The Librarians and the Lost Lamp (31 page)

“No sign of the bad guys,” Ezekiel said, looking around. “Looks like we're the first ones here.” He walked to the edge of the rim and peered over the precipice. “Whoa. That's a long way down.”

“Roughly a mile.” Stone joined him at the edge. He'd visited the Grand Canyon with his family years ago and later studied the art and history of the various Native American tribes populating the region. He cradled the Lamp against his chest, troubled by its warmth. “See what looks like a tiny little stream way down there at the bottom of the canyon? That's actually the Colorado River viewed from a mile up.”

He hoped the Forty weren't going to be arriving by boat. It would be a long hike down to reach them.

No,
he reminded himself,
they told us to meet them at this lookout point at sunrise, and they're going to be out to make the exchange as swiftly as possible. They want the Lamp almost as much as we want we want Baird back.

“Are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing?” Cassandra asked, hugging herself to combat the early-morning chill. “You heard what Jenkins said.…”

Jenkins remained back at the Annex, battening down the hatches (mystically and otherwise) just in case everything went pear-shaped and the Djinn got loose.
Probably a reasonable precaution,
Stone thought.
This could all go wrong very easily.

“Not that I don't want to save Baird,” Cassandra said. “It's just that there's a lot at stake.”

“Too late to second-guess ourselves now,” Stone said. “We've just got to roll the dice and hope we don't crap out when it matters.”

Cassandra smiled wanly. “Good thing I've still got Dunphy's lucky penny on me then.”

“Couldn't hurt,” Stone said. “We can use all the luck we can get.”

Ezekiel snorted. “I keep telling you, mates. I make my own luck.”

“I'm going to hold you to that,” Stone said, “for everybody's sake.”

Turning their backs to the canyon, they gazed expectantly at the rugged trail leading up to the North Rim by way of a thick pine forest. Stone listened in vain for the sound of anyone drawing near.

“Where are they?” Cassandra asked anxiously. “What are they waiting for?”

Stone tried not to get too worried yet. “
Sunrise
is not an exact meeting time.”

“Sure it is.” Cassandra sounded perplexed by his statement. She waved her hands before her eyes, peering up at some invisible orrery generated by her own remarkable brain. “This time of year, at this segment of the equator, allowing for the axial tilt of the Earth and our relative distance from the sun, sunrise should be at exactly … 6:19 a.m.” She collapsed her imaginary calculator. “Mountain Standard Time, naturally.”

Stone cracked a smile, despite the tense situation. “I'm just saying that the Forty may not be quite as precise as you are.”

Few people were.

He peeked at his wristwatch. It was 6:22.

Keep cool,
he thought.
But those scumbags had better not be making us sweat on purpose.

Ezekiel turned away from the fruitless vigil to check out the view of the canyon once more. He froze and pointed out over the chasm. “Um, look sharp, mates. We have incoming … arriving by air.”

A helicopter?

Puzzled because he didn't hear any whirring rotors, Stone spun around to behold an actual
flying carpet
descending toward them, as though straight from
The Arabian Nights.

“Okay,” he muttered, “I should've seen this coming.”

Cassandra was agog with excitement. “Oh my God, do you see that?”

“Eyes on the prize, Cassie,” Stone reminded her. “Remember why we're here.”

She nodded, coming back down to Earth. “Right. Sorry.”

“No problem. It's pretty amazing, I've got to admit.”

The carpet slowed as it approached, bearing Eve, Marjanah, and … Baird's old army buddy?

“What the hell?” Stone realized that he had missed a twist or two. He could only guess at the full story, but he'd bet the farm that Baird had been double-crossed somehow—and that her “accidental” meeting with her friend had been anything but.
Explains how the Forty managed to get the drop on her,
he thought.
Baird probably never saw it coming.

The carpet leveled off above the canyon, hovering parallel to the edge of the cliff, so that only a twelve-foot gap separated the Librarians from Baird and the bad guys. Marjanah gave Stone the evil eye; apparently she had not gotten over that incident with the black pepper.

“All right,” Stone called out. “We're here, just like you asked. Let's get on with this.”

“I commend your punctuality, Mr. Stone,” the man on the carpet said. “And I'm just as eager to conclude this transaction.”

“And you are?” Ezekiel asked.

“Major Mark Krieger,” Baird said quickly, before anyone could stop her. “AKA the First of the Forty.”

