The Djinn (4 page)

“Really
William,” said Gregory. “When will you bring some civilization to these rags
you call a home and purchase some real furniture? No wonder you are stooping. I
could hardly imagine having to climb in and out of these pillows every time I
wanted to sit.”

His brother
ignored the comment, merely waving Gregory over to sit across from him on the
other side of a small table that was used primarily for dining.

“May I offer
you something?
Wine?
Food?
Absolution
?”

“No thank you,”
Gregory replied with a dry smirk. “I have no need of
any
of those things.”

“Well, then,
what do I owe the pleasure of this most unexpected visit?” William said as he
clapped his hands together in quick succession.
Immediately
three veiled, but undoubtedly lovely maidservants entered the chamber, each
bearing oversized palm fronds.
Once in place at different corners of the
room, the trio began fanning the room to provide much needed air circulation.

Tufic
, also, with two rather formidable looking guards,
walked in at that moment, but remained silent. They stood at the doorway,
devoted sentries committed to protecting their charge at all costs. Gregory
could not help notice that the two men appeared to be of Western descent and
bore little resemblance to the Palestinians who populated the region. They also
seemed particularly familiar, though he couldn’t fathom from where he’d ever
seen them before. Of course, it was really of no importance. He was here for
information about the Djinn…not where William acquired his staff. Once he had
what he sought, he would leave this filthy place and be on his way.

“I need some
help with a rather small problem, brother. It seems that I’m having a bit of
difficulty with a local myth from these parts.”

“You mean the
totems you’ve been so obsessed about for the last nine years?” asked William.
“Really, Gregory when will you give up?
They’re merely the
things of legend. I truly doubt there is any truth to those old stories. I
mean, really…men made of clay that...”

“It’s not
that,” the baron interrupted. “It’s something…something entirely different.”

“Then what,
pray tell, are you talking about? What myth? What kind of trouble?” William
said as he dipped a grape into a chilled cream made from goat’s milk and popped
the delicacy into his mouth through an almost imperceptible slit cut into the
linen wrappings around his face.

Gregory knew
that his brother was feigning indifference. Of course, William would revel in
any misfortune that befell him and he obviously wanted to savor the moment as
best he could.

“Well, as I
said, it is merely a trifle actually. I just require a little of your exquisite
knowledge of the Saracen lore.”

William’s eyes
looked up from the dish of fruit on the table before him. Although Gregory was
unable to see past the bandages wrapped around his brother’s disfigured face,
he was sure there was an amused smile there. And it infuriated him.

Still, if it
would help him deal with the nuisance of this silly superstition plaguing his
camp, the baron was willing to play the game.

“I’m referring
to anything you know about a mythological creature known as a…” Gregory’s
tongue stumbled over the word. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to say
it. After all, to do so gives credence to such outlandish fables. “…a
djinn
.”

The servant
girls stopped their fanning. The silence in the room grew deafening. No one
moved, except for
Tufic
who immediately slipped from
the room, unnoticed by all save Gregory.

“
A
djinn
?” said William, whose
countenance had instantly shifted from delight to mortified seriousness. “What
do you know of the
djinni
?”

“Nothing!
Nothing at all.
That’s
why I’ve come to you.”

The baron’s
brother reclined against an oversized pillow. One gloved finger absently pushed
the fruit bowl away from the edge of the table, as the leper looked up into the
folds of the tent in a taciturn glare.

“You’ve seen
one?” William finally broke the silence. “You’ve actually seen one?”

“Of course not!
Such a thing would have to exist for one to
see it,” said Gregory. “However, my men are being troubled. They are being
hunted…hounded by someone…the local Saracens around Jerusalem have given him a
name.
The Djinn.”

The baron told
his brother all that happened to his men, the merchants, and townspeople since
the Djinn had first appeared. He explained how the men were growing irrational
over these encounters despite Gregory’s own protests over the validity of any supernatural
explanations that had been espoused. He even found the nerve to speak of the
creature’s attack on Horatio and his idiot cousin, though he left out how the
Djinn had missed the Essene monk. There was no point in his brother discovering
how close he truly was to finally fulfilling his…obsession, as William had
called it.

