Chronicles Of Narnia Fan Fiction / Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fan Fiction ❯ The Lion, the Cat and the Turtles ❯ Asheena's Story ( Chapter 10 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: Roo the Roo 
The big secret of the Tisroc of Calormen is revealed.
Non Anime: Chronicles Of Narnia Fan Fiction / Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 03.13.2008 | Updated On: 03.13.2008 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.9K | Visits: 389 | Status: Completed
The big secret of the Tisroc of Calormen is revealed.
Non Anime: Chronicles Of Narnia Fan Fiction / Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 03.13.2008 | Updated On: 03.13.2008 | Pages: 6 | Words: 7.9K | Visits: 389 | Status: Completed
The Lion, the Cat and the Turtles
PART TEN:
Asheena's Story
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Based on
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird
and
The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis
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Contains some spoilers for the Narnia books. Don't believe me? Too bad!
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Ardazhin Tisroc, the current -- and hopefully eternal, as his subjects would always hurry to add -- ruler of Calormen, was a man who had everything. Or at least as close to "everything" as a man could have.
Not only was he the unquestioned ruler of the greatest and mightiest country in this world, he was also by far the richest man alive, the most adored and respected (or at least feared, which in cases like his goes pretty much for the same thing) man in Calormen, and also seemed blessed with youth and strength that any man would have given anything for; he was approaching his sixty-eighth year and yet anyone who didn't know any better would have sworn he couldn't be a day over thirty.
He lived in luxury and his smallest command and desire was always instantly obeyed. He had many wives -- all the loveliest, most delightful young women you ever saw -- and so many children that he could hardly count them. He had slaves and servants by the hundreds.
And he also had a secret; a deep, dark secret that, for all his wealth and grandness, often nagged at him and made him uneasy with thoughts that it would ever be revealed.
Which was why he was, at present, rushing down the corridors of his great palace, followed by several of his bravest and strongest sons, towards the Forbidden Wing -- the one place in the palace where only Ardazhin Tisroc himself and a select few of his most trusted guards were allowed to go.
(Outwardly, the reason given for this was that the Forbidden Wing contained the Box of Doom, which, when opened, would bring about the end of the world. And it says quite a lot about the Calormenes' traditional unquestioning acceptance of everything their ruler says as the absolute truth that almost everyone had, without hesitation, swallowed this outrageous lie whole.)
"O my Father, delight of my eye, may you live forever," his oldest son panted. "Why are we racing towards the Forbidden Wing like this? Surely your guards, mighty as they are, must have subdued the demon by now!"
"Display not your ignorance, o my son, lest people will mistake you for the re-incarnation of Rabadash!" Ardazhin replied harshly. Though he was older than his sons, and his life was largely one of leisure, he was in almost ridiculously good shape and had no problems speaking without panting, even while running at top speed. "Demons are cunning and powerful creatures, and demons coming from Narnia are worse than any! He will stop at nothing to get the Box of Doom for himself, and if it falls into Narnian hands, o my esteemed idiot of a son, our lovely Calormen is lost! We cannot take any undue risks! So cease your questions and run!"
"To hear is to obey," the son panted, and said no more.
As they came to the Forbidden Wing, a most strange sight greeted them: There, in the corridor in front of them, were the guards that had been sent up to subdue the terrible demon, all frozen and stiff like statues in various poses that spoke of a ferocious battle.
"It must be the work of the demon!" one of the sons exclaimed. "He has turned all the guards into stone even as they attacked him!"
"Not the demon..:" came a weak voice from the floor, and both Ardazhin and his sons turned to see one guard, who had apparently escaped whatever petrification spell had been placed upon the others. "It was Lady Asheena."
"What did you just say?!" Ardazhin snapped, turning to him and hoping that his voice didn't betray how terrified he felt. "What is this about Lady Asheena?!"
"Lady Asheena," the guard replied, struggling to sit up. "My lord Tisroc -- may you live forever -- Lady Asheena, your wife... She is... she is not human! She is a djinn!"
Ardazhin's heart skipped a beat. "O my sons!" he managed to sputter. "Put this dog of a guard to death immediately for daring to speak such slanderous words against one of my wives and your mothers!"
"To hear is to obey," the sons chorused, advancing on the guard with drawn scimitars.
"I speak the truth!" the guard yelled, despair obvious in his eyes. "Most honorable Tisroc -- may you live forever -- I speak nothing but the truth! A barbarian woman stole the Box of Doom, and opened it, but instead of the sky falling as you, o my eternal Master, have awways claimed it would, a cloud of red smoke emerged and turned into Lady Asheena, who immediately swore her pledge of slavery and obedience to the barbarian woman! She petrified all the guards apart from myself and then vanished together with the woman and her three demons! She is a djinn!"
Ardazhin would have cursed, if he'd thought he could have gotten away with it and not lose dignity. "Hold your swords, o my sons!" he commanded. "This poor man is obviously delusional and says things that cannot be -- it must be the demon who has confused his mind. You," he said, pointing at his youngest son (whose name he'd certainly be able to recall after a few moments' thought). "Take him with you to the garden and give him some wine. Listen not to his insane ramblings -- Asheena is no djinn! It is all demon trickery!"
"To hear is to obey," said the youngest son.
"The rest of you, follow me," said Ardazhin. "The Box of Doom must be recovered from the demon at all costs!"
He knew that it was probably already too late, even as he spoke -- but he was not going to give up just yet. There would be plenty of time to curse and weep and damn the gods for having sent this fate upon him later.
Not only was he the unquestioned ruler of the greatest and mightiest country in this world, he was also by far the richest man alive, the most adored and respected (or at least feared, which in cases like his goes pretty much for the same thing) man in Calormen, and also seemed blessed with youth and strength that any man would have given anything for; he was approaching his sixty-eighth year and yet anyone who didn't know any better would have sworn he couldn't be a day over thirty.
He lived in luxury and his smallest command and desire was always instantly obeyed. He had many wives -- all the loveliest, most delightful young women you ever saw -- and so many children that he could hardly count them. He had slaves and servants by the hundreds.
And he also had a secret; a deep, dark secret that, for all his wealth and grandness, often nagged at him and made him uneasy with thoughts that it would ever be revealed.
Which was why he was, at present, rushing down the corridors of his great palace, followed by several of his bravest and strongest sons, towards the Forbidden Wing -- the one place in the palace where only Ardazhin Tisroc himself and a select few of his most trusted guards were allowed to go.
(Outwardly, the reason given for this was that the Forbidden Wing contained the Box of Doom, which, when opened, would bring about the end of the world. And it says quite a lot about the Calormenes' traditional unquestioning acceptance of everything their ruler says as the absolute truth that almost everyone had, without hesitation, swallowed this outrageous lie whole.)
"O my Father, delight of my eye, may you live forever," his oldest son panted. "Why are we racing towards the Forbidden Wing like this? Surely your guards, mighty as they are, must have subdued the demon by now!"
"Display not your ignorance, o my son, lest people will mistake you for the re-incarnation of Rabadash!" Ardazhin replied harshly. Though he was older than his sons, and his life was largely one of leisure, he was in almost ridiculously good shape and had no problems speaking without panting, even while running at top speed. "Demons are cunning and powerful creatures, and demons coming from Narnia are worse than any! He will stop at nothing to get the Box of Doom for himself, and if it falls into Narnian hands, o my esteemed idiot of a son, our lovely Calormen is lost! We cannot take any undue risks! So cease your questions and run!"
"To hear is to obey," the son panted, and said no more.
As they came to the Forbidden Wing, a most strange sight greeted them: There, in the corridor in front of them, were the guards that had been sent up to subdue the terrible demon, all frozen and stiff like statues in various poses that spoke of a ferocious battle.
"It must be the work of the demon!" one of the sons exclaimed. "He has turned all the guards into stone even as they attacked him!"
"Not the demon..:" came a weak voice from the floor, and both Ardazhin and his sons turned to see one guard, who had apparently escaped whatever petrification spell had been placed upon the others. "It was Lady Asheena."
"What did you just say?!" Ardazhin snapped, turning to him and hoping that his voice didn't betray how terrified he felt. "What is this about Lady Asheena?!"
"Lady Asheena," the guard replied, struggling to sit up. "My lord Tisroc -- may you live forever -- Lady Asheena, your wife... She is... she is not human! She is a djinn!"
