The Librarians and the Lost Lamp (26 page)

Flynn was afraid the roc knew what it was doing.

Unlike the harsh green smoke from the decoy lamp, the sparkling blue vapors smelled of exotic spices and incense, as though from a Middle Eastern bazaar, and instead of dispersing they formed a huge pillar of smoke that rapidly solidified into …

“The Genie,” Shirin gasped. “The Genie from the Lamp.”

The giant Djinn towered above them. His dark blue skin had an iridescent sheen that hinted at his supernatural nature. Pointed ears, adorned with golden rings the size of hula hoops, along with a neatly trimmed red beard and mustache, gave him a disturbingly Satanic mien. A gold silk vest and purple harem pants clothed his immense frame, which looked remarkably fit and muscular considering that the Djinn had presumably not gotten any exercise for centuries, leading Flynn to wonder if the Lamp had a fully equipped gym stuffed inside it as well. He worried briefly that the ledge might not be able to support the giant's weight before recalling that, despite appearances, genies were basically creatures of smoke and fire.…

“FREE!” the Djinn thundered in a deep, booming voice that made Darth Vader sound like a soprano. His mammoth legs spread wide, he threw out his equally humongous arms, obviously relishing his liberation from the Lamp. Fierce golden eyes flashed like lightning. “FREE TO STRIDE THE WORLD ONCE MORE!”

The Genie's terrifying appearance was enough to convince Marjanah and her cohort that the roc had had the right idea.

“Run!” she shouted at Badar. “Before the Librarian sics that demon on us!”

Fearful of the Genie's wrath, or Flynn's, or some dreadful combination thereof, the surviving bandits bolted from the scene, fleeing in panic down the precarious trail leading to the woods below. Flynn was glad to see them go for more than one reason. Gazing up at the colossal Djinn, he figured he had enough on his plate at the moment without having to deal with a pair of vengeful thieves as well.

“Um, excuse me.” Flynn cleared his throat to get the giant's attention. “Paging the former occupant of the Lamp?”

The Djinn deigned to peer down at him. “WHO ART THOU, INSIGNIFICANT MORTAL, WHO NOW HOLDS MY LAMP?”

“I'm the Librarian.”

“INDEED?” The Genie sounded slightly more impressed. “VERY WELL, LIBRARIAN, I AM AT THY COMMAND. WHAT WISHES SHALL I GRANT THEE, O SCHOLAR OF THE AGES?”

Plenty of possibilities popped into Flynn's mind, up to and including a trip for two back to the Library, as well as justice for the murder of Leila Hamza back in Baghdad, but he had not entirely forgotten Judson's dire warnings about the Lamp. Inspecting the jade artifact more closely, he noted with dismay that a number of hairline fractures could already be seen in the Lamp's exquisite jade housing. Just as Judson had predicted, years of rubbing the Lamp for wishes had empowered the Genie and compromised the structural integrity of his prison, so that it appeared to be on the verge of breaking into pieces. Who knew how many more wishes it might take to free the Djinn once and for all?

Which, according to Judson, would be a very bad thing.

“SPEAK!” the Genie exhorted Flynn. “WHAT IS THY DESIRE, O LEARNED ONE?”

After all he and Shirin had been through, Flynn
was
sorely tempted to use the Djinn's power to make all their problems go away, but that was a slippery slope that might just put the entire world at the mercy of the vindictive genie. At best, Flynn decided, he could risk only a single wish.

“May you and the Lamp be lost forever!”

“NOOOOO!” the Genie raged, dissolving back into smoke from the bottom up. “MY CURSE UPON THEE, LIBRARIAN, AND ALL WHO FOLLOW IN THY FOOTSTEPS, FROM NOW UNTIL THE END OF DAYS!”

The Lamp sucked the vaporizing Djinn in like a shiny jade vacuum cleaner. He clawed frantically at the air, vainly seeking purchase, until his head and shoulders and upper extremities also dissolved and disappeared into the Lamp. Spinning to face the brink of the ledge, Flynn hurled the Lamp (and its furious resident) toward the distant bay. Ordinarily, he could never have thrown it that far, but the power of his wish caused it to arc above the wooded slopes and sandy beaches below before splashing down into the bay, where it disappeared beneath the waves, never to be found again.

