Chapter 2

Sinking deeper and deeper into the Kurdin Sea, Asrial tried to appear as nonplussed and casual as if, she were drifting through a clear blue sky in the heavens of Promenthas. Inwardly, however, she was a prey to growing terror. The guardian angel had never encountered a place as fearsome as this.

It wasn’t the cold or the wetness that sent shudders through her ethereal body—Asrial had not been around humans nearly as long as either Pukah or Sond and so did not feel these sensations. It was the darkness.

Night steals over the surface of the world like the shadow of an angel’s wing and it is just that—a shadow. Night hides objects from our vision and this is what frightens mortals—not the darkness itself, but the unknown lurking beneath it. Night on the world’s surface merely affects the sight, however, and mortals have learned to fight back. Light a candle and drive the darkness away. Night above does not affect hearing—the growls of animals, the rustling of trees, the sleepy murmur of the birds are easily detected, perhaps more easily than in daylight, for night seems to sharpen the other senses in return for dimming one.

But the night of the water is different. The darkness of the sea isn’t a shadow cast over mortal vision. The sea’s night is an entity. It has weight and form and substance. It smothers the breath from the lungs. The sea’s night is eternal. The sun’s rays cannot pierce it. No candle will light it. The sea’s night is alive. Creatures populate the darkness and mortals are the trespassers in their domain.

The sea’s night is silent.

The silence, the weight, the aliveness of the darkness pressed in on Asrial. Though she had no need to breathe, she felt herself gasping for breath. Though her immortal vision could see, she wished desperately for light. More than once she caught herself in what appeared to be the act of swimming, as were Sond and Pukah. Asrial did not cleave the water with clean, strong strokes like Sond or flounder through it fishlike, as did Pukah. It was, with her, more as if she sought to push the water aside with her hands, as if she were trying to clear a path for herself.

“You’re growing more human all the time,” commented Pukah teasingly, bobbing up near her.

“If you mean that I am frightened of this terrible place and want very much to leave, then you are right,” Asrial said miserably. Brushing aside the silver hair that floated into her face, she glanced around in dismay. “Surely this must be the dwelling place of Astafas!”

“Astawho?”

“Astafas, the God who sits opposite Promenthas in the Great Jewel. He is cruel and evil, delighting in suffering and misery. He rules over a world that is dark and terrible. Demons serve him, bringing him human souls on which he feeds.”

“That sounds a lot like Kaug, only he eats things more substantial than souls. Why, you’re trembling all over! Pukah, you are a swine, a goat,” he muttered beneath his breath. “You should never have brought her in the first place.” He started to slip his arm comfortingly around the angel, only to discover that her wings were in the way. If he put his arm above where the wings sprouted from her back, it looked as if he were attempting to choke her. Sliding his arm under the wings, he became entangled in the feathers. Finally, in exasperation, he gave up and contented himself with patting her hand soothingly. “I’ll take you back up to the surface,” he offered. “Sond can deal with Kaug.”

“No!” cried Asrial, looking alarmed. “I’m all right. Truly.

“It was wrong of me to complain.” She smoothed her silver hair and her white robes and was endeavoring to appear composed and calm when a tentacle snaked out of the darkness and wrapped around her wrist. Asrial jerked her hand away with a smothered shriek. Pukah surged forward.

“A squid. Go on, get out of here! Do we look edible? Stupid fish. There, there, my dearest! It’s all right. The creature’s gone. . .”

Completely unnerved, Asrial was sobbing, her wings folded tightly about her in a protective, feathered cocoon.

“Sond!” shouted Pukah into the thick darkness. “I’m taking Asrial to the surface— Sond! Sond? Drat! Where in Sul has he got to? Asrial, my angel, come with me—”

“No!” Asrial’s wings parted suddenly. Resolutely, she began floating through the water. “I must stay! I must do this for Mathew! Fish, you said. The fish told me Mathew would die a horrible death. . . unless I came—”

“Fish? What fish?”

