Thirty-Nine

 

Philemon's frantic lovemaking last night spoke of some emotional disquiet he refused to tell her. Fear had his eyes darting everywhere, above a mouth that couldn't seem to smile, as they approached his home.

It was a strange transformation. All the way to Basit's camp, he'd entertained Anahita with tales of the beauties of Tasnim, but now he seemed terrified to show them to her.

Determined to solve this mystery before she arrived, Anahita urged her camel to match Philemon's pace. Her happy travel companion was now too busy scowling at the horizon to notice her.

"Tell me about your last day in Tasnim," she said.

He glanced up for only a moment before the horizon drew his gaze once more. "Is that an order?"

"We made a deal. You amuse me while we travel, and I take you home. Well, I don't find your silence amusing. I find it...alarming. And I want to know what I'm walking into. Sometimes knives are not enough. Especially if there is an enchantress who turns innocent princes into frogs." Anahita managed a smile. "I'm hardly innocent."

"She will not touch you. If she even attempts to cast a spell in your direction, I shall – " Philemon stopped, then continued, "I shall stand in her way, and force her to curse me instead. In the meantime, your men will use her distraction to...deal with her."

"And then I will have to break the curse again, though I don't know how I did it the first time? You place great faith in me. Faith I don't share. Tell me what happened. What are we walking into that has you so scared?" Anahita pressed.

Philemon sighed deeply and buried his head in his hands. "There is nothing in Tasnim that will harm you. Not even her. I am not innocent, either. I fear...I fear I may have deserved the curse, and if there is anyone in Tasnim, they will blame me for the fall of the city, too."

Anahita persisted. "But you can't possibly be responsible for the wells running dry. It would take a powerful curse, or spell or..."

"It was a wish, granted by a particularly powerful djinn, actually. A careless wish that once granted, could not be undone." Now Philemon refused to meet her eyes at all.

But Anahita would not be diverted from her course. "What did you wish for?"

He let out a harsh laugh. "What does any man wish for in the desert? An oasis, where he might drink and refresh himself." When Anahita didn't respond, he went on: "The oasis where you found me, actually. A place where you could not resist bathing, either."

And the tale came spilling out, at first in spurts and starts, before finally it gushed out of Philemon, a flow of words that could not be stopped.

A djinn who obeyed orders without question, creating an oasis for his master without caring about the consequences.

A city slowly starved of water until the wells ran dry.

A prince who demanded the oh-so-powerful djinn fix the problem, only to be told it required more power than the djinn possessed to refill the underwater reservoir.

A call for help, the help of a powerful enchantress who did have the power to compel the djinn to obey.

An enchantress who imprisoned the djinn, but who could not return the water to his home.

A fool of a prince who threw the enchantress out of the city, unthanked and unpaid, for she had not restored his city's water supply.

A city of people, trying to leave, and an enraged enchantress who could not be kept out.

An enchantress who cast him into a well, then led the evacuation herself, saving his people.

A fool of a prince, turned frog, hopping from puddle to puddle as he chased what remained of his city's water supply...all the way down to the new oasis, where he finally understood: no magic in the world was powerful enough to make water run uphill. Or to change the past.

"But it's not your fault," Anahita said slowly.

"It is," Philemon insisted. "I made that foolish wish, and I am the city's prince. The responsibility is mine. I know that now."

"But the djinn. He should have said something..."

Philemon shook his head. "You don't know djinn. They are slaves, bound by magic to obey their masters, without question. The only time they can refuse is if they are not powerful enough to grant their master's wish. Something I realised too late. I made the wish, so the responsibility for it is mine. Tasnim was a city of wonders, and she died of thirst in the desert because of me."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Anahita still didn't understand.

Philemon reached out and grabbed her hand. Her startled eyes met his – and an intensity she could not look away from.

"Have you ever killed a man who didn't deserve it?" he demanded.

"Of course not. All of them were bastards. Men who killed innocent men and women, not caring who they destroyed as they pursued their desires. They deserved far worse than I gave them, I promise you." Anahita tried to pull her hand back, but he held it fast.

"What do you think I did to Tasnim? I destroyed a city to grant the most insignificant desire. How am I any better than the rest of them? You should have killed me then, but you'll definitely do it when you see the ghost my beautiful city has become."

He released her and urged his camel into a gallop, putting space between them Anahita had no way to close.

It was for the best. Few people had seen Anahita cry, and if the desert drank her tears, no one would ever know how her heart wept for Philemon and all he had lost.

Because he was wrong. He was nothing like Fakhri or Basit or any of the others. None of them had ever showed a moment of remorse for their actions, or even regret.

And as the tears dried on her cheeks in the searing desert heat, she made a new vow. Men might die, but a city's life was in her people. If she could help Philemon return Tasnim to its former glory, then she would do everything in her power to make that happen. Because to turn Philemon the frog into the true prince he deserved to be, he needed his domain back. His home.