inferior. No magical djinn could or would take the face
of a woman. The djinn is a powerful spiritual being,
and to have the face of a woman would weaken his strength and lay him open to
ridicule.”
I took a swig
of beer. The afternoon was so hot that the can was warm already, and it was
like drinking thin soup.
“What’s this djinn going to do, though?” I asked Professor Qualt “It
obviously terrified Max, but what possible harm can an ancient puff of smoke do
to anyone?”
Professor Qualt
sucked at his pipe. “No one can say-not without knowing which djinn this jar
might contain. But if it really is the Djinn of Ali Babah, then I would say
that you have a considerable amount of trouble on your hands.”
“But what kind of trouble? That’s what I want to know.”
“It’s almost
impossible to separate fact from legend,” explained the professor, “but roost
of the books and manuscripts that I’ve read on the subject of Ali Babah’s djinn
seem to agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“They agree
that Ali Babah’s djinn had one characteristic which distinguished it from all
the others. It had the ability to change shape, to be whatever it wished to be,
within certain magical limits. It could be a cloud of smoke, or a giant
centipede, or a hooded leper, or a lion-creature, or one of many other magical
varieties of being. Because it was able to change its shape in this way, it was
commonly known as the Forty-Stealers of Life. This became shortened to Forty
Thieves, although it would have been more accurate to call it the Forty
Murderers. Each manifestation of the djinn-each of its forty different
manifestations-could inflict death in a different way. By
choking, if the djinn became a cloud of smoke. By
stinging, if it decided to change itself into a giant centipede. By
contagious disease, if it were a leper. By fire, by drowning,
by mauling, by suffocation, by disemboweling-forty kinds of death for the
asking.”
Anna was
looking pale. She said to me quietly, “The hooded figure? Could that have
been-the leper?”
“It might have
been,” said Professor Qualt. “But it seems to me that the djinn
is not yet free from its jar, and it’s more likely that the hooded
figure you saw was nothing more than a ghostly servant, one of the lesser
beings that the djinn has managed to summon as its helper in its attempt to
escape from its jar. Time and space are crowded with miserable shuffling ghosts
who can be dominated and ruled by the greater and more illustrious spirits from
beyond. Djinns themselves are the servants of the spirits of dead people. It is
said that some spirits keep djinns in the way that you or I would keep a
ferocious dog.”
I took out a
cigarette. “You sound as though you believe all this.”
Professor Qualt
shook his head. “I don’t, as a matter of fact. I have never seen a ghost and I
don’t suppose I’d even know what it was if I did. But that’s not important.
Academically speaking, these things that you’ve told me have only one rational
explanation. There is a jar, and it does contain some kind of phantasmic
influence. It appears to be a malevolent influence, and therefore it could be
the Forty Thieves, If it is, then the best thing you
can do is to get as far away from that house and that jar as you possibly can.
The Forty Thieves is no joke.”
Anna looked
worried. “Can’t we exorcise it?” she suggested. “Couldn’t a priest get rid of
it?”
Professor Qualt
pressed some more tobacco into his pipe. “The djinn is a spirit of Islamic culture. No Christian clergyman is going to be able to make
any kind of impression at all. Bell, book and candle? I don’t think so.”
“So what do you
suggest we do?” I asked him.
Professor Qualt
looked up with those hurt, tired eyes. “I’ve told you,” he said. “Get the hell
out.
If that djinn ever escapes, all you’ll get for your trouble is
one of forty particularly nasty types of extinction.”
“But I
of a woman. The djinn is a powerful spiritual being,
and to have the face of a woman would weaken his strength and lay him open to
ridicule.”
I took a swig
of beer. The afternoon was so hot that the can was warm already, and it was
like drinking thin soup.
“What’s this djinn going to do, though?” I asked Professor Qualt “It
obviously terrified Max, but what possible harm can an ancient puff of smoke do
to anyone?”
Professor Qualt
sucked at his pipe. “No one can say-not without knowing which djinn this jar
might contain. But if it really is the Djinn of Ali Babah, then I would say
that you have a considerable amount of trouble on your hands.”
“But what kind of trouble? That’s what I want to know.”
“It’s almost
impossible to separate fact from legend,” explained the professor, “but roost
of the books and manuscripts that I’ve read on the subject of Ali Babah’s djinn
seem to agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“They agree
that Ali Babah’s djinn had one characteristic which distinguished it from all
the others. It had the ability to change shape, to be whatever it wished to be,
within certain magical limits. It could be a cloud of smoke, or a giant
centipede, or a hooded leper, or a lion-creature, or one of many other magical
varieties of being. Because it was able to change its shape in this way, it was
commonly known as the Forty-Stealers of Life. This became shortened to Forty
Thieves, although it would have been more accurate to call it the Forty
Murderers. Each manifestation of the djinn-each of its forty different
manifestations-could inflict death in a different way. By
choking, if the djinn became a cloud of smoke. By
stinging, if it decided to change itself into a giant centipede. By
contagious disease, if it were a leper. By fire, by drowning,
by mauling, by suffocation, by disemboweling-forty kinds of death for the
asking.”
Anna was
looking pale. She said to me quietly, “The hooded figure? Could that have
been-the leper?”
“It might have
been,” said Professor Qualt. “But it seems to me that the djinn
is not yet free from its jar, and it’s more likely that the hooded
figure you saw was nothing more than a ghostly servant, one of the lesser
beings that the djinn has managed to summon as its helper in its attempt to
escape from its jar. Time and space are crowded with miserable shuffling ghosts
who can be dominated and ruled by the greater and more illustrious spirits from
beyond. Djinns themselves are the servants of the spirits of dead people. It is
said that some spirits keep djinns in the way that you or I would keep a
ferocious dog.”
I took out a
cigarette. “You sound as though you believe all this.”
Professor Qualt
shook his head. “I don’t, as a matter of fact. I have never seen a ghost and I
don’t suppose I’d even know what it was if I did. But that’s not important.
Academically speaking, these things that you’ve told me have only one rational
explanation. There is a jar, and it does contain some kind of phantasmic
influence. It appears to be a malevolent influence, and therefore it could be
the Forty Thieves, If it is, then the best thing you
can do is to get as far away from that house and that jar as you possibly can.
The Forty Thieves is no joke.”
Anna looked
worried. “Can’t we exorcise it?” she suggested. “Couldn’t a priest get rid of
it?”
Professor Qualt
pressed some more tobacco into his pipe. “The djinn is a spirit of Islamic culture. No Christian clergyman is going to be able to make
any kind of impression at all. Bell, book and candle? I don’t think so.”
“So what do you
suggest we do?” I asked him.
Professor Qualt
looked up with those hurt, tired eyes. “I’ve told you,” he said. “Get the hell
out.
If that djinn ever escapes, all you’ll get for your trouble is
one of forty particularly nasty types of extinction.”
“But I
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