Dealing with Dragons - Wrede Patricia Collins (бесплатные книги полный формат .TXT) 📗

"Why not?" Therandil said, sounding rather hurt. "I said I'd be careful."

The tip of his dagger was already embedded in the lead.

"Kazul said to leave the ones with lead stoppers alone," Cimorene said.

"So put it back."

"If you insist," Therandil said, shrugging. He pulled on his dagger, but it was stuck fast in the lead. "Drat!" he said, and twisted the handle. The dagger came free, and the lead stopper came along with it.

"I should have known," Cimorene said in a resigned tone.

A black cloud of smoke poured out of the jar. As Cimorene and Therandil watched, it condensed into a dark-skinned giant wearing only a turban and a loincloth. He was more than twice as tall as Therandil, and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a stern frown.

"What is it?" whispered Therandil.

"Trouble," said Cimorene.

"Thou speakest truly, O Daughter of Wisdom," said the giant in a booming voice that filled the cave. "For I am a jinn, who was imprisoned in that jar, and I am the instrument of thy death and that of thy paramour."

"My what?" Cimorene said, outraged.

"Thy lover," the jinn said uncomfortably. "The man who stands beside thee."

"I know what you meant," Cimorene said. "But he isn't my lover, or my fiance, or my boyfriend or anything, and I refuse to be killed with him."

"But Cimorene, you know perfectly well-" Therandil started.

"You hush," Cimorene said. "You've made enough of a mess already."

"If he is not thy paramour, nor any of those other things, then what is he?" the jinn asked suspiciously.

"A nuisance," Cimorene said succinctly.

"Cimorene, you're not being very kind," Therandil said.

"What he is matters not," the jinn said grandly after a moment's heavy thought. "It is enough that thou and he shall die."

"Enough for whom?" Cimorene said.

The jinn blinked at her. "For me. "Tis my will that thou and he shall die by my hand. Thou hast but to choose the manner of thy death."

"Old age," Cimorene said promptly.

"Mock me not! Thou and he shall die, and by my hand, ere this day draws to its close!" the jinn cried.

"Do you suppose he means it?" Therandil said nervously.

"Why would he keep bellowing it at us if he didn't mean it?"

Cimorene said. "Do be quiet, Therandil."

Therandil lowered his voice. "Should I offer to fight him, do you think?"

"Don't be silly," Cimorene said. She saw that Therandil was distressed, so she added, "You came up here to fight a dragon. You aren't prepared for a jinn, and nobody could reasonably expect you to challenge "If you say so," Therandil said, looking relieved.

Cimorene turned back to the jinn and saw that he, too, was looking perturbed. "What's the matter with you?" she said crossly.

"Dost thou not wish to know why I will kill thee?" the jinn asked plaintively.

"What difference does it make?" Cimorene said.

"Yes, actually," Therandil said at the same time.

"Therandil!" Cimorene said in exasperation. "Shut up!"

"Hear my story, O luckless pair!" the jinn said with evident relief.

"I am one of those jinn who did rebel against the law of our kind, and for my crimes I was sentenced to imprisonment in this bottle until the day should come when human hands would loose me. As is the custom of my people, I swore that whoso should release me during the first hundred years of my imprisonment I would make ruler of the earth; whoso should release me during the second hundred years I should make rich beyond all dreams of men; whoso shall release me during the third hundred I should grant three wishes; and whoso should release me after any longer span of time I should grant only the choice of what death he would die."

"You're going to kill us because it's traditional?" Cimorene asked.

"Yes," the jinn said. His eyes slid away from Cimorene's, and she frowned suddenly.

"Just how long were you in that jar?" she demanded.

"Uh, well, actually…" The jinn's voice trailed off.

"How long?" Cimorene insisted.

"Two hundred and seventeen years," the jinn admitted. "But nobody ever releases a jinn before the three hundred years are over."

"You're trying to get around your oath!" Therandil said, plainly shocked by the very thought. "You pretended you had to kill us so you wouldn't have to give us the wishes!"

"No!" the jinn said. "Thinkest thou that the granting of wishes alone would so trouble me? Needs must I kill thee and thy fair companion, for I cannot return home and say that thou didst release me and I left thee living! I would be a laughingstock. Never in three thousand years has such a thing occurred"

"Then you shouldn't have sworn an oath," Therandil said sternly.

"I had to!" the jinn said miserably. "It is the custom of our kind.

'Twould be… 'twould be…"

"Improper?" Cimorene murmured.

"'Twould be improper to do otherwise," the jinn said, nodding. "But now thou hast found me out, and what am I to do? If I kill thee, it will violate my oath; if I kill thee not, the remainder of my life will be a torment."

"You could go back in the jar for another eighty-three years," Cimorene suggested delicately.

"I could… go back?" The jinn blinked at her for a moment. "I could go back. I could go back!"

"And in eighty-three years we'll both be dead of old age," Cimorene said. "Since that was my choice of death, your oath will be fulfilled and you can go straight home without killing anyone else or giving them any riches or power or anything."

"Truly, thou art a jewel among women and the very Queen of Wisdom's daughters!" the jinn said happily. "Thou hast found the perfect solution to my difficulties!"

"Wait a minute!" Therandil said. "What about those wishes?"

"Therandil!" Cimorene said in a shocked tone. "I'm surprised at you! How can he give us wishes if he's going back in the jar for eighty-three years? It wouldn't be right at all."

Therandil frowned. "Are you sure? After all, we did let him out during his third hundred years."

"I suppose I could let thee have one wish at least, in token of my thanks for thy help," the jinn said. "As long as thou dost not tell anyone."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Therandil assured him. "And my Wish is to defeat a dragon and win his princess's hand in marriage!"

The Jinn waved a dark hand over Therandil's head. "There! When next thou dost fight a dragon, thou shalt surely defeat him. And thou?" he said, turning to Cimorene.

"I could use some powdered hens' teeth," Cimorene said.

The jinn blinked in surprise, but he waved his hand again, his face a mask of concentration. Then he bowed and handed Cimorene a fat brown jar. "There's thy desire. Farewell!" With an elaborate salaam, the jinn dissolved back into a cloud of smoke that poured back into the copper jar from which it had come. Cimorene leaned over and plucked the lead stopper from the end of Therandil's knife. She jammed it back into place and heaved a sigh of relief.

Therandil was not paying attention. "What did you want something like that for?" he asked, looking at the jar of hens' teeth and wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"I don't believe I shall tell you," Cimorene said, putting the jar carefully into one of her apron pockets. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me? I like that!" Therandil said indignantly.

"I'm going to marry you, just as soon as I beat that dragon of yours."

"I don't think you're going to beat Kazul," Cimorene said in a considering tone.

"But that jinn just said-" "He said that if you fight a dragon, you'll defeat him. But Kazul is a her, not a him," Cimorene pointed out.

"And you ought not to be trying to rescue me anyway."

"Why not?" Therandil asked truculently.

"Because there are other princesses who've been captives of dragons for much longer than I have, and they have seniority," Cimorene explained.