Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the raging wind fellsilent.
Inexplicably, Rolfe heard a birdsing.
His garments seemed suddenly too warm and he felt the heat of the sun upon his head. Rolfe lifted his head and blinked in shock at the sight that greeted hiseyes.
He stood in a garden surrounded by lushly fragrant and exotic blooms, although that seemed decidedly against the odds. Was this an illusion, as well? He stared in disbelief. Golden sunlight poured on the blossoms around him and the air was alive with the hum of insects. The bleak forest where he had ridden just moments past was nowhere to beseen.
Truly, the cheese had outdoneitself.
Surrounding the garden was a high wall made of an unfamiliar white stone, artfully fitted and gleaming so brightly in the sunlight that it might have been made of silver. A low palace stretched out behind him. A long pool lined with blue tiles guided the eye directly to its doorway, and the scent of Eastern cooking teased hisnostrils.
Rolfe blinked, but the illusion stubbornlyremained.
As did the specter before him. She folded her arms across her chest, dissatisfaction clear in the harsh line of herlips.
Rolfe licked his lips. He had hoped for a home and now he stood in a palace. She had said she would surrender it to him. He had been cold and yearned forwarmth.
Was this vessel trying to make his dreams cometrue?
That was beyondbelief.
It had to be an illusion or a jest. Rolfe braced his booted feet on the ground and faced the vision. “What manner of trickery is this?” he demanded. “I insist that you return me to the forest and restore mypalfrey.”
She arched a brow. “Make no mistake, mortal, my palace is as real as youare.”
Rolfe eyed his surroundings. He shed his gloves, sniffed a bloom, fingered the leaves of a shrub, and found nothing amiss. A type of insect he did not recognize ambled along the shrub’s leaves and he touchedit.
It stung him. Rolfe cursed and leaped backward, shaking the creature from hishand.
He eyed the specter. “Where are we? What have youdone?”
“You are precisely where you were before,” she replied. “It is my palace that has moved here, to satisfy the curse laid upon me.” Her eyes narrowed to fierce slits and her voice dropped low. “Now it is yours. I hope that you are satisfied.” There was no denying her bitterness, which made Rolfe wonder if she told thetruth.
Wolves bayed in the distance, their howls carrying over the walls in support of herclaim.
There were no wolves in the East, from whence this palace seemed to have sprung. And he had heard wolves in the forest just before opening thebottle.
This must be a deception, and he had only to figure out how it had beenaccomplished.
“I do not understand,” Rolfe said, although he thought he might. “What have I done? If this is your palace, take it where you will. It is not my fault that it ishere.”
The spirit granted him a chilling glance. “Of course, it is your doing!” she replied. “Do you imagine that I wouldchoosesuch a dismal locale?” She shuddered and eyed him with accusation. “It was you who opened the bottle and you to whom I am indebted for myrelease.”
“You seem less than pleased,” he replied. “Surely to be released from confinement is no smallthing?”
“Perhaps it would be a relief if I did not have to pay such a heavy price! Who would be pleased to give their greatest treasure to a meremortal?”
At that, Rolfe was insulted. Mere mortal? “I asked you fornothing!”
The specter bent down, her eyes flashing with fury. “And what you want is of no consequence! Trust me, mortal, if I could betray my obligation, I most surely would, for no being ever deserved such a gift less than a mortal man!” She folded her arms across her chest once more. “But a curse required me to grant possession of my palace to whoever freed me from my prison. Even a djinn must adhere to some code ofhonor.”
A djinn? Rolfe had heard of those beings but had never believed theyexisted.
She glanced about herself, her displeasure more than clear. “Though nothing was said of doing so withgrace.”
But no one would surrender such a palace willingly. A tale too fair was seldom true. This had to be a trick, a trick designed to rid him of his possessions. The palfrey was already gone, and with it a goodly quantity of hissupplies.
Rolfe glared at the inexplicable being before him. He had heard of such deceptions. Bayard had been cheated of his coin upon arrival in Outremer, having been convinced to pay for a saddle for a steed that he could have free of charge. He had paid for the saddle, then both steed and saddle had vanished in the night, leaving him penniless and without amount.
