It is with great uncertainty that I keep this written record what has come to pass, not only in my life but also in that of my servant – the djinn. I suppose that it must be obvious, to those who know something of the genii, that I have kept her as my slave rather than take my three wishes as offered. But, of course, who, in these times would forgo a useful servant for the whims of a single day?
Her name, for those who would care to know it: Dembe. With the appearance of a quite beautiful young woman of African descent and hair wrapped in a turban of varying shades of blue excepting her long ponytail which fell down her back to her thighs. But the most obvious part of her features was the ridged metal headband covering her hairline and appearing to be attached to her skin at every point. I remember her rubbing at the joint between skin and metal whenever I asked of her to use her powers – it caused her pain and I have never before acknowledged that fact. If only the power of time travel were mine to hold I would have done so many things differently.
To please the record I will now also describe myself. My name is Remus Hamilton – lord of the county of Berkshire in the lower west reaches of England. I may be tall and of dark features but that is of no relevance. What is, is that I have dedicated the majority of this year to an illusive search for power which I had hoped with the assistance of Dembe that I could achieve. It wasn’t to be and I now pay the price…but that part of the story is yet to be told as the beginning is far more important to your understanding of my misdeeds.
I would say it began when I was fifty-one. A lone man walking by a lake on the land which had only two weeks previously become mine again. My son had been a powerful and strong willed man and even the illness which he suffered had needed many months to finally end his well-lived young life. When he had, the land I had passed onto him returned to my possession until his own son grew old enough to take it.
I walked alone because I was contemplating the sheer unfairness of the power death held over us. My wife had died at the tender age of twenty-five, her only lasting remainder being my memories and those of our recently deceased son. Our other son had died when only a few weeks old, of what the doctor diagnosed as being cholera. It all seemed so vastly unfair and it had happened to many more families than mine. It is only now, at the eve of the final end, that I can look back and not feel the driving anger that I once did.
I happened to see a glint in the water as I walked. It was right at the edge of the lake, where the water was only a few inches deep, and I paused to pick up the curious golden object. It turned out to be a ring. A golden ring with a small amber stone embedded in it.
I don’t know how I knew that this ring had a djinn concealed within it but somehow I did. It seemed to radiate an aura of energy and I knew that I had to put it on my finger. And as soon as I did I felt a bolt of lightning shoot through my body before firing back up, through my finger and out of the ring.
The amber stone grew foggy with a murky blue smoke and the air above it began to crackle and glow with pale blue and white sparks. Then the sparks turned to smoke which drifted away from me and spun around on itself, taking the form of a woman, sitting cross-legged on nothing but the air itself. The pale smoke faded and, where it once was, sat Dembe, a half-smile on her face as she watched me, her hands resting on her knees.
“Wh-who are you?” I asked uncertainly.
“I’m a djinn,” she replied calmly, her cold amber eyes unblinking. “You may have three wishes. Or else one thousand and one days of servitude.”
“Really?”
She sighed and lifted her hand to observe her nails as if she were bored. “There are certain rules, most of which do not apply to myself. Most genii cannot destroy. I can. Most genii cannot influence the mortals in their actions or thoughts. I can. Most –”
“Why don’t the rules apply to you?” I asked curiously.
“Because I am one of the Marid,” she replied. “I was sent here as punishment because the other demons don’t appreciate true power, especially when they see it in one of the djinn races.”
“I…see.”
She frowned at my answer and then she uncrossed her legs and floated down to the ground. She wore a large piece of cloth, which she told me was called a kanga, wrapped around her body and reaching to just above her knees. It seemed to bear all the shades of blue and green imaginable to portray a violent wave crashing in the ocean and, I realised, it matched the cloth she had wrapped about her head. She wasn’t truly African, having come from the realm of the demons as all djinn do, but she seemed to have decided to adopt the appearance of a woman who was.
“You seem to like blue,” I said, succeeding in making the most inane comment possible at that moment.
“I am a Marid,” she replied, bored. “We are born of the sea and water flows through our veins. What other colour would I wear except a shade of the ocean? Now, have you decided? Servitude or wishes?”
It was perhaps a difficult decision, for servitude meant being tied to this strange woman for nearly three entire years. However, I knew that I could not waste this opportunity on whims that I could have over the following few days, and so in my case it was no decision at all. I chose to force her into slavery.
“Very well,” she said, when I had replied. “My name is Dembe, should it please you to know. And while I follow you I will not return to the world of the ring but I will not bother you in this corporeal form unless you wish a task to be fulfilled. I go to visit your home now – should you need me just call my name or else touch the amber stone on the ring.”
Her form returned to that of blue and white smoke and she shot away towards my large manor home. I felt no need to hurry after her, perhaps because I cared little for the material possessions that I had left in the world. So I merely watched her fly away and then, with a thoughtful look at her amber ring, I began my walk along the shore once more.
When I did finally return to my home it was to find that the large courtyard, widely known for its beautiful gardens, had been turned into a virtual wonderland of fountains and pools. Water sprayed in the air in intricate steps and twirls and then fell back into the many pools, leaving sparkling rainbow patterns in the air.
There was no sign of Dembe but all of my servants’ children, and also my twelve year old grandson, had jumped into the largest and lowest of the pools – some of the other pools had been constructed nearly as high in the air as the trees which had once existed there – and all were splashing about and playing as if they had never before had so much fun. Occasionally, as they played, a strange watery spirit floated out of the water, spiralled around each of them as if trying to tickle them, and then dived back under the surface to float its way through the maze of fountains again. Somehow I knew that spirit was Dembe, although I did find it strange that she would be happy to play with these human children when she so obviously resented being trapped outside the demon world.
I stood watching these childish games for many minutes before Dembe came out of the water and took on her human form again. I wondered if she would defend her right to remove my gardens for these fountains of hers, or whether she would be apologetic in any way, but she obviously felt that there was no need for defense as she merely sat with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees, watching me calmly.
“Is there anything I can do for you just now?” she asked.
“N-no, not really,” I replied. “I was just watching the children.”
She smiled warmly for the first time since she had been released and she said, “They’re like my hatchlings. Splashing around in the water without a care. It’s been a long time…”
“Hatchlings?” I repeated. “You have children?”
She nodded and then sighed. “They grew up though. And left. Genii don’t tend to keep in touch with their hatchlings once they’re mature – ours is a world much larger than yours and far more populated too.”
“That’s a shame,” I murmured.
I began to walk past the fountains, away from the children, and Dembe floated after me. “One of those children…your grandson?”
