Um Aman shook her head stubbornly. "He never does so. Before you you came he was gone all night once or twice and had I not insisted on bringing my own brazier and housekeeping implements from our hut, despite him telling me I need not, I would have gone hungry. He is a good boy, but poor at considering details. No doubt that is why we have incurred the wrath of the Emir. Had he but mentioned to me the taxes, I would have seen to it that they were paid. But now you-you have lied about it and they will probably come and take us all to the dungeons and I will never see my son nor the light of day again!" came he was gone all night once or twice and had I not insisted on bringing my own brazier and housekeeping implements from our hut, despite him telling me I need not, I would have gone hungry. He is a good boy, but poor at considering details. No doubt that is why we have incurred the wrath of the Emir. Had he but mentioned to me the taxes, I would have seen to it that they were paid. But now you-you have lied about it and they will probably come and take us all to the dungeons and I will never see my son nor the light of day again!"

At this the donkey once more seemed to go mad, emitting great hoa.r.s.e wheezing "EEE-AWS" until we had to hold our ears. The beast frantically knocked against the old woman until he had her backed into a corner. She tried to beat him away, raining blows upon him with her gnarled hands. Kalimba snarled at her, and Amollia, who was already trying, with Aster's a.s.sistance and my own, to pull the donkey from her, now had to try to restrain the cat as well.

Quite by accident, she hauled Kalimba back across the donkey's legs, raking them with the cat's claws. Rather than further agitating the a.s.s, this seemed to shock him to his rightful mind again, and he backed away from Um Aman, shuddered one last time, and with a docility that spoke of a broken spirit-or heart-allowed me to lead him away. Thinking that all that braying surely had dried his mouth, I led him to the pool. He walked so sadly that my anger quite fled and I patted him and spoke to him gently. He lowered his head to drink, but then shook it, as if he could not take a mouthful, and raised it again, regarding me from the depths of miserable, frightened eyes of a familiar melting brown. Perhaps I would have recognized those eyes sooner, but there was no hint any longer of Aman's triumphant twinkle.

The metal beast in the pool was more discerning, however. Once more as its master approached, the fountain began spraying in a maniac, sprightly fashion so that its droplets spread to the edge of the pool. The donkey's sides heaved and Aman's sad eyes looked out of his a.s.s's face once more and I sank to my knees and embraced him.

Amollia and Aster approached too, Amollia with halting steps and Aster saying, "But, but, but-" as if she were a bird with one song.

Um Aman did not see the resemblance at first. But finally she stopped being indignant and muttering imprecations long enough to truly look, and then she wailed as even she had never wailed before. "Witches! Murderesses! What have you done to my poor son?"

Chapter 4.

I'll say this for Um Aman. When she has made up her mind to do something, she is a woman of action. Shortly after morning prayers, Amollia, Aster and I were bundled into abayahs and, with Aman Akbar trotting beside us, hustled through the streets to the gate of the dung-sellers, through a wall and into a courtyard, where we soon stood among a crowd of Um Aman's cronies watching a wild-eyed woman veiled in her own greasy hair having fits around a doomed chicken.

We took a proprietary interest in what the woman and the chicken had to say to each other, for they were the judges of the council of women Um Aman had selected to determine our fate.

I would have thought she'd have been more interested in finding out how to turn Aman Akbar back into a human or at least in paying the taxes, but, as usual, when something goes wrong, the first priority was to find someone to blame. Also, as usual, the someone was bound to be the outsider-or outsiders-and in this case, it was my co-wives and me. At least Amollia had her cat, still perched upon the back of Aman Akbar who was protected from the claws by a very fine rug plucked from the floor as an improvised saddle blanket. Amollia looked as serene and sociable as if she were attending a celebration at which she was an invited guest but stayed close by Aman and Kalimba. Aster's eyes twitched from one woman to the next, and one doorway to the next. She had kept up a stream of nervous chatter most of the previous night until threatened with extinction by drowning in the fountain if she didn't shut up. Part of Amollia's serenity, I suspected, was exhaustion. None of us had slept for fear of being murdered by Um Aman or carted off to the dungeons by the tax a.s.sessors.

