“Then he is being greedy,” Flower-in-the-Night stated. “This takes a weight off my mind. Why did you say that my marrying you might not work? You mentioned yesterday that you are a prince as well.”
Abdullah felt his face heating up, and he cursed himself for babbling out his daydream to her. Though he told himself that he had had every reason to believe he was dreaming when he told her, this did not make him feel any better. “True. But I also told you I was lost and far from my kingdom,” he said. “As you might conjecture, I am now forced to make my living by humble means. I sell carpets in the Bazaar of Zanzib. Your father is clearly a very rich man. This will not strike him as a fitting alliance.”
Flower-in-the-Night’s fingers drummed quite angrily. “You speak as if it is my father who intends to marry you!” she said. “What is the matter? I love you. Do you not love me?”
She looked into Abdullah’s face as she said this. He looked back into hers, into what seemed an eternity of big dark eyes. He found himself saying, “Yes.” Flower-in-the-Night smiled. Abdullah smiled. Several more moonlit eternities went by.
“I shall come with you when you leave here,” Flower-in-the-Night said. “Since what you say about my father’s attitude to you could well be true, we must get married first and tell my father afterwards. Then there is nothing he can say.”
Abdullah, who had had some experience of rich men, wished he could be sure of that. “It may not be quite that simple,” he said. “In fact, now I think about it, I am certain our only prudent course is to leave Zanzib. This ought to be easy, because I do happen to own a magic carpet – there it is, up on the bank. It brought me here. Unfortunately, it needs to be activated by a magic word which I seem only able to say in my sleep.”
Flower-in-the-Night picked up a lamp and held it high so that she could inspect the carpet. Abdullah watched, admiring the grace with which she bent towards it. “It seems very old,” she said. “I have read about such carpets. The command-word will probably be a fairly common word pronounced in an old way. My reading suggests these carpets were meant to be used quickly in an emergency, so the word will not be anything too out of the way. Why do you not tell me carefully everything you know about it? Between us we ought to be able to work it out.”
From this Abdullah realised that Flower-in-the-Night – if you discounted the gaps in her knowledge – was both intelligent and very well educated. He admired her even more. He told her, as far as he knew them, every fact about the carpet, including the uproar at Jamal’s stall which had prevented him hearing the command-word.
Flower-in-the-Night listened and nodded at each new fact. “So,” she said, “let us leave aside the reason why someone should sell you a proven magic carpet and yet make sure you could not use it. That is such an odd thing to do that I feel sure we should think about it later. But let us first think about what the carpet does. You say it came down when you ordered it to. Did the stranger speak then?”
She had a shrewd and logical mind. Truly he had found a pearl among women, Abdullah thought. “I am quite sure he said nothing,” he said.
“Then,” said Flower-in-the-Night, “the command-word is only needed to start the carpet flying. After that, I see two possibilities. First, that the carpet will do as you say until it touches ground anywhere. Or second, that it will in fact obey your command until it is back at the place where it first started—”
“That is easily proved,” Abdullah said. He was dizzy with admiration for her logic. “I think the second possibility is the correct one.” He jumped on the carpet and cried experimentally, “Up, and back to my booth!”
“No, no! Don’t! Wait!” Flower-in-the-Night cried out at the same instant.
But it was too late. The carpet whipped up into the air and then away sideways with such speed and suddenness that Abdullah was first thrown over on his back, with all the breath knocked out of him, and then found himself hanging half off over its frayed edge at what seemed a terrifying height in the air. The wind of its movement took his breath away as soon as he did manage to breathe. All he could do was to claw frantically for a better grip on the fringe at one end. And before he could work his way back on top of it, let alone speak, the carpet plunged downwards – leaving Abdullah’s newly-gained breath high in the air above – barged its way through the curtains of the booth – half-smothering Abdullah in the process – and landed smoothly – and very finally – on the floor inside.
Abdullah lay on his face gasping, with dizzy memories of turrets whirling past him against a starry sky. Everything had happened so quickly that, at first, all he could think of was that the distance between his booth and the night garden must be quite surprisingly short. Then, as his breath did at last come back, he wanted to kick himself. What a stupid thing to have done! He could at least have waited until Flower-in-the-Night had had time to step on the carpet too. Now Flower-in-the-Night’s own logic told him that there was no way to get back to her but to fall asleep again and, once more, hope he chanced to say the command-word in his sleep. But as he had already done it twice, he was fairly sure that he would. He was even more certain that Flower-in-the-Night would work this out for herself and wait in the garden for him. She was intelligence itself – a pearl among women. She would expect him back in an hour or so.
After an hour of alternately blaming himself and praising Flower-in-the-Night, Abdullah did manage to fall asleep. But, alas, when he woke he was still face down on the carpet in the middle of his own booth. Jamal’s dog was barking outside, which was what had woken him up.
“Abdullah!” shouted the voice of his father’s first wife’s brother’s son. “Are you awake in there?”
Abdullah groaned. This was all he needed.
CHAPTER FOUR Which concerns marriage and prophecy
Abdullah could not think what Hakim was doing there. His father’s first wife’s relatives usually only came near him once a month, and they had paid that visit to him two days ago. “What do you want, Hakim?” he shouted wearily.
“To speak to you of course!” Hakim shouted back. “Urgently!”
“Then part the curtains and come in,” said Abdullah.
Hakim inserted his plump body between the hangings. “I must say, if this is your vaunted security, son of my aunt’s husband,” he said, “I don’t think much of it. Anyone could come in here and surprise you as you slept.”
“The dog outside warned me you were there,” Abdullah said.
“What use is that?” asked Hakim. “What would you propose to do if I proved to be a thief? Strangle me with a carpet? No, I cannot approve the safety of your arrangements.”
“What did you wish to say to me?” asked Abdullah. “Or did you only come here to find fault as usual?”
Hakim seated himself portentously on a pile of carpets. “You lack your normal scrupulous politeness, cousin by marriage,” he said. “If my father’s uncle’s son were to hear you, he would not be pleased.”
“I am not answerable to Assif for my behaviour or for anything else!” Abdullah snapped. He was thoroughly miserable. His soul cried out for Flower-in-the-Night, and he could not get to her. He had no patience with anything else.
“Then I shall not trouble you with my message,” Hakim said, getting up haughtily.
“Good!” said Abdullah. He went to the back of his booth to wash.
But it was clear that Hakim was not going away without delivering his message. When Abdullah turned round from washing, Hakim was still standing there. “You would