Ardazhin's heart skipped a beat. "O my sons!" he managed to sputter. "Put this dog of a guard to death immediately for daring to speak such slanderous words against one of my wives and your mothers!"
"To hear is to obey," the sons chorused, advancing on the guard with drawn scimitars.
"I speak the truth!" the guard yelled, despair obvious in his eyes. "Most honorable Tisroc -- may you live forever -- I speak nothing but the truth! A barbarian woman stole the Box of Doom, and opened it, but instead of the sky falling as you, o my eternal Master, have awways claimed it would, a cloud of red smoke emerged and turned into Lady Asheena, who immediately swore her pledge of slavery and obedience to the barbarian woman! She petrified all the guards apart from myself and then vanished together with the woman and her three demons! She is a djinn!"
Ardazhin would have cursed, if he'd thought he could have gotten away with it and not lose dignity. "Hold your swords, o my sons!" he commanded. "This poor man is obviously delusional and says things that cannot be -- it must be the demon who has confused his mind. You," he said, pointing at his youngest son (whose name he'd certainly be able to recall after a few moments' thought). "Take him with you to the garden and give him some wine. Listen not to his insane ramblings -- Asheena is no djinn! It is all demon trickery!"
"To hear is to obey," said the youngest son.
"The rest of you, follow me," said Ardazhin. "The Box of Doom must be recovered from the demon at all costs!"
He knew that it was probably already too late, even as he spoke -- but he was not going to give up just yet. There would be plenty of time to curse and weep and damn the gods for having sent this fate upon him later.
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Donatello woke up with the distinct and very uncomfortable feeling that he knew what it felt like to be a statue.
He blinked to clear his head and found that he was in a small, brightly-lit marble room -- not unlike the one he had unexpectedly found himself in less than half an hour ago, except for the lack of carpets, tapestries and, well, anything else. April, Raphael and Splinter were there as well (Splinter uncharacteristically looking about as dizzy and confused as Don felt), along with a skimpily-dressed young woman he had never seen before.
"What happened?" he said, unable to think of anything else to say. "Where are we now?"
"I believe you took the words out of my mouth, Donatello," said Splinter.
"We're... safe," said April. "We're in one of the back rooms of the palace, it seems.""The same palace with all those guards who were fighting us just now?" Don muttered. "No offense, April, but you have a weird definition of the word 'safe.'"
"Oh, this is perfectly safe," said the strange woman, in perfectly fluent English but with the same strange accent that Don had heard from the guards. "This is a minor, empty storage room. It has not been in use for close to twenty years."
"...pretty clean for a place that's never used," said Don, uttering the first thing that entered his mind.
"That is because it is magical," said the woman. "Most of the little-used rooms in this palace are enchanted to stay brightly lit and free of dust at all times." She smiled. "It saves the slaves a lot of time on cleaning and lighting of lamps."
"Um, Don, Splinter, meet Asheena," said April, motioning to the woman. "Apparently, she's my new genie."
"Genie?!" said Don, blinking and looking at the strange woman, whose name was apparently Asheena. he looked the part, he had to admit, in a harem-girl outfit made mostly out of red silk -- complete with slightly transparent pants, a midriff-baring halter top and a red-and-gold vest that was plainly there more for decoration than actually covering anything. The only two things missing were the veil in front of her face and the diamond in her bellybutton -- if she'd had those, she could have come straight out of some Arabian Nights movie, possibly as an exotic dancer or slave girl (or young wife) to some rich sultan. He'd surmise she was somewhere in her early twenties; with tan skin and black hair that reached all the way down to her waist.
"Or a djinn, if you would rather use that term," she said, bowing. "The word 'genie' is essentially a corruption of the original name for my people, 'djinn.' Here in Calormen, the word 'djinn' is still the preferred term, but elsewhere --"
""Remember that box?" said April a little sheepishly, holding up the same wooden, silver-lidded box that they had seen before. "I accidentally opened it, and it proved to contain, well, her."
"And she started goin' all 'o my Mistress, what is your wish,' so after a coupla false starts, April wished us all away from the scene of the battle, to a safe place, and before ya know it, we're all here in this room," said Raphael.
"This is most astounding," said Splinter, bowing to Asheena after taking a long look at Raphael's face, as if to make sure he wasn't lying. "Forgive me, lady Asheena. I had not known the stories of djinn were true. "
"Gotta admit, it fits with the scenery," Raph commented, as Asheena returned the bow. "Moment I looked out of the window, I knew we'd dropped into Aladdin! So why not a genie?"
Straightening herself, Asheena laughed. "Methinks you are a little confused, o green one. We are in Tashbaan, capital of the fair land of Calormen, and most assuredly not in Aladdin, wherever that is... Is that your home world?"
"Home world?" said Don. "wait, you know that we're from a different world?"
"You do have the air of other-worldly travellers about you," said Asheena. "I haven't seen many of them in my life, but I can still recognize it when I see it. Call it a talent, if you will."
"Could you... get us back there?"
"Certainly, if such is my Mistress's wish."
"Hold on," said April suddenly. "You keep saying I'm your Mistress. But -- why?"
Asheena looked genuinely surprised. "Why, you hold the box in your hands, do you not? I am compelled to be the slave of, and grant the wishes of, whoever owns that box."
"It was more or less an accident," said April. "The box isn't really mine, I just --"
"Mistress, I do not think you quite understand," said Asheena gently. "The box is in your possession, and that alone is enough to makes you its rightful owner. But why so reluctant? All my previous Masters and Mistresses have been delighted to have a djinn in their service. I will serve you without failure. I will grant all the wishes you may have that is in my power to grant. I can make your fondest dreams come true. Speak, and it shall be done."
"But -- I don't get it," said April. "Why is the box so important? What makes you obey its owner?"
Asheena paused, rubbing her chin. "That," she said eventually, "is a long story. You really know nothing about the djinn? The curse of the slave-djinn?" She looked at April, then at the others.
Splinter shook his head. "I am afraid that we know only the stories that are told in our world, and even they are vague on many details."
"I will tell you, then," said Asheena. "Please, sit down." She snapped her fingers, and all of a sudden, with four puffs of red smoke, four cushioned chairs appeared in the room.
Don looked at the chairs in astonishment. He reached out a hand and touched one of them, and it felt like a completely normal chair. "Okay, I'm impressed," he said.
"Oh, this is nothing," said Asheena cheerfully. "But please, sit -- and I will tell you the story."
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Nowadays, nobody could ever say for certain where the djinn originally came from. The popular theory in this world was that they were descended from Lilith, Adam's first wife, and as such the closest thing to a human without actually being human; but there were other theories, more prominent in other worlds, that stated that they had originally been spirits of fire before taking on other forms, or that the first djinn had been minor gods but had bred and over the centuries become a completely different race.
What was certain was that the djinn were an ancient and powerful race, very adaptable and stronger in magic than most. It was said that a djinn was comprised in roughly equal parts of magic and mundane matter -- compared to even the most skillful sorcerer, whose make-up was primarily of mundane matter with some slight magic infection. Like many other races, they spread through many worlds, making their homes where they found them; eating, marrying and living their day-to-day lives.
However, not all the djinn were content with staying to themselves and just living amongst their own -- after all, they reasoned, they were much more powerful than most other races they would ever meet, so why shouldn't they conquer them and enslave them, ruling over them like kings? Or, if ruling turned out to be too boring, why not just torment and play with them whenever they felt like it?
And so, these rogue djinn went out in a hundred different worlds and more, spreading havoc and misery almost everywhere they went -- seemingly unstoppable, because a djinn is immortal and almost impossible to kill.
Finally, a number of crafty sorcerers and magicians did device a way to stop them, through the most subtle magics and cunning trickery. Highly magical containers were made, in the shape of bottles, urns, boxes and other suitable objects, and the rogue djinn were trapped inside these, their magic fusing so completely with the container's magic that separating them would be useless.
A trapped djinn would essentially become a slave to whoever owned his, or her, container -- only capable of using her, or his, most powerful magics in the service of the "Master." And so, the sorcerer did not only free a hundred worlds or more from the threat of the rogue djinn, but also gained extremely powerful and obedient slaves who could grant their every wish.
Enslaved and bound and magically compelled to grant their Masters' wishes, the rogue djinn quickly became known among other djinn as the "slave-djinn," or "genies" (using the strange corruption of the original "djinn" that for some reason had become popular among many mortals), and many were the djinn mothers who firmly told their children that unless they behaved, they would end up trapped by mortal sorcerers and forever be slave-djinn.