Um Aman had disappeared a short time before the prayer-caller sang his earliest song and had returned with the abayahs. We arrived at the gathering with a number of other women and children, some of whom I recognized from Um Aman's party. Moments after we settled against the side of the house farthest from the racks of dung cakes drying in the first rays of sunlight, a ragged boy arrived with the woman now confronting the scrawny chicken.

Um Aman consulted with her briefly, and then turned to the others, interspersing questions and explanations with all of the standard references to their G.o.d's wisdom and mercy.

We did not exactly stand among them-no one wanted to be near us. No one looked at us, though there were frequent wondering, puzzled, and frightened glances at Aman Akbar. Until batted away by their mothers, several children made a game of running forward to touch him and scampering quickly away again. The mothers stretched their fingers out at us in a sign of warding off, not the same as that my people use against demons, but obviously with the same intention. We had been promoted overnight from nuisances to menaces.

The fits of the woman with the chicken were evidently a preface to some sort of rite, for she stopped suddenly, huddled in the dust shivering in her sweat-soaked gown, her ankle-length hair unbound and dust streaked where it had swept the ground. The chicken-a rooster actually-now fed unconcernedly near her head. She crouched there for a long time in the midst of everyone and the other women spoke very little. She was not only resting, it seemed, but in some sort of trance. It ended when her arm whipped out, grasping the unfortunate rooster by the neck.

This signaled a few of the other women to start drumming on whatever was handy: the floor, overturned water jugs, children. The entranced woman writhed to her feet and, flopping fowl in hand, began emulating the movements of her prey, all in time to the improvised drumming. This was no solo performance. Several of the others, at one time or another during the dance, rose and followed her movements, or created their own, mostly involving a lot of jerking and flopping. Some of the contortions of head, abdomen, arms and upper body appeared impossibly boneless. But the basic steps did not appear complicated, and the women who neither danced nor drummed trilled an eerie cry that rivaled the prayer-caller's and clapped their hands in complex counterpoint to the drumbeats. But though the other dancers rose and danced and collapsed again throughout the morning, the woman in the middle began to show that she was a person of special power, for her dancing continued and she never quite killed the rooster until the end.

Actually, the ritual probably usually has another ending. But Amollia loves to dance and the cat loves chicken. Amollia's people decide many important matters by dancing too. She, more than Aster or myself, was duly solemn and respectful throughout the ceremony. But as the day wore on, and the heat rose, and the rhythm of the drums and hands reverberated through our skulls, and the trillings ululated high and mournful, and the hair of the shamaness snapped like a banner to the music, Amollia's eyes glazed over. Her hands twitched all the way up to her shoulders and into her torso and soon her feet began to move. Before I quite realized what she intended doing, she was in the middle, dancing with the others. The main dancer tried to salvage the situation. She snapped the chicken's neck immediately, the drumming stopped, and Amollia retreated back to our corner, still looking dazed. The others looked horrified.

The main dancer threw the chicken down and gutted it, wiped the knife she had used on her skirt and set it aside. With movements she had no doubt learned from the spirits with whom she had been communing she raised her eyes and poised her hands high, preparing to sink them back into the chicken. She was too slow. Kalimba leaped from the back of Aman Akbar in a blur of spots, secured the chicken, and retreated between our husband's hooves to enjoy the treat and any attendant portents in peace.

Someone screamed. Aster's foot shot out and Um Aman, dagger in hand as she dove for the cat, sprawled on the ground. Someone grabbed Aster and someone else a.s.sisted Um Aman. Dragging Amollia with me, I sat down in front of Aman Akbar, shielding the cat from the crowd. I drew my own knife and prepared to defend myself from the women, who seemed to regard the death of the chicken as a signal for our deaths.

Fortunately, the shamaness saw the matter differently. "In the name of G.o.d, desist. This is a holy animal and the black woman also carries holiness within her. Did you not see how the spirits entered her?"

Had Um Aman not been supported by the body of a friend, you could have blown on her and knocked her over, so shocked did she look. "Holy? But clearly she and these others are possessed by evil."