“Oh, Pukah!” Asrial halted, staring at the djinn in horror. “I wasn’t supposed to tell!”

“Well, you did. ‘The sheep is dead’, as they say. Might as well eat it as cry over it. You spoke with a fish? How? Where?”

“My protégé carries with him two fish—”

“In the middle of the desert? And you say he isn’t mad!”

“No! No! It isn’t like that at all! There’s something. . . strange”—Asrial shivered—”about these fish. Something magical. They were given to Mathew by a man—a terrible man. The slave trader who took my protege captive. The one who ordered the slaughter of the helpless priests and magi of Promenthas.

“When we came to the city of Kich, the slave trader was stopped outside the city walls by guards, who told him he must give up all his magical objects and sacrifice them to Quar. The slave trader gave up every magic item he had—except for one.”

“I’ve heard of fish that swallowed magic rings, but magic fish?” Pukah appeared highly skeptical. “What do they do? Charm the bait?”

“This is serious, Pukah!” Asrial said softly. “One life has been lost over them already. And my poor Mathew. . .” She covered her face with her hands.

“Pukah, you are a low form of life. A worm, a snake is higher than you.” The djinn gazed at the angel remorsefully. “I’m sorry. Go on, Asrial.”

“He. . . the slave trader. . . called Mathew over to the white palanquin in which the trader always traveled. He handed my protege a crystal globe decorated on the top and bottom with costly gold work. The globe was filled with water and inside swam two fish—one gold and one black. The trader ordered Mathew to keep them hidden from the guards. There was a poor girl standing there, watching—a slave girl. The trader told Mathew to witness what would happen if he betrayed him and he . . . he murdered the girl, right before Mathew’s eyes!”

“Why did he choose Mathew to carry these fish?”

Asrial blushed faintly. “The trader mistook my protégé for a female“

“Ah, yes,” muttered Pukah. “I forgot.”

“The guards would not search the women in the caravan not their persons, at least—and so Mathew was able to conceal the fish. The slave trader said that he would take them back when they went into town. But then your master rescued Mathew and carried him away. And with him, the magical fish. . . .”

“How do you know they’re magic? What do they do?” Pukah asked dubiously.

“Of course they’re magic!” Asrial snapped irritably. “They live encased in a crystal globe that no force on this world can shatter. They do not eat. They are not bothered by heat or cold.” Her voice lowered. “And one spoke to me.”

“That’s nothing,” Pukah scoffed. “I’ve talked to animals. I once shared my basket with a snake who worked for my former master. Quite an amusing fellow. Actually, it was the snake’s basket, but he didn’t mind a roommate after I convinced—”

“Pukah! This is serious! One fish—the gold one—told me to come with you to find the Lost Immortals. The fish referred to Mathew as the Bearer. . . and she said he was in dreadful danger. In danger of losing not only his life but his soul as well!”

“There, there, my dear. Don’t get so upset. When we get back, you must show me these wonderful fish. What else do they— Oh, Sond! Where have you been?”

The elder djinn swam through the murky water, his strong arms cleaving it aside with swift, clean strokes. “I went ahead to Kaug’s dwelling, to look around. The ‘efreet’s gone, apparently. The place is deserted.”

“Good!” Pukah rubbed his hands in satisfaction. “Are you certain you want to continue on, Asrial? Yes? Actually, it’s well that you are coming with us, beautiful angel, because neither Sond nor I may enter the ‘efreet’s dwelling without his permission. Now you, on the other hand—”

“Pukah, I need to talk to you.” Sond drew the young djinn to the far side of a large outcropping of rock covered with hollow, tubular plants that opened and shut with the flow of the water, looking like hundreds of gasping mouths.

“Well, what is it?”

“Pukah, a strange feeling came over me when I drew near Kaug’s dwelling—”

“It’s the stuff he cooks for his dinner. I know, I felt it, too. Like your stomach’s trying to escape by way of your throat?”

