The Waters of Eternity by Howard Andrew Jones Page A

guards?”
    I stepped into the room and shook my shaggy head. I dropped the medallion into his outstretched palm.
    A fine gold rug hid the cavern floor, and hangings concealed much of the walls. There were green and gold cushions, and even a small brazier in one corner. A small monkey hung in a cage on the chamber’s far side, near the mouth of another tunnel or cave. Likely it led to the outside, where this one or his servant had no doubt been posted to watch for the nephew’s signal lantern.
    The man quickly unwrapped the amulet, stepping near the lantern on the table, then stopped. His dark eyes glittered dangerously as he looked up at me.
    “You fool! This is not the right amulet!”
    “Indeed,” Dabir said, stepping from behind me. “It is mine.”
    The man scowled. I lifted the efreet’s head from my own and took my sword from Dabir.
    The man straightened, but his hands did not drift. He looked again at the amulet. “You are well favored, scholar,” he said, sounding irritated. “I had heard that Dabir ibn Khalil was wise, but I had anticipated the usual hyperbole. I see now that I was wrong. You too must desire the amulet.”
    “I am at a loss,” Dabir said. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”
    “I am Amaharaziad, descendant of great Darius. Like you, my blood is Persian. And like you, I am governed by my wits.”
    “Indeed,” said Dabir, “your ruse was very clever.”
    “How did you see through it?”
    “Your scheme was too subtle. An efreet is not an instrument of subtlety. Furthermore, an efreet could not come within ten paces of a charm that is essentially a blessing.”
    Amaharaziad nodded. “You are wise. And doubtless you now wear the amulet for yourself, and I must relinquish my hopes for it forever.”
    “Nay,” said Dabir. “It is not mine, nor yours, but the merchant’s.”
    Amaharaziad sneered. “He is unworthy.” He stared hard at Dabir. “You disappoint me, scholar. Did you, then, take on Mukhtar’s trouble only for gold?”
    “Only for curiosity. Which prods me to ask what you offered Mukhtar’s nephew? And how did you learn of this passage?”
    “In the days before the coming of the prophet,” Amaharaziad said darkly, “the fool merchant’s dwelling was once my family’s. And the nephew, pfah. Some are easy to buy with gold.” His eyes fell on me. “Your servant has not yet struck, Dabir.”
    “I would take you prisoner,” my friend said. “The governor will decide your fate.”
    Amaharaziad nodded slowly. “Well,” he said, “this, then, will do me no good.” He lifted the medallion. “Here.” With startling speed he flung it at my friend’s head. Dabir ducked, and I instinctively moved to intercept it with my sword.
    I missed. The medallion clanged as it fell into the stair beyond Dabir. I whirled back to Amaharaziad, who smirked. Smoke boiled from a small brass bottle he held in one hand. The fingers of the other toyed with a stopper.
    I raised my arm to strike, but in less time than it takes to draw breath, a shaggy-headed creature formed in the smoke between the two of us. It, too, had horns, and great clawed feet, but its torso was red and scaly, and its breath was foul. Its eyes burned like red coals.
    Amaharaziad stepped back. “Had you worn the amulet, this true efreet could not harm you. It is, as you said, not a subtle being, but can obey simple commands.” His voice became almost a purr. “Kill them.”
    “Run, Asim!” Dabir called. “The sword cannot slay it!”
    I kicked the costumed head at the real efreet and raced after my friend, thinking of what I’d boasted to the girl. It would be folly not to run from this foe. I heard the stone searing under its great feet as it followed. Amaharaziad’s mocking laughter rang off the stone walls.
    Dabir was fleet, and I too was swift, but I could feel the stinking breath of the efreet on my back, and took the final three stairs in a great leap, ducking my head so that I did not