The dancer drew herself up, her hair a tangled mess, what was visible of her face smudged with dust and flecked with chicken blood. Her dignity was undeniable. "You argue with a seeress?"

"No, no, G.o.d forgive me. But this is the woman-" and she said the word even more poisonously than she usually said s.l.u.t" s.l.u.t"-who directed my son away from his true bride."

"And the pale one with the knife? And the little maiden beside her?"

"Other foreign women women who directed-" who directed-"

"Who directed your son away from the girl you chose for him?"

"Yes, until I was able to persuade him, G.o.d be praised, of where his duty lay."

"And when was this?"

"One night ago."

"And when did he become a donkey?"

"One night-" she broke off.

"Aiyeeah! You call yourself a believer and yet cannot accept that which has clearly been written? Only by the compa.s.sion of our most compa.s.sionate G.o.d have you been granted these blessed vessels of great holiness and this cat, who shall aid them in devouring the evil afflicting your son as surely as it devoured the c.o.c.k. These women would have protected your son from the very evil to which you hounded him."

"But they are not even believers!" Um Aman protested.

"Have they been instructed?"

"No. There has been no time-"

"Then how can you condemn them? You have failed in your duty toward them as well as your son, but G.o.d seems to favor you nonetheless. Do not abuse His mercy." And with that the woman clapped her hands and the hostess brought forth a basin of water in which first the dancer and then all of the others washed themselves before midday prayers. Two women came forward with bone combs to help the dancer dress her hair. She pushed it back with both hands and began washing her face as they tugged at the tangles. As soon as I saw her face I had to look very carefully elsewhere. For though she had surely known me as soon as she stepped into the courtyard, I saw her clearly only at that moment and recognized her as the woman on whose behalf I had clobbered the armsman.

We ate with our hostess, a widow who had no men with whom to concern herself, and departed for our home in mid-afternoon. On the way Um Aman spent a few coins for food, in case Aman Akbar could procure from the palace magic only nourishment appropriate to his new body.

We need not have hurried, for we returned to find our gates barred against us with the seal of the Emir splashed across them. Um Aman began to wail again, and Aman himself to bray piteously. Um Aman wiped her face on her sleeve and gave a final sniff. "And that woman said G.o.d was being merciful. What does she know? My son an a.s.s, the door of my home barred against me, three new mouths to feed, and all of us beggared."

"Shhh," Aster said, her eyes shifting from right to left over the top of her veil. "There could be guards nearby. Beggars we may be, but you and I, old mother, have been beggars before, eh? Be glad that we're alive and free-for the time being."

Though Aster's wise words did not exactly cause Um Aman's face to be transformed by glee, some of the anguish did depart from the old woman's eyes.

"Perhaps we could talk with this Emir or even with his wives," Amollia said. "After all, if he is the ruler, he must dispense justice and surely he will see how unjust it is to take everything when-" She stopped as Um Aman and Aster both gave her pitying looks. "No, perhaps he wouldn't."

We departed before the Emir could impound our persons as well as our house. Even in abayahs a group of four women with a donkey and an exotic cat is not an inconspicuous party. The widow received us again at her home with good grace and declared that she hated eating alone anyway.

We brought with us the few purchases we had made in the market, and these paid our way that night. But by the way our hostess sc.r.a.ped and sent the children to borrow as she prepared the evening meal and from the small amount of couscous and bread she was able to produce for each of us even with our additional contributions, it was evident that she could ill afford company twice in one day.

Um Aman looked as if she might weep again. "A wonderful meal, Sheda. I could never make couscous like you."

"Ah, Samira, it is nothing compared to yours. And when I think of the other delicacies we had at your house that day!" She smacked her lips appreciatively but her eyes were anxious as she looked at her children.

We could not stay here.

She spread mats for us on the floor, and nothing would do but that Aman Akbar sleep with the children. When the others were quiet, however, our husband rose in his new sure-footed way and, pulling the door curtain aside with his teeth, walked into the courtyard, his head hanging low. Amollia, whom I had thought to be sleeping, rose at once and followed him outside.