“How could you tell?” I asked.
“The way you watched him. I have learned to watch my masters well. Many are deceitful and power-hungry.”
“It’s a shame that you would think that of my race.”
“Unfortunately, it’s true.”
“My son died very recently. My grandson Morven now lives here in my manor until he is old enough to look after his inheritance.”
“Hmm,” Dembe said, smiling. “His name…it means ‘child of the sea’. How strange that I would meet a sea-child in my first minutes of freedom.”
“It doesn’t mean much,” I replied dismissively. “My son’s late wife just liked the sound of it.”
“Names mean everything, young master. You have a lot to learn about the world if you don’t believe that.”
“What does your name mean then?” I asked curiously.
“‘Peace’,” Dembe said. “For only the threat of my growing power brought peace to the warring demon clans. All demon names signal the most important aspect of their life or their soul. There is no exception.”
“Strange that you would hold so much in a single word.”
“I suppose it is,” Dembe replied.
“Would it be so terrible…serving me?” I asked, noticing a tired expression cross her face.
“I suppose it depends on what you ask of me.”
“I don’t believe I am a cruel man. I would never ask you to do anything that might hurt you in any way.”
Dembe sighed and shook her head. “That’s what they all say.”
A few days passed with little change after the creation of Dembe’s water world. I rarely saw her, as she spent most of her time in spirit form, either resting or playing in the water. I did occasionally look through the window of my study into the courtyard to enjoy the laughter of the children who played with her but I never went out to see her – after hearing her certainty that I would harm her in some way I felt too uncertain of myself to even speak with her.
But then one day a carriage rode into the courtyard, of course being stopped halfway up the path by Dembe’s fountains, and the man who stepped out of it made my blood run cold with anger. His name was Edison Drummond and for years he had been demanding that I give my land up to him because, he believed, it had been stolen away from his family by mine three generations previously. He had offered money but I had refused because my home held far too many beloved memories, not only of my own childhood but also of my son’s – I wouldn’t give that up for any price.
He strode past the fountains, casting a scornful gaze towards them, before knocking forcefully on the door. I had been watching from my study window as usual, although there were no children playing that morning – even the children had chores to do sometimes – and as the man passed I had seen Dembe flying up into the air in spirit form and then begin to furiously flit about the courtyard, giving off small bursts of steam, almost as if she had been burned.
Even as I watched her, my butler came to my study door to announce the visitor’s arrival and I quickly told him to invite Edison into the room. I continued to watch Dembe’s actions and at that point she stopped moving completely. The small spirit floating in the air, though it had no eyes nor facial features of any kind, almost appeared to be turning slowly to look back at me…
“Remus, old boy!” Edison declared as he strode into the room. “How good to see you again after so long. When I heard about the tragic loss of your son I just had to come.”
“What?” I asked, turning away from the window. “You and I have never been friends. Why the sudden kindness now?”
“I think it’s high time we buried the hatchet, Remus, my dear. Why burn our bridges with each other when it’s so obvious that old men like ourselves need all the good friends we can get, eh?”
“I wouldn’t exactly consider myself old, Edison,” I replied coldly.
“Ah, well, but we’re not getting any younger, don’t you agree?” the man said, hefting his weight over to my drinks cabinet to help himself to a whiskey.
“It’s not the kind of statement you can disagree with.”
“No, I suppose not,” Edison said, gulping down two drams of my most expensive bottle.
I moved away from the window to stand by my desk and remained there, watching my old foe with suspicion. “What happened to your obsession with owning my land?”
“Ah, you see, Remus, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, old boy,” he said grinning. “I found out from my lawyer’s research of documents about the land that most of the area that used to belong to my family was actually with the acres you gave to your son. His passing was a tragic loss, I know we’ll both agree but now“
“No,” I interrupted. “That land is in my care until my grandson is old enough to take it. You won’t step foot on any of it.”
“Now Remus, be reasonable“
“I have no intention of being reasonable!” I snapped. “My son died less than a month ago and here you are playing the grave-robber!”
“I think that’s a bit strong don’t y“
“No, I don’t! Get out of my house now before I have my butler throw you out!”
Edison sighed and then calmly put his glass down on the table. “I had hoped you would be reasonable about this, Remus. We have known each other a long time after all. And now you leave me no choice.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
I am not entirely certain what happened directly after that – all I remember is that everything seemed to be covered in flames. My eyes and skin boiled within the raging fireball that seemed to have erupted around me. I found myself struggling to breathe; I tried to cough but found that my throat was too constricted with the heat and the smoke.
And then suddenly, as if someone had just thrown a refreshing, life-saving, pail of water over my head, the pain was gone and I tumbled to the ground, coughing and trembling.
My eyes still ached with the memory of being melted down in the sheer heat and so my sight was vastly impaired, but through my fuzzy vision I could see what looked like a controlled wave of water encircling a string of flames that flew up towards the ceiling and raged and groaned with the effort of trying to escape.
For a moment, as I watched this spectacular fight between fire and water, I thought I could see the image change for a moment, to reveal Dembe struggling against a large muscular man with deep red skin and dark fiery hair. I would have been worried for her safety but for the fact that, despite the man’s larger size, she appeared to be winning.
Every time he lashed out with his fireballs of energy she easily countered them and then attempted to encircle him again. When they slipped into their human forms I could see him trying to grab her in order to take advantage of his greater strength but she simply slipped out of his grip by reverting to her spirit form and then he did the same and the elemental battle continued.
This happened many times in what could only have been a few minutes and each time I only managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on. I struggled to stand to try and end the dangerous battle but my body felt scorched and burned and so I could only watch as Dembe battled for my safety, flickering in and out of her human form.
And then it was over. She had somehow managed to completely encircle the man in his fiery spirit form and when she loosened her grip he fell to the floor in his human form, groaning in pain.
“How did you do that?” I asked her, amazed.
“The Afreet are weaker than the Marid,” she replied, floating down onto my desk, her arms and legs hissing with steam. “You just need to know how to handle them.”
“Get up, you fool!” Edison shouted. “I ordered you to kill him! Do it!”
“I cannot,” the Afreet djinn growled. “I cannot win.”
“You mustn’t disobey me!” Edison replied, kicking at the Afreet as he lay on the ground.
Almost with lightning speed, the Afreet was on his feet and gripping Edison’s arm. “Do not touch me, master. I have told you I cannot fulfill this wish. Do not question what I tell you.”
The two figures were engulfed in flames and their images faded, but not before the Afreet turned to scowl at Dembe and said softly, “I will defeat you, Marid.”
