The second sheikh’s brothers were envious of his marriage. They threw him and his wife into the sea. But the wife was a jinniya, who saved her husband, and her sister turned the brothers into dogs.
“Sister,” said Dinarzad in the middle of the night. “Continue.” “If the king should permit,” said Scheherazade. “Continue,” said Shah Rayar.
Scheherazade spoke softly so the king would have to pay attention in order to hear. After all, a silk thread is stronger than an iron bar.
he jinni, the merchant, the first sheikh with the gazelle-wife, and the third sheikh with the mule waited. So the second sheikh, with the two black dogs, began his tale.
THESE DOGS ARE MY BROTHERS. WHEN OUR FATHER DIED, HE gave us 1,000 dinars each to set up shops. My older brother sold his shop and went off to trade. A year later he returned a beggar. I had made a profit; I had 2,000 dinars. I gave him half to set up a new shop.
Soon, my other brother sold his shop and left to trade. In a year, he returned a beggar. I checked my profit; I had 2,000 dinars again. I gave him half to set up a new shop.
Then both brothers proposed we all be traders. After six years I finally agreed. I had 6,000 dinars. I buried half, so that if we returned penniless, we’d each have 1,000 to set up new shops. With the rest we bought provisions and a boat.
We stopped at a port and traded. A girl in rags kissed my hands. “Marry me. I will be a good wife.” Dressed in rags with no one to recommend her? But a man must look beyond appearance to the truth underneath: Her heart was pure. So I married her. We lived on the boat and loved one another. Life was perfect. That very perfection set aflame envy in my brothers. One night, as we slept, they tossed us into the sea.
I woke on a gulp of salt water, thrashing hopelessly, for I couldn’t swim. My wife turned into a jinniya and carried me away. She told me she had loved me at first sight, and so came to me in the guise of a beggar. She loved me even more for marrying her, despite her apparent poverty. Now she would kill my brothers.
“No!” I said. “Kindness is the rule, even to those who wrong you.” We argued. At last she agreed to let my brothers live.
She flew me on her back to my old home. I dug up the 3,000 dinars and opened a shop. When I returned home that night, two black dogs waited by my door. My wife’s voice came from nowhere, “These are your brothers. My sister cast a spell on them. After 10 years you may go to her to get it lifted.” Her voice ceased. She was gone, dear wife.
The second sheikh scratched the dogs behind the ears. “Is my tale not fabulous?”
The jinni rubbed the tip of his nose and nodded. “I grant you one-third of my right to this merchant’s life.”
The third sheikh, the one with the mule, stood. “I have the most fabulous tale. If you agree, will you grant me one-third of your right to the merchant’s life?”
The jinni nodded.
“Listen hard,” said the third sheikh.
Morning came and Scheherazade hushed, though her pulse drummed in her head.
“A marvelous tale,” said Dinarzad.
“Tomorrow’s will be better,” said Scheherazade, scanning the king’s face. “If the king allows.”
Shah Rayar agreed. But he could see where the story was going. It would end soon and he would put Scheherazade to death. She had turned a one-night marriage into a four-night marriage. Four was a good number. 
