“Anybody’ll show you,” said Nasim. “Just ask your servants.”
“I haven’t any servants,” said Tony agitatedly. “Only those guards outside.”
“Oh, yes, you’ve got servants,” Nasim insisted. “The king told them not to intrude on you but to be on hand if you wanted them. I’m sure he appointed a friend of mine to be your valet. Abdul! Abdul! Where are you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw an infinitesimal stirring up near the ceiling. He spun to face it. A cockroach—quite a large cockroach—appeared on top of the drapes by a window. It waggled its feelers at them.
“Hello, Abdul!” said Nasim. “The great prince who is the king’s guest wants to see the Queen of Barkut in her dungeon. Will you take him there?”
A sudden, geyserlike stream of water spouted out from where the cockroach stood. Hard and powerful, like a three-inch jet from a fire hose. It arched across the room, hit the farther side and splashed loudly, ran down the wall to the floor, and there suddenly jetted upward again in a waterspout which, in turn, solidified into a swaggering short stout djinn with a purple turban.
He bowed to the ground before Tony.
“This way, lord,” he said profoundly, “to the Queen of Barkut.”
Glassy-eyed, Tony followed him out of the door.