Syren

Syren by Angie Sage Page A

Book: Syren by Angie Sage Read Free Book Online
Authors: Angie Sage
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finally talking some sense, and it now knew which language to use. But time was short. It was beginning to feel the pull of the little gold bottle, which the Great One still clutched in his hand. It knew it must appear patient and friendly—that was its only hope. Slowly it answered Merrin’s question.
    “I am a jinnee,” it replied.
    “A what?”
    Oh merciful spirits, this was a truly stupid one. “A jinnee,” said the yellow blob, very, very slowly. “Jin… nee .”
    Merrin’s nose was blocked, his eyes were still watering from the jinnee incursion, and his ears were still buzzing from the whistling sigh. He could hardly hear.
    “You’re Jim Knee ?” he asked.
    The jinnee gave up. “Yes,” it agreed. “If you wish it, Great One, I am Jim Knee. But first you must answer my second question: What Do You Will, Oh Great One?”
    “Do? I will do what ?”
    The jinnee lost its temper. “Will!” it screamed. “ Will! What—do—you— will , Oh Great One? It means what do you want me to do, stupid !”
    “Don’t call me stupid!” Merrin screamed back.
    The jinnee stared at Merrin in amazement. “Is that your answer—don’t call you stupid?”
    “Yes!”
    “Nothing else?”
    “No! Yes, yes—go away, go away !” Merrin threw himself on the ground and had his first tantrum since the last time his nurse had locked him in the closet.
    The jinnee could not believe its luck. What a turnaround!Heady with celebration, the jinnee took on human form in a more extravagant manner than it might have done had it been less euphoric. Soon the secret chamber was no longer full of an amorphous yellow blob but occupied by an exotic figure wearing a yellow cloak, jerkin and breeches, all topped off by a hat—the jinnee liked hats—that looked remarkably like a pile of ever-shrinking bright yellow doughnuts balanced on its head. The outfit was set off by what the jinnee considered to be a most becoming mustache—it had always fancied a bit of facial hair—and a set of long, curling fingernails. It had a slight squint, but some things could not be helped.
    The jinnee could hardly believe his luck (it had decided to be a him—with a name like Jim Knee, what else could it be?). He had gone from the very brink of being forced back into his bottle to total—or almost total—freedom in one minute flat. As long as he steered clear of the old witch who had Awakened him for the next year and a day he would be fine, and he certainly had no intention of going anywhere near the pestilential marshes where he had been Awakened, no intention at all.
    The jinnee looked at Merrin lying facedown on the floor, drumming his feet and wailing. He shook his head inbemusement. Even though in the dim, distant past he had been one himself, humans were a weird bunch—there was no denying it. With an overwhelming desire to smell some fresh air at long last, the jinnee rushed out of the secret chamber, causing a great draft of air to slam the door with a bang.
    Inside the secret chamber Merrin’s tantrum abruptly ceased—just as it always did as soon as the nurse slammed the closet door on him. In the sudden silence, with his ears still ringing, Merrin slowly got up and tried to open the panel. It did not move.
     
    An hour later Merrin was slumped on his cushions, hoarse from yelling, and Sarah Heap was sitting in the Palace kitchen talking to the cook.
    “I’m hearing things behind the wainscoting,” she said. “It’s those poor little princesses Jenna told me about. Poor little trapped ghosties. It’s so sad.”
    The cook was matter-of-fact. “Don’t you go worrying about it, Mistress Heap,” she said. “You hear all kinds of things in the Palace. Terrible things ’as ’appened here over the years. You just got to put it out of your mind. It’ll soon go away, you’ll see.”
    Sarah Heap tried, but the yelling continued all that evening. Even Silas heard it. They both went to bed with cotton stuffed in their ears.
    Merrin did

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