“Do not lie to me,” Zuhain commanded, gripping his dagger.
“See for yourself, Ibn Zuhain.” Emad moved his right arm and the conjured scenes began to change with bewildering rapidity. Zuhain’s senses were numbed by the succession of glowing images of proud, teeming cities, endless expanses of ripening crops, lush forests, bustling ports. And everywhere he looked great vehicles of commerce plied the roads, huge ships moved on the surface of the oceans without wind or sail, and he even saw machines which flew above the clouds like metal birds. The pageant was one of wealth, luxury and power.
“I hope my lord is satisfied,” Emad said pointedly, showing signs of impatience. He gestured again with his arm and the floor of the courtyard returned to its former solidity. “It is time for your third wish.”
“Not yet.” Zuhain considered what he had seen, and his mind, skilled in the grasping of essentials, returned to the one factor which had been common to all the visions laid out before him. “Those ships I saw, the wagons, the machines which flew—what made them move? I saw no sails, no horses or camels, no tethered birds.”
“All conveyances will propel themselves by means of engines.”
“That is no explanation—what force is harnessed?”
“The force of the blue crystals, my lord.”
“What crystals do you speak of? Sapphires? Amethysts?”
“You have no name for them because, although they are plentiful in other lands, almost none can be found throughout the length and breadth of Islam. Suffice it to say that the blue crystals have a power which in one respect is even greater than mine—they cannot be confined. Place one in the stoutest bottle or brass-bound cask and it will soon burst the top or sides. And as you have seen, men will learn to harness that power and make it serve them in many ways. In that age the lowliest peasants will be as rich as princes.
“And now,” Emad concluded, “for your third and final wish. I assume that, like all the others, you desire the restoration of your youth and virility.”
“Not so quickly—I saw no riches in my domain, nor in any part of Arabia.”
“I have explained that the blue crystals are not found here, but do not alarm yourself, my lord.” Emad’s voice had taken on a caressing quality. “The other nations will be generous with gifts of food and medicine. Your children will not be allowed to starve.”
Zuhain partially drew his dagger. “If you value your life, dog, do not speak in that manner.”
“I tremble,” Emad replied sarcastically, drawing himself up until he stood almost as high as the garden’s central fountain. “Hurry, old man, state your wish. How young do you wish to be? Twenty? Fifteen?”
“As you say, I am an old man,” Zuhain replied, checking his anger. “There is little time remaining to me, and it would be good to taste the sweet honey of youth once more—but what is a lifetime when measured against eternity? The seventy years you offer will draw to a close just as surely as those I have already spent.”
“What if I offer you eternal life?”
“I have no desire to be forever denied entrance to Paradise.”
“You are a fool, Ibn Zuhain,” said Emad. “What, then, is your last wish?”
“I command you to rid this world of your accursed blue crystals and give me an equally powerful talisman in their place.”
There was a pause before Emad replied, and when he did so his voice seemed hushed. “Even for you, even for the Lord of the Long Valley, such ambition is too…”
“Do as I say!” Zuhain thundered, drawing his dagger and throwing it at the towering silhouette. There was a flash, a ripple of shadow across the sky, and Emad was gone.
Zuhain looked all about him, anxious to behold the treasure for which he had eschewed eternal youth, and his shoulders sagged as he realised he had been betrayed. There was no treasure, no glittering talisman which would give his descendants the key to the wonderful future he had glimpsed. It occurred to him that he would have gained much had he treated Emad with politeness and consideration, but that had never been his way.
Dejected and angry, lost in his thoughts, Zuhain turned to leave the private garden, and at that moment there came a subtle alteration to the music of the high fountain. He looked at it and his eyes narrowed in fury as he appreciated the full extent of the jinn’s trickery and malice.
The clear water of the fountain—solace of his fading years—had dried up, and in its place there gouted forth a black and evil-smelling oil which, already, had begun to disfigure everything in its vicinity.