“Is another matter!” Sophie declared. “Just wait till I get my hands on him! I can’t abide people who go soft over animals and then cheat every human they come across! But to get back to this genie you say you had, it looks as if the djinn meant you to have it. Do you think it was part of his scheme to have disappointed lovers help him get the better of his brother?”

“I believe so,” said Abdullah.

“Then, when we get to the cloud castle, if that’s where we’re going,” Sophie said, “we might be able to count on other disappointed lovers arriving to help.”

“Maybe,” Abdullah said cautiously. “But I recollect, most curious of cats, that you were fleeing to the bushes while the djinn spoke, and the djinn expected only myself.”

Nevertheless, he looked upward. It was growing chilly now, and the stars seemed uncomfortably close. There was a sort of silveriness to the dark blue of the sky which suggested moonlight trying to break through from somewhere. It was very beautiful. Abdullah’s heart swelled with the thought that he might be, at last, on the way to rescue Flower-in-the-Night.

Unfortunately Sophie looked up, too. Her grip on his arm tightened. “Talk,” she said. “I’m terrified.”

“Then you must talk, too, courageous caster of spells,” said Abdullah. “Close your eyes and tell me of the Prince of Ochinstan, to whom Flower-in-the-Night was betrothed.”

“I don’t think she could have been,” Sophie said, almost babbling. She was truly terrified. “The King’s son is only a baby. Of course, there’s the King’s brother, Prince Justin, but he was supposed to be marrying Princess Beatrice of Strangia—except that she refused to hear of it and ran away. Do you think the djinn’s got her? I think your Sultan was just after some of the weapons our wizards have been making here—and he wouldn’t have got them. They don’t let the mercenaries take them south when they go. In fact, Howl says they shouldn’t even send mercenaries. Howl …” Her voice faded. Her hands on Abdullah’s arm shook. “Talk!” she croaked.

It was getting hard to breathe. “I barely can, strong-handed Sultana,” Abdullah gasped. “I think the air is thin here. Can you not make some witchly weaving that might help us to breathe?”

“Probably not. You keep calling me a witch, but I’m really quite new to it,” Sophie protested. “You saw. When I was a cat, all I could do was get larger.” But she let go of Abdullah for a moment in order to make short, jerky gestures overhead. “Really, air!” she said. “This is disgraceful! You are going to have to let us breathe a bit better than this or we won’t last out. Gather around and let us breathe you!” She clutched Abdullah again. “Is that any better?”