“It’s not anything I smelled!” Sond said angrily. “Quit being a fool for once in your life. It’s a feeling like. . . like . . . like I could enter Kaug’s dwelling without his permission. In fact, it seemed as if I was being pulled inside!”

“Pulled inside an ‘efreet’ s house! Who’s the fool here now? Certainly not me!” Pukah appeared amused.

“Bah! I might as well be talking to the seaweed!” Shoving Pukah aside, Sond swam past him, diving down toward the cave on the ocean floor where the ‘efreet made his home.

Pukah cast the djinn a scathing glance. “At least the seaweed would provide you an audience on your own mental level! Come on, Asrial.” Catching hold of the angel’s hand, he led her down to the very bottom of the sea.

Kaug’s cave was hollowed out of a cliff of black rock. A light glimmered at the entrance, the eerie luminescence coming from the heads of enthralled sea urchins gloomily awaiting their master’s return. The long greenish brown moss that hung from the cliff reminded Asrial of the squid’s tentacles.

“I’m going in there alone,” whispered the angel, reminding herself of Mathew’s plight and trying very hard to be courageous. “I’m going in there.” But she didn’t move.

Sond, biting his lower lip, stared at Kaug’s dwelling as though mesmerized by it.

“On second thought, Asrial,” Pukah said in a bland and innocent voice, “I think it might be better if we did accompany you.”

“Admit it, Pukah! You feel it, don’t you!” Sond growled.

“I do not!” Pukah protested loudly. “It’s just that I don’t think we should let her go in there alone!”

“Come on then,” said Sond. “If we’re not barred at the threshold, then we know something is wrong!”

The two djinn floated ahead to the entryway of the cave, their skin shimmering green in the ghostly light emanating from the sea urchins, who were staring at them with large, sorrowful eyes. Slowly Asrial swam behind. Her wings fanning the water, she paused, hovering overhead as the djinn stopped—one standing on either side of the entryway. ‘Well, go on!” Sond gestured.

“And get a jolt of lightning through my body for breaking the rule. No thank you!” Pukah sniffed scornfully.

“This was your idea!”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re not going to be stopped and you know it. I tell you, we’re being invited inside there!”

“Then you accept the invitation!”

Glaring at Pukah, Sond cautiously set his foot across the threshold of the ‘efreet’s dwelling. Cringing, Pukah waited for the blue flash, the crackle, and the painful yelp from Sond, an indication that the established rule among immortals was being violated.

Nothing happened.

Sond stepped across the threshold with ease. Pukah sighed inwardly. Despite what he’d told Sond, he, too, had the distinct feeling that he was being urged to enter the ‘efreet’s home. No, it was stronger than that. Pukah had the disquieting impression that he belonged inside the eerily lit cave.

“What nonsense, Pukah!” Pukah said to himself with scorn. “As if you ever belonged in a place where fish heads are an integral part of the decor!”

Sond was staring at him in grim triumph from the entryway. Ignoring him, Pukah turned to give Asrial his hand. Together, they entered the cave. The angel stayed quite near the djinn. The feathers of her wings brushed against his bare back, and despite his growing sense of uneasiness, Pukah felt his skin tingle and a pleasurable warmth flood his body.

Was Asrial right? he wondered for a moment, standing in the greentinged darkness, the angel’s hand held fast in his. Is this sensation something I’ve tricked myself into experiencing to become more like humans? Or do I truly enjoy her touch? Leaning near him, looking around but not letting go of his hand, Asrial whispered, “What is it we’re searching for?”

“A golden egg,” Pukah whispered back.

“I doubt we’ll find the egg,” Sond muttered unhappily.

“And if we did, my lovely djinniyeh would not be inside. Remember? Kaug said he had taken Nedjma to a place where I would never see her again until I joined her.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Pukah demanded. “How should I know? It was your idea!”

“Me? You were the one who said Kaug was holding Nedjma captive! Now you change your tune—”

The djinn sucked in a furious breath. “I’ll change your tune!” Sond laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You will sing through a slit in your throat, you—”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Asrial’s tense voice hissed in the darkness. “Now that we’re here, it can’t hurt to look! Even if we don’t find Nedjma, we may find something that would guide us to where this afright has taken her!”