“Any time,” she replied sharply.
He smiled and then he faded in the flames along with his master. I remained on the floor as Dembe slowly curled up on my desk, wincing at the jets of steam shooting from her body.
“Did he hurt you as much as he hurt me?” I asked, watching her worriedly.
“I could heal you,” she murmured. “If I wasn’t so tired.”
“Would being in the water help?”
“I can’t travel that far. And you’re in no state.”
I began to cough but the pain in my throat was too much to bear and I ended up choking. We lay there for what seemed like forever: Dembe drifting in and out of her spirit form as if uncertain which shape would cause the least pain and me lying sprawled on the ground, my clothes burned half away and my skin welted and red.
It wasn’t until my maid knocked on the door to ask if I wanted anything for my guest, that someone was finally able to take Dembe to her pools and to begin treating my terrible burns.
“I am sorry, master. I couldn’t protect you,” Dembe whispered, kneeling by my bed with her hands pressed together as if in prayer.
“Yes, you did,” I murmured. “I’d have died if you hadn’t come in.”
“I should have been there all along. The presence of the Afreet near my pools shocked me. I apologize for this and I…”
“You what?” I asked, trying to sit up and failing miserably.
“I should heal you,” Dembe said quickly. “I should have done that first.”
She placed a hand on my forehead and I felt a cool breeze passing all the way down my body. When she pulled her hand away I lifted my own and almost laughed with relief to see my skin was no longer burnt away.
Dembe nodded and then floated up into the air. “I should return to my pools again.”
“Are you still in pain?” I asked, sitting up.
She frowned, looking almost confused. “No. I am fine now.”
“Then why do you need to go?”
“You would like to befriend your latest servant?” she asked mockingly. “How many of your other servants have you ever befriended?”
“Then tell me what else I can give you in return for your help. I would pay you if I thought you would appreciate the money. Other than that all I have is myself.”
“If you were so worried about being in my debt then you should have just asked for the wishes,” she replied, drifting over towards the window.
“Yes, but I have a book about the djinn and its author explicitly states that taking wishes from a Marid or Afreet is like tossing a die and betting your life on rolling a seven.”
Dembe rolled in the air so that she was facing me again. “A wise man. He was correct. If you had taken the wishes I would most likely have turned them against you in some way. Though you would have had more luck with me than an Afreet – they are known for destroying their masters after their payment is carried out no matter the choice made.”
“Is that what’ll happen to Edison?”
Dembe shrugged. “Most likely. That particular Afreet has a grudge against humankind because it was a human who trapped him…with the help of a djinn.”
“How do you know that?”
“I never remain trapped in my stone for long and while I’m free I always listen for news from the demon world,” she replied dismissively. “May I look at this book of yours? I would like to know what else this man has to say about my kind.”
“Of course. It’s in my study. It’s called“
“I’ll find it.”
When, after a long rest, I returned to my study that day it was to find Dembe sitting on a cushion that hovered a few inches above the floor, avidly reading my book on her kind.
“You could have used the sofa, or one of the chairs,” I said as I entered.
She looked up and then returned to the book. “I wanted to be near the window and I didn’t think you would appreciate me rearranging your study.”
“You didn’t seem to mind getting rid of my gardens.”
“That was different. I required the water. I do not require a chair by the window.”
“Are you enjoying the book?”
“The Jann have given away many of our secrets to their masters over the years although most of it is not entirely correct. It says the Sheitan are more powerful than the Ghillan but really they’re equal and the Jann themselves are merely bottle imps. Your writer seems to know virtually nothing about the rest of the demon world.”
“The other kinds of demons all tend to stay out of this world except when they come through the Hell Portals,” I replied. “I don’t believe anyone has ever been able to stop one of them for an interview before.”
“I suppose that would be a problem,” Dembe replied with a smile.
“You’re free to take any other book you would like to read. I think I have a couple of others on the subject of the djinn although neither are as good as that one.”
“Grand-dad!” Morven said, appearing in the doorway. “Mrs Smith said you’d been hurt.”
“I’m better now,” I replied reassuringly, kneeling in front of him. “See?”
He had looked rather pale as he ran into the room but the colour came back to his cheeks as he stood, looking me up and down, most likely for the horrific burns that he had been told I suffered.
“They said you were in your room and when I went up there you were gone,” he said accusingly.
“I decided to come down here, since I’m back in full health,” I replied, reminded of the many times when his father had treated me like a child to be admonished. “Why don’t you get back to your schooling now, eh?”
But Morven had turned his attention to Dembe, who had left the book floating in the air in front of her and placed her hands on her knees upon Morven’s entrance. Her amber eyes watched the young boy, unblinking, even as he moved towards her.
“My teacher says that Marid djinn are dangerous and violent,” he said.
“Not particularly,” Dembe replied in her usual calm manner. “We like storms and waves and sometimes we forget that ships don’t. But I am a trapped djinn and my power is severely lessened by this – I could only do something really dangerous or violent if your grandfather asked it of me.”
“Why was he burnt before? You’re supposed to be protecting him.”
“It was a surprise attack by one of his enemies with an Afreet djinn. Do you know about them?”
“Yes,” Morven said, appearing entranced by Dembe. “They’re not as powerful but they’re more violent. And they don’t like being controlled.”
Dembe nodded. “I fought him off. And now I’ve healed your grandfather. So everything’s okay now, right?”
“He won’t get sick?” Morven countered.
“No. He will not get sick. I can heal normal human illnesses.”
“He won’t die?”
“Not while I’m around to protect him.”
Morven smiled at her and then he ran out of the room, leaving me watching Dembe with a perplexed expression as she raised her hands to hold the book again.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“He’s worried that you will leave him like his mother and father,” she replied. “We’ve had this conversation before but he seems to need reminding every so often.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You may be my master but I am free to have conversations with other people. The time I belong with you is nothing more than a drop of water in the time I have lived and will yet live.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Morven was worried about me dying?”
“Oh.” Dembe blinked and looked at me curiously. “Was it important? He seemed comforted at the time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said wearily. “It’s just sad that someone so young would be so afraid of being left alone.”
“I think I’ll go back to my pools now. Perhaps I’ll come back here tomorrow to read some more.”
“I’m glad I’ve found something I can give you back. Even if it is only a couple of books about your kind.”
“It’s more than some of my masters gave me,” Dembe said, inclining her head in her usual collected manner, before drifting away in her spirit form.