Though it seemed to me that it was no use to borrow a bed if you didn't sleep in it, and I was more than a little tired, I could no more sleep than they could and crept outside to stand beside them. We said nothing to each other, but in a very few moments Um Aman joined us, followed, belatedly, by Aster, who had been asleep from the look of her but who didn't want to miss anything.

"We must free him somehow," Amollia said quietly, stroking Aman's ears.

"That is very easy for you to say, blessed one," Um Aman said with spiteful emphasis on the last words, "but how? We cannot even buy food and Sheda may come to harm for offering us even this small measure of comfort. And if we are taken, there will be no hope for Aman Akbar. Oh, I had a feeling the Emir would not believe you," she wailed-but softly, for fear of waking her friend's family-at Aster. "I should have taken the time to dig up the bag of gold coins Aman gave me to make into a necklace. Then we would at least have enough to eat and start some small business while we figured how to free him."

Amollia bit her lip and I wanted to smack the old woman for her oversight-none of the rest of us had bags of gold to forget, after all.

But Aster shifted her lower jaw and scratched her nose speculatively and said, "You'd have to dig it up, eh? That means it's buried, I suppose?"

"Why else would I have to dig it up?"

"What I mean to say, revered mother, is that it is probably buried where the tax a.s.sessors are unlikely to find it. Is that so?"

"Unless they are able to steal the hiding place from my mind, yes."

"Then what is to prevent us from digging it up again?"

"Nothing but the barred doors and the Emir's seal and the walls," the old lady said. You would almost have thought she didn't want her gold back.

Chapter 5.

We moved along side streets known to Um Aman to avoid any guards the Emir might have placed upon the gate. Aster was quite agile, but she was too short to reach the top of the wall, even by standing on Aman's back. Amollia, however, vaulted up with no problem, though she scandalized Um Aman by kilting the skirts of her abayah far above her knees. Once she and Aster were safely atop the wall, they were able to help Um Aman, whom I had to a.s.sist with a boost from behind before joining them.

While Um Aman departed for her own quarters, the rest of us wordlessly headed for ours. Amollia's portion of the palace was nearest to Um Aman's, but the visit to her former chambers was brief, for before Aster and I had crossed her garden, she ran back down the pillared pa.s.sageway, shaking her head. "Stripped, even to the beaded curtain. They've taken everything."

But they hadn't taken it very far.

The metal animal of the fountain lay dead in the gra.s.s, its spray forever dried, while beside it and behind it and piled high above it where once the cool waters had rippled, the furnishings of the palace were heaped in a foothill of treasure, carpets and cushions, cooking pots and half-melted wax candles, gold and silver ornaments. Starlight glittered off the occasional jewel while above it all sat the djinn. The smoke from his nonexistent nether appendages cast eerie drifting shadows across the courtyard as the light breeze played among its tendrils. He looked extremely morose, as if the surfeit of richness beneath him gave him indigestion.

Aster hailed him as if it were midday in the center of a city where she was not likely to be cast into a dungeon if anyone heard her. "Old Uncle, how glad we are to see you! Now that you have returned, we are safe and you can help us change our husband back into his proper form."

The djinn shook his head. "On the contrary, Madam, it is my sad duty to foreclose upon the treasures I have bestowed upon thy husband, my former master, and deprive his estate of its trappings to the greater glory of my new master."

"Is this how you people value honor?" I asked. "You should die before deserting your lord when he has fallen low, defend him with your life rather than feeding upon his belongings like a carrion crow."

"Thou hast but a poor grasp upon the more delicate aspects of the situation, O wan-faced one," the djinn replied with an arrogant lift to each of his chins. "In the first place, the ways of my people are not the ways of thy people, G.o.d be praised for His mercy and infinite wisdom. My life is eternal and I will lose it for none so long as my soul remains intact inside its sealed bottle. Whosoever possesses that bottle is necessarily my lord, and him I must obey whether I will it or not."

"And just who controls your soul now, demon, and so cruelly demands our home when the whole of your magic is at his command?"

"Alas, for my sake as well as thine own, woman, none other than the Emir himself commands me, he who owns the beauteous Hyaganoosh, downfall of thy husband."

"Downfall of us all then if that is so," Amollia said. "Do you mean to tell us that Aman's own cousin betrayed him to the Emir?"

