“My what?” Cimorene said, outraged.

“Thy lover,” the jinn said uncomfortably. “The man who stands beside thee.”

“I know what you meant,” Cimorene said. “But he isn’t my lover, or my fiancé, or my boyfriend or anything, and I refuse to be killed with him.”

“But Cimorene, you know perfectly well—” Therandil started.

“You hush,” Cimorene said. “You’ve made enough of a mess already.”

“If he is not thy paramour, nor any of those other things, then what is he?” the jinn asked suspiciously.

“A nuisance,” Cimorene said succinctly.

“Cimorene, you’re not being very kind,” Therandil said.

“What he is matters not,” the jinn said grandly after a moment’s heavy thought. “It is enough that thou and he shall die.”

“Enough for whom?” Cimorene said.

The jinn blinked at her. “For me. ‘Tis my will that thou and he shall die by my hand. Thou hast but to choose the manner of thy death.”

“Old age,” Cimorene said promptly.

“Mock me not! Thou and he shall die, and by my hand, ere this day draws to its close!” the jinn cried.

“Do you suppose he means it?” Therandil said nervously.

“Why would he keep bellowing it at us if he didn’t mean it?” Cimorene said. “Do be quiet, Therandil.”

Therandil lowered his voice. “Should I offer to fight him, do you think?”

“Don’t be silly,” Cimorene said. She saw that Therandil was distressed, so she added, “You came up here to fight a dragon. You aren’t prepared for a jinn, and nobody could reasonably expect you to challenge him.”

“If you say so,” Therandil said, looking relieved.

Cimorene turned back to the jinn and saw that he, too, was looking perturbed. “What’s the matter with you?” she said crossly.

“Dost thou not wish to know why I will kill thee?” the jinn asked plaintively.

“What difference does it make?” Cimorene said.

“Yes, actually,” Therandil said at the same time.

“Therandil!” Cimorene said in exasperation. “Shut up!”

“Hear my story, O luckless pair!” the jinn said with evident relief. “I am one of those jinn who did rebel against the law of our kind, and for my crimes I was sentenced to imprisonment in this bottle until the day should come when human hands would loose me. As is the custom of my people, I swore that whoso should release me during the first hundred years of my imprisonment I would make ruler of the earth; whoso should release me during the second hundred years I should make rich beyond all dreams of men; whoso shall release me during the third hundred I should grant three wishes; and whoso should release me after any longer span of time I should grant only the choice of what death he would die.”

“You’re going to kill us because it’s traditional?” Cim­orene asked.

“Yes,” the jinn said. His eyes slid away from Cim­orene’s, and she frowned suddenly.