Or so Flynn had wished.

“Well, that's that.” He washed his hands of the Lamp, which was apparently not going to be added to the Library's collection. “Aladdin's Lamp is lost forever.”

“Probably just as well,” Shirin said. “All things considered, I think I prefer reading about genies to actually meeting them. Ditto for ghouls, rocs, and the Forty Thieves.”

Flynn knew how she felt, even if he would have liked to have claimed the Lamp for the Library. Still, he had kept the Lamp from falling into the wrong hands, which was what really mattered, as Judson would surely agree.

I'm going to call this a win,
he thought.

Shirin leaned against him, favoring her injured ankle. She gazed over the enchanted island and the vast sea beyond. “Just one thing,” she said. “How exactly are we going to get home?”

Flynn already had an idea about that, lifted straight from the pages of
One Thousand and One Nights.
They just needed to ask themselves what Sinbad would do.

“How do you feel about trying to hitch a ride on a roc?”

 

20

2016

A vintage candlestick phone from the 1900s, complete with a rotary dial, rang in the Annex. Jenkins picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.

“Mr. Stone?” he said into the transmitter, knowing already who was calling. “How may I help you?”

“We've got this all wrong,”
Stone replied.
“It's not about the penny at all.”

“Yes, we've already determined that. I'm afraid you're behind the times there. Do you have any new information to impart?”

“You bet I do. Dunphy and I just had a run-in with some seriously brutal competition. They are looking for some kind of lamp.”

“A lamp?” A chill ran down Jenkins's spine. Surely it couldn't be. Not after all this time.

Although he was a fine one to talk like that. Some might say the same of him.

“Tell me everything,” he said gravely. “Omitting no detail.”

*   *   *

Baird was relieved to find both Cassandra
and
Ezekiel waiting for her in the hotel lobby. Approaching them, she caught the tail end of a whispered conversation.

“You ‘borrowed' what?” Cassandra said, in a low voice, visibly appalled.

“The world's largest gold nugget,” Ezekiel bragged. “All 875 ounces, on display at a local casino.” He shrugged off Cassandra's shocked reaction. “Come on. Like I seriously wasn't going to take a run at that?”

“But you are going to put it back where it belongs at some point, aren't you?” Cassandra asked hopefully. “This was just all about the challenge, right?”

He hedged. “Well…”

Baird looked to the heavens for strength, but saw only the lobby's opulent trompe l'oeil ceiling, which simulated a bright Arabian sky. This was absolutely the last thing she needed at the moment. She wondered briefly where Ezekiel had stowed the stolen nugget before deciding that she didn't want to know.

“Drop it, both of you,” she said. “We can sort this out later,
after
we figure out what we're actually supposed to be looking for here.” She looked at Ezekiel. “Cassandra told you about the penny?”

“Yes.” A frown replaced his cocky expression. “I can't believe I wasted my time and talent on an ordinary copper penny.”

“Actually, it's 97.5 percent zinc,” Cassandra volunteered. “Just to be accurate.”

“Not really the point now,” Baird said, trying to keep the discussion on track. “The Clipping Book sent us here for a reason, and we need to find out what that is.”

Cassandra pondered the issue. “You said Stone was hanging out with Dunphy. Maybe he's learned something that might steer us in the right direction?”

“Couldn't hurt to ask.” Baird took out her phone, but before she could contact Stone, she received a call from the Library, which she chose to pick up instead. She couldn't help hoping that Jenkins was calling to say that he'd missed something before and that the penny really was magical after all. “Baird here. What's up?”

“I'm afraid I have some rather disturbing news to impart,”
he said dolefully.
“Is the remainder of the team with you?”

“All but Stone.” Baird switched to speakerphone and beckoned Cassandra and Ezekiel to draw nearer. Passing tourists, intent on their own diversions, ignored the huddled conclave. “He's with Dunphy, enjoying a nice steak dinner, last I heard.”

“Would that were the case,”
Jenkins said,
“but I just heard from Mr. Stone, whose dinner expedition proved to be much more eventful than anticipated … in a way that raises a profoundly troubling possibility.”

Baird could tell from his voice that this was serious. “Tell us.”

She shared a worried look with the others as Jenkins proceeded to inform them of Stone and Dunphy's narrow escape from unknown assailants intent on a certain lamp.

“A lamp?” Baird asked. “What sort of lamp?”

“Aladdin's Lamp,”
Jenkins said.
“If my suspicions are correct, and I very much fear they are, we are in pursuit of the fabled magic lamp … and the Djinn bound to it.”

“But you told us once that it was never the Genie's Lamp,” Cassandra protested. “When we were investigating all that fairy-tale weirdness last year.”

“So I did,”
he admitted,
“because I had every reason to believe that the Lamp had been lost forever, thanks to the ingenuity of Mr. Carsen some years ago.”

“Flynn?” Baird asked. “What's he got to do with this?”

“A good deal, as it happens, although that was before your time, back when he was the sole Librarian.”

Going into briefing mode, as was his wont, Jenkins informed them of an old adventure of Flynn's involving Aladdin's Lamp, a fearsome genie, and … the Forty Thieves?

“A flying carpet?” Cassandra was unable to control her excitement. “I'm
sooo
jealous!”

“Sounds like he could've used me back then,” Ezekiel said. “A bunch of so-called thieves from the olden days would have been no match for the likes of Ezekiel Jones. I would have stolen that Lamp so fast their turbans would have spun.”

“Do not underestimate the Forty,”
Jenkins said.
“We're talking a ruthless criminal organization that has endured for nearly thirteen centuries … and it will stop at nothing to obtain the Lamp at long last.”

Baird struggled to process all this new intel. “I've never heard of any of this before. Flynn never said a word to me about it.”

“With all due respect, Colonel, Mr. Carsen was flying solo as it were long before you were recruited by the Library. Indeed, he has survived as a Librarian longer than any individual on record. I imagine there are quite a few incidents that he has not had occasion to mention to you.”

“Possibly because he never sticks around long enough to do so,” Baird said a bit testily. Despite the severity of the present situation, she couldn't help wondering what became of this Shirin Masri woman and how close she and Flynn might have been back in the day. There was still a lot she didn't know about his past exploits, romantic or otherwise—although, to be fair, it was not as though she had told him all her old war stories, either. “But … point taken.”

She forced herself to stay on mission.

“I don't understand,” she said. “If Flynn wished for the Lamp to never again be found, how has it turned up in Vegas ten years later? Hypothetically, that is.”

“An excellent question, Colonel,”
Jenkins replied,
“worthy of further investigation. For now, I can only speculate that the release of wild magic back into the world somehow caused the Lamp to surface again after all these years … with potentially dire consequences.”

Baird contemplated the lobby's exotic decor. “Aladdin's Lamp? A casino with an Arabian Nights theme? Could there be a connection there, or is it just a coincidence?”

“In our line of work,”
Jenkins said,
“coincidence is often merely a failure to recognize invisible forces at work. I suspect we can attribute Mr. Dunphy's current accommodations to the Djinn. Genies are not by nature very imaginative, so where else would he whisk his new master but to a lavish Middle Eastern palace straight out of the
Thousand and One Nights 
… or a nearby facsimile thereof.”

“Makes sense,” Baird said. “This place would be smack in a genie's comfort zone.”

“Hey!” Cassandra blurted, struck by an idea. “Along those lines, you don't suppose Morgan le Fay has booked herself into the Excalibur, for old time's sake?”

“Do not even jest about that, Miss Cillian,”
Jenkins said sternly. Arthurian matters struck far too close to home for him, for reasons Baird well understood.
“We face grievous enough hazards without invoking that duplicitous enchantress.”

“Really?” Ezekiel said skeptically. “Some sad-sack loser is using a magic lamp to turn his luck around. How bad can things get?”

“Were you not listening before?”
Jenkins said.
“Beyond the obvious necessity of keeping the Lamp away from the latest incarnation of the Forty, there is the even more dreadful threat posed by the Djinn himself.”

Ezekiel still looked dubious. “So not a friendly genie, then?”