“Oh, learned one, I need your help.” Mukhtar the rug merchant bowed his turbaned head. “A great calamity has befallen my family, and only one of your wisdom can aid me.”
Doubtless Mukhtar had some financial difficulty. If he sought advice from Dabir in that quarter, then he sought in vain, for my friend had no head for money.
Dabir sat cross-legged on the cushions in the receiving room, on my left. He did not answer immediately, and Mukhtar’s eyes shifted up to mine.
I returned the merchant’s scrutiny. His full, well-trimmed beard was curled and streaked with two distinguished lines of gray, and the salt-and-pepper hair that showed beneath his turban was perfumed and oiled. He was rather too well perfumed, in truth, for the whole of the receiving room smelled of attar-of-rose, as though a troupe of dancing girls had just made their ablutions here.
He found something in my gaze uncomfortable, and looked instead to the warren of shelves built into the south wall, each set with scrolls and curious artifacts Dabir and I had recovered in our travels.
“Speak, then,” said Dabir at last.
Mukhtar gathered in a deep breath, as though he planned a long, eloquent speech. Instead, he blurted out: “An efreet hunts me!”
Some other men might have laughed, but I did not, and Dabir, rubbing the band of his emerald ring, studied the speaker solemnly. “Tell me of this efreet.”
“This must,” said the merchant, low voiced, “remain a secret.” He glanced meaningfully at me.
“Asim may be trusted,” Dabir said. “Tell us your tale.”
Mukhtar bowed his head in thought, then spoke slowly. “There is, in my family, an amulet of great worth. I have it from my father, and he had it from his, and on to remote antiquity, where it was given long ago by an Egyptian prince, for my ancestor’s deed of valor.”
“I should like to see this amulet.”
“I dared not bring it. You see, it is the amulet which the efreet covets.”
I could not help wondering why a damned creature from the halls of Iblis should desire jewelry, and I watched Dabir. Indeed, he had been curious about the same thing.
“Is there something special about this amulet?” Dabir asked. “Something more important than its significance as a family relic?”
Mukhtar looked to his right and left, then glanced over his shoulder. There was only the curtained archway behind him. Light flowed in from the high, narrow windows, and he looked here, too, as though he expected to find some frightening visage peering down through one of the frames.
“It is said,” Mukhtar declared softly, “that the amulet will bring the man who owns it prosperity, and will protect him from harm. And so it has, down through the ages. The eldest son has always prospered.” He sat back on the crimson guest cushions. “It is to my sorrow that I have no sons. God has granted me four wives of troublesome tongues and an indolent nephew. If my third daughter were but a man—ai-a, what a mind for figures she has!” He shook his head. “But, as I have said, the amulet must be passed from father to son, and this the efreet knows. Because I have no son, it demands the amulet’s return!”
I knew Dabir was interested, for his speech grew terse. “How, demands?”
“It left a warning writ in blood upon the wall of my dining room! It promised dire things if I did not leave the amulet upon a step in one of my courtyards.”
“Might I read the warning?”
“Nay, my slaves washed it away.”
“Did you write it down?” Dabir asked. His voice had risen a modicum, because, I am certain, he found the man’s lack of preparation irritating.
“No, I did not.” The merchant frowned sadly. “God forgive me, I thought at first that my nephew played a trick, for I knew he coveted the amulet. He has often asked after it, wondering where it was kept. Then my servants began to report seeing a thing skulking in the gardens and in the halls at night.” Mukhtar’s eyes grew large. “A thing with a great, shaggy head, and gaping mouth, and clawed hands and feet. The next morning a warning was found, again in blood, outside my very chambers! My wives were frightened, but still I would not give over the amulet, and then two nights ago my monkey, a clever little fellow from Hind, disappeared.” Mukhtar wagged his finger at Dabir. “You may think it strange, but I liked that little fellow. He was better and more cheerful company than my wives most days, and, after my third daughter, my most prized possession. When he disappeared, I was sorely vexed. I hired guards, but when the efreet appeared last night they ran screaming from my home.”
“And there was a message?” Dabir prompted.
“There was. If I did not leave the amulet on the courtyard steps at sunset tonight, my third daughter, the light of my home, should be carried off as a bride of Iblis!” He wrung his hands. “If only he would carry off my first wife…”
“It was wise of you to come,” Dabir said after a moment. “I wish you had done so sooner.”
“Then you will aid me?”
“I find your troubles very interesting,” Dabir confessed. “You kept no record of any of the efreet’s messages?”
Mukhtar shook his head. “I did not.”
“Does anyone else know the amulet’s hiding place?”
“No. No one.”
“Asim and I will come to your home this evening, before the sun sets. You will tell no one of our coming.”
“As you wish.” Mukhtar looked long at me. “Does your man…does he have the stomach to fight with efreets?”
“Efreets, sorcerers, rug merchants, it matters not,” I said. “Where need be, I strike.”
The fellow blinked at me, but misunderstood my humor, I think.
“I will need to see the amulet,” Dabir continued, “but it is crucial that no one else learn of its whereabouts. That is all that has kept the efreet from moving against you in more sinister ways.”
Mukhtar stared raptly. “It shall be as you say.”
“Good.”
Mukhtar licked his lips and bowed his head. “Naturally I am grateful, Honored One, and you must forgive me if I sound improper—”
“I am not interested in your money,” Dabir said dismissively. “Only your problem.”
The rug merchant bowed his head in gratitude. “Praise be to you, then, for your generosity.”