The Treasure of Akram el-Amin Read online

it is also known. Both halves had darkened with age and from having been oiled with animal fat; but the ancient sheath with its brass tip was still there, albeit scuffed and dinged here and there.

  Now, with the dull colored steel of its blade sharp enough to shave had Iskandar possessed enough hair to shave, it provided a quick and nearly silent manner in which to peer into the tent, the needle point and razor edge piercing and then slicing the thick woven fabric of the tent wall. There was a small tallow candle glowing upon a stand which dimly illuminated the interior. No one was inside! Smiling, the lad slid his jambiya slowly towards the ground, opening a slit large enough to permit ingress.

  Proficiently now he quickly combed the living quarters. Other than a few brass trinkets, a couple pieces of old silver coins of French origin and an old cuirass of steel – nothing!

  Akhstfurallah, he thought. Here were no valuables! The tent must belong to one of el-Amin’s herders!

  Stepping to the doorway, he parted the heavy hangings and glanced without. Outside sat a man who smelled heavily of the goat herds; a smoking huqqa sat close at hand. Iskandar could not tell if he were asleep or awake, so returning to the rear entrance he’d made for himself he exited and continued on his search for the treasures of el-Amin.

  In this fashion he proceeded through many tents. Always as quiet as a desert shadow, he once entered a tent where a man and his wife made the beast with two backs in their blankets, never aware that Iskandar briefly searched their tent - so quiet he was and so invisible in the shadows - his dark jellabiya making him appear as merely another umbrage of the night.

  As he searched for the tents of el-Amin he came suddenly upon a dog, sleeping inside the domicile, which was otherwise uninhabited. The cur immediately began to growl, which alarmed Iskandar.

  “Akhstfurallah, I cannot be found out yet! I have yet to find the treasure!” he hissed under his breath to himself.

  “Shush, Rasha!” he whispered, inserting the name of his own pet, and allowing the animal to sniff his garment.

  Using the name of his own female pup back in Beni Sujiz automatically caused the boy to use the same tones and dog-voice he used with the pup Rasha. Instinctively, the hound whined, smelling the scent of a young female pup upon the boy’s clothes. Iskandar, authoritatively, pet and soothed the great hound, ruffing its fur between its ears.

  “Stay, Rasha! Sit, and I shall return this way,” he commanded; the dog lay back down and curled up, and Iskandar, relieved, went his way.

  Voices and the sounds of merriment and laughter came to the boy’s ears. He approached nearer and nearer to the fires, about which the tribe yet gathered. He must hurry! The hour neared when they would begin to drift off in pairs and singly to their tents. He had thus far been lucky, only finding a few tents inhabited.

  But now, here was a great, dark structure: these must be the tents of el-Amin!

  These tents were connected, forming individual rooms and tunnels, in which the many servants of the great Sheikh, el-Amin, were wont to go upon their mysterious errands. Silently, Iskandar entered in his usual manner.

  Instantly he found himself in the women’s’ quarters, with the soft voices of many members of the gentler persuasion drifting to his ears from nearby. Akhstfurallah, he thought. Quickly he hid behind a large armoire as two ladies entered. They stayed for a long time, talking.

  “Bismillah, but that Izzah is presumptuous!” one complained.

  “I know what you mean, Jawa! Neither will the girl listen to me! She insists on acting like a boy, wanting to sit by the fires with the men - and I heard her ask her father for her own sword!” replied the other.

  Women, thought Iskandar. I am glad to leave them to the old men; give me a horse, my El Azra'eil, and my jambiya!

  The handsome boy dodged around a rolled-up carpet just as one of el-Amin’s wives entered from another entrance; none of the women even dreamed of his presence.

  Oh, and Rasha, he mentally amended as the woman exited on through the tent.

  Silently Iskandar slipped passed the women who continued to talk about this ‘Izzah’, never knowing a raider from an enemy tribe was so close at hand they could nearly reach out and touch him – not that the boy Iskandar would have harmed Jawa or her friend, for he did not make war on women. But let el-Amin’s men guard their necks, he thought viciously.