Unfortunately for the djinn, this story turned out to be more than just your classic lie-to-children. Because like so many other good ideas, the idea of trapping the djinn spread out to others, and was twisted and used for other purposes than originally intended: Other sorcerers picked up on the idea, and several of them set out their plans to capture a djinn of their own and as such get a magical slave to grant all their wishes.
They didn't care one bit whether the djinn in question was actually a rogue one or not; in fact they tended to go after the gentler and less dangerous ones, to make it less of a personal risk. And the most favored targets were young djinn; children who had not yet learned to properly control their powers and were therefore easily caught and enslaved.
When they grew up and gained control, they had most often been raised to be slaves who would unquestioningly obey every order.
"Many of the original rogue djinn," Asheena explained, "delight in twisting their Masters' wishes into misfortune. They resent their enslavement and rebel in the only way they can, by deliberately misinterpreting orders, withholding vital information unless asked for it or even answering questions with half-truths. The more cunning rogues can be almost as troublesome to have as slaves as they are to have as enemies. The djinn who have been caught at an early age and grown up in slavery, though, are less inclined to rebel and more inclined to be helpful, because they know very little else apart from slavery." She tapped her forehead with a finger. "They think differently than the rogue ones. Most of them are happy to be serving their Masters."
April shuddered. "That's... horrible," she said.
"Is it? I do beg your pardon, Mistress, I guess I am a bit out of touch," Asheena muttered. "Yes, yes I can see why you would have thought so," she continued after a short pause. "I surmise you come from a place where slavery is frowned upon, possibly even illegal. To you, the idea is loathsome, maybe deeply disturbing, yes?"
April nodded.
"Whereas I have lived most of my life in Calormen, where slavery is not only acceptable, but expected."
"I take it that you're not one of those rogue djinn, then?" said Don.
Asheena laughed. "The last of the original rogues was enslaved around eight thousand years ago. I have barely been alive for two hundred."
"Yer two hundred?" said Raph, whistling. "Gotta say you age well, then. I wouldn'ta thought you were a day over one hundred."
Asheena laughed again. "No," she said, growing serious. "I am not one of the rogues. I was enslaved as a child, and it was this Narnian magician who..."
"Narnia!" Don exclaimed, suddenly hopeful. "You're from Narnia?"
"No, but my mother was," said Asheena. "I was born here in Calormen, when my mother spent some time here to -- You know the land of Narnia?" she interrupted herself.
"That is the exact land we have been trying to get to," said Splinter. "My eldest son, Leonardo, has ended up there, and we are trying to find him."
Asheena rubbed her chin. "In that case, you are in luck. Narnia lies only a week's travel from here, if you go by ship. Less, if you cross the desert -- at least if you have a swift horse, and go by the mountain pass and through Archenland. Be warned, though, that few people enter Narnia without the leave of Aslan, the great Lion... and the name of Aslan is not exactly well-received here in Calormen, certainly not in the palace of the Tisroc."
"Really?" said Don. "How come?"
"Because Aslan is the mortal enemy of the god Tash, whom most Calormenes worship. They say that he is a demon in the shape of a lion, wild and deadly and commanding the darkest and most wicked magics." Asheena smiled cheerfully. "I would not know, as I have not met him, but I do suspect that there are some exaggerations, not to say blatant untruths, in that tale. I spent part of my childhood in Narnia, and the people there did not seem to me as demonic or wicked."
"I would not think so either," said Splinter. "It was by the very same Aslan we were told to seek out Narnia in the first place. I can't say just what he is, but I do know this -- he is no demon."
Asneena nodded, but with a small frown. "Please, do not mention this to anyone else you meet here in Calormen. Anyone discovered to be acting under the order or even advice of Aslan is quite likely to be executed on the spot, for fear that they are bringing demonic magic into the country."
"War a' the religions. Ain't it always the same," muttered Raph.
"Silence, Raphael," said Splinter. "Please, miss Asheena, what side are you on in this, let us call it a conflict? You do not seem to include yourself in the line of people who worship this Tash, yet you do not talk as a follower of Aslan either."
"That is correct," said Asheena. "We djinn do not follow Tash, or Aslan, nor any other god, spirit or king. We stand outside, as you may call it -- that is, the free ones do. I, and my fellow slave-djinn, have no choice but to follow our masters, no matter who they are or where they stand. But I have never before met anyone who has actually talked to Aslan!" she continued, suddenly looking much more excited. "Your story sounds like a fascinating one! Please, will you not tell it to me? I love stories!"
"We haven't heard the rest of yours, yet," said April. "How about you finish it before we tell ours? How did you come to be here, if your mother was from Narnia? Tell us the rest of your story, and then we'll tell you ours, and then we can maybe make some plans as to what to do next?"
"Yes, Mistress," the genie agreed, and then continued:
Asheena's mother had been a Narnian-born djinn who had been quite mischievous and not altogether lawful. As a result, she had spent quite some time in exile away from Narnia, most often ending up in Calormen, where she would masquerade as a human noblewoman -- or Tarkeena, as Calormen female nobles are called. It was during one of these Calormen stays that Asheena had been born, the result of a brief affair her mother had had with a male slave-djinn. And so, Asheena had spent her early years in roughly equal parts in Narnia and Calormen, depending on where her mother was at the moment.
"When I was... I think I was around six years old..." Asheena pondered. "I cannot recall my exact age. But by this time, my mother, who was never much suited to the role of motherhood, had grown rather tired of me. So in order to rid herself of me, she made an arrangement with a Narnian magician, who turned me into a slave-djinn by creating the very same box you hold in your hands now, Mistress, and binding me to it. I wept and raged and pleaded with them both, but to no avail, and the magician took the box and left my mother.
"Since Narnians in general, much like yourselves, do not like slavery, this magician moved to Tashbaan, and set off to raise me as a slave, so I would be his loyal slave-djinn when I was older and had learned to control my powers well enough to grant his wishes. I believe he paid my mother quite handsomely for me."
April, the Turtles and Splinter all looked at each other, all vaguely disturbed that the genie could talk so easily and without any apparent emotion about her own mother selling her as a slave.
"And that was the last you saw of your mother?" said Splinter.
"Yes, but not the last I heard of her. Let's just say that soon after she had she committed some crimes and was sentenced to a container and becoming a slave-djinn herself... and the last I heard of her, her new Master had sailed East with her or something. Taking her to Aslan's country for some kind of final judgment, they said. I am a bit vague on the details, though."
"Aslan's country?" said Splinter curiously.
Asheena nodded. "All the stories say it lies to the farthest East, beyond the sea, but no-one who went there ever returned to tell about it, so little is known about it. But most people outside Calormen say that it is supposed to be a wondrous place. What became of my mother there, I do not know."
"And so you entered the service of this magician," said April, obviously trying to keep up.
"Yes, but I did not stay with him for long. After two years, most of which I spent practicing minor magics on his command, my box was stolen by a street boy who had found out about me. I was sleeping inside the box and was astonished to find, when it was opened, that it wasn't my old Master who called me, but a young man I didn't know, who told me that he was to be my Master from now on."
"And you just accepted that?" said Raph.
"He was the one who possessed my box. What else was I to do? His first wish -- and also the first proper wish I granted -- was to enchant a young and beautiful Tarkeena, with whom he had fallen in love, but could not approach because she was so far above his status. And so, on his command, I made the woman fall so hard for him that the moment she laid eyes upon him, she ran up to him, declared her love for him and kissed him deeply before even remembering to ask what his name was. Very soon they were married, and the street boy became a Tarkaan himself, no-one questioning this, once again thanks to my magics and enchantments."
April shook her head. "Wishing for someone to fall in love with you... that's cheating."
"Perhaps so, o my Mistress, but very tempting when you are in love yourself," said Asheena. "It was thanks to this that my box became somewhat known among certain Tarkaans and Tarkeenas, and as I grew older, I was passed from Tarkaan to Tarkeena to Tarkaan, serving and servicing, granting wishes and obeying orders as they all saw fit. That is, except for the thirty years I spent with a travelling merchant."
She smiled, a genuine fondness creeping into her voice and her eyes turned slightly dreamy. Not that Donatello was an expert on these things, but he thought her mannerisms were much like a woman reminiscing on a long-lost love, an old lover of which she had mostly fond and happy memories.
