“Just how long were you in that jar?” she demanded.

“Uh, well, actually . . .” The jinn’s voice trailed off.

“How long?” Cimorene insisted.

“Two hundred and seventeen years,” the jinn admitted. “But nobody ever releases a jinn before the three hundred years are over.”

“You’re trying to get around your oath!” Therandil said, plainly shocked by the very thought. “You pretended you had to kill us so you wouldn’t have to give us the wishes!”

“No!” the jinn said. “Thinkest thou that the granting of wishes alone would so trouble me? Needs must I kill thee and thy fair companion, for I cannot return home and say that thou didst release me and I left thee living! I would be a laughingstock. Never in three thousand years has such a thing occurred!”

“Then you shouldn’t have sworn an oath,” Therandil said sternly.

“I had to!” the jinn said miserably. “It is the custom of our kind. ’Twould be . . . ’twould be . . .”

“Improper?” Cimorene murmured.

“’Twould be improper to do otherwise,” the jinn said, nodding. “But now thou hast found me out, and what am I to do? If I kill thee, it will violate my oath; if I kill thee not, the remainder of my life will be a torment.”

“You could go back in the jar for another eighty-three years,” Cimorene suggested delicately.

“I could . . . go back?” The jinn blinked at her for a moment. “I could go back. I could go back!”

“And in eighty-three years we’ll both be dead of old age,” Cimorene said. “Since that was my choice of death, your oath will be fulfilled and you can go straight home without killing anyone else or giving them any riches or power or anything.”

“Truly, thou art a jewel among women and the very Queen of Wisdom’s daughters!” the jinn said happily. “Thou hast found the perfect solution to my difficulties!”

“Wait a minute!” Therandil said. “What about those wishes?”

“Therandil!” Cimorene said in a shocked tone. “I’m surprised at you! How can he give us wishes if he’s going back in the jar for eighty-three years? It wouldn’t be right at all.”

Therandil frowned. “Are you sure? After all, we did let him out during his third hundred years.”

“I suppose I could let thee have one wish at least, in token of my thanks for thy help,” the jinn said. “As long as thou dost not tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Therandil assured him. “And my wish is to defeat a dragon and win his princess’s hand in marriage!”

The jinn waved a dark hand over Therandil’s head. “There! When next thou dost fight a dragon, thou shalt surely defeat him. And thou?” he said, turning to Cim­orene.

“I could use some powdered hens’ teeth,” Cimorene said.