queen of Neruby
by Parys zai Moura,
Watchmaiden and Scribe to Queen Roshana
Chapter Nine
THE POWER HITS ME like a strike of lightning to my brain.
It radiates in glowing tentacles from Aladdin and coils up my arms and legs. It sinks through my skin and collects in my chest, a pulsing ball of white-hot energy. The hair on my arms stands on end. This feeling is like swallowing the sun. It has been centuries since I felt this much power at my disposal. Aladdin’s first wish was a mere trick, a simple reshuffling of reality. It took just a puddle of magic. This wish calls for an ocean of it.
Aladdin can’t see any of this, of course. He sees me draw a deep, gasping breath, sees my eyes grow wide, perhaps. He watches intently, his face flushed with excitement.
I turn my hands over, where the magic curls in gold patterns and sinks into my skin. Making Aladdin a prince will be tricky. No grand display of fire and explosions. No flourish or fanfare. In the old days, I could have put on a spectacle seen for leagues around—but if Aladdin is to be welcomed into the palace instead of beheaded in front of it, this must be done quietly. I sift my thoughts like sand, searching for hidden jewels.
“Take my hand,” I say.
He looks down at my open hand and winces. “What are you—”
Impatiently—I must release this magic or I’ll burst!—I grab his hand and the world spins and suddenly we are standing on the high cliff overlooking the sea. Far, far below, the waves crash into the rocks, and the moon, suspended over the dark water, seems much larger and nearer than it did in the city.
Aladdin shouts and stumbles backward, away from the edge, his face a bit green.
“What are you doing?” he gasps.
“Thinking.” I stare out at the sea, and my vision is tinged with madness. This much power is intoxicating. I can see the possibilities glowing on every surface of the world, the way a sculptor might see forms hidden in a block of stone. I can change it, mold it, melt it in whatever way I need to grant his wish. My hands itch to begin. My body hums with energy.
I extend one hand and point it at the horizon, concentrating with all my might. Far out on the moonlit sea, magic gathers. The water foams and froths. The air sings and burns. I see the threads of reality, and I grab them and twist them and weave them in new patterns. Water becomes wood; air becomes cloth. I draw the elements together and transform them.
“It’s a ship,” Aladdin breathes. He stands on the edge of the cliff now, enraptured.
“It’s your ship,” I tell him.
In moments, it is finished. The ship is made of red cedar, with three rows of oars and a tall figurehead carved in the form of a roaring lion. The sleek ram beneath it is painted black. A proper warship. A ship fit for a prince.
As the sea around the ship settles, I turn to Aladdin, who is still gaping like an open clam. “Well? Do you want to get a closer look?”
• • •
“This,” says Aladdin breathlessly, “is incredible.”
He is standing proudly at the bow, relishing in the beauty of my magic ship.
“I’m glad you like it,” I mutter. I lean weakly against the rail, my stomach churning. The moment I transported us onto the deck’s ship, I felt a wave of regret.
“Are you seasick?” asks Aladdin, his eyes bright with amusement.
“Shut up, human.”
After conjuring the ship and transferring the pair of us onto its decks, I enchanted the oars and set them rowing, but the wind is against us, and every wave strikes the hull like the slap of a whale’s tail. I’ve always hated the sea. So dark and deep and wet. It swallows things and never lets them go.
With a shudder, I flick my hand at the oars and speed us up a little.