The leper burst
out with contagious laughter at the account of Horatio.

“Oh, poor Horatio!”
William said between spurts of laughter.
“He must truly have been beside himself. Doubly so afterward, I’d imagine.”

“He was,” the
baron couldn’t help but find the humor in it. “He tried so hard to put on airs
of bravery, but from all accounts, he was completely useless during the entire
ordeal. Imagine, being terrified of a ghost story!”

The two men
shared laughter that was rarely heard in William’s home. Suddenly, the younger
man’s countenance grew somber.

“But why
dismiss Horatio’s account so quickly? He’s never been prone to irrational
fancies and he only
rarely
drinks
while on duty.”

“Because the very idea is ludicrous.
It is merely a myth
concocted by infidel dogs!”

“And how do you
know this creature isn’t what the locals claim it to be?”

Gregory’s
brother had always been prone to believe those tales of a more spiritual
nature, but he never would have imagined him falling for something so…so
preposterous.

“Surely, you
jest!” the baron asked. “You might as well tell me you believe in the old
hobgoblin stories our parents told us when we growing up.”

“I’m serious,
brother.”

“So am I!” Gregory
exploded from his cushion. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I mean, I realize
that your faculties must be suffering a great deal from this…this filthy
disease. They would have to be for you to turn from your God to follow after a
heathen one…”

“Wait just a
minute,
brother
!” William spat as he
jumped up from his own seat. “You listen to me now. I have never renounced my
faith in Christ! Never! And I have had it up to here with those who suggest
otherwise.”

Gregory was
speechless at the leper’s outburst. He could hardly move. He’d never seen his
brother so angry—at least not in a long while.

“What I
renounced was my faith in the Roman Church…a Church that would wage war on
people of a different religion for the sole purpose of bolstering their land
holdings and fiefs for their knights.” William glared down at the baron, the
stoop of his shoulders replaced with fiery defiance. “I renounced my faith in a
Church that required murder for the remission of sins. But Christ still reigns
in my heart and don’t you ever forget it! I suppose the other nobles can
believe whatever they want…but you of all people should know better.”

Gregory knew he
needed to calm his brother down. He had not yet required the intelligence he
had sought and William’s illness would not allow him to continue this tirade
for long without draining him completely.

“I’m sorry dear
brother,” Gregory said, holding his palms out in show of peaceful supplication.
“I’m truly sorry. Please forgive me.”

One of the
servant girls moved toward her master, ready to catch him in case he fainted.
The movement wasn’t necessary. William gently collapsed onto the cushions again
and absently tossed a date into his mouth.

“All right,
Gregory,” William finally said. “You want to know about the
djinn
.
Here’s what I know. You cannot win against such a thing. The legends go back
for centuries…even before the time of Mohammed. The Quran speaks of them as
spirits made entirely of smokeless flame. Like humans, they are said to have
free will and can be a force for good or a creature of unimaginable evil. They
are often considered guardian spirits and sorcerers have sought for
centuries
ways to bind them to their will.”

William took a
sip of wine from his jewel encrusted goblet and smiled.

“King Solomon
supposedly learned the secret to this, actually,” he said as his eyes drifted
up to the rafters of his tent. “At least that’s what the Quran says. He
apparently learned to bind
djinni
to various
objects…lamps, bottles, even walking sticks. Then he would force them to do his
bidding…”

“Wait.” It was
now Gregory’s turn to leap from his seat. “What did you just say?”

“About what?”

“About Solomon.
About him having the power to bind the
spirits and force them to do his will. How, pray tell, was he able to
accomplish this?”

William sat
quietly; his eyes closed as if trying to recollect some memory from long ago. A
few seconds later, they opened once more and he nodded. “I believe legends say
he used a ring.
Supposedly a magic ring known as the Ring of
Aandaleeb, but more commonly referred to as the Seal of Solomon.”

Once more,
Gregory could hardly contain the smile that threatened to break out across his
haggard face.

“Aandaleeb?”

William
shrugged. “I think that’s what it’s called. Why?”