"My box had been misplaced and by accident ended up in the hands of this merchant who roamed all over Calormen, selling his goods and wares wherever he came. He was the only Master I had who did not just command and wish -- all he wanted from me, he said, was someone who would travel with him, keep him company, help protect and sell his wares and make sure he did not starve on the longer stretches of the road where there were few people to do business with and little food to find. I did as he asked, and became his companion... and eventually his wife.
"They were the happiest thirty years of my life. He was a good man, and I loved him dearly. But alas, he was a mortal man and prone to age and disease, whereas I belong to an immortal race who knows neither age nor death. I begged him, oh how I begged him to wish that I turn him into an immortal as well, so that we may stay together and never part...but always he refused, saying that immortality was not a thing meant for him, a Son of Adam, to have.
"He died, sixty-five years old, after we had been married for nearly thirty years, leaving me alone and with no Master... or husband."
"I am sorry," said Splinter.
"Please, don't be." Asheena smiled. "It was a happy time. I grieved for a long time, but I never regretted my time with him."
"And what happened afterwards?" Raph wanted to know. "If you were freed back then, how come yer here now?"
"I was never 'freed,' as you put it," said Asheena. "The curse of the slave-djinn cannot be broken. It was only a matter of time before my box fell into the hands of someone else... and as fate would have it, this 'someone else' turned out, to my great surprise, to be one of the many great-grandchildren of my second Master -- the street boy that I had granted my first proper wish to by making that Tarkeena fall in love with him! They had gone on to have many children, and their children had children and grandchildren of their own, and the family was now big and very rich and influential.
"But the man who was to become my new Master, he was the youngest of many sons, and was not entitled to any great inheritance or land. And he quickly proved to be the most ambitious and driven of all my Masters, because --"
"Hold your tongue, Asheena!"
The sudden voice came from the entrance, and everyone turned around to see a number of richly-dressed men armed with scimitars rush in. Most of them seemed slightly out of breath, but the one in front -- the most insanely decorated and most elaborately dressed of them all, wasn't even breathing heavily.
"I know this guy," said Raph, glaring at the man in front. "That's the guy who yelled about Narnia and demons, an' everyone kept sayin' how they wanted him to live forever!" He grabbed his sais and grinned darkly. "Wanna check if their wishes are good enough?"
"I forbid you to say another word!" he shouted, approaching them all with raised scimitar. "Barbarian dogs and demons, how dare you --!" This was as far as he got, because Asheena had snapped her fingers, and all of a sudden both he and the other men froze in their positions, still as statues.
Don's eyes widened. "What the--?" was all he managed to say, and he could see that Splinter seemed almost as surprised, while Raph and April, strangely, didn't.
"I do beg your pardon, o Ardazhin, but you no longer command me," the genie said, before turning back to April, falling to her knees. "O my Mistress, forgive me. I did think we had more time than this before he would find us."
"Get up, get up!" said April hurriedly. "What is all this? I thought you said you'd brought us somewhere safe?"
"And so I have, Mistress," said Asheena, getting to her feet and lowering her gaze. "You are perfectly safe. In truth, almost any place would have been safe for you as long as I was around, for I am sworn to protect you. But, begging your pardon," she added, and there was a faint trace of humor and mischief in her voice now, "you did only wish to be in a safe place, you said nothing of not being discovered."
"But --" April began.
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to deceive you. But my former Master is a driven and cunning man, and I knew it was only a question of time before he discovered us. Better to have the confrontation sooner than later, I thought."
"You didn't say anything about that!"
"You did not ask, Mistress. And we got to talking about other things, and as you were never in any actual danger, I did not think it high on my list of priorities at the moment." Asheena fell to her knees again, the humor gone from her eyes and voice as she continued: "I see now that this was my error, and I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive your unworthy slave."
Help, said April's eyes as they stared at Donatello, clearly at a complete loss at what to do with this grovelling.
'Command her to quit it,' Don mouthed, hoping that he had summed up the genie's situation correctly.
"Yes, right," said April. "Asheena, I order you to get up! And, um, don't ever get on your knees in front of me again!"
"...As my Mistress commands, so shall it be," said Asheena, getting to her feet once more, but keeping her eyes averted.
"And you don't have to say that either," April continued in a much softer voice. "You can just say 'okay' or something."
Asheena paused, then nodded. "Okay," she said.
"Can I break in here?" said Raph. "You say this bozo is yer Master, right?"
"Was," said Asheena. "Yes. Ardazhin Tisroc, ruler of all Calormen."
"Figgered as much, what with everyone bowin' and scrapin' and wishin' eternal life on him. But, you clearly said that yer Master, 'scuse me, former Master, was a minor nobleman. So, that means...?"
Asheena nodded again. "Your suspicions are correct, o green one. Ardazhin has never been the rightful Tisroc. He merely wished be the highest and most powerful man in Calormen... and so I made him."
He blinked to clear his head and found that he was in a small, brightly-lit marble room -- not unlike the one he had unexpectedly found himself in less than half an hour ago, except for the lack of carpets, tapestries and, well, anything else. April, Raphael and Splinter were there as well (Splinter uncharacteristically looking about as dizzy and confused as Don felt), along with a skimpily-dressed young woman he had never seen before.
"What happened?" he said, unable to think of anything else to say. "Where are we now?"
"I believe you took the words out of my mouth, Donatello," said Splinter.
"We're... safe," said April. "We're in one of the back rooms of the palace, it seems.""The same palace with all those guards who were fighting us just now?" Don muttered. "No offense, April, but you have a weird definition of the word 'safe.'"
"Oh, this is perfectly safe," said the strange woman, in perfectly fluent English but with the same strange accent that Don had heard from the guards. "This is a minor, empty storage room. It has not been in use for close to twenty years."
"...pretty clean for a place that's never used," said Don, uttering the first thing that entered his mind.
"That is because it is magical," said the woman. "Most of the little-used rooms in this palace are enchanted to stay brightly lit and free of dust at all times." She smiled. "It saves the slaves a lot of time on cleaning and lighting of lamps."
"Um, Don, Splinter, meet Asheena," said April, motioning to the woman. "Apparently, she's my new genie."
"Genie?!" said Don, blinking and looking at the strange woman, whose name was apparently Asheena. he looked the part, he had to admit, in a harem-girl outfit made mostly out of red silk -- complete with slightly transparent pants, a midriff-baring halter top and a red-and-gold vest that was plainly there more for decoration than actually covering anything. The only two things missing were the veil in front of her face and the diamond in her bellybutton -- if she'd had those, she could have come straight out of some Arabian Nights movie, possibly as an exotic dancer or slave girl (or young wife) to some rich sultan. He'd surmise she was somewhere in her early twenties; with tan skin and black hair that reached all the way down to her waist.
"Or a djinn, if you would rather use that term," she said, bowing. "The word 'genie' is essentially a corruption of the original name for my people, 'djinn.' Here in Calormen, the word 'djinn' is still the preferred term, but elsewhere --"
""Remember that box?" said April a little sheepishly, holding up the same wooden, silver-lidded box that they had seen before. "I accidentally opened it, and it proved to contain, well, her."
"And she started goin' all 'o my Mistress, what is your wish,' so after a coupla false starts, April wished us all away from the scene of the battle, to a safe place, and before ya know it, we're all here in this room," said Raphael.
"This is most astounding," said Splinter, bowing to Asheena after taking a long look at Raphael's face, as if to make sure he wasn't lying. "Forgive me, lady Asheena. I had not known the stories of djinn were true. "
"Gotta admit, it fits with the scenery," Raph commented, as Asheena returned the bow. "Moment I looked out of the window, I knew we'd dropped into Aladdin! So why not a genie?"
Straightening herself, Asheena laughed. "Methinks you are a little confused, o green one. We are in Tashbaan, capital of the fair land of Calormen, and most assuredly not in Aladdin, wherever that is... Is that your home world?"
"Home world?" said Don. "wait, you know that we're from a different world?"
"You do have the air of other-worldly travellers about you," said Asheena. "I haven't seen many of them in my life, but I can still recognize it when I see it. Call it a talent, if you will."
"Could you... get us back there?"
"Certainly, if such is my Mistress's wish."
"Hold on," said April suddenly. "You keep saying I'm your Mistress. But -- why?"
Asheena looked genuinely surprised. "Why, you hold the box in your hands, do you not? I am compelled to be the slave of, and grant the wishes of, whoever owns that box."