“She’s right,” said Pukah hastily, backing up and stumbling over a sponge. “We should search this place,”

“Well, we’d better hurry,” Sond grumbled. “Kaug may be back any moment. Let’s separate.”

Repeating Mathew’s name over and over to herself to give her courage, Asrial drifted deeper into the cave. Pukah slanted off to the right, while Sond took the left.

“Ugh! I just found one of Kaug’s pets!” Rolling over a rock that the ‘efreet used for a chair or a table or perhaps just liked to have around, Pukah grimaced as something black and ugly slithered out from underneath. “Or maybe it’s a girlfriend.” Setting the rock back hastily, he continued on, poking his long nose into a bed of lichen: “Asrial is right you know, Sond. Hazrat Akhran believes that Quar is responsible for the disappearance of the immortals, including his own. If that’s true, then Kaug must know where they are,”

“This is hopeless!” Asrial waved her hands helplessly. “There’s nothing here but rocks and seaweed.” Turning, she suddenly recoiled. “What’s that?” She pointed to a huge iron cauldron standing in a recessed area of the cave.

“Kaug’s stew pot!” Pukah’s nose wrinkled. “Can’t you smell it?” The djinn drifted over near the angel. “The place has changed,” he admitted. “Last time I was here, there were all sorts of objects sitting about. Now there’s nothing. It looks as if the bastard moved out. I think we’ve searched enough. Sond! Sond? Where are you!”

“But there must be something!” Asrial twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. “The fish said I should come with you! Maybe we could talk to your God. Perhaps he knows something?”

“No, no!” Pukah grew pale at the thought. “That wouldn’t be wise. I’m sure if Akhran knew anything He would have informed us. Sond! Sond! I—”

A hoarse, ragged cry came from the inner depths of the cave.

“Sul’s eyeballs! What was that?” Pukah felt the hair beneath his turban stand straight up.

“Promenthas be with us!” Asrial breathed.

The terrible cry rose again, swelled to a shriek, then broke off in a choking sob.

“It’s Sond!” Pukah sprang forward, overturning rocks, shoving through curtains of floating seaweed. “Sond! Where are you? Did you step on a fish? Is it Kaug? Sond . . .”

Pukah’s voice died. Rounding a corner, he came upon the elder djinn standing by himself in a small grotto. Sickly green light, oozing from slimy plants clinging to the walls, was reflected in an object Sond held in his hands. The djinn was staring at it in horror.

“What is it, my friend? What have you found? It looks like—” Pukah gasped. “Akhran have mercy!”

“Why? What’s the matter?” Asrial tiptoed into the grotto behind Pukah and peered over his shoulder. “What do you mean scaring us half to death? It’s only an old lamp!”

Sond’s face was a pale green in the light of the plants. “Only an old lamp!” he repeated in an anguished voice. “It’s my lamp! My chirak!”

“His what?” Asrial looked at Pukah, who was nearly as green as Sond.

“It is more than a lamp,” Pukah said through stiff lips. “It is his dwelling place.”

“And look, Pukah,” Sond said in a hushed whisper. “Look behind me, at my feet.”

“Mine, too?” Though Pukah’s lips formed the words, no one could hear them.

Sond nodded silently.

Pukah sank slowly to the cave floor. Reaching out his hand, he took hold of a basket that stood behind Sond. Made of tightly wrapped coils of rattan, the basket was small at the bottom, swelled outward toward the top like the bulb of an onion, and curved back in toward the center. Perched atop it was a woven lid with a jaunty knob. Lovingly drawing the basket close, Pukah stroked its woven coils.

“I don’t understand!” Asrial cried in growing fear, looking from one despairing djinn to the other. “All I see is a basket and a lamp! Why are you so upset? What does it mean?”

“It means;” came a deep, booming voice from the front of the cave, “that now I am their master!”