And so that is how we began to spend our afternoons. I would sit at my desk, either filling in paperwork or reading a book myself as Dembe sat by the window on her floating cushion silently reading her way through my library.
Occasionally we would talk to each other, either discussing the books Dembe was reading or else talking about the various people within the manor whom Dembe had met as she explored. We never talked about each other or our lives – I think she preferred it that way. Because no matter what I said or did I could never convince her that I wouldn’t one day ask her for more than she could give. I think she was trying to remain distanced from me in anticipation of that day.
One day a storm raged outside. One of those violent lightning storms that always served to make most people infinitely grateful that they were inside in the warmth. Dembe, however, was not one of those people. She stood outside in the courtyard with a distant smile on her face, looking for all the world like she was controlling the storm, with her long ponytail whipping from side to side and her violent sea-storm kanga blowing against her dark legs.
And then as I watched her, I noticed her taking an uncertain step out of the courtyard, as if she was hearing something but didn’t know how to respond. She glanced back at me and for a moment I thought she was going to come and speak to me. Then she vanished with a wisp of murky blue smoke.
I assumed she would return eventually, and although the thought crossed my mind that it might be the Afreet come to finish his duty to Edison, I doubted that the djinn would come in the middle of a storm when this kind of weather so obviously put Dembe at ease. So I returned to my desk and my paperwork, filling in pay slips for my servants, and thought nothing else of it.
It was nearly an hour before she returned, although I did not notice her appearance until the sounds of my servants grew loud enough for me to hear. I looked out of my window to see a crowd of them gathered around the djinn – she was holding a young child who looked to be unconscious. As I watched, Dembe stumbled and pushed the child into the arms of my head maid, an old matronly woman who had spawned many a youngster in her time. The old woman took the child away inside, while Dembe pressed her fingers to the headband as if it were causing her pain. She then reverted to her elemental form and rushed away into her fountains.
I considered going to check on Dembe but was uncertain as to how much she would appreciate it, and so I went to visit the child instead. I soon found my head maid in the servant’s quarters of my house, sitting with the child wrapped in a thick blanket, attempting to warm their cold body by the fire in the kitchen.
When she noticed my presence, the maid began to stand up but I raised my hand. “I saw the commotion outside. Did Dembe tell you what happened to the child?”
“A right poor bairn,” the maid said, relaxing in her chair again. “I’ve seen things like this before ‘n all but it always tugs at my heart strings, it does.”
“Things like what?” I asked.
“Unwanted wee bairns left outside to fend for themselves,” the maid replied. “Disabled or ill ones mostly, cos they ain’t worth much round here.”
“Is the child a boy or a girl?”
“Was right hard to tell, what with all that matted hair and cut so short. But yon djinn said it was a girl. Said she’d be right in to help the poor thing but she didn’t look all that good herself.”
“No, she didn’t,” I replied, slightly concerned.
But, as if she knew she was being spoken of, Dembe floated through the doorway in spirit form and then reverted to her human shape. She looked rather unwell but she silently took the child from my maid’s arms and then looked up at me.
“I need you to allow me to heal her,” she said, as though the words were poison.
“Of course.”
Dembe nodded and then she pressed her hand to the child’s forehead. A pale blue light surrounded the girl for a moment and then her eyes opened. They were beautiful eyes. In the face of a woman those eyes would have entranced any man who met her. Deep little pools of pale blue, like the reflection of the sky on a lake, that would have given her the power to drown anyone she chose. But they were not a woman’s eyes – they were those of an innocent, lost little girl, who had obviously never known kindness, because the moment she was fully awake she struggled and bit at Dembe’s arms.
The djinn took this in her stride, as if she had expected it, and she used her powers to allow the girl to float to the ground when she was released. Instead of fighting her way out of the house as I expected her to, the girl ran under the kitchen table and cowered in the corner, clutching at one of its legs. Tears welled in her eyes.
“She was born blind,” Dembe explained softly. “She has never before seen the world for what it is. She is frightened. Especially after what her step-father did to her.”
“Do I want to know what her step-father did to her?” I asked softly.
“No.”
The girl only looked to be about ten years old but even with her short matted hair I could see the beauty within her. Although unfortunately, it was an innocent beauty that could be easily taken advantage of by even the most honourable of men.
“What’s her name?”
“She has no memory of a name,” Dembe replied. “In the years she remembers her step-father did not use it. How sad. To exist with no title or fate set out for you but the misery that such an absence commands.”
“If she has nowhere to go then she can live here with the servants,” I told Dembe. “And if that is her future, then I suppose it would be fitting to give her a new name to start her new life.”
Dembe nodded rather solemnly. “Safiya. Purity. That is her name. May she bear its repercussions well.”
And then Dembe departed, leaving the poor girl cowering under the table. I chose to leave as well, sure that the presence of a man would not help to calm her nerves.
Safiya did not join in with the children in playing in the fountains. She spent most of her time just…watching. More than once I turned to see her bright blue eyes staring right at me as she followed one of the maids, or Dembe, around my property.
Dembe, of course, soon fixed the girl’s hair – overnight it became pale golden blonde tresses that fell in light waves down past her shoulders. She was enchanting and soon all the boys, including my grandson, were surreptitiously watching her where-ever she went. I foresaw trouble in the following years.
Dembe, I think, saw more trouble for that girl than I can even now imagine.
“The Afreet will return soon,” the djinn suddenly told me one day, just after I had entered my study, being watched carefully by Safiya.
“How do you know?” I asked, rather startled.
“He will be at full strength. The power of the summer flames will make him more powerful.”
“Summer flames?” I repeated, rather dumbly.
“The heat,” she explained, regarding me calmly. “Heat strengthens him just as water strengthens me.”
I walked further into my room and poured myself a shot of whiskey as I considered this announcement. “Before, you barely defeated him.”
“He is also strengthened by his anger.”
I sighed. “Then how will you win?”
“I will win because losing would mean failure and I do not fail,” Dembe replied. “The method by which I win is irrelevant.”
“When you first came here I told you that I would not subject you to anything that would cause you pain,” I said. “And I still adhere to that. There must be a better way than for you to drive yourself near death purely for my sake.”
Dembe looked at me calmly, although there was a look in her eyes that said she thought me a fool, and an idealistic one at that.
“My servitude requires me to protect you from danger. The only way to protect you from an Afreet is to fight it. There is no alternative, nor is there any reason to look for one. I will win – my fate is far greater than to die at the hands of an insolent child such as him.”
“The way you speak…” I murmured. “It sounds as if you know this djinn better than you have told me.”