"It was more or less an accident," said April. "The box isn't really mine, I just --"
"Mistress, I do not think you quite understand," said Asheena gently. "The box is in your possession, and that alone is enough to makes you its rightful owner. But why so reluctant? All my previous Masters and Mistresses have been delighted to have a djinn in their service. I will serve you without failure. I will grant all the wishes you may have that is in my power to grant. I can make your fondest dreams come true. Speak, and it shall be done."
"But -- I don't get it," said April. "Why is the box so important? What makes you obey its owner?"
Asheena paused, rubbing her chin. "That," she said eventually, "is a long story. You really know nothing about the djinn? The curse of the slave-djinn?" She looked at April, then at the others.
Splinter shook his head. "I am afraid that we know only the stories that are told in our world, and even they are vague on many details."
"I will tell you, then," said Asheena. "Please, sit down." She snapped her fingers, and all of a sudden, with four puffs of red smoke, four cushioned chairs appeared in the room.
Don looked at the chairs in astonishment. He reached out a hand and touched one of them, and it felt like a completely normal chair. "Okay, I'm impressed," he said.
"Oh, this is nothing," said Asheena cheerfully. "But please, sit -- and I will tell you the story."
Nowadays, nobody could ever say for certain where the djinn originally came from. The popular theory in this world was that they were descended from Lilith, Adam's first wife, and as such the closest thing to a human without actually being human; but there were other theories, more prominent in other worlds, that stated that they had originally been spirits of fire before taking on other forms, or that the first djinn had been minor gods but had bred and over the centuries become a completely different race.
What was certain was that the djinn were an ancient and powerful race, very adaptable and stronger in magic than most. It was said that a djinn was comprised in roughly equal parts of magic and mundane matter -- compared to even the most skillful sorcerer, whose make-up was primarily of mundane matter with some slight magic infection. Like many other races, they spread through many worlds, making their homes where they found them; eating, marrying and living their day-to-day lives.
However, not all the djinn were content with staying to themselves and just living amongst their own -- after all, they reasoned, they were much more powerful than most other races they would ever meet, so why shouldn't they conquer them and enslave them, ruling over them like kings? Or, if ruling turned out to be too boring, why not just torment and play with them whenever they felt like it?
And so, these rogue djinn went out in a hundred different worlds and more, spreading havoc and misery almost everywhere they went -- seemingly unstoppable, because a djinn is immortal and almost impossible to kill.
Finally, a number of crafty sorcerers and magicians did device a way to stop them, through the most subtle magics and cunning trickery. Highly magical containers were made, in the shape of bottles, urns, boxes and other suitable objects, and the rogue djinn were trapped inside these, their magic fusing so completely with the container's magic that separating them would be useless.
A trapped djinn would essentially become a slave to whoever owned his, or her, container -- only capable of using her, or his, most powerful magics in the service of the "Master." And so, the sorcerer did not only free a hundred worlds or more from the threat of the rogue djinn, but also gained extremely powerful and obedient slaves who could grant their every wish.
Enslaved and bound and magically compelled to grant their Masters' wishes, the rogue djinn quickly became known among other djinn as the "slave-djinn," or "genies" (using the strange corruption of the original "djinn" that for some reason had become popular among many mortals), and many were the djinn mothers who firmly told their children that unless they behaved, they would end up trapped by mortal sorcerers and forever be slave-djinn.
Unfortunately for the djinn, this story turned out to be more than just your classic lie-to-children. Because like so many other good ideas, the idea of trapping the djinn spread out to others, and was twisted and used for other purposes than originally intended: Other sorcerers picked up on the idea, and several of them set out their plans to capture a djinn of their own and as such get a magical slave to grant all their wishes.
They didn't care one bit whether the djinn in question was actually a rogue one or not; in fact they tended to go after the gentler and less dangerous ones, to make it less of a personal risk. And the most favored targets were young djinn; children who had not yet learned to properly control their powers and were therefore easily caught and enslaved.
When they grew up and gained control, they had most often been raised to be slaves who would unquestioningly obey every order.
"Many of the original rogue djinn," Asheena explained, "delight in twisting their Masters' wishes into misfortune. They resent their enslavement and rebel in the only way they can, by deliberately misinterpreting orders, withholding vital information unless asked for it or even answering questions with half-truths. The more cunning rogues can be almost as troublesome to have as slaves as they are to have as enemies. The djinn who have been caught at an early age and grown up in slavery, though, are less inclined to rebel and more inclined to be helpful, because they know very little else apart from slavery." She tapped her forehead with a finger. "They think differently than the rogue ones. Most of them are happy to be serving their Masters."
April shuddered. "That's... horrible," she said.
"Is it? I do beg your pardon, Mistress, I guess I am a bit out of touch," Asheena muttered. "Yes, yes I can see why you would have thought so," she continued after a short pause. "I surmise you come from a place where slavery is frowned upon, possibly even illegal. To you, the idea is loathsome, maybe deeply disturbing, yes?"
April nodded.
"Whereas I have lived most of my life in Calormen, where slavery is not only acceptable, but expected."
"I take it that you're not one of those rogue djinn, then?" said Don.
Asheena laughed. "The last of the original rogues was enslaved around eight thousand years ago. I have barely been alive for two hundred."
"Yer two hundred?" said Raph, whistling. "Gotta say you age well, then. I wouldn'ta thought you were a day over one hundred."
Asheena laughed again. "No," she said, growing serious. "I am not one of the rogues. I was enslaved as a child, and it was this Narnian magician who..."
"Narnia!" Don exclaimed, suddenly hopeful. "You're from Narnia?"
"No, but my mother was," said Asheena. "I was born here in Calormen, when my mother spent some time here to -- You know the land of Narnia?" she interrupted herself.
"That is the exact land we have been trying to get to," said Splinter. "My eldest son, Leonardo, has ended up there, and we are trying to find him."
Asheena rubbed her chin. "In that case, you are in luck. Narnia lies only a week's travel from here, if you go by ship. Less, if you cross the desert -- at least if you have a swift horse, and go by the mountain pass and through Archenland. Be warned, though, that few people enter Narnia without the leave of Aslan, the great Lion... and the name of Aslan is not exactly well-received here in Calormen, certainly not in the palace of the Tisroc."
"Really?" said Don. "How come?"
"Because Aslan is the mortal enemy of the god Tash, whom most Calormenes worship. They say that he is a demon in the shape of a lion, wild and deadly and commanding the darkest and most wicked magics." Asheena smiled cheerfully. "I would not know, as I have not met him, but I do suspect that there are some exaggerations, not to say blatant untruths, in that tale. I spent part of my childhood in Narnia, and the people there did not seem to me as demonic or wicked."
"I would not think so either," said Splinter. "It was by the very same Aslan we were told to seek out Narnia in the first place. I can't say just what he is, but I do know this -- he is no demon."
Asneena nodded, but with a small frown. "Please, do not mention this to anyone else you meet here in Calormen. Anyone discovered to be acting under the order or even advice of Aslan is quite likely to be executed on the spot, for fear that they are bringing demonic magic into the country."
"War a' the religions. Ain't it always the same," muttered Raph.
"Silence, Raphael," said Splinter. "Please, miss Asheena, what side are you on in this, let us call it a conflict? You do not seem to include yourself in the line of people who worship this Tash, yet you do not talk as a follower of Aslan either."
"That is correct," said Asheena. "We djinn do not follow Tash, or Aslan, nor any other god, spirit or king. We stand outside, as you may call it -- that is, the free ones do. I, and my fellow slave-djinn, have no choice but to follow our masters, no matter who they are or where they stand. But I have never before met anyone who has actually talked to Aslan!" she continued, suddenly looking much more excited. "Your story sounds like a fascinating one! Please, will you not tell it to me? I love stories!"
"We haven't heard the rest of yours, yet," said April. "How about you finish it before we tell ours? How did you come to be here, if your mother was from Narnia? Tell us the rest of your story, and then we'll tell you ours, and then we can maybe make some plans as to what to do next?"
"Yes, Mistress," the genie agreed, and then continued:
Asheena's mother had been a Narnian-born djinn who had been quite mischievous and not altogether lawful. As a result, she had spent quite some time in exile away from Narnia, most often ending up in Calormen, where she would masquerade as a human noblewoman -- or Tarkeena, as Calormen female nobles are called. It was during one of these Calormen stays that Asheena had been born, the result of a brief affair her mother had had with a male slave-djinn. And so, Asheena had spent her early years in roughly equal parts in Narnia and Calormen, depending on where her mother was at the moment.
