“Oh, right.” Feeling ridiculous for not figuring out the obvious, he quickly unearthed the instrument. A thought poked at him. “You know, I have created the illusion of splashing water, too.”
“When you send the little beasts into the river?”
“Yeah . . .”
“You can definitely do more with that pipe.” Her emphatic nod loosed a curl from her braid, and he was momentarily distracted by the way it grazed her temple.
When he didn’t do anything with the pipe for another minute, she looked at him and motioned with her hands impatiently. “No time like the present. Try something!”
Using the larger, rounded end of the pipe to rub his ear, As’ad looked at her helplessly. “Like what?”
“Well, how good is your imagination?” When he didn’t know how to answer her, she clarified, “Do you need to see the thing that you want to create an illusion of? Or can you pull it out of thin air?”
He hesitated.
Rahma looked around. “Ooh, why don’t you try to make some more trees?” She pointed to a scraggly grove up ahead.
Calling the skeletal, half-dead shrubs “trees” was rather generous. but they provided a starting point for As’ad. He took his time examining the dying plants, then toodled out a couple of measures. The small stand immediately became a grove. Instead of replicating exactly what he was looking at, he had created an image that was similar but distinct. The extra plant life looked as though it had grown at the same time as the originals.
Rahma dropped the cart to clap her hands. “Ooh, very good.”
As’ad frowned as something nudged at the back of his mind. When he figured out what it was, he immediately piped a few notes to end the illusion.
Chapter Eight
Which Contains Rat Nostalgia and a Debate
“Whydidyoustop?”she asked, picking up the poles again.
He coughed. “I realized that I don’t know who all can see that. It’s far enough away that we could have observers we don’t know about yet.”
“That’s a good point.”
They walked for a few more steps before Rahma had more questions.
“Can you set a time limit for the illusion? Or do you always have to play something? Next”—she paused to sneeze, then continued as if nothing had interrupted her words—“I think you should try something simpler and easier to hide. Like making some rats dance.”
As’ad ran his fingers along the pipe, feeling the familiar dips and holes. “No, I don’t have to play anything to end the enchantment,” he said, already distracted by the idea of dancing rodents. “Usually I plan ahead.”
This time, he pictured a small portion of his usual horde. As he played, he wondered if it would be more aesthetically pleasing for the fake rats to perform individual dances or if they should move in patterns. He quickly settled on the idea of directing the critters along decorative paths. After he blew the last note, he pulled the pipe away from his mouth and rested a hand on the cart to stop Rahma.
As the pair watched, a steady stream of rats in many hues poured out from under the cart and began to weave a design with intricate figures. The effect was rather mesmerizing. As he watched, As’ad had another idea. He raised the pipe to his lips and added a trill while focusing on his new intent. A section of the rodents peeled away from the main group to stand on their hind legs and sway from side to side.
Rahma’s delighted giggle inspired him to create more complex and elaborate diagrams for the rats to follow. The illusion had to be dissolved whenever another traveler was within sight, but the exercise kept As’ad’s mind and creativity occupied for the rest of the day. When they made camp that night, he played with the fire. The melody he chose was fast and bright, and the fake flames grew and twisted in time with the music. He changed the color, he changed the height, he even sent little balls of fire whirling around their campsite. The fire illusion had the added bonus of increasing illumination.
Curious, he piped a little ditty to create a mini orb of flames that would last until morning. The pretend fire followed him into the tent and stayed lit all night. Since it wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt anything, and he spent far too long swiping his hand through it to prove that point when he was supposed to be sleeping.
The next morning, after the rats were abed and the cart was on the road, Rahma jumped straight to a personal question.
“How did you come to own a magical pipe, anyway?”
The subject of Aladdin and his gang was not one As’ad cared to probe. He also understood that Rahma was as persistent as a leaky roof. She would drip, drip, drip her way in until all his secrets were laid bare. His only hope of holding anything back was to carefully reveal just enough that she was satisfied.
“After the orphanage, I ran with a gang that hunted treasure, among other things. They found this in a cave.”
“You weren’t with them?”
As’ad somehow managed to boil the entire explanation about trying to leave Aladdin’s gang while maintaining his trustworthiness so they wouldn’t hunt him down into one word: “No.”