This time, the
baron didn’t bother to contain his own amusement. “Why, dear brother…that’s one
of the very objects I’ve been searching for all these long years. For the
totems
, as you call them. You’re
essentially telling me that if I find it, I will be able to kill two birds with
a single stone.”

“But you’ve
been looking for this thing for nearly seven long years,” William said. “What
on earth makes you think you’re any closer to locating it?”

Gregory simply
waved a hand away at the question. “Never
you mind
.
The point is…once I’ve obtained the ring, I will be able to use it to rid me of
the burden of the Djinn.”

“I don’t think
you quite understand,” William continued, a look of confusion in his eyes. “The
djinni
are
creatures of immense power. The Muslims believe that they are below the angels,
but above human beings…but live lives very much like humans. They marry. They
grow old…though they live for thousands of years. And they eventually die. They
have strong magic that no human is capable of defending against. I’m not quite
sure that you’d be able to contain
this
djinn
that haunts you even if you were able to find Solomon’s ring.”

Gregory shook
his head. “Dear brother, you’re missing the point. The power the ring has in
overcoming the Djinn doesn’t come from magic. It comes from man. My men believe
he is a spirit. But they also believe in the magic of
Solomon’s
Seal
. So if it fails to subdue my nemesis with its power, the knights
under my charge will see him for exactly what he is…a mortal man. His power
will be stripped from him in an instant. His reign of fear will end and my men
will end his life as easily as they would a mongrel on the street.”

William
shrugged. “It’s possible. But you still have to find it and that will be the
difficult part.”

The baron
smiled as he strode casually toward the bedchamber door. “Have no fear of that,
brother. Even now, I’m closing in on the location of the ring…as well as the
secrets of raising the golems of Solomon. Have no fear of that at all.” He
walked out of the room without
so
much as a goodbye to
his brother. He had a great deal to think about and he had little patience for
familial niceties.

As he made his
way out of the palatial tent, he couldn’t help but wonder where his brother’s
physician had gotten off to. It didn’t matter much. The only thing he was now
concerned with was getting home before sunset. Gregory wanted to spend time
with his daughter, Isabella, before the night fell and the spirit of
uncertainty edged its way back into his world.

Tufic
watched silently as the baron and his heavily armed
entourage rode away from his estate, his hands absently clutched into two tight
fists. Though he would admit it to no one, he feared for Gregory. William’s
brother was headed down a dangerous path…one that would not easily be remedied
if allowed to continue.
One that would end in disaster for
himself...or worse, his daughter Isabella.

Turning from
the doorway, the weary physician of a hunched and dishonored leper strode
through the tent’s many rooms until he came to the library. Taking a deep
breath, he moved to the center of the room, bent down, and pulled open the
small trap door carved into the wooden floor. He then climbed cautiously down
the narrow staircase into the vast cavern system nestled beneath William’s
estate.
Tufic
negotiated the labyrinthine tunnels
without aid of any light, as if he’d been born of the darkness, and stopped as
he stepped into a large chamber.

“We’re running
out of time,” a voice said from the shadows. The clicking of flint in the
darkness sent a blossom of sparks onto a torch and the
Djinn’s
hooded face was revealed.

The chamber lit
by the single torchlight was roughly fifty yards in diameter and twice as high.
Jagged stalagmites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some great dragon.
Save for a single work table, two chairs, and a medicine cabinet, the room was
completely bare. Dozens of hibernating bats hung precariously over their heads,
oblivious to the outsiders intruding in their domain.

“First things
first,”
Tufic
said, his face grim. “You need your regimen.”

Though he
couldn’t see through the
Djinn’s
hood,
Tufic
knew he was smiling. He knew further even, what the
thing of shadow standing before him was thinking:
For such a young man, you worry like an old woman
. Or at least,
that’s what had been said in the past when the physician had suggested more
treatment. “I’ll be fine,” the Djinn said. “We have much larger problems to
worry about at the moment.”

Tufic
nodded and then walked over to the table where an
assortment of strange medical apparatuses rested meticulously in their place.
Taking a dagger from the implements, he moved to a nearby patch of damp earth
and began digging without looking up.