“I was the one who helped a human to capture him,” Dembe replied with a shrug. “He has rather a large grudge against me now. But he will soon be taught that having a grudge does not give him the power to defeat me.”
The sound of a muffled thump came from the doorway and we both turned to see Safiya lying on the ground after having leaned on the door to hear better and finding it to not be closed tightly.
She looked up at us both and smiled apologetically, although she didn’t speak a word to either of us. Dembe smiled back at her and floated down to help the young girl to her feet.
“Your curiosity will be your downfall, little girl,” she murmured. “But your purity will be the death of you. Come now, let’s go find somewhere better for you to engage your skills.”
For a moment, Dembe glanced back at me but she left the room without another word, guiding the silent little girl away from my study and, I felt, with a hint of surprise, away from me.
One morning a few days later I was woken early in the morning to the sound of Dembe’s gentle voice calmly calling me away from my dreams. I opened my eyes to see the woman floating a few feet away from my bed with a calm expression on her face but a hint of worry in her eyes.
“Is it Edison?” I asked instantly.
“No,” she said softly. “It’s Morven. One of your maids is looking after him – he collapsed when he was playing in my pools. I think he overexerted himself.”
I was out of my bed in an instant, searching for clothes to dress myself in before I ran from my room to search out my ailing grandson. I paid little attention to Dembe as I changed though I realised when I left the room that she had gone outside to wait in the corridor. She led me down to her pools where one of the maids was indeed watching over Morven – he was now sitting up, looking rather pale, but other than that seeming fairly healthy.
He smiled at me as I left the house and moved towards him. “It’s alright, grand-dad. I’m fine.”
I knelt in front of him, nearly pushing the maid out of my way in my determination to reach my only living relative. My hands brushed his face, checking for a temperature, and then moved to his wrist to check that his pulse was regular and strong. And all the while he smiled indulgently at me as if humouring my concern and waiting for me to accept that he truly was as healthy as he said he was.
After I had carried out all of the bodily health checks that I knew, I looked over at Dembe who was calmly watching the situation, floating just above my head height on a swirling blue cloud. Her eyes met mine and I suppose that the question on the edge of my lips was silently emitted by my concern, for she smiled at me and nodded.
“He’s fine. His body is complaining of nothing that I can tell.”
I accepted this and turned back to him, saying, “Alright, off you go. It’s bound to be breakfast time by now.”
As I watched him run over to his small group of friends, I caught sight of Safiya out of the corner of my eye, hiding by the doorway to the servants’ quarters and watching just as intently, as if she too had been worried about Morven’s health.
Dembe turned, following my gaze, and said softly to me, “She would like to play with them … but she has bad memories of her times with others and no doubt she’s afraid of doing anything that requires too much of her sight.”
“Is there anything we can do for her?” I asked, still watching her.
“There’s nothing we can do but give her time to adjust to her new life,” Dembe murmured, already drifting back towards her pools.
Unfortunately, before she could reach her pools, the Afreet djinn that she warned would return, appeared at her side, the sound of Edison’s carriage echoing in the distance. She didn’t look surprised when he appeared, she merely smiled her usual calm, knowing, smile and folded her arms, as if awaiting something interesting.
The Afreet obviously didn’t appreciate this reaction for he snapped, “You’re going to pay for what you did to me.”
“I did what my master asked of me,” she replied with a shrug. “I couldn’t have done anything less.”
“And now I’m bound to do whatever I’m ordered to for the rest of eternity,” the Afreeti snarled.
“Perhaps one day you shall be set free,” Dembe replied with a humourless smile.
“Oh, yes,” the djinn muttered, rather sarcastically. “One day I might meet a very stupid, very power-hungry master who kills me to take my powers for himself.”
Dembe shrugged. “When you reach my age, child, you will realise that death is far less frightening than the thought of eternity as the never-ending waste of life that it truly is.”
At that moment I had the rather bizarre thought that if I could keep the two djinn talking about the nature of their very imprisonment then I could perhaps prevent the inevitable battle, however, my hopes were soon doused by the sight of Edison’s carriage driving up my pathway to reach the house and Dembe’s pools. I knew that Edison would again try to have his slave defeat Dembe in the knowledge that having an all-powerful djinn on his side would most likely turn our own battle in his favour.
Edison climbed out of his carriage, all pretenses of friendship gone as he strode towards me, his eyes dark and cold. I tried to keep my expression as calm and unaffected as that of Dembe but I somehow doubt that I succeeded as well as she.
“It’s a shame that this is how it’s all got to end, eh, old boy,” Edison said with a weary looking smile.
“It’s only your will that’s led to this,” I replied sharply, looking up at Dembe.
The djinn smiled down at me for a moment and then turned to look at the Afreet. “Well, Pyro, shall we get this over with?”
“Don’t call me that,” the man snarled.
Dembe shrugged. “I shall call you whatever I choose.”
The djinn lunged forward at her, a howl of pure rage escaping his lips. Above us they began their furious battle again, slipping between human and spirit form, and locking together as if trapped in a never-ending cycle of water and fire.
The battle was long and arduous and after a while they began to drift further and further from Dembe’s pools. I wished I could have done something to force their fight to move closer to where Dembe was strongest but there was no way for me to interfere, so instead I turned to look at Edison.
He, too, was watching the battle … but there was something in his eyes which I had never seen before. They were emotionless … as if something inside had been stolen from him. And occasionally I thought that I could see small sparks of fire blazing behind his irises. In my shock, I stepped away from him and looked back up at the Afreet currently fighting my own beautiful Marid – she was suddenly far more beautiful than before because right then I suddenly realised the true power of the creatures Edison and I had at our disposal. While all Dembe had taken from me as payment for her services was the reading of the books in my library, and the creation of a wondrous water world in my garden, it seemed that the Afreet had taken far more from Edison – he had taken his soul.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Five hours passed after the fight before Dembe was able to leave her pools to speak with me. I had waited beside them all that time, watching her gentle spirit drift through the water without any real purpose or movement, until she had finally arisen to look at me.
“Of course I remember,” she replied simply. “I won.”
Yes, she had indeed defeated the Afreet. I remembered standing nearby and watching as the huge creature had fallen to the ground, shooting steam and flames from all over his body. He had lain on the ground, staring up at Dembe in apparent shock, as the Marid silently flew over to Edison and pulled a ring from his unresisting fingers.
“Did you really think taking over his mind would save you from your prison?” she asked softly. “It’s still a prison.”
