The Seven Kings of Jinn

He thought them rather clever.

He even (although he would never admit it to his brothers or father) liked some of them.

Granted access to Azazil’s compound in the farthest reaches of Mount Qaf, the Red King appeared in the receiving room with grace and aplomb. He conjured robes and hand-sewn leather trousers more befitting to this realm and his father’s tastes. His hair he let loose and he strode toward his father’s throne at the farthest end of the room with his red robes and hair billowing out behind him like a flickering flame. He was an impressive, intimidating sight, and he preened a little as he relished the awed looks that crossed the faces of the hundreds of servant jinn who stood in formation, one after the other, on each side of the room. They were garbed in white pants and loose white shirts, with no accessories adorning their bodies. They were all shaitans, immensely powerful, but completely under Azazil’s command. Despite their power and their subjection to the Sultan Azazil, the sight of one of the seven kings of jinn still thrilled them. The Red King remained expressionless as he passed them. Stretching an impressive few hundred yards, the receiving room had a glass ceiling and floor broken up by precious stones that reflected in a beautiful chaos of lights and colors that often befuddled those who were not jinn. The ceilings arched high above him, and the dais that housed Azazil’s throne was enormous. The receiving room was as vast as an airplane hangar, designed to confuse the unworthy and intimidate the ignorant.

Using enchantment to silence the sound of his bare feet slapping on the glass floor, the Red King swept along, eager to discuss Ari’s predicament with his father.

Finally, he drew to a halt before the throne. The throne itself was constructed entirely of black flawless marble, the hard, harsh lines undisturbed. There were no arabesques or curlicues or chiseled reliefs. Its high back rose a good ten feet in the air. Azazil narrowed his black eyes as he gave his son a small nod. The Red King walked up the steps of the dais with ease and confidence. His father held out his hand and he took it, bowing over it to place a respectful kiss on the sultan's knuckles. Approving, Azazil waited for his son to retrace his steps down from the dais before he waved a hand across the air in front of him. The Red King felt the heat of the enchantment at his back, crawling on his robe like little spiders.

“We have privacy now, my son.” His deep voice, so like the White King’s, rumbled around the room like the thunder of a snowy avalanche. “You need my help? It is time?”

“My brother ordered a shaitan to place an enchantment upon Ari’s human father Derek Johnson.”

Light glittered in Azazil’s black eyes and he smiled. Although the smile was sinister, Azazil’s power was such that his smile made you warm and eager to stretch your own lips into a matching expression. “Clever. It seems my son has played into my plans every step of the way.”

The Red King gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Father. It appears he has.”

“His arrogance will be the death of him. It pleases me. His arrogance. As does your loyalty to me.”

“Yes, Father.”

Azazil abruptly burst into raucous laughter, the harsh and unearthly sound making the Red King wince. “Is it not humorous, son? The White King believes my greatest lieutenant would be fooled by an ifrit?”

“It amuses me greatly.”

“I will have to take your word on that since you show no mirth.”

“I laugh inwardly, Father. My brother believes Sala stole the Seal of Solomon from around Asmodeus’ neck when in truth you commanded Asmodeus to let her take it.”

Not without his own conceit, Azazil enjoyed having his trickery discussed so he could glory in his own cleverness and manipulative genius. His humor, however, dissipated as his eyes took on a contemplative look. His moods were as mercurial as the sea. “The White King must never be sultan, son. He is not cool-headed enough to claim mastery over the Fire Spirits. But sometimes I admire his intelligence. Transforming the seal into human form was one of his better notions. Why did I let his plan play out?”

Patience, the Red King reminded himself. Patience is my greatest ally when dealing with the sultan. For perhaps the tenth time, the Red King reiterated Azazil’s words of wisdom. “Many have sought the Ring of Solomon over the centuries. If one of those seekers were to be successful in finding the seal, they could command us all and rip chaos from its master’s hands. But if the seal is a child, if the seal is Ari, you can manipulate her, you can sway her, and her loyalty to you can be won.”