Wishtester

Chapter 6: The Djinn Have Many Tricks

Faruq wrung his hands. "An old beggar's wish almost a year ago has been very successful. I'd hoped to live in a manor like his, or even a palace—"

The guardsman burst out laughing. "A palace! The Djinn are not all powerful, stupid boy. They can neither make kings nor displace them. That is the dominion of the almighty Ahura Mazdaa alone." He shook his head. "You are summoned. High Scribe Maleek wishes to speak with you. Follow me."

They found High Scribe Maleek in the palace's outer courtyard, sitting on one of the marble benches lining the pathway and sipping from a lacquer cup. He wore the same long white robes, blue turban and black mask as before.

"Young wishtester," he greeted, the delight in his voice evident despite its reedy texture. The scent of pomegranates wafted from his lips. "Kadeen tells me you and your family are well..." He smirked at the boy. "And yet you seem to be...suffering a bout of nerves."

Faruq kept his head down as he admitted that the wish had worked on everyone but him, then whipped it up at the wish scribe's laughter.

"Yes, yes, it was an eccentric old goat who commissioned that wish. Practically on his deathbed, but he insisted on being exempt. He claimed his suffering was the divine retribution of God for his terrible sins." The wish scribe waved a dismissive hand. "I'm pleased to know it was granted just as he desired. We don't have much time, and it's so gratifying to get a wish right on the first try...or did we? I must confess, I sometimes find it fascinating to see just how the Djinn will thwart us, and that Si'lat is a particularly worthy adversary."

Faruq only stared at him.

"That is all," said the wish scribe to the guardsman. "Take him back."

* * *

The next day, Faruq's father burst into the house shouting. "Everyone! Come here! I have incredible news!"

The family assembled around the house's one small door.

"What is it, Baba?" asked Thamina.

"Ghanim is dead, and I'm now running the carpentry shop!"

Everyone gasped and his mother put a hand to her chest. "Oh my, that is incredible. But, what of his son? His wife?"

"Dead as well," said his father.

"Oh," said Thamina, and then, "Congratulations!"

"Yes a celebration is certainly in order!" cried his father. He reached for the purse at his hip. "Thamina, I want you to hurry and buy a haunch of lamb before the market closes."

Faruq stared from his father to his sister to his mother, mouth agape. "Ghanim and his family...Jamal...they are all dead?"

"Yes, Faruq."

"But, Baba...how did Ghanim and his family die?"

"Robbers," said his father, "On the West Road."

"Hmmm," his mother hummed knowingly.

Faruq was surprised to feel a sinking feeling in his chest. He'd had no love for the stuck-up master carpenter's son, but he certainly hadn't wished for Jamal to die.

"As the senior craftsman, I'm overseeing things for now, but who knows, it could become permanent," his father said.

"Oh I hope so!" cried Thamina as she wrapped a scarf around her head. "Even I am getting sick of lentil soup."

Faruq frowned. "But...what of Ghanim and his family?"

"I just said they were dead, Faruq."

"But...that's terrible, Baba!"

His father looked thoughtful. "I can't rightly say he will be missed, but perhaps you're right. In that case, it is my duty to make the shop as successful as possible in his memory, isn't it? And if we can eat meat every week so much the better." He winked.

In the end, his father did inherit the carpentry shop and soon after they had meat almost every day. Their clothes became finer and the goods in their home nicer. First a dark, engraved table, then colorful woven curtains and finally soft beds for each of them.

Soon after, Faruq's father breezed into their home after work one day, grinning from ear to ear.

"We have had a visitor today!" He cried, and grabbed his wife by the wrists, dancing her around the red and gold mat on the floor of their main room.

She laughed. "What has you in such good spirits, my husband?"

He let her go and plopped down on the red cushions Faruq's mother had arranged in the corner. "A servant of the King came to tell us that the Queen saw one of our designs in the house of an acquaintance, and we are being commissioned to decorate a new guest room in the palace! We are rich, my dear!"

He jumped up again and enfolded his wife in a crushing hug which she gleefully returned. His sister rushed in from the back room where the two of them slept. She'd only heard the last part but began dancing and whooping all the same. Faruq beamed. This was what he'd hoped for all along! They would now move into a fancy house with servants, and live out the rest of their lives without care. Well, his family would, but surely they couldn't leave him behind. Take that, old Ayman. Satisfaction bloomed like a winter rose inside Faruq's chest. The wish had been a great success!

What the boy couldn't know was that high up on the tower, inside her glass prison, for just a brief moment Si'lat stilled and ceased her silent screaming. Her golden lips drew together in a vicious smile.