"Oh, no, ebony lady. Rather she concealed him from the Emir by causing me to turn him into an a.s.s. The Emir would not have bothered to waste a wish thusly, but would have dealt with thy husband by other means." He ran a finger under his lowest chin, meaningfully.

"If she's the one who made an a.s.s of my husband, why do you say the Emir is your master? I think myself that you have been in that bottle too long," Aster said. "In your next life, you really must pray that you are something less reclusive."

"In this life, I hope in the future to avoid females with mouths as full of words as the desert is of grains of sand," he replied curtly, then sighed and folded his arms across his belly. "But for now, listen, and be enlightened and perhaps this tale may be told abroad as a lesson to all about the treachery of women. It happened thus and should you tell it further, be so kind as to give proper credit by saying first that it is..." And he wrote his t.i.tle in fiery script in the air above our heads so that we could not mistake his meaning.

"THE DJINN'S TALE".

"It so happened that my master desired to complete his harem, as full of exotic and strange women as a zoo is of animals of similar origins, by adding to it the civilizing influence of the girl of his mother's choice, a beautiful follower of the True Belief who was, as is proper, his paternal cousin.

"However, this cousin, being of high beauty and low birth, had already been noticed and selected by the Emir of the city, the only man as wealthy as Aman Akbar, and, alas for my poor master, far more powerful. For wealth alone does not make power. Rather it is the knowledge of how to use one's wealth to exert one's will over others that makes a man powerful and in this the Emir was already far more skilled than his rival. In other ways, though, Aman Akbar was cleverer for he had obtained his own wealth by outsmarting the Emir and all of his men, preceding them in the discovery of the bottle containing the magnificently magical djinn who now tells this story. Fortunately for Aman Akbar, the Emir was never certain who tricked him out of the bottle, and also was unaware that the lovely peasant girl he had added to his household was the beloved of that same trickster. Aman Akbar knew both of these facts only too well, and also was prudently knowledgeable of the unwisdom of seeking to deprive his mighty rival of a second treasure. It was for these reasons, I believe, that he contented himself with his foreign ladies and sought to forget she whom his mother considered his true bride. However, in the end courage and filial duty prevailed over wisdom and good sense, as happens in so many similar tales, and he set out to win the beauteous Hyaganoosh.

"To this end he walked to the Emir's palace, inconspicuous as any casual citizen out for a stroll. With him he carried the miraculous djinn-that is, myself-and my bottle. By walking, rather than flying with his djinn as befits the master of so powerful a being, he avoided attracting the attention of those who would have said when the girl was discovered missing, "Ah, yes, I saw Aman Akbar and a djinn flying on a magic carpet toward the Emir's palace shortly before the girl disappeared!" It is in my mind that he was not entirely convinced that he would be able to persuade me to include his desire to acquire Hyaganoosh in his harem as part of his third wish and intended to try to win her without my help if I denied him. But deny him I did not, for he was extremely wily in the phrasing of his wishes so that each individual wish contained several subwishes which I was obliged to grant in order to gratify the primary wish. When he wished for wealth, he included within wishes for the types of wealth he desired, not only the appointments of the palace, jewels for his women, fine clothing and gold and silver coin in his treasury, which should have been enough for most men, but additionally he wished to gain a wealth of knowledge, obtaining by my magic the interest of wise men who instructed him in matters of history and law. When he wished for the palace, he wished for the magic to run it so that servants would not deplete his wealth. And likewise, when he wished for his harem, he wished to select the women individually, listing within his wish his requirements. A shrewd man, as I've mentioned, though as it was proved, not shrewd enough And likewise, when he wished for his harem, he wished to select the women individually, listing within his wish his requirements. A shrewd man, as I've mentioned, though as it was proved, not shrewd enough.

"I had already warned him that the woman from the Central Empire was the fulfillment of the last portion of his last wish, for I considered with her arrival that his harem was complete. What man in his right mind would burden himself with more? But since a man is allowed four wives by law, and I too, as a fellow believer, wished to see him enjoy a suitable spouse, we compromised. I agreed to aid him in at least gaining the girl's chamber so that he could use his own powers of persuasion to win her.

