CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE—PERSONAL OMENS

Faridoon paced about the stone bench where he had the lamp. In his manor, the glow stones were bright. He had his hand on his chin, his hackles arise.

The disgraced vizier was not in fear of any immediate danger—even though he had fewer guards at the house than he normally did. What worried him now was that he now had to pay the Black Cobra for returning the item Shiro Takeda had held in his position.

Why won’t the jinni come forth?

Gritting his teeth, he wondered what he would do. Surely the jinni was in there. Perhaps he could hire a mage to force the spirit out of the lamp. Once he had proof that the jinni was present, he would be a very, very rich man.

And if there is no jinni…

Then—despite the golden lamp clearly having been crafted during another age, its engravings exquisite, he would be left with nothing more than a trinket.

Faridoon would be ruined.

Yes, the mage. He needed to hire a mage. “Leshik!”

It was a few moments before his personal servant arrived. “Yes, Master Faridoon?” he asked, clasping his hands in supplication as he bowed.

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“A mage. Hire one. Bring him to the house.”

“A mage, my lord?”

“Yes!” Faridoon snapped. “I said a mage! You do know what a mage is, yes?”

“A magicker, my lord, one whose profession is to—“

“Shut up!” Faridoon ordered. He pointed an aggressive finger at Leshik. “You fool. Go get me a mage! Now!”

“My lord, it’s late.”

“Then don’t come back until you have found me what I’ve asked for.”

“As you say, Master Faridoon,” he said. “I will do as you say.”

Faridoon swiped at the air with a backhand. “Useless fool,” he muttered, his eyes going to the lamp. He stalked up to it, picked it up and regarded it.

Narrowing his eyes, he wondered if there was some special incantation, perhaps a mechanism he could press?

He pushed his fingers about, pressing and nudging. But nothing.

Sighing, he decided to rub the lamp. He did so vigorously until his fingers became hot. Nothing happened, still. “Come out!” he commanded.

Silence.

He almost tossed the lamp across the room.

Needing to relax himself, he called the servants and ordered that they bring him wine. He would sit out on his terrace and drink while enjoying the cool night air, and hopefully, his nerves.

Perhaps he would call down Lalula to entertain him for a time. Yes. He was enjoying his most newly acquired pleasure slave. Despite taking her maidenhead, she was still a high-value slave.

Taking stock of his wealth that wasn’t purely in coin or other valuable currencies, Faridoon found himself worrying about that as well.

With a heavy sigh, he thought, If worst comes to worst, I will still be a well off merchant.

But not rich.

Glancing at the lamp, he snarled.