"When I was... I think I was around six years old..." Asheena pondered. "I cannot recall my exact age. But by this time, my mother, who was never much suited to the role of motherhood, had grown rather tired of me. So in order to rid herself of me, she made an arrangement with a Narnian magician, who turned me into a slave-djinn by creating the very same box you hold in your hands now, Mistress, and binding me to it. I wept and raged and pleaded with them both, but to no avail, and the magician took the box and left my mother.
"Since Narnians in general, much like yourselves, do not like slavery, this magician moved to Tashbaan, and set off to raise me as a slave, so I would be his loyal slave-djinn when I was older and had learned to control my powers well enough to grant his wishes. I believe he paid my mother quite handsomely for me."
April, the Turtles and Splinter all looked at each other, all vaguely disturbed that the genie could talk so easily and without any apparent emotion about her own mother selling her as a slave.
"And that was the last you saw of your mother?" said Splinter.
"Yes, but not the last I heard of her. Let's just say that soon after she had she committed some crimes and was sentenced to a container and becoming a slave-djinn herself... and the last I heard of her, her new Master had sailed East with her or something. Taking her to Aslan's country for some kind of final judgment, they said. I am a bit vague on the details, though."
"Aslan's country?" said Splinter curiously.
Asheena nodded. "All the stories say it lies to the farthest East, beyond the sea, but no-one who went there ever returned to tell about it, so little is known about it. But most people outside Calormen say that it is supposed to be a wondrous place. What became of my mother there, I do not know."
"And so you entered the service of this magician," said April, obviously trying to keep up.
"Yes, but I did not stay with him for long. After two years, most of which I spent practicing minor magics on his command, my box was stolen by a street boy who had found out about me. I was sleeping inside the box and was astonished to find, when it was opened, that it wasn't my old Master who called me, but a young man I didn't know, who told me that he was to be my Master from now on."
"And you just accepted that?" said Raph.
"He was the one who possessed my box. What else was I to do? His first wish -- and also the first proper wish I granted -- was to enchant a young and beautiful Tarkeena, with whom he had fallen in love, but could not approach because she was so far above his status. And so, on his command, I made the woman fall so hard for him that the moment she laid eyes upon him, she ran up to him, declared her love for him and kissed him deeply before even remembering to ask what his name was. Very soon they were married, and the street boy became a Tarkaan himself, no-one questioning this, once again thanks to my magics and enchantments."
April shook her head. "Wishing for someone to fall in love with you... that's cheating."
"Perhaps so, o my Mistress, but very tempting when you are in love yourself," said Asheena. "It was thanks to this that my box became somewhat known among certain Tarkaans and Tarkeenas, and as I grew older, I was passed from Tarkaan to Tarkeena to Tarkaan, serving and servicing, granting wishes and obeying orders as they all saw fit. That is, except for the thirty years I spent with a travelling merchant."
She smiled, a genuine fondness creeping into her voice and her eyes turned slightly dreamy. Not that Donatello was an expert on these things, but he thought her mannerisms were much like a woman reminiscing on a long-lost love, an old lover of which she had mostly fond and happy memories.
"My box had been misplaced and by accident ended up in the hands of this merchant who roamed all over Calormen, selling his goods and wares wherever he came. He was the only Master I had who did not just command and wish -- all he wanted from me, he said, was someone who would travel with him, keep him company, help protect and sell his wares and make sure he did not starve on the longer stretches of the road where there were few people to do business with and little food to find. I did as he asked, and became his companion... and eventually his wife.
"They were the happiest thirty years of my life. He was a good man, and I loved him dearly. But alas, he was a mortal man and prone to age and disease, whereas I belong to an immortal race who knows neither age nor death. I begged him, oh how I begged him to wish that I turn him into an immortal as well, so that we may stay together and never part...but always he refused, saying that immortality was not a thing meant for him, a Son of Adam, to have.
"He died, sixty-five years old, after we had been married for nearly thirty years, leaving me alone and with no Master... or husband."
"I am sorry," said Splinter.
"Please, don't be." Asheena smiled. "It was a happy time. I grieved for a long time, but I never regretted my time with him."
"And what happened afterwards?" Raph wanted to know. "If you were freed back then, how come yer here now?"
"I was never 'freed,' as you put it," said Asheena. "The curse of the slave-djinn cannot be broken. It was only a matter of time before my box fell into the hands of someone else... and as fate would have it, this 'someone else' turned out, to my great surprise, to be one of the many great-grandchildren of my second Master -- the street boy that I had granted my first proper wish to by making that Tarkeena fall in love with him! They had gone on to have many children, and their children had children and grandchildren of their own, and the family was now big and very rich and influential.
"But the man who was to become my new Master, he was the youngest of many sons, and was not entitled to any great inheritance or land. And he quickly proved to be the most ambitious and driven of all my Masters, because --"
"Hold your tongue, Asheena!"
The sudden voice came from the entrance, and everyone turned around to see a number of richly-dressed men armed with scimitars rush in. Most of them seemed slightly out of breath, but the one in front -- the most insanely decorated and most elaborately dressed of them all, wasn't even breathing heavily.
"I know this guy," said Raph, glaring at the man in front. "That's the guy who yelled about Narnia and demons, an' everyone kept sayin' how they wanted him to live forever!" He grabbed his sais and grinned darkly. "Wanna check if their wishes are good enough?"
"I forbid you to say another word!" he shouted, approaching them all with raised scimitar. "Barbarian dogs and demons, how dare you --!" This was as far as he got, because Asheena had snapped her fingers, and all of a sudden both he and the other men froze in their positions, still as statues.
Don's eyes widened. "What the--?" was all he managed to say, and he could see that Splinter seemed almost as surprised, while Raph and April, strangely, didn't.
"I do beg your pardon, o Ardazhin, but you no longer command me," the genie said, before turning back to April, falling to her knees. "O my Mistress, forgive me. I did think we had more time than this before he would find us."
"Get up, get up!" said April hurriedly. "What is all this? I thought you said you'd brought us somewhere safe?"
"And so I have, Mistress," said Asheena, getting to her feet and lowering her gaze. "You are perfectly safe. In truth, almost any place would have been safe for you as long as I was around, for I am sworn to protect you. But, begging your pardon," she added, and there was a faint trace of humor and mischief in her voice now, "you did only wish to be in a safe place, you said nothing of not being discovered."
"But --" April began.
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to deceive you. But my former Master is a driven and cunning man, and I knew it was only a question of time before he discovered us. Better to have the confrontation sooner than later, I thought."
"You didn't say anything about that!"
"You did not ask, Mistress. And we got to talking about other things, and as you were never in any actual danger, I did not think it high on my list of priorities at the moment." Asheena fell to her knees again, the humor gone from her eyes and voice as she continued: "I see now that this was my error, and I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive your unworthy slave."
Help, said April's eyes as they stared at Donatello, clearly at a complete loss at what to do with this grovelling.
'Command her to quit it,' Don mouthed, hoping that he had summed up the genie's situation correctly.
"Yes, right," said April. "Asheena, I order you to get up! And, um, don't ever get on your knees in front of me again!"
"...As my Mistress commands, so shall it be," said Asheena, getting to her feet once more, but keeping her eyes averted.
"And you don't have to say that either," April continued in a much softer voice. "You can just say 'okay' or something."
Asheena paused, then nodded. "Okay," she said.
"Can I break in here?" said Raph. "You say this bozo is yer Master, right?"
"Was," said Asheena. "Yes. Ardazhin Tisroc, ruler of all Calormen."
"Figgered as much, what with everyone bowin' and scrapin' and wishin' eternal life on him. But, you clearly said that yer Master, 'scuse me, former Master, was a minor nobleman. So, that means...?"
Asheena nodded again. "Your suspicions are correct, o green one. Ardazhin has never been the rightful Tisroc. He merely wished be the highest and most powerful man in Calormen... and so I made him."
------------------------------------------------------------ -------------
Ardazhin Tisroc was, as previously mentioned, a man who had everything, or at least as close to "everything" as a man could have: Power, wealth and near-universal adoration... and a deep and dark secret that nagged at his deepest fears:
None of what he had was really his.
Everything he had, everything he was, he had gained without having any right to it; ever since he first stole the box that bound Asheena; the very same djinn that, if old family stories were to be believed, was the cause of his original family fortune.
