“Dalzel!” Abdullah shouted up at the sobbing djinn. “Beauteous Dalzel, poacher of princesses, be peaceful a moment and look upon the gift I have given you to take with you into exile.”
Dalzel stopped in mid-sob. “Gift?”
Abdullah pointed. “Behold two brides, young and succulent and sorely in need of a bridegroom.”
Dalzel wiped luminous tears from his cheeks and surveyed the nieces in much the same way that Abdullah’s cannier customers used to inspect his carpets. “A matching pair!” he said. “And wonderfully fat! Where’s the catch? Are they perhaps not yours to give away?”
“No catch, shining djinn,” said Abdullah. It seemed to him that, now the girls’ other relatives had deserted them, they were surely his to dispose of. But to be on the safe side, he added, “They are yours for the stealing, mighty Dalzel.” He went up to the nieces and patted each on her plump arm. “Ladies,” he said. “Fullest moons of Zanzib, pray forgive me that unfortunate vow which prevents me forever from enjoying your largeness. Look up instead and behold the husband I have found you in my place.”
The heads of both nieces came up as soon as they heard the word husband. They gazed at Dalzel. “He’s ever so handsome,” said the pink one.
“I like them with wings,” said the yellow one. “It’s different.”
“Fangs are rather sexy,” mused the pink one. “So are claws, provided he’s careful with them on the carpets.”
Dalzel beamed wider with each remark. “I shall steal these at once,” he said. “I like them better than princesses. Why didn’t I collect fat ladies instead, Hasruel?”
A fond smile bared Hasruel’s fangs. “It was your decision, brother.” His smile faded. “If you are quite ready, it is my duty to send you into exile now.”
“I don’t mind so much now,” Dalzel said, with his eyes still on the two nieces.
Hasruel stretched out his hand again, slowly, regretfully, and slowly, in three long rolls of thunder, Dalzel and the two nieces faded out of sight. There was a slight smell of the sea and a faint noise of sea gulls. Both Morgan and Valeria started crying again. Everyone else sighed, Hasruel deepest of all. Abdullah realized with some surprise that Hasruel truly loved his brother. Although it was hard to understand how anyone could love Dalzel, Abdullah could hardly blame him. Who am I to criticize? he thought, as Flower-in-the-Night came up and put her arm through his.
Hasruel heaved up an even heavier sigh and sat down on the throne, which fitted his size far better than Dalzel’s, with his great wings drooping sadly to either side. “There is other business,” he said, touching his nose gingerly. It seemed to be healing already.
“Yes, there certainly is!” said Sophie. She had been waiting on the throne steps for her chance to speak. “When you stole our moving castle, you disappeared my husband, Howl. Where is he? I want him back.”
Hasruel raised his head sadly, but before he could reply, there were alarmed noises from the princesses. Everyone at the bottom of the steps retreated from the Paragon’s petticoat. It was bulging and bellying up and down on its hoops like a concertina. “Help!” cried the genie inside. “Let me out! You promised!”
Flower-in-the-Night’s hand leaped to her mouth. “Oh! I clean forgot!” she said, and darted away from Abdullah, down the steps. She threw aside the petticoat in a roll of purple smoke. “I wish,” she cried out, “that you be released from your bottle, genie, and be free forevermore!”
As usual the genie did not waste time in thanks. The bottle burst with a resounding smack. Inside the rolls of smoke a decidedly more solid figure climbed to its feet. Sophie gave a scream at the sight. “Oh, bless the girl! Thank you, thank you!” She arrived in the vanishing smoke so fast that she nearly knocked the solid man there over. He did not seem to mind. He picked Sophie up and swung her around and around. “Oh, why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I realize?” Sophie panted, staggering about on broken glass.
“Because that was the enchantment,” Hasruel said gloomily. “If he was known to be Wizard Howl, someone would have released him. You could not know who he was, nor could he tell anyone.”
The Royal Wizard Howl was a younger man than Wizard Suliman, and a good deal more elegant. He was richly dressed in a suit of mauve satin, against which his hair showed a rather improbable shade of yellow. Abdullah stared at the wizard’s light eyes in the wizard’s bony face. He had seen those eyes clearly, one early morning. He felt he should have guessed. He felt himself altogether in an awkward position. He had used the genie. He felt he knew the genie very well. Did that mean he also knew the wizard? Or not?
For this reason, Abdullah did not join in when everyone, including the soldier, gathered around Wizard Howl, exclaiming and congratulating him. He watched the tiny Princess of Tsapfan walk quietly among the exclaiming crowd and gravely put Morgan into Howl’s arms.
“Thanks,” said Howl. “I thought I’d better bring him along where I could keep an eye on him,” he explained to Sophie. “Sorry if I gave you a fright.” Howl seemed more used to holding babies than Sophie was. He rocked Morgan soothingly and stared at him. Morgan stared, rather balefully, back. “My word, he’s ugly!” Howl said. “Chip off the old block.”
“Howl!” said Sophie. But she did not sound angry.
“One moment,” said Howl. He advanced to the steps of the throne and looked up at Hasruel. “Look here, djinn,” he said, “I’ve a bone to pick with you. What do you mean by pinching my castle and shutting me up in a bottle?”
Hasruel’s eyes lit to an angry orange. “Wizard, do you imagine your power is equal to mine?”
“No,” said Howl. “I just want an explanation.” Abdullah found himself admiring the man. Knowing what a coward the genie had been, he had no doubt that Howl was a jelly of terror inside. But he showed no sign of it. He hoisted Morgan over his mauve silk shoulder and glared back at Hasruel.
“Very well,” said Hasruel. “My brother ordered me to steal the castle. In this I had no choice. But Dalzel gave no orders concerning you, except that I ensure you could not steal the castle back again. Had you been a blameless man, I would simply have transported you to the island where my brother is now. But I knew you had been using your wizardry to conquer a neighboring country—”
“That’s not fair!” said Howl. “The King ordered me!” He sounded for a moment just like Dalzel, and he must have realized that he did. He stopped. He thought. Then he said ruefully, “I daresay I could have redirected His Majesty’s mind if it had occurred to me. You’re right. But don’t ever let me catch you where I can put you in a bottle, that’s all.”
“That I might deserve,” Hasruel agreed. “And I deserve it the more as I took pains to let everyone involved meet with the most fitting fate I could devise.” His eyes slanted toward Abdullah. “Did I not?”
“Most painfully, great djinn,” Abdullah agreed. “All my dreams came true, not only the pleasant ones.”
Hasruel nodded. “And now,” he said, “I must leave you when I have performed one more small, needful act.” His wings rose, and his hands gestured. Instantly he was in the midst of a swarm of strange winged shapes. They hovered over his head and around the throne like transparent sea horses, completely silent except for the faint whisper of their whirling wings.