THE IFREET FATHER, Teresa Noelle Roberts 4/7
The knife grazed painfully at her throat, but she was able to squirm away as the men fought to keep their balance.
From the deck she heard cries of “Water-spout!” and “All hands on deck!”
Terror blanched the sailors’ sun-darkened faces. “The djinn can control water!” one cried.
They scrambled up the ladder.
A few moments later, Labannah ventured onto the deck as if she had been drawn from her cabin by curiosity. “Get below!” the captain yelled. “This is no place for a lady.”
She would have agreed except for two things: despite the crew’s best efforts, and the fact the wind blew the other way, the ship raced toward a huge water-spout. Moreover the water-spout had a face, and that face familiar, although it was distorted with a rage she had never seen upon it in life.
Sliding on the tilting deck, she walked to the rail and raised a hand in greeting to the water-spout. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “But calm your fury now or I too will be in peril.”
As suddenly as it had appeared, the water-spout vanished.
After that, the old ladies were less inclined to bore Labbannah with stories of their grandchildren, and the men left her in peace.
Disembarking in Jeddah at last, Labbannah’s head swam. Already shaky on her feet from a long sea voyage, she was dazed by air that felt like breathing water and stunned by heat. The crowd of pilgrims was intimidating even to one used to a city of nearly a million souls and the polyglot babble of tongues was bewildering even to one who spoke Cordoba’s three languages and a bit of Greek and Latin.
Labbannah followed the crowd and made her way with them toward Mecca, a journey of several days on foot.
As the mass of pilgrims slogged along, Labbannah saw djinn walking among them. These were djinn of milder aspect than those she had seen, taller than humans but otherwise similar, and clothed in the garments of pilgrims. Thus she knew them to be righteous djinn who had accepted Islam.
All through the first day she ignored them. At night when they rested she pretended she did not see the djinn setting up camp. But she had an idea, for she had read that righteous djinn would sometimes help humans if properly asked.
The second night, she crept out to the djinn camp. As she approached, some reached for weapons or jumped in alarm, but one who had the appearance of a venerable chieftain waved them down and spoke to her. “Greetings, Daughter of Adam. What brings you among the djinn? And how is it that you can see us?” He had the guarded dignity of a Berber man new-come to Cordoba, but his voice boomed from his huge body.
She had spent the past two days preparing a polite speech, but, overcome by his presence, she could at first only squeak. Finally, her need overcame her fears and she composed herself enough to say, “Grandfather, I need your aid. I must reach the Kaf to find my father.”
“The blood in your veins comes from dust, not fire, child. Why is your father in the Kaf, where children of Adam dare not go?”
She explained as best she could, ending with, “If it is the will of Allah that my father remain a djinni, better that he be among your honest tribe than those with who will lead him further astray.”
The djinn turned away from her to talk amongst themselves in their own tongue. After a time, the chieftain returned to her, leading a boy and girl who looked to be her own age, although they were likely closer to seventy than seventeen. “These are my twin grandchildren, Halim and Halima. They will be your guides. Courage and devotion like yours deserve our aid.”
Before dawn came, they were away.
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