“Gregory’s
getting closer to the Ring of Solomon,”
Tufic
said.
“If that happens, all will be lost.”

“Please don’t
call the ring by that name, my friend,” rebuked the Djinn. “It was
Aandaleeb’s
long before it was Solomon’s…and for a king so
wise, he was an absolute fool to try to harness its dark power.”

“My apologies.”
The physician continued to burrow in the dirt
without looking up.

“None needed.
But you’re right. Gregory didn’t want to reveal too much to William, but he’s
definitely close.” The Djinn walked over to the wooden chair near the
physician’s table and sat down. “But it sounds as though I’m finally getting
under his skin. All is not lost yet, my friend.”

“Ah-ha!”
Tufic
exclaimed with a
smile as he reached into the pile of dirt and extracted a small oval object. He
held it up with an air of satisfaction.
A single,
multi-colored mushroom.
“We’re running out. The
fungi
is
becoming much more elusive to find.”

“We can worry
about that later. Right now, we need to discuss stepping up the time table,”
the dark-robed figure said. “I’d assumed we would have much longer to carry out
our plans. As you’ve noted, that might not be the case now. Our strategy will
need to change.”

The physician
gave a stern look at his friend as he moved over to the table, placed the
mushroom into a crucible, and began grinding it to dust. “But if we run out of
these, you might not be around to enjoy the fruits of all your labor. With the
way you’ve been pushing yourself…the injuries you’ve sustained…my potions are
all that is keeping you alive at the moment and you know it.”

The Djinn
sighed as he pondered this. His own mortality mattered little to him. He’d
already lived much longer than anyone like him had a right. But his mission…his
mission was something that he could not jeopardize.
“Very
well,
Tufic
.
Just how much of the medicine do
we have left? How long will our supplies hold out?”

His friend
stopped his grinding for several seconds as he mentally calculated the numbers.
“At best, we have a week.
Two at the most if I ration it.”

“And then?”

Tufic
could only shrug. “I’m afraid it has escalated in
recent weeks. However…”

The Djinn
cocked his head. “Yes?”

“Well, I was
thinking…they say that the Seal of
Solom
…excuse me,
Aandaleeb’s
Ring…had many magnificent properties.”

“Forget it,”
the living shadow said, standing unsteadily to his feet. “Have you heard
nothing of what I’ve said about that infernal talisman? It was wrought with the
most evil of magic. The ring cannot be used at any cost, do you understand me?”

“But sire…it is
said that the Seal not only has the power to bind the spirits and bring life to
the inanimate, but also heal grievous injuries. And on at least one occasion,
it is said to have even raised someone from the dead.”

“And besides
being called by its forger, the Babylonian sorcerer Aandaleeb, the ring is
known by yet another name…a secret name. Are you aware of what that is,
Tufic
?”

The physician
shook his head.

“Solomon
himself is said to have spoken of it on his death bed. He called it Wisdom’s
Bane.” The Djinn looked his friend in the eyes. “No. No good can come from such
a thing. The wise king himself understood this in the end. It’s why he
petitioned his high priest to remove it from his grasp and hide it for all
times.”

“But you will
die.”

“
Which is something I’m completely prepared for, my old friend.
But not quite yet.” He took his seat once more and held out his hand. “So I’ll
have my medicine now…as loath as I am to imbibe it.”

Tufic
nodded with a wan smile,
then
poured the ground fungus into a vial filled with a strange amber liquid. Giving
the concoction a careful stir, he handed it to his patient and watched him
drink it.

“Ah,
Tufic
, that has got to be the worst tasting swill in the
history of mankind,” he said with a weary laugh.
“But now on
to more pressing matters.
The medallion I recovered from Isabella. Have
you had time to study it?”

The physician
pulled out a key from his tunic and used it to unlock a small chest resting
among his scientific equipment. He reached in and extracted a gold chain with
an intricately carved gold medallion attached.

“Aye,” he said,
handing the necklace to his friend. “It wasn’t easy, but with the help of an
old man I met in Acre, I was able to translate the script.”