And then she had thrown the ring into the air and shot a ray of pale blue light from her fingers, which, on contact with the ring, caused it to shatter into a thousand pieces, all glittering in the bright light of the sun.
“Go back to the demon realm,” she muttered, turning away. “Cause these humans no more pain.”
And as they spoke, Edison seemed to awake from a dream and he looked around, a confused expression on his face. His eyes met those of the Afreet and the creature snarled, then vanished in a flash of red hot flames.
I watched Dembe for a moment as she floated over to her pools and tumbled into the water in her spirit form but I forced myself to turn to Edison, who was still staring at the place where the Afreet had lain, with a pale and rather frightened expression on his face.
“He’s gone now,” I said softly. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your slave.”
Edison suddenly laughed and turned to look at me, smiling gratefully. “I’ll never again ask for your land. I give it to you for everything you’ve just done for me.”
“Truly?” I asked, looking rather dumbstruck.
“Truly!” he laughed, running over to his carriage. “I owe you my soul, my friend!”
He was gone before I could even really respond to this but I was glad that he had been set free – he had never been much of a bad man and I wouldn’t have wished any harm to come to him, even if it meant having him off my back about the land he had always insisted belonged to his family.
And then I settled down by the pools to wait for Dembe to be healed, which was where I found myself five hours later when she arose to speak to me.
“You won,” I said softly, my fingers drifting through the water.
“I’ve always regretted trapping him in that ring,” Dembe explained, almost uncertainly. “I … may have gone too far today but I won’t apologise for setting him free.”
“Why didn’t he offer to set you free if it was so simple?” I asked.
“The owner of the ring must willingly give it up, for one thing,” Dembe sighed. “And for another … a creature of equal power to the one who created the vessel must be the one to destroy it. My ring was created by true demons and only a true demon can set me free from it.”
“Would it ever be possible for you to find a … demon … who would do that for you?”
“It’s most unlikely,” Dembe replied with a wry smile. “The majority of them are glad to be rid of us.”
I didn’t pity Dembe for I didn’t feel that she would appreciate it and nor did I try to offer helpless platitudes as a means of alleviating her situation. I merely tried to know her as her other masters never had. I tried to understand the way in which she so effortlessly managed to conceal her emotions; I tried to understand the way in which she played with the children, having so much fun as to almost act like one of them herself; I tried to understand how she could deal with such a soul-destroying fate without in fact being destroyed.
I suppose that it was only by her pools that she truly felt she could be herself and I suppose that after having such cruel masters that she had had to learn to hide how she really felt about the things she had been asked to do. I would like to think that my way of treating her, that my offering of my books and my time, in some way made her situation just a bit less distressing, although I never allowed myself to believe that her time with me was anything more than a heartbeat to this all-powerful creature who played in her fountains like a kitten with catnip.
One afternoon, weeks after the battle with the Afreet, Morven collapsed again. This time, however, there was no comforting smile from Dembe or cheerfully condescending look from my grandson. He was still unconscious when I found him and though there was no obvious sign of illness I could tell that something terrible had happened to him.
I turned to Dembe at once and asked, “What is it? Tell me.”
“You won’t like my answer,” she replied emotionlessly.
“Tell me anyway!” I ordered angrily.
“There is a problem with his heart,” she murmured, a look of sadness crossing her eyes that lasted only for an instant. “It was too slight for me to notice before but now it has grown worse.”
“Fix it then,” I said sharply.
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” I demanded.
For a moment she didn’t answer and then she sighed and said, “I can’t strengthen his body. I can’t make his body any better than it already is. It’s a fact of our race that any power we have to heal or improve always comes with a catch and I promise you, master, that if I tried to heal this problem then he would ultimately end up living a far unhappier life than before.”
“I don’t believe you!” I declared, kneeling next to my grandson, brushing a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you.”
“I doesn’t matter if you believe me or not,” Dembe murmured. “That won’t change the truth. Your grandson will still die.”
In the following months I watched my grandson slowly become weaker and weaker. By the end of the year he hardly ever ran or played with the other children and he spent the majority of his time lying in his bed with little or no energy to do anything else.
Doctor after doctor came to visit him and they all said the same thing: his heart had been weakened, perhaps by an illness in childhood, perhaps in the womb by the illness which his mother suffered before she died in childbirth. One doctor even told me that he had been to visit Morven before my son had died – it soon became clear that these symptoms had slowly been growing worse for all of Morven’s life.
Every day I asked Dembe if there was anything she could do and every day she just smiled sadly and said softly, “There is nothing, master. I am sorry.”
It seemed that every time I went to Morven’s room to visit him, Safiya was standing nearby, offering him something to eat or something to drink or even just another pillow. I could see the sadness in her eyes at Morven’s fading health and one day came to realise that it hadn’t been all the children she had wanted to spend time with, but merely my own outgoing little grandson.
I never had the chance to speak to her about her feelings though, for every time I entered Morven’s room to find her there, she blinked almost in fear and hurriedly ran out of the room and away from me.
It was one time like this, in the cold month of December, when my downfall truly began. I looked down at Morven, sleeping lightly in his bed, and quite suddenly saw my son, lying there in much the same position. All of the pain and anger which had flooded into my veins as I watched my son slowly fade away from me suddenly begin to drown my entire being until all I could see was the suffering which I had known as Morven’s father died. Only now it was multiplied tenfold as I thought of it all being repeated over again with my only living relative.
I would not allow that to happen. I had a Marid djinn at my disposal and if there was no cure she could willingly offer me with her powers then perhaps there was something I could force out of her. Perhaps there was some way of making her powers work to my advantage.
As he slept, Morven whimpered slightly and I clenched my fists in anger.
I hid in my library for weeks on end, searching through book after book for some kind of solution to my problem with Dembe. And then one day it occurred to me – something the Afreet had snarled at Dembe before they fought made me think that I had perhaps found a solution at last.
I found Dembe sitting in my study, floating by my window on a cushion as she read a fiction novel about a man who fell in love with a mermaid. She looked up when I entered and a look of concern entered her face.
“How is Morven?” she asked.
“Much the same,” I muttered, although I hadn’t actually seen him that day to know. “I have something to ask you.”
“I’ve already told you I cannot help him,” Dembe murmured.
“I know, I know,” I said quickly, waving away her words. “What I wanted to know was about what the Afreet said to you – about a master taking his power and killing him.”
Dembe blinked at my words and slowly, as if I had just dealt her some kind of blow, all expression faded from her face. “It is possible to remove a djinn’s powers and take them for yourself. Passing on their powers will of course kill them, for they will have no means of surviving.”