Now, a less greedy (and more Tisroc-fearing) man might have set his goals somewhat lower and merely used the djinn's magic as countless other Calormenes had done before him: To gain wealth and power and possibly the favor of the Tisroc -- may he live forever and all that. But not Ardazhin. He had wanted to be the Tisroc -- a thought and desire that would not even have entered your average Calormener's mind. Everyone knew that the bloodline of the Tisroc was descended from Tash himself, and to wish less than perfect fortune to a Tisroc would be the same as to ask Tash to wreak his anger upon you.
But Ardazhin had never believed that old story. It was enough to use your head a little and look at the history books to realize that the bloodline of the Tisrocs was all too mortal (no god with any kind of self-respect would have allowed some of these to descend from him; take for example Rabadash the Ridiculous, who had at one point gone and turned himself into a donkey). He couldn't imagine that Tash, the dark god, would care one ounce who was actually on the throne of Calormen, as long as he received his tributes and his people followed his laws.
Which was why he had dared the god's "terrible wrath" and removed his "descendant" from the throne.
And, just as he had thought, Tash had never complained.
Not even when Ardazhin had Asheena cast powerful enchantments on the people of Tashbaan to make them without question accept him as their new Tisroc, not even when he had had Asheena cast spells on him to make him immortal and always in his prime, so that the old "may he live forever" saying would actually mean something, had the god given even the slightest hint that he disapproved.
And so, Ardazhin had proceeded to make the best out of his newly-found status as Tisroc of the mightiest country in the world; which is to say that he focused much more on his own might and wealth than on the country's. As long as Calormen stayed grand, rich and powerful, the citizens remained loyal and law-abiding, and he himself remained the greatest and wealthiest man in Calormen, he didn't care overly much what else anyone did or how they were doing. Those details were better left to Viziers and scribes and paper-pushers, anyway.
And Tash had stayed completely silent on the subject.
Asheena's true nature had to be kept a secret, of course; if anyone knew she was a djinn, it wouldn't be long before someone figured out the truth behind the current Tisroc, enchantments or no. So Asheena was presented as simply one of the Tisroc's wives -- she was certainly beautiful enough to be the kind of woman a Tisroc could have fallen for and married.
He took other wives as well, the youngest and loveliest Tarkeenas in Calormen, and had Asheena enchant them into being eternally young and beautiful, and of course always perfectly in love with him; and by them he had many children, each one from birth carefully enchanted into adoring him and never harboring rebellious thoughts.
Only Asheena was allowed to still think freely. (She was also the only one of his wives never to bear him any children; for djinn pregnancies are very rare, and a pregnancy resulting of a coupling between man and djinn almost unheard of.) It had pleased Ardazhin that the one person in his presence who did not have to love him the way everyone else did, was also the one who had to call him "Master" and obey his every command. Her resentment of him throughout it all became the one jarring note in the otherwise perfect symphony that was his life, the one flaw that kept things interesting and simply by existing made him appreciate the perfection in everything else all the more.
And so, close to fifty years had passed, and Tash had still not said a word against it.
But then...
When Ardazhin returned to his senses, he was greeted by the unwelcome sight of the two turtle demons who had invaded his palace standing over him, accompanied by a sinister-looking rat demon and -- this was the worst part -- a pale, barbarian woman in strange clothes, who was holding Asheena's box. The box that none save him had been allowed to touch for nearly fifty years was now in the hands of a barbarian woman... who had Asheena standing right beside her and peering at him with a look of triumph on her face.
In desperation he tried jumping up to grab the box, but realized almost immediately that he couldn't move any part of his body below his neck.
"Asheena!" he said in his most commanding voice, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart. "Release me from this hold at once!"
"I am terribly sorry, o my dear husband and former Master," said the djinn with an amused gleam in her eyes. "But you are not in charge of me anymore. Behold, my new Mistress! Behold, the box in her hands!" She giggled.
Ardazhin's gaze turned back to the barbarian woman and felt his heart sink even further. But he hadn't been Tisroc for so long without learning how to give orders, and expect them to be followed. "Barbarian woman!" he snapped. "You will immediately return my box to me, or I shall personally see to it that you --" This was all he had time to say before one of the turtle demons was right up close to him and holding a strange-looking metal weapon against his face.
"Go on," it said with an evil grin so wide that it was a wonder its face didn't split in two. "Finish that sentence! Gimme an excuse!"
"Enough." The rat demon spoke up, regarding Ardazhin calmly. "We have heard some very serious accusations against you, Ardazhin Tisroc..."
"Lies, all lies," Ardazhin protested. "Believe not a word of it! Has not the poet said 'listen not to the tales of slaves, for they come from a traitorous heart and are formed by a devious tongue'? Asheena is a liar and an ungrateful wench, and would love nothing more than to see me ruined and de-throned, lying in the gutter with the lowliest of the dogs -- I, who have been kindness itself to her! I, who have made her my wife and let her live in luxury in my palace --"
Asheena began laughing. "Kindness itself!" she howled, tears of mirth streaming down her face. "Shall I tell them, o Ardazhin? Shall I tell them of all the things you commanded me to do while I was your slave? Shall I tell them of all those nights when you --"
"Hold your tongue, woman!" Ardazhin shrieked in desperation.
"You would do better to hold yours," said the rat demon in a sharp, bidding tone that Ardazhin had not heard used against him for more than fifty years. "My sons... what do you say about all this?"
"I'm with the genie," said the turtle demon with the metal weapon. "Guy's obviously scum. But then, I'm naturally biased against people who first give orders ta kill me, an' then make threats against my friends."
"Asheena's story has the advantage that, if you accept the existence of magic and genies, that it's logical," said the other turtle demon. "Or do you have a better explanation as to why you had a genie in your possession?" It turned to look at Ardazhin.
"Lies," Ardazhin tried, realizing himself how completely pathetic that sounded, but not willing to give up. "Has not the poet said 'Fickle is the heart of the wife, and quickly does she turn to treason'?"
"That's the worst explanation I've ever heard," said the demon, shaking its head. "Sorry, but if that's all you have, I think I'm gonna agree with Raph on this one."
"April?" said the rat demon calmly.
The barbarian woman looked at Ardazhin, long and hard. Then, she looked down at the box in her hands. "I believe her," was all she said. "Ardazhin Tisroc took a gift that was given to him and used it to steal what was never rightfully his. Is there any doubt of this, people?" She turned around to look behind her...
...and now, Ardazhin saw that there, formerly obscured from his view by the demons, the djinn and the woman, more people were standing, and watching...
His wives, his children, his slaves, all looking at him, but not with their usual love and adoration.
Some of them had expressions of repulsion and disgust on their faces, others of fear and shock, yet others of sadness and anger... and he knew that the enchantments had been lifted off them and they were seeing him, for the first time for many of them, without having to love him.
At that very moment, Ardazhin knew, without a doubt, that he had been wrong all these years: The dark god Tash very much disapproved of his unrightful seizing of the throne, and when he hadn't acted upon it before now, it was just because he had been biding his time. This entire thing was not about Narnian demons after all, it was simply about the god and his anger at Ardazhin.
The Tisroc fell silent, feeling the ice-cold hands of terror taking him in a firm hold and blurring his senses.
It was only through an icy fog of panic that he could make out the rat demon's next words: "Unfortunately, Ardazhin Tisroc, we are strangers in this country and as such have no right to pass judgement over you. Which is why we shall leave that part up to those you wronged, the ones you enchanted and enslaved. Pray they will be more merciful than we would have been..."
It looked like the time for cursing and weeping and damning the gods for having sent this fate upon him had arrived.
None of what he had was really his.
Everything he had, everything he was, he had gained without having any right to it; ever since he first stole the box that bound Asheena; the very same djinn that, if old family stories were to be believed, was the cause of his original family fortune.
Now, a less greedy (and more Tisroc-fearing) man might have set his goals somewhat lower and merely used the djinn's magic as countless other Calormenes had done before him: To gain wealth and power and possibly the favor of the Tisroc -- may he live forever and all that. But not Ardazhin. He had wanted to be the Tisroc -- a thought and desire that would not even have entered your average Calormener's mind. Everyone knew that the bloodline of the Tisroc was descended from Tash himself, and to wish less than perfect fortune to a Tisroc would be the same as to ask Tash to wreak his anger upon you.