“And?”

“Besides a
vague recounting of
Rakeesha’s
golems, it tells of
how
Azariah
, the high priest, entrusted Solomon’s
ring to a band of nomads. My research suggests these were the progenitors of a
group of desert monks known a few centuries ago as the Essenes.”

The Djinn
nodded at this. “I’m familiar with them. They were a group of ascetics that
practiced Jewish mysticism for many centuries. They thrived in the land up
until around the time of Christ. Then, the Romans drove them into the desert
once more. Fortunately, Samir befriended their descendants several years ago.”

“The Sheik knew
them?”
Tufic
asked, a little surprised.

The Djinn sat
silently for several seconds, staring absently into the golden face of the
medallion he now held in his bandaged hand.

“You’d be
amazed at who the old man had become friends with over the years,
Tufic
. And lucky for us, Samir introduced William to their
chieftain about a year before his death. He should still be in good standing
with them, I’d say.”

“So what do we
do now?”

“Simple enough,
old friend,” he said, rising from his chair as he clutched the medallion tight
in his hand. “I leave at once to find the Essenes. It won’t be easy. They’re
nomadic and will be difficult to locate. But it’s our next step. Just pray I
get there before Gregory’s forces do.”

****

"You will
tell the baron what he wants to know!" Gerard
DuBois
roared as the back of his hand slammed across the battered nomad's jaw. The
chains binding the pathetic man's wrists rattled against the impact. "He
is losing his patience with you, Jew."

Gregory arose
from the wooden chair he'd been occupying since entering the cell to observe
the interrogation and sighed. This simply wasn't going nearly as well as he'd
first hoped. When he'd first received word that his men had been able to
capture one of the Guardians—the group of nomadic warrior-priests, who at one
time had been known as the Essenes and had been charged with protecting his
prize for nearly a thousand years—he'd been ecstatic. He'd believed it only a
matter of time before the emaciated and dehydrated desert-dweller would crack
under the brutal hand of his mercenary lieutenant and share the secrets he'd
sought for so long now.

Instead, the
nomad had been ridiculously stubborn. Even now, at Gerard's latest beating, he
merely spat a wad of congealed blood from his mouth and glared at his
interrogator.

"Enough!"
the baron said, walking casually up to his prisoner. "Enough," he
said a bit more gently, then nodded to Gerard to back away.
"Seriously.
Must we continue with this charade,
Ibrihim
? You
know, as well as I, that you will invariably tell me what I want to know.
One way or another.
We have no intention of letting you
die…so you will have to endure this…" He waved a hand around the cell.
"…for a very long time."

The nomad
smiled grimly at this. "And I am prepared to endure to the very end. There
is nothing you can do that will force me to break my vows…or betray the trust
placed in me."

This is getting tiresome
, Gregory
thought as he stared at the man with a smug smile.
A different tact is needed for this one.
But what
?

Though he knew
he could continue with the torture, he was becoming even more convinced that
such tactics simply would not work on someone this zealous. He'd need to be
creative, if not even a bit dishonorable. In the end, the method of obtaining
the Solomon's
Seal
was inconsequential. The only thing
that mattered to the baron was its possession.

Gregory turned
to Gerard and nodded once more. Understanding, the mercenary and three of his
men unchained
Ibrihim
bar Jonas, the Guardian of the
Seal, and forced him to the ground. They then re-chained his wrists and ankles
in such a way as to force him to lay face up and unable to move. One of
Gerard's men handed him a wooden bucket filled with hog swill and the mercenary
ceremonially emptied the contents all over the prisoner.

“Our friend is
a dedicated man, Gerard,” the baron said as he strode casually toward the cell
door. “He won’t easily loosen his tongue to tell us the location of the Seal.
You’ll only tire yourself out trying to make him talk.” Gregory opened the door
and turned to face the nomad. “So, we’ll simply allow the rats infesting these dungeons
do much of the work for us. We’ll talk soon,
Ibrihim
.
I pray you’ll be much more cooperative by then.”

He strode out
of the cell, thankful he wouldn’t have to hear the screams of his
prisoner.