Blue Magic

Front matter

BLUE MAGIC

The gondola buried itself once more in the dim lanes

BLUE MAGIC

I. Arabs and Scarabs

BLUE MAGIC

CHAPTER I

ARABS AND SCARABS

FEN sighed a little as he lay back among the pillows in the deck-chair and closed his eyes. His back hurt a good deal to-day. Beyond the awning the sun beat so mercilessly on the deck of the yacht that it made his eyes ache to look at it, and there was not very much else to be seen. Unless you could sit up, you could not see the stretches of blue Nile flecked with dahabiyeh sails, nor the pale, chalky bluffs crested with solemn date-palms. It is pretty dull, lying on your back all day while every one else goes ashore to poke among exciting ruins and buy queer things in the bazaar; especially if you are only seven and would like very much to be doing it yourself. So Fen did give a little sigh—though it was a very patient one.

The big steam-yacht lay motionless at anchor, with only the faint ripple of the sluggish current about her bows to break the silence of the hot mid-afternoon. Fen was lost in wondering what it would be like to go down into the dark, mysterious tomb of an ancient Egyptian king, when a slight, sharp sound at the yacht's side brought him back with a start from the place of his imagination to the heat and the blazing sunlight. In a moment more he became aware of a Head, which was calmly contemplating him over the rail. It was quite a nice Head—dark haired, bronzed by sun and salt air, clean-shaven, with a whimsical mouth, and gray eyes that were laughing, though the lips were not. The eyes were looking straight at Fen, glancing quickly from the serious little face, with its sensitive mouth and shining frame of red-gold hair, to the frail form lost among the many pillows. There was a rather puzzled expression in the level gaze of Fen's sober hazel eyes as he finally said:

"How do you do?"

"How do you do?" said the Head, in a nice, deep voice; "may I come on over?"

"Yes. Please do!" Fen rather wanted to see if there were any more to the Head, or whether it just floated about like a cherub. There was—a great deal more to it. When its owner had climbed to the deck, he proved to be an exceedingly tall, white-clad young man.

"Please, who are you?" asked Fen, after his eyes had traveled upward till they reached the Head again

"First tell me about yourself," smiled the young man. "Are you all alone?"

"Yes," said Fen, "except for Mammy—but she's below—an' the crew, of course, but I don't ever see them. Mother an' everybody have gone ashore to see all kinds of wonderful things."

"Do they often do that?" inquired the young man, frowning a little; "go off and leave you? Wouldn't you like to see some of the wonderful things, too?"

Fen smiled rather wistfully.

"But I can't," he explained, "because of my back, you see. That's why we're here, I think, because the doctor said something about 'change of air' making me get stronger."

The young man's face grew very sympathetic.

"Yes, that's all very well," he argued gently; "but it seems too bad, you know, that they see everything, while you have to stay on board. I suppose they bring you lots of things and tell you all about it though, don't they?"

"I ask Sally to tell me what they see," said Fen, "but she can't very well. She just said they went down where it was awfully dark, an' a man shouted all the time, an' Father gave him some money when they came out. But isn't there more than that? She can't tell me afterward."

"Is Sally your sister?" asked the young man, ignoring Fen's question.

"No, she's my cousin—Larry is, too. Aunt Margaret has been very, very sick, and Mother took the children with us, so they wouldn't be in the way. Sally's almost nine, an' Larry's just my age, but he's very tall an' strong. Now I've told you all about us, so, please, who are you?"

"I," said the young man, suddenly and rapidly, "am a Blue Djinn, by name Siddereticus, and I—"

"What is a Djinn, please?" asked Fen.

"Don't tell me that you don't know what a Djinn is!" cried the young man. "You know what genii are, don't you, that come out of bottles with a cloud of evil-smelling black smoke?"

"Yes," said Fen; "they do it in 'Twilight Land.' Have you ever read that book?"

"They do, yes,—there and elsewhere," said Siddereticus. "Well, a Djinn is very much the same sort of thing."

A troubled look came into Fen's eyes as he surveyed the young man's length.

"But did you come out of a bottle?" he asked.

"We-e-l-l," said the Djinn, "you know the way they always get rid of genii is to entice them back into their bottles, or through keyholes, or something of the sort. I'm a bit stiff and out of practice, but if you have a bottle anywhere about, I might try."

"But I don't want to get rid of you," said Fen, "an' 'sides, I haven't a bottle. Please sit down here where I can see you better. You're so very high, you know."

Laughing, the young man telescoped himself into a chair. Fen's eyes grew very perplexed again.

"But I always thought genii were all 'black an' horrible to look upon'; but you look just like anybody—that is," he added hastily, flushing a little, "not just like anybody, but like a person, you know."

"Ah!" cried Siddereticus, "I have to disguise myself, you see. Even in Egypt people would stare if they saw a Blue Djinn, with a rather greenish face and a long white beard, walking about. I have to make myself look like other people."

"Oh!" said Fen, slowly.

"By the way," said the Djinn, "you haven't told me your name yet."

"It's Fenton Norvell, but they call me Fen."

"Then I shall call you Fen, likewise," said Siddereticus, with his grave smile.

"Please, Djinn," said the little boy, "have you ever been in those places where they are to-day—tombs of old, old kings, and cities where nobody lives?"

"Very often," replied Siddereticus, lighting a cigarette. He blew a thin cloud of smoke, and then went on, as though he were picking up the thread of a story.

"That temple—when you come near it, the great columns tower up and up against the blue sky; they are taller than the tallest palms on the bank there. They are covered all over with hieroglyphics—carved figures of birds and beasts and men—round and round the column as far up as you can see. Just the sky, and the desert, and the columns that are almost as old as the desert itself. And the wind blows and the sand drifts and covers up the great stone lions at the portal, and they lie buried and hidden for centuries. The storks fly across to fish in the Nile, just the way they did when the temple was being built, three thousand years ago; and within, the mighty statue of the god Osiris holds up its hand silently and forever."

Siddereticus paused to relight his cigarette.

"Oh!" cried Fen. "Oh! They never told me things like that!"

"And the tombs," Siddereticus went on. "They are dug into the very heart of the rock. You go down and down, and by the flickering light of your candle you see the paintings on the walls—clear and bright after thousands of years. Pictures of battles and feasts, kings and gods and men. Your candle throws long, queer shadows across the wall, and you can see only a very little way ahead of you, till another stone stairway plunges you into the depths again. Then at last you come to a place where there is no stair; and looking down into a silent, black well, you know that there below in the gloom stands the sarcophagus of the king."

Siddereticus, whose voice had sunk to a mysterious undertone, paused and then said abruptly:

"But nobody can really tell you about it. You have to see it."

"Oh," sighed Fen, "I wish I could!"

"So do I," said Siddereticus; "but it means riding a very bumpy donkey for an hour in the heat."

"An' I couldn't possibly do that! You aren't the kind of Djinn that has magic carpets, are you?" inquired Fen, rather diffidently.

"How I wish I were! Unfortunately, the Blue Djinns have nothing to do with magic carpets and such. They are not so powerful as some of the genii."

"I suppose you've seen lots of Arabs—I mean scarabs," said Fen, presently, bringing his mind back from wistful imaginings. "Could you tell me about them?"

"Scarabs?" said the Djinn. "Indeed I have seen scarabs—and Arabs, too, for that matter. I believe," he added, looking vaguely around the deck, "that I could get a scarab or two for you now."

Taking his hands from his pockets, where they had been for some time, he rose to his feet, and passing his open hand over his closed one, he muttered "Moya sukhua!" which was the first thing that came into his head and happened to mean "hot water" in Arabic. Then he opened his hand and extended it to Fen, with four scarabs—beautiful bits of blue and green, with delicate carving—lying on the palm. Fen's eyes opened wide in wonder, the color came and went in his cheeks, and it was not until the young man dropped the handful into his lap, saying, "There you are!" that he could exclaim:

"How did you do it?"

"Djinns can do lots of things," smiled Siddereticus.

Fen looked at the scarabs for a long time, touching them gently, while a little smile flickered now and again across his face.

"What is the carving on the bottoms of them for?" he asked.

Well, you see," explained Siddereticus, "the Egyptians thought that scarabæi—which are just plain beetles!—were sacred, so they made these little images of them out of clay, and wore them always, like talismans. When they died, ever so many scarabs were buried with them.

The kings put their cartouches on the bottom—a sort of seal, you see. Each Pharaoh had his own cartouche—a lot of hieroglyphics carved on his scarabs, and statues, and his tomb, and whatever else belonged to him, so that every one knew at once whose it was."

At last Fen handed the scarabs back to Siddereticus with a little sigh.

"Oh, those are yours!" said the Djinn; "I can get more when I want them." And even as he spoke, he held a tiny blue one between his thumb and finger.

"Oh!" cried Fen, laying his head back against the pillows, bewildered, "you are wonderful! And are these really and truly mine?" he added, in a rather awed voice.

"I'm afraid I can't get you an Arab," said Siddereticus, looking vaguely about him again; "but I can fetch quite a splendid creature,—a slave of mine, in fact."

The young man glanced hastily over the rail, and then, turning his back to it, clapped his hands three times and said something in a strange language. Fen's eyes shone—in "Twilight Land" people always clapped their hands to summon slaves. But now over the side appeared a most gorgeous personage. His fez was of the richest scarlet, his jacket was curiously braided with gold, about his waist was an ample red sash, and a long, curved sword swung at his side. His white teeth gleamed in sharp contrast to his dark-skinned face and short black mustache. Fen, entirely speechless, gazed at this picturesque creature, to whom Siddereticus was speaking in low tones and with frequent gestures. The man, glancing quickly at Fen as he replied, drew his scimitar. Up it wheeled in a shining arc against the cobalt sky. And then and there the obliging slave went through an exhibition of sword-play, stamping and slashing and lunging with enthusiasm, while Fen, who by this time would not have been surprised had the deck opened and swallowed both Siddereticus and the swordsman, watched entranced, with shining eyes. Finally, having put all the fancy touches he could think of into his performance, the man made a low bow both to Fen and to his master, at a word from whom he vanished over the side.

"And I must disappear, too," said Siddereticus.

Fen caught his hand.

"No!" he cried; "you mustn't go away, Siddereticus! You must stay—always!"

"I shall come back again, never fear, Effendi," said the Djinn. Taking a notebook from his pocket, he scribbled a few lines, and, folding the paper, stuck it in the crack of a deck-house window. Then, bending suddenly, he kissed Fen's forehead, and was gone before the child could speak.

II. The Slumber-song of the Nile

CHAPTER II

THE SLUMBER-SONG OF THE NILE

WHEN the people who had been ashore boarded the yacht again, they were quickly summoned aft by an excited voice. Fen pulled himself up in his chair and leaned on his elbow.

"Oh, such a wonderful thing has happened to me!" he cried. "A Djinn—a Blue one—came here, an' his name is Siddereticus, an' he made scarabs come out of the air, an' a slave, with a fuz on his head, an' a sword, that fought with an in-vis-ible demon, an' he told me about the temples, an'—"

His mother reached out her hand, quietly and rapidly passing it over Fen's forehead and cheek and the back of his neck; then taking his hand, she held it in hers. Turning to her husband, she said quickly in a low voice:

"He isn't at all feverish!" Then she said, "Now, dear, don't talk quite so fast. Tell Mother all about it."

Fen lay back among the pillows and looked rather helplessly at Sally and Larry, who were gazing at him with varying degrees of astonishment. They themselves had little imagination, and this seemed to them a wild enough fancy.

"Truly, it was a Djinn," he said, looking up into his mother's face; "and here are the scarabs."

He got them out of the pocket of his dressing-gown and laid them in her hand.

"Well of all—look, Hal!" she cried, turning to Fen's father, who came to her laughing and holding out a bit of paper on which was penciled:

My dear Mr. Norvell:

In case you may imagine your boat to have been visited by the supernatural this afternoon, it may be just as well to supplement Fen's version of the tale. My father was Dr. Roger Thornton, who knew your father very intimately, I believe, so when I found that this was your yacht, I decided to call and renew acquaintance in the second generation. I am sorry to have missed you, but I spent a very delightful afternoon with your son. Please remember that I am known as Siddereticus, a Blue Djinn, and not as Mrs. Norvell handed the note back to her husband with a rather bewildered smile, and then, turning to Fen, said:

"So he gave you these, dear? But you look so tired! I think I'd better send for Mammy to put you to bed."

"But, Mother," said Fen, "he just got them out of the air!"

Fen had been for some time in bed, but partly because he was thinking about Siddereticus, and partly because his back hurt, he was not asleep. Larry, who shared the same cabin with Fen, always fell asleep the instant that Mammy turned off the light, and he had done so to-night with his usual promptness.

Fen could see one star through the porthole, and he could hear the soft wash of the river against the side of the yacht. Upstream, the crew of an anchored dahabiyeh were singing a sort of endless chantey:

They sang it over and over again, their voices rising in a shrill and prolonged wail at the end, before they took up for the hundredth time the strain of "Amanuseh, Amananeh."

Suddenly, across the distant song of the boatmen, and seemingly very close to the yacht, came a soft chord struck from a stringed instrument. It was a minor chord, and it trembled away into the silence, for the sailors on the dahabiyeh had abruptly ceased their chanting and everything was still.

Then, quite low and mysteriously sweet, came a man's voice, singing, while the faint curious chords blended in harmony. This is what the voice sang, and what Fen heard, as he lay breathless beside his porthole:

"Looming into the mighty sky,

The Memnon sing in the dawn,

And a thousand gray storks wake and fly

Over the Nile to the sun; but I

Sing when the sun is gone.

"Stars are hung in the emerald gloom,

Lamps for the temple door;

Into the mystic darkness loom

The portal columns of Pharaoh's tomb,

Hard by the river shore.

"The river singeth sweeter far

A slumber-song than I;

Be then your night-lamp yonder star,

And the Nile, on whose ancient heart you are,

Whisper your lullaby."

The song ceased as suddenly as it had begun, there was a momentary ripple, and all was as silent as before.

Fen, hