The Secret of Ka by Christopher Pike Page B

isn't a lamp—that's plain enough."
    "You don't know everything about our culture. Djinn don't have to be imprisoned inside lamps. They can be bound to all kinds of objects."
    "Really? Then why did you want me to look it up?" I asked.
    "I was curious if there might be a reference to this object."
    He was still wary of it. Good; I wanted him to be afraid. The last thing we needed was to unleash a djinn into our dimension. Let them remain invisible and hidden—in a realm where they could do us no harm.
    While Amesh studied the green serpent from every angle, I took the opportunity to check out the stained glass windows. There seemed to be numerous battle scenes. They reminded me of the story that was laid out on the carpet, except these were much more detailed and far more bloody. But I still couldn't see much of them in the dim light. I would have to look again during the daytime.
    While prowling the temple, I discovered I could push the door open from the inside. I propped it slightly open with some nearby rocks.
    I wondered if Amesh had heard the first two laws of the djinn. Had I really repeated everything aloud? What if he didn't know the exact danger?
    I might have told him about them right then but he appeared to tire of the sword hilt—although he had yet to touch it—and told me to take him to another temple. I wanted to argue, but we were still in our first "make-up phase." I did as he asked.
    The carpet lifted off effortlessly and floated out the opening in the ceiling. We flew over the length of the pond in the direction of the square temple. I suspected if we stayed above the icy water and headed toward a specific temple, the carpet would stay afloat. It did.
    We entered the square-shaped temple through the roof. Once more, a candle in each corner sprang to life and we had enough light to park beside an altar that bore an uncanny resemblance to the first. Except this one was square, and a black box rested on top.
    "Don't open that!" I blurted out even before we had stood from the carpet. Amesh jumped up and laughed at me.
    "Why not?" he asked.
    I stood. "It looks like Pandora's Box."
    As if daring me to stop him, he reached over and poked it.
    "It's not very heavy," he said as it slid a few inches over the altar. The box was a foot on all sides, and yet it had a distinct impression in one side—an inch shy of the top. It looked like a lid.
    "Amesh," I said. "I'm not sure what you heard the carpet tell me. But there's one thing it made clear—after you make two wishes you owe the djinn. We shouldn't mess with their ... stuff."
    "That's dumb. It goes against all my people's stories about the djinn. Our tales are clear—the person who frees a djinn has total control over it."
    "Has it occurred to you that your stories might have gotten distorted over time?"
    He stopped and stared at me. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"
    "What?"
    "That I have the courage to free one."
    "It doesn't bother me; it scares me."
    Amesh made a dismissive gesture, and as he'd done in the other temple, he began to study the box from every angle. This time I kept my eyes on him, which might have been a mistake. He clearly wanted to show me that he wasn't afraid. He finally picked up the black box.
    "Amesh!" I cried.
    "Don't be such a coward." He slipped his nails in the indentation. He was about to pull off the lid.
    "Stop!" I cried.
    "Would you please shut up for a minute!" he said. The lid was frozen in place. He could not get it off, not with one hand. Relief washed through me. There would be no djinn knocking on our door tonight. But he didn't give up. He tugged at it until he was blue in the face. The poor guy tried gripping it with his thighs, with miserable results.
    Yet he did not ask for my help. He was too proud.
    "I can help you," I said. He didn't respond, so I added, "But if I do, then the djinn will probably end up obeying me."
    It was just a joke. I was teasing him, trying to lighten the mood. It did not work. His jealousy