Thirty-Two

 

And that's how he'd ended up back in the desert, where this whole mess started. Well, perhaps not quite the same place, for Briska's bed was cold and empty, but now he stood at the blocked-off entrance to an underground city. A city with no people inside and, he discovered as he used magic to shift the enormous entrance stone, stale air that said no one had been there for some time.

For a moment, he feared that the treasure he sought would be long gone, but the glitter of gold beside the entrance caught his eye. Several statues were lined up along the wall, all life-sized. If anyone intended to steal something, these would be the first items he'd take, yet here they were, untouched.

With increasing hope in his step, Amani headed into the tunnel.

As he'd moved away from the city gates, the air had grown fresher, fed by the ventilation shafts in the ceiling that ran deep into the earth, but the dust on the ground had also become deeper, muffling his footsteps. A closer look revealed it was fine sand and not dust, undoubtedly carried down the air shafts by the swirling sandstorms outside.

Aside from the dust, the place had been left in a surprisingly orderly state, as though the city residents intended to return, but had been prevented from doing so. Bad air hadn't driven them out, the usual culprit in underground places, and the place hadn't been sacked, so...what else could it be?

He approached one of the numerous wells around the city, and peered in. He should have been greeted by the drip and rush of the underground aquifer, but all he heard was silence. Amani bit his lip and sent his magic questing after the water.

The well was dry, and so was the next, though the cavern where the water should have been was deep enough to hold more water than a city of this size could ever need. He followed the twisting cavern, carved by the ancient, underground river, until he found the natural stone dam that had once kept the enormous reservoir secure beneath the city. No more – the rock was cracked all the way across, and the water had followed its natural course, down to a natural depression where it leaped to the surface in a bubbling spring. A spring so new there were no trees around it yet, though a clump of tiny date palms huddled together in solidarity, proclaiming their intention of claiming this waterhole as their own.

He knew the waterhole – it was Philemon's folly. Which made this city...Tasnim. A city guarded by the djinn who served Aladdin. A djinn who had no liking for Amani.

Amani swore softly. If Kun had intended to humiliate him, she'd chosen her quest well. His lamp prison had been stored in the treasure rooms here for a time, at the command of another, younger and comelier enchantress than Kun. If Philemon had owned an enchanted object that negated all magic in its vicinity, rendering an enchanter like himself powerless, it would be in his deepest treasury, where Amani's lamp had been. For what better way to protect his other priceless treasures than with a powerful magic object?

After an hour of walking and still he hadn't reached the bottom of the tunnels, Amani waved his magical light source to a halt and summoned a waterskin to quench his thirst, for there was no other drinkable water in the city.

Finally, he arrived at the city's treasury, and a stone door heavier than the rest stood in his way. He used magic to shift it aside, then sent his magical ball of light inside first, as a matter of caution. If a magic-nullifying artefact lay inside, he would rather lose his light source than all of his powers at once.

Yet the light glowed serenely as it bobbed across the room, so Amani followed it. There was less dust on the floor here – fewer air shafts, most likely – but there were gold coins strewn around, as though someone had tried to take some with them and not cared if they dropped a few.

The scattered coins grew more numerous, the deeper he ventured into the treasury, until he reached a sort of altar, with an open chest before it. Whatever had once graced the altar was now gone, leaving only a circle in the dust to show it had ever existed.

Amani was willing to wager that whatever had sat there was the item he wanted. Without it, Kun would never tell him where to find Briska.

Then again, she hadn't known what it looked like, just what effect it had.

Amani took a moment to contemplate his options. Perhaps he could provide the courtesan with a magic dampening device after all.