"Kindly granting him my most impressive means of entry, and one also more convenient for entering through lattices than the standard carpet, I transported him in a cloud of smoke to the room which she, by virtue of her beauty, had been given to occupy alone until the Emir found time to bestow upon her his-er-grace. When my smoke vanished, I watched from my bottle. And ah, I must say in spite of it all that she possesses a beauty worthy of even such trouble as befell my poor former master and myself!

"For her hair was black as night, and her eyes like jewels bright, her skin a beam of light, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s a-"

"Lecher's delight?" Aster offered. "Get on with it, Old Uncle. We women are little impressed with each other's charms, and even less are we interested in the charms of this rival, except as they pertain to our husband's destruction."

"That's the trouble with infidels," the djinn complained. "No sense of poetry. No doubt it was because it had been so long since my master had seen a good-looking woman that his usual glib tongue deserted him, and before he recovered it the girl emitted a sweetly modest scream of protest-"

I forbore to mention that I had heard it as a squeal, and not all that sweetly modest.

"My master and I rushed forward to embrace her, to quiet her fears and keep her from alerting the palace guard all in the same masterful and eloquent gesture.

"When Aman removed his lips from her own she did not scream but, as befit one of her situation, required further information. 'Just who do you think you are to-' she began. Then, upon recognizing her true love and intended husband, moaned, presumably with rapture, and said, 'Aman. Is it you?' And when he averred that it was indeed, she said, 'Well, that's a relief. At least you're family. What is that in your sash that's gouging a hole in my ribs she began. Then, upon recognizing her true love and intended husband, moaned, presumably with rapture, and said, 'Aman. Is it you?' And when he averred that it was indeed, she said, 'Well, that's a relief. At least you're family. What is that in your sash that's gouging a hole in my ribs?'

"Quickly, my master removed the offending item, which was, as you may guess, my bottle, and handed it to her, impulsively, overcome with love at her beauty and the tenderness of her greeting. 7-I brought this for you, my beloved. A wedding present.' The scamp! If he could no longer command my services, he intended to use me anyway first to win this incomparable beauty and then to have her, as his loyal and loving wife, wish of me what was needful and good for both of them.

"The gentle creature was not impressed however, and held my bottle from her between thumb and forefinger, so that I feared she might break it. 'Thank you, cousin, it's-it's-very nice. Let's go down to the garden and I'll pick some flowers to put in it right now! And before he could stop her she raced past him lightly as a gazelle and had all but gained the garden when to our common chagrin, we heard footsteps and the Emir calling, 'Oh, Hyaganooooo-oosh, my little poppy seed, my little-' No, I will refrain from repeating that one, since you females have already said you have no interest in a catalog of your rival's charms. The girl was frightened, naturally, for if she was caught, it would mean death for both her and my foolish former master No, I will refrain from repeating that one, since you females have already said you have no interest in a catalog of your rival's charms. The girl was frightened, naturally, for if she was caught, it would mean death for both her and my foolish former master.

"'Aman, you are a great a.s.s! What if-' and she fell down the last step to the garden as he, in a panic, rushed past her, and the cork, which was loose in my bottle, fell out and I came forth and granted her wish ' and she fell down the last step to the garden as he, in a panic, rushed past her, and the cork, which was loose in my bottle, fell out and I came forth and granted her wish '.'

"Djinn, you are very devious," Amollia said, wagging her finger at him. "That was no wish, just an accident, and for that you transformed Aman Akbar?"

"Lady, it was the girl's wish or she would not have said so. When someone expresses themselves in such a fashion and uncaps my bottle, who am I to inquire as to how they choose to say it? And never have I seen anyone so relieved as she was when Aman Akbar turned into a donkey just as the Emir appeared. By that time I was safely back in my bottle. I do not think that the startled girl, in her fear and trembling at the prospects of being caught, realized quite what had happened or who her benefactor was in preserving her and her cousin from her master's wrath. It should be noted that when I was listing her attributes, before I was so rudely interrupted, at no time did I describe her wit wit as being surpa.s.sing bright as being surpa.s.sing bright.