confine yourself to wishing for them and only them, by all that’s holy to you. Is that agreed, also?”
Asaf grinned. “Don’t you trust me, O great one?”
Nimrod shook his head. “You’re only human, my friend. It’s been my experience that wishing for whatever your heart desires is more than any mundane can cope with. And it is always wise to remember to be careful what you wish for just in case you get it.”
“True,” said Mr. Barkhiya. “For power of such greatness as yours, it is good that you counsel caution. I am a poor man of the desert; however, I have wished before, and I have survived the extraordinary magic. I have eight sons and fifteen grandchildren and it will be my wish that my family shall remain in happiness and health. And so that all djinn who come here may know that I am not a selfish man, it will be my wish that the king, too, shall remain in happiness and health.”
“And your third wish, Asaf?” asked Nimrod.
“Things have been difficult for my country of late,” said Mr. Barkhiya. “People are fearful. They are superstitious.And of late, luck has not smiled on us. The crops lack rain. There is much unemployment. Our country has many enemies and owes much money to the World Bank. Good fortune seems to have deserted us.”
“That’s interesting,” said Moo. “This is what I suspected all along.”
“But this is one of the reasons I came here in the first place,” Nimrod told Asaf. “To consult with the English fakir who lives at the top of Jebel Toubkal. If Lady Silvia here is right, it’s not just your country that feels its lack of luck. Many others do, too.”
“I would change that.”
“You ask the impossible, Asaf,” said Nimrod. “Even I don’t have the power to fix all your country’s ills.”
“I believe I have a way. So this will be my third wish, Nimrod.”
“How?” asked Nimrod. “This interests me a great deal, Asaf. How would you change the luck of your country?”
“I will not say that it would change things in your country, Nimrod,” said Asaf. “But it will certainly change things here. We are a simple people and some sort of a sign is needed that perhaps things are improving in my country. I think that the sign I would give with my third wish might change this perception. The ancient Romans had a saying:
cum mula peperit.
You will find this strange, Nimrod. But that will be my third wish. This is how it will be, O great djinn?”
Nimrod nodded. “This is how it will be, Asaf. As you wish.
Cum mula peperit.”
CHAPTER 12
THE FLYING CARPET
M r. Barkhiya took Nimrod and the others up to the rug emporium rooftop, where, in the late afternoon sunshine, his sons were spreading out the three carpets that had been bought. The biggest of the carpets — Nimrod’s flying carpet — was about a thousand square feet and as blue as a sapphire. Under the hot Moroccan sun, the gold thread woven into the carpet seemed to glow like it was molten metal. Moo and Groanin sat close to the center of the carpet, which seemed like the safest place, and patiently awaited takeoff.
The emporium’s rooftop was castellated like a fortress and was the highest in all of the old city so that local people might not be alarmed at the sight of a carpet ascending into the sky. The El Moania hotel was several miles away, although its distinctive pyramid shape was clearly visible on the horizon.
“If the carpet has not flown for a while,” explained one of the sons, “then you should always leave it in the sun for afew minutes to warm the fibers up. Djinn power relies on heat, yes? Especially the heat of the sun?”
John nodded. “Yes,” he said.
“You will wish to personalize your carpet,” said the man. “Make it so that only you can fly it. In which case you must spill your blood upon it. For then your djinn blood will become part of the carpet. And the words of power will always be yours to command.”
Mr. Barkhiya’s son, who was called Mustafa,
Asaf grinned. “Don’t you trust me, O great one?”
Nimrod shook his head. “You’re only human, my friend. It’s been my experience that wishing for whatever your heart desires is more than any mundane can cope with. And it is always wise to remember to be careful what you wish for just in case you get it.”
“True,” said Mr. Barkhiya. “For power of such greatness as yours, it is good that you counsel caution. I am a poor man of the desert; however, I have wished before, and I have survived the extraordinary magic. I have eight sons and fifteen grandchildren and it will be my wish that my family shall remain in happiness and health. And so that all djinn who come here may know that I am not a selfish man, it will be my wish that the king, too, shall remain in happiness and health.”
“And your third wish, Asaf?” asked Nimrod.
“Things have been difficult for my country of late,” said Mr. Barkhiya. “People are fearful. They are superstitious.And of late, luck has not smiled on us. The crops lack rain. There is much unemployment. Our country has many enemies and owes much money to the World Bank. Good fortune seems to have deserted us.”
“That’s interesting,” said Moo. “This is what I suspected all along.”
“But this is one of the reasons I came here in the first place,” Nimrod told Asaf. “To consult with the English fakir who lives at the top of Jebel Toubkal. If Lady Silvia here is right, it’s not just your country that feels its lack of luck. Many others do, too.”
“I would change that.”
“You ask the impossible, Asaf,” said Nimrod. “Even I don’t have the power to fix all your country’s ills.”
“I believe I have a way. So this will be my third wish, Nimrod.”
“How?” asked Nimrod. “This interests me a great deal, Asaf. How would you change the luck of your country?”
“I will not say that it would change things in your country, Nimrod,” said Asaf. “But it will certainly change things here. We are a simple people and some sort of a sign is needed that perhaps things are improving in my country. I think that the sign I would give with my third wish might change this perception. The ancient Romans had a saying:
cum mula peperit.
You will find this strange, Nimrod. But that will be my third wish. This is how it will be, O great djinn?”
Nimrod nodded. “This is how it will be, Asaf. As you wish.
Cum mula peperit.”
CHAPTER 12
THE FLYING CARPET
M r. Barkhiya took Nimrod and the others up to the rug emporium rooftop, where, in the late afternoon sunshine, his sons were spreading out the three carpets that had been bought. The biggest of the carpets — Nimrod’s flying carpet — was about a thousand square feet and as blue as a sapphire. Under the hot Moroccan sun, the gold thread woven into the carpet seemed to glow like it was molten metal. Moo and Groanin sat close to the center of the carpet, which seemed like the safest place, and patiently awaited takeoff.
The emporium’s rooftop was castellated like a fortress and was the highest in all of the old city so that local people might not be alarmed at the sight of a carpet ascending into the sky. The El Moania hotel was several miles away, although its distinctive pyramid shape was clearly visible on the horizon.
“If the carpet has not flown for a while,” explained one of the sons, “then you should always leave it in the sun for afew minutes to warm the fibers up. Djinn power relies on heat, yes? Especially the heat of the sun?”
John nodded. “Yes,” he said.
“You will wish to personalize your carpet,” said the man. “Make it so that only you can fly it. In which case you must spill your blood upon it. For then your djinn blood will become part of the carpet. And the words of power will always be yours to command.”
Mr. Barkhiya’s son, who was called Mustafa,
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