But Ardazhin had never believed that old story. It was enough to use your head a little and look at the history books to realize that the bloodline of the Tisrocs was all too mortal (no god with any kind of self-respect would have allowed some of these to descend from him; take for example Rabadash the Ridiculous, who had at one point gone and turned himself into a donkey). He couldn't imagine that Tash, the dark god, would care one ounce who was actually on the throne of Calormen, as long as he received his tributes and his people followed his laws.
Which was why he had dared the god's "terrible wrath" and removed his "descendant" from the throne.
And, just as he had thought, Tash had never complained.
Not even when Ardazhin had Asheena cast powerful enchantments on the people of Tashbaan to make them without question accept him as their new Tisroc, not even when he had had Asheena cast spells on him to make him immortal and always in his prime, so that the old "may he live forever" saying would actually mean something, had the god given even the slightest hint that he disapproved.
And so, Ardazhin had proceeded to make the best out of his newly-found status as Tisroc of the mightiest country in the world; which is to say that he focused much more on his own might and wealth than on the country's. As long as Calormen stayed grand, rich and powerful, the citizens remained loyal and law-abiding, and he himself remained the greatest and wealthiest man in Calormen, he didn't care overly much what else anyone did or how they were doing. Those details were better left to Viziers and scribes and paper-pushers, anyway.
And Tash had stayed completely silent on the subject.
Asheena's true nature had to be kept a secret, of course; if anyone knew she was a djinn, it wouldn't be long before someone figured out the truth behind the current Tisroc, enchantments or no. So Asheena was presented as simply one of the Tisroc's wives -- she was certainly beautiful enough to be the kind of woman a Tisroc could have fallen for and married.
He took other wives as well, the youngest and loveliest Tarkeenas in Calormen, and had Asheena enchant them into being eternally young and beautiful, and of course always perfectly in love with him; and by them he had many children, each one from birth carefully enchanted into adoring him and never harboring rebellious thoughts.
Only Asheena was allowed to still think freely. (She was also the only one of his wives never to bear him any children; for djinn pregnancies are very rare, and a pregnancy resulting of a coupling between man and djinn almost unheard of.) It had pleased Ardazhin that the one person in his presence who did not have to love him the way everyone else did, was also the one who had to call him "Master" and obey his every command. Her resentment of him throughout it all became the one jarring note in the otherwise perfect symphony that was his life, the one flaw that kept things interesting and simply by existing made him appreciate the perfection in everything else all the more.
And so, close to fifty years had passed, and Tash had still not said a word against it.
But then...
When Ardazhin returned to his senses, he was greeted by the unwelcome sight of the two turtle demons who had invaded his palace standing over him, accompanied by a sinister-looking rat demon and -- this was the worst part -- a pale, barbarian woman in strange clothes, who was holding Asheena's box. The box that none save him had been allowed to touch for nearly fifty years was now in the hands of a barbarian woman... who had Asheena standing right beside her and peering at him with a look of triumph on her face.
In desperation he tried jumping up to grab the box, but realized almost immediately that he couldn't move any part of his body below his neck.
"Asheena!" he said in his most commanding voice, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart. "Release me from this hold at once!"
"I am terribly sorry, o my dear husband and former Master," said the djinn with an amused gleam in her eyes. "But you are not in charge of me anymore. Behold, my new Mistress! Behold, the box in her hands!" She giggled.
Ardazhin's gaze turned back to the barbarian woman and felt his heart sink even further. But he hadn't been Tisroc for so long without learning how to give orders, and expect them to be followed. "Barbarian woman!" he snapped. "You will immediately return my box to me, or I shall personally see to it that you --" This was all he had time to say before one of the turtle demons was right up close to him and holding a strange-looking metal weapon against his face.
"Go on," it said with an evil grin so wide that it was a wonder its face didn't split in two. "Finish that sentence! Gimme an excuse!"
"Enough." The rat demon spoke up, regarding Ardazhin calmly. "We have heard some very serious accusations against you, Ardazhin Tisroc..."
"Lies, all lies," Ardazhin protested. "Believe not a word of it! Has not the poet said 'listen not to the tales of slaves, for they come from a traitorous heart and are formed by a devious tongue'? Asheena is a liar and an ungrateful wench, and would love nothing more than to see me ruined and de-throned, lying in the gutter with the lowliest of the dogs -- I, who have been kindness itself to her! I, who have made her my wife and let her live in luxury in my palace --"
Asheena began laughing. "Kindness itself!" she howled, tears of mirth streaming down her face. "Shall I tell them, o Ardazhin? Shall I tell them of all the things you commanded me to do while I was your slave? Shall I tell them of all those nights when you --"
"Hold your tongue, woman!" Ardazhin shrieked in desperation.
"You would do better to hold yours," said the rat demon in a sharp, bidding tone that Ardazhin had not heard used against him for more than fifty years. "My sons... what do you say about all this?"
"I'm with the genie," said the turtle demon with the metal weapon. "Guy's obviously scum. But then, I'm naturally biased against people who first give orders ta kill me, an' then make threats against my friends."
"Asheena's story has the advantage that, if you accept the existence of magic and genies, that it's logical," said the other turtle demon. "Or do you have a better explanation as to why you had a genie in your possession?" It turned to look at Ardazhin.
"Lies," Ardazhin tried, realizing himself how completely pathetic that sounded, but not willing to give up. "Has not the poet said 'Fickle is the heart of the wife, and quickly does she turn to treason'?"
"That's the worst explanation I've ever heard," said the demon, shaking its head. "Sorry, but if that's all you have, I think I'm gonna agree with Raph on this one."
"April?" said the rat demon calmly.
The barbarian woman looked at Ardazhin, long and hard. Then, she looked down at the box in her hands. "I believe her," was all she said. "Ardazhin Tisroc took a gift that was given to him and used it to steal what was never rightfully his. Is there any doubt of this, people?" She turned around to look behind her...
...and now, Ardazhin saw that there, formerly obscured from his view by the demons, the djinn and the woman, more people were standing, and watching...
His wives, his children, his slaves, all looking at him, but not with their usual love and adoration.
Some of them had expressions of repulsion and disgust on their faces, others of fear and shock, yet others of sadness and anger... and he knew that the enchantments had been lifted off them and they were seeing him, for the first time for many of them, without having to love him.
At that very moment, Ardazhin knew, without a doubt, that he had been wrong all these years: The dark god Tash very much disapproved of his unrightful seizing of the throne, and when he hadn't acted upon it before now, it was just because he had been biding his time. This entire thing was not about Narnian demons after all, it was simply about the god and his anger at Ardazhin.
The Tisroc fell silent, feeling the ice-cold hands of terror taking him in a firm hold and blurring his senses.
It was only through an icy fog of panic that he could make out the rat demon's next words: "Unfortunately, Ardazhin Tisroc, we are strangers in this country and as such have no right to pass judgement over you. Which is why we shall leave that part up to those you wronged, the ones you enchanted and enslaved. Pray they will be more merciful than we would have been..."
It looked like the time for cursing and weeping and damning the gods for having sent this fate upon him had arrived.
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To be continued....
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To be continued....
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Author's notes: And so, here's Asheena's background story! Hope it didn't grow too boring with her life story, a lot of which only has marginal importance to the plot... but she insisted on telling it in this chapter. After all, she is Calormenese by upbringing, and the people of Calormen treasure the art of storytelling. The classic Calormen-style storytelling is classified by a grand and somewhat flowery language, some of which I've tried to imitate in Asheena's story....
My version of the djinn/genies is actually taken and mixed together from several different sources -- something that should fit a Narnia story okay, given that the original Narnia books were a mix-and-match of several different mythologies (with an extra helping of Christianity on the side).
The complete story of Rabadash the Ridiculous, and how he "turned himself into a donkey" can be found in the Narnia book The Horse and his Boy, along, of course, with most of the other info that exists on Calormen. (The country certainly plays a role in other Narnian books as well, but nowhere is it so very much in the center of things as in that book.)
My version of the djinn/genies is actually taken and mixed together from several different sources -- something that should fit a Narnia story okay, given that the original Narnia books were a mix-and-match of several different mythologies (with an extra helping of Christianity on the side).
The complete story of Rabadash the Ridiculous, and how he "turned himself into a donkey" can be found in the Narnia book The Horse and his Boy, along, of course, with most of the other info that exists on Calormen. (The country certainly plays a role in other Narnian books as well, but nowhere is it so very much in the center of things as in that book.)