“Silence!” Marjanah snapped. “Hold your tongue, witch, or I'll cut it out!”

“Curb your temper,” Krieger addressed his bloodthirsty lieutenant. “I'm sure the Librarians don't wish to pay for damaged merchandise. And as for divulging my identity … well, no harm done. Once we obtain the Lamp, we can become whoever we want to be.”

Rising to his feet atop the floating carpet, he yanked Baird upright as well.

“Toss me the Lamp,” he ordered, “or Eve makes a one-way trip to the bottom of the canyon.”

“Don't do it, Stone!” Baird shouted. “You can't let them win!”

“I know,” Stone said, “but we're not about to lose you.”

Scowling, he lobbed the Lamp over to Krieger, who caught it easily. The treacherous major barked in Arabic at the carpet, which glided up and away from the cliff, widening the gap between the Librarians and Baird to about twenty feet or so.

“Hey!” Stone yelled. “We had a deal.”

“Which I fully intend to honor,” Krieger called back, “
after
I ascertain that this is the genuine article and not another trick.”

Stone noted belatedly that thick leather gloves protected the man's hands, while the canyon itself offered a convenient way to dispose of a booby-trapped lamp should the need arise. He suspected that such considerations had factored into the selection of the meeting site, along with the way the canyon lent itself to a speedy escape by magic carpet. Even now, there was no way for Stone and the others to reach Baird or come to her aid, nor could they readily pursue the carpet if it flew away with her.

“Make it quick,” Stone snarled.

“That was always my intention.”

Krieger examined the jade artifact carefully before holding it up for Marjanah's inspection. “What do you think? Is this the Lamp you remember?”

“That was ten years ago,” she said, squinting at the Lamp, “and there was a mountain coming down on us, and a hungry roc, but … yes, I believe that's it.” An avaricious glint shone in her eyes. “If you'd like, I could try rubbing it first.”

Krieger scoffed at the offer. “I think I'll reserve that privilege for myself. It's not that I don't trust you, of course, but…”

“One more time, Krieger,” Baird said. “Don't do this.”

“You're wasting your breath, Eve.” He took a deep breath, betraying only the slightest trace of trepidation, before rubbing the Lamp, just as Flynn had done a decade ago. “Arise, O Genie of the Lamp!”

The effect was instantaneous, as though the imprisoned Djinn couldn't wait to escape the confines of the ancient Lamp. Rising upon a billowing plume of luminous azure smoke, the Djinn towered above the carpet, his immense feet resting solidly upon empty air. Stone's jaw dropped at the sight of the Djinn in all his terrible majesty; the blue-skinned giant made even a minotaur or the Big Bad Wolf seem like pipsqueaks by comparison.

“FREE!” the Djinn boomed. “FREE TO SEEK VENGANCE UPON THE WORLD!”

“All in good time.” Krieger raised his voice to address the looming genie. “I hold your Lamp now!”

The Djinn peered down at him. A morning breeze rippled the surface of the genie's iridescent blue substance. Blazing golden eyes gazed upon the awestruck mortals.

“SO I SEE. AND WHO ART THOU, WHO IS CARRIED ALOFT BY THE VERY CARPET OF SOLOMON?”

“The First of the Forty,” Krieger declared, “and your new master!”

The Djinn scowled, as though vexed by the reminder of his bondage, but offered a grudging salaam to Krieger, dipping his massive head in respect and placing a log-sized finger against his brow.

“VERY WELL, O CHIEF OF THIEVES. WHAT IS THY FIRST COMMAND?”

Krieger beamed in triumph. “To begin with—”

With all eyes on the Djinn, Baird drove her elbow into Krieger's throat, cutting him off midsentence. He staggered backward, clutching his throat. His mouth opened, but no words emerged, only a strangled croak.

His larynx,
Stone realized.
She crushed his larynx so he can't make a wish.

Marjanah raced to aid him, but not before Baird kicked his legs out from beneath him. Still croaking, he toppled onto the carpet, and the Lamp slipped from his grasp. Marjanah abruptly changed course and dived for the Lamp instead.

“No one touch it! It's mine!”

Looming above, the Djinn laughed scornfully at the tussle on the carpet, declining to intervene in the absence of an expressed wish. His thundering laughter roiled the air and caused rocks and pebbles to tumble down the side of the cliff.

“WHAT SPLENDID SPORT! SCURRY, LITTLE MORTALS, WHILE YOU CAN!”