“And will the person who takes the powers be trapped like the djinn?” I asked eagerly.
“Yes,” she replied, her eyes empty. “Although there will be a few minutes … as the power is passed … when neither is trapped.”
“You said being trapped weakened you,” I said, my heart quickening with anticipation of her response to my question. “Does that mean that if you were free you’d be stronger?”
“I would be strong enough to heal Morven without the usual drawbacks of being healed by one of my kind,” Dembe replied simply.
I nodded, taking this in as if we were merely talking about the latest book she was reading. And then I turned away, totally ignoring the look on her face which suggested that I had just behaved exactly as she expected me to.
The truth was I had no intention of letting her die. I had it all worked out perfectly. With the help of the books I had read on the subject and Dembe’s own information, I had become certain that I could begin the process, allowing Dembe to be momentarily free, and then simply stop the passing of her power and force it to stay within her body rather than pass to me.
In my mind it would all work out perfectly. I would save my grandson and have Dembe just as alive and well as she always was. In fact it was this certainty that caused me to ignore the warnings Dembe kept trying to give me; every day she tried to tell me that it was impossible to stop the process once it had begun but I merely told her that she had never actually experienced it before, while the authors of the books in my library had carried intensive studies into the nature of the passing of a djinn’s power to a human.
I remember once she had turned away from me and I had heard her mutter under her breath, “Damnable humans. The only thing they don’t fail at is telling stories to themselves.”
But I ignored this too. So sure was I that I could succeed where Dembe had failed. So sure was I that I wouldn’t have to sit and watch my grandson die as I had watched my young son die.
That day, as Dembe left, I had caught sight of little Safiya hiding by the doorway, her bright eyes watching my every move. I turned to glare at her and, in my anger at Dembe’s refusal to support my plans, shouted, “Get the hell out of my study!”
Her eyes widened and she turned and fled.
“My little sea child,” I heard Dembe whisper to Morven from the other side of his bedroom door. “You were not meant to walk the earth as the others do.”
“What … what do you mean?” he asked weakly.
“One day you’ll be set free from the chains of your body,” Dembe said. “And you’ll fly free above the waves of the ocean.”
“You mean … when I die?”
“Yes,” Dembe replied simply.
“It hurts so much, sometimes,” Morven sighed. “I feel so trapped.”
“I’ll be over soon.”
“I hope so.”
I strode into the room at that point, angry at Dembe’s words.
“How dare you?” I demanded of her. “How dare you fill him with all these romantic images of death? He’s supposed to be fighting back! He’s supposed to be trying to stay alive! I’m going to save him!”
Dembe just looked at me sorrowfully. “No, you’re not. If you try to follow through with your plan one of us will end up dead and most likely Morven will too. All I wanted to do was help him to accept this.”
“Get the hell out of my grandson’s room,” I snarled.
She inclined her head slightly and changed to her spirit form, drifting away out the window, no doubt circling around the house to reach her pools, where she would hide to avoid worsening my growing anger, not just at her but at the whole world for its intense desire to cause me suffering.
I turned to look at Morven. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to make you better.”
But Morven seemed to have fallen asleep and as he slept a small smile crept across his face, as if he were already dreaming of those flights of freedom across the ocean.
It was spring when I finally decided that my plan to save my grandson was complete. In some ways I probably rushed my way into it, so intense was my desire to save my grandson, but I didn’t allow doubtful thoughts like that to cross my mind as I stood with Dembe in Morven’s bedroom, looking down at his weakened body – he hardly ever moved any more.
“Are you ready?” I asked Dembe, little caring if she was, so great was my anger at her lack of desire to help me save Morven – I had done everything I could to make her life within my house as contented and enjoyable as possible but all she had given me in response was a sad little condescending smile and a message that she could do nothing when I truly desired it.
She looked away from Morven, her emotionless eyes turning to focus on me. “Let my death begin.”
I frowned at her because at that point even her wry humour was enough to incense me towards her. I lifted one of the books that had become my main source of reference since my trust in Dembe had faded and I silently checked the words that were written there, ensuring that I had memorised them all correctly. And then I laid it down and stood facing her.
“Grant me the power of the Marid djinn,” I said calmly. “Grant me all of the power which is contained within your body and place it within my own.”
The pale blue light of Dembe’s power surrounded her then and a sad expression crossed her face. I thought for a moment that I heard her whisper ‘I’m sorry’ as the power began to flow around us, pulling our two bodies closer and closer together. Our eyes met for that once and final time, just before a thick ray of light shot out of her body, causing her to scream and writhe in agony.
I will never forget that look in her eyes as I pulled her power and her life forever out of her grasp. Those amber eyes burned deep into my soul and right then I truly understood the nature of the life which she had lived – she had spent an eternity living in servitude, knowing that the only way for it to end was for her to one day die. I thought for a moment that there might be a hint of gratefulness in her eyes but it was soon replaced with that accusing stare which she had shot me when we first met and I had promised never to harm her. For what was I doing now but harming her? What was I doing now but becoming just as selfish and controlling as all the other men who had held her within their control?
The ray of light which shot out of her body quite as suddenly shot straight into mine and I knew the exact agony that she felt from losing her power, as it began to swell within my own body. But it wasn’t just her power which was being shared with me – it was far more than that.
I began to see her memories, all spinning past my eyes so fast that they blurred together into a multitude of faces and names which I couldn’t place or understand. A few stood out though, a few froze as all the others swept past my mind and those few brought me to my knees in despair.
I was surrounded by children, all playing together and laughing as the servants’ children often did around Dembe’s pools. These children, however, floated in spirit form with no defined shape – they were my children. They were my hatchlings and they were so beautiful. But as the memories drifted past my mind I felt these hatchlings slowly moving away from me, one by one, until I was all alone again. And I felt almost engulfed by the love I felt for these creatures – a love which I knew was slowly drowning me in loneliness as they left me behind and never returned. But that was the way of my kind and there was nothing I could say or do to change it: all I could do was accept the way life was and hope that each of my children would grow to be happy and strong. All I could do was hope the most basic of hopes which lived within the djinn – that my children would not be caught and trapped forever as slaves to the humans in their worthless realm.
And then the memories of my children were gone and I was surrounded by true demons. I had never before met a true demon but somehow I knew that was what these creatures were. They had animalistic features – horns, ridges and green and brown scaled skin – and they were tall and muscular … and so much more powerful than I. They blamed me for every little problem that had arisen in the area where I lived; they blamed me for my own growing powers; they blamed me for their very hatred of my species. And then they cast me into an amber jewel, those many demons all gloating at their power as they trapped me forever within the orange-coloured stone.