  Now indeed did Iskandar run great risk. He couldn’t count the number of times he found himself forced to hide while he searched. The tents were filled with the women of el-Amin’s hareem, although occasionally he would see an older man with a very black and pointed beard whom he would hear speaking in distinctive baritones. He guessed this man to be el-Amin’s major domo who ran the home of the great Sheikh and attended to the many divers things that were far too trifling with which to bother the great Sheikh.

  At last his diligence was rewarded. As he slipped into a narrow passage and into a great tent he found a lantern sitting already upon a wooden stand. The tent was empty, and he could tell instantly that this was the holding room of many items of great value. Immediately to view were great stores of weapons – not of the type that would be used daily, but fine weapons, such as a knight of old Europe might have carried in ceremony.

  Next he noticed racks of superior French and German over-and-unders along with old muzzle loaders of exceptional quality. Here and there he saw stands filled with beautifully crafted swords of every type imaginable, bolts of exotic tapestries and other fineries. But how to know which el-Amin held to be of the most value? Here these things were, without as much as a guard before the tunnel. Mayhap there was a lockbox? He decided to look.

  A Strange Discovery

  Almost instantly Iskandar discovered a curious lamp sitting upon a pedestal of ornate design and configuration, a piece that may have hearkened to the dark times before the birth of the prophet.

  In the low light it looked to be of hammered gold, and appeared ancient beyond belief; he decided to make a closer inspection. This just may be that which el-Amin valued above everything else in the room, for of them all only this one thing sat alone and of such obvious centrality and import, occupying as it did this fanciful plinth.

  As he turned the curious thing this way and that during his examination he noticed a sudden glow emanating from its gleaming form, an aura the lamp did not contain a moment prior. Bemused, he sat it down quickly in its place, thinking el-Amin had sabotaged this curio of nigh incalculable value. Leaping back, he watched horrified as a grim and smoky substance rapidly drifted from the lamp. This soon filled the air above him with what soon took the monstrous shape and form of a member of the fabled race of djinn - an afrit of such rotundity it hardly seemed credible it had just issued from this relatively tiny receptacle, or that this tent, as mighty as it was, could yet support the creature’s colossal dimensions.

  “Who are you, boy, who dares disturb the daydreamings of Zimzollazinsta?” the creature bellowed in a tone so loud the lad knew the entire tribe even unto the distant sheep herders in the hills must have heard it.

  Iskandar retreated from the shiny lamp from which the mystical being had just emerged. He glanced around furtively, fearing that the roarings of the giant would draw the women and guards.

  “I—“ stammered Iskandar, “that is, O mighty djinn, I seeketh that which your master, el-Amin, treasures above all else. I thought perchance it to be this golden lamp…”

  “And well one might assume such to be the case,” boomed the giant, “for I am unique amongst this hoard, as thou canst see! And thou mayest cease thy glancing this way and that. None may hear that which passes between us.”

  “Indeed,” quoth Iskandar, relieved. “However, now that I take note that thy hallowed abode abides in this store room with nary a guard, I see that thou art incorrect, and that he holds thee in little esteem.”

  “Little esteem!” boomed the djinn, just noticing this fact for himself. “Wullah, by the
beard of the prophet – thy words have the ring of truth! Why, my lamp is covered in dust – I see where thou hast only now wiped a shine on it! So, I mean no more than this to that old buzzard! In that case I give thee, O thief, the last and final wish of Akram el-Amin, may the wild camels nibble his toes, of which he has made but two, leaving his last for a later time, abiding as he said such time as he had to mull the issue. Now, what is it thou desirest from el-Amin’s riches - may he drink boiling brass! Quick lad, that I might avail myself of my leave taking and find a quiet spot whereat mankind mayest not discover me for some time to come.”

  “Nay, I wish it not,” averred Iskandar, however. “I have heard of the cunning of your kind, O Afrit, and wish not to pit my wits against thine! The task before me I must accomplish unaided, mighty djinn. Although your offer is tempting, I may not avail myself of it.”

  But the lad had a sudden thought. Although this had nothing to do with his task of pilfering el-Amin’s most valued treasure, still he could not see it taking more than a moment - and it would infuriate his father’s enemy!

  “But wait!” he said. “This will I do since I can see no harm in it. I wilt indeed make this wish, since el-Amin hast so rashly placed the opportunity to do so within my grasp—“

  “Hold!” roared the genie.