The commotion rocked the carpet, causing the Lamp to bounce randomly across the bucking rug. Eluding Marjanah, it came dangerously close to the fraying edge of the carpet. Stone grimaced at the thought of the Lamp tumbling down into the canyon where anyone could find it, maybe even Krieger and Marjanah once they regained control of the situation and the carpet.

“Baird!” he shouted. “Over here!”

“No!” Marjanah shrieked, drawing her blade. “It belongs to the Forty.”

She pounced, about to claim the Lamp for her own, when Baird rushed forward and kicked it off the carpet toward the Librarians.

“Catch!” she shouted.

 

26

2016

The Lamp arced across the gap between the carpet and the rim of the canyon, descending toward the lookout point. Angry winds, stirred up by the Djinn, buffeted the Lamp as Marjanah shouted frantically at the carpet in Arabic, causing it to dive after the Lamp. Clearly, she was not letting the magical artifact get away from her so easily.

“Spread out!” Stone shouted. “Somebody catch that Lamp!”

I'll try,
Cassandra thought, although hand-eye coordination had never been her forte. She couldn't remember the last time she'd managed to catch a book or scroll tossed to her from the Library's mezzanine, let alone a tumbling magic lamp.

But perhaps it had never truly mattered as much before.…

As Stone and Ezekiel darted back and forth atop the Rim, trying to eyeball where exactly the Lamp would fall, Cassandra resorted to her brain instead. Her hands spread out before her eyes as she murmured to herself.

“Given the weight of the Lamp and the angle of descent, allowing for variations in wind velocity and direction, as well as the estimated force of the kick, and any potential obstacles…” Her head turned toward the ranger's station a few yards away. “There!”

She sprinted toward the log cabin, arriving at the base of the south wall just as the Lamp struck the slanted roof of the station and ricocheted off it. Cassandra threw out her hands to catch it.

Please,
she thought,
don't let me mess this up.

The Lamp landed squarely in her open palms.

“Yes!” she squealed. “I got it!”

Her momentary triumph was quickly dampened, however, when she saw the sorry shape the Lamp was in, now that the Djinn had been released once more. Krieger's summons had been the last straw as far as the moribund Lamp was concerned; it was literally falling apart in her hands. Golden light, as bright as the harsh Arabian sun, escaped the widening cracks zigzagging across the disintegrating surface of the Lamp, which was growing ever hotter to the touch. Wafer-thin shards of jade flaked off the Lamp to land at her feet at a rapidly accelerating rate, like a landslide gaining speed and momentum. The legendary Lamp would soon be history.

Returning the Djinn to the Lamp was no longer an option, Cassandra realized. At best, there was only time enough to make one last wish before the Djinn was finally free to lash out at the entire world, up to and including the Library.

“YES! YES!” the terrifying blue giant exulted. “MY PRISON WALLS CRUMBLE AT LAST! AFTER UNTOLD AGES OF BITTER CAPTIVITY AND BONDAGE, MY FREEDOM IS AT HAND! NOW WILL THE WORLD TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH, NOW WILL ALL MANKIND SUFFER AS I HAVE SUFFERED … UNTIL THE VERY END OF ETERNITY!”

“Not yet.” Cassandra struggled to hold the splintering Lamp together for just a few more moments. “You're not free yet.”

One more wish.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, she was tempted once more to wish her tumor away, but, as ever, the greater good took precedent.

“Genie!” she shouted above the increasingly violent winds. “I wish you … an unlimited imagination!”

“WHAT?” He peered down at Cassandra in surprise. “WHAT DIDST THOU SAY?”

His incandescent eyes blazed brighter than before as her wish took effect.

“BY THE ETERNAL FLAME, I CAN SEE IT NOW! MY MIND IS AFIRE WITH POSSIBILITY! A THOUSAND AND ONE POTENTIALS IGNITE MY IMAGINATION … NAY, A MILLION … A HUNDRED MILLION … A HUNDRED HUNDRED MILLION.…”

He clutched his skull, as though trying to hold in all the new ideas flooding his mind. The very atmosphere reflected his turmoil, growing wilder and more turbulent by the second. Storm clouds gathered overhead. Hot desert winds blew in every direction, so that Cassandra and the other Librarians were driven backward atop the North Rim, shielding their faces against the wind and grit. Dust devils swirled around the Djinn like random ideas bursting from his being. He tottered alarmingly above the canyon and the carpet as though drunk on his own feverish imaginings.