I remembered spending so long in there. I remembered the endless claustrophobic feeling that came with the jewel, as my very essence was forced to remain within there, unable to move around or see the world outside. I remembered those panicky fears that came to me in those lonely moments when I feared that the very jewel itself was about to cave in on me and crush me into oblivion.
Various blurred memories of men and women expecting their very desires to be fulfilled by my meagre powers all assailed my senses, along with the pain that came with every wish – that silver and gold headband aching every time I used my powers and calling me back into that amber prison.
The aching pain was so very bad. All I wanted was for it to end. Even those few times I was allowed to drift in the water, pretending that all of my cares had been washed away, I could still feel the call of the jewel, telling me that very soon I would be back inside it, trapped there until another master came along – to hurt me.
My head hurt so much. The pain wouldn’t go away.
I opened my eyes to see Dembe lying on the ground in front of me, her forehead bleeding so profusely that the blood was flowing down into her eyes and covering her beautiful face. I could see the deep holes in her skin where the metal headband she wore had buried its way deep into her skull and that was when I realised why my head was in such pain.
A small drop of blood dripped past my eye and I reached up to feel the headband, already embedded deep within my own skull.
That was the moment where everything hung in the balance. That was the moment where it all stood still and I had the opportunity to end it all before it was too late. I had the words, written there in my precious book. All we had to do was both, at the same time, wish for the power to return to Dembe. You see, at that moment, neither of us was the master, or the servant, and so it took the will of both to make the power do as we wished it to. But neither of us took that opportunity.
Dembe lay bleeding on the ground, tears mixing in with the blood, and I stood screaming at the pain of having this eternal chain bound to me in such an agonising way. I couldn’t think clearly enough to tell Dembe what we had to do – she already knew but she seemed unable to do what was needed either.
I don’t want to live anymore. I don’t want to be trapped any longer.
For a moment I wondered where the desperate cry came from until I realised that I had somehow managed to hear Dembe’s thoughts. She looked up at me as she thought them and her tearful amber eyes began to fade to a deep chocolate brown as the power truly became mine.
I will not save Morven for you – I will not change his fate. But nor will I change yours.
Her head snapped around to the doorway, where that gentle little essence of purity, that angelic little girl with the long golden tresses and the sparkling blue eyes, stood watching us fearfully. Suddenly the girl screamed and for a moment I didn’t understand why until I realised that the headband that was the chain of the amber genie had chosen itself a victim other than myself.
Save the world from its power-hungry men, I heard Dembe tell her. I will not have him spending eternity destroying the lives of others as some kind of retribution for the life he lost.
Safiya looked up at Dembe, the blood now dripping from her forehead.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I have trapped you. But I promise you, one day you will find freedom too, and it will be a far better one than mine.
I found myself remembering something that Dembe had once said to the little girl, as I watched her there becoming the powerful djinn that Dembe had once been. She had said that Safiya’s curiosity would be her downfall and that could not have been more true.
The power surrounding us all faded away, all of it merging with the body of that small orphan Dembe had found one stormy day. But I wasn’t looking at Safiya as the power faded – I was watching Dembe.
Without her power, Dembe was nothing more than a tall African woman with deep brown eyes filled with sadness. I had never before appreciated how sad she was. I had never before appreciated how much pain she had suffered in her long life. But there she lay, powerless, on the ground, and as the life slowly drained out of her body I saw a smile creep across her face and the last word she spoke before she died was: “Freedom.”
I lie here now, in my deathbed, attempting to make a record of the death of this wonderful creature whom I had the pleasure of knowing. I had tried to be her friend but ended up just as much an enemy as every other human she had known. She had known all along that I would be unable to carry out the last part of my plan. She had known all along that the pain of her power and her prison would be too much for me to bear. But she had not told me, I think, because, deep inside she wanted to die. Deep inside she was too weary of the amber prison which she had been trapped within. I wouldn’t have listened anyway, of course.
Morven stands above me as I write this but he is not the same boy that I was trying to save. He is not the same boy at all. For little Safiya, who knew nothing of her power, had felt it filling her bones and her veins and her very soul, and been so overcome by the whole experience that she had thought that she could save him. She had tried and … in a way, succeeded.
There is always a catch to every desire which is granted by a djinn. As a free djinn, Dembe might have been able to heal him without harm but she had no desire to try by the end. Safiya did not understand her power well enough to achieve what Dembe might have. The price for giving life to my grandson was to take away his humanity – now he is nothing but a dark and cold young man who looks down at me with unfeeling eyes and a deep desire to be rid of this foolish old man.
And beside him stands Safiya. Her previously ocean-coloured eyes are now the same deep amber of the jewel to which she is chained and, when she isn’t looking up at Morven with a sad look of uncertainty, she is rubbing her headband as if every moment is killing her. I only wish I could find a true demon who would free this lost little girl but I know that that will never be.
Only an hour before, the ring slipped from my old, tired hands. But not before I lay back in my pillow, mind half dead and body half asleep, and whispered to Safiya, “Protect my family. Protect all of my family. I don’t want any of them to ever suffer as Morven has.”
Even as I spoke it I saw Dembe’s sad eyes look at me with that emotionless expression. And I suddenly realised what my half-hearted words had consigned the girl to. My authority over the ring had reset with the transition to Safiya – I had not agreed to a period of servitude with her and so my wish was to be granted instead. I could feel Dembe silently watching me and the silence ripped through me like a knife, tearing me apart, as I felt again the feeling of knowing that I am trapped for eternity and will never be able to escape.
Morven strides away from me now but Safiya watches me for a moment longer. I can see Dembe’s soul resting within her body and Safiya’s mouth says softly, “I thought you said you would never do anything to hurt me. Now look at how it has all ended.”
“I only wanted to save Morven.”
“Pray that his soul is flying free above the waves where it belongs. Pray he dies swiftly – that is what you should have done in the first place.”
It’s the one and only time I think I will ever hear words come from Safiya’s mouth and even as she speaks them I can see Dembe walking away from me forever and now I fear I cannot write anymore. My strength has faded so quickly since that moment when I channeled the power of the djinn. I have no more life to give and no more words to write. I only pray that, one day, Dembe’s amber prison will be destroyed just as the prison of the Afreet was.
Eternity is such a long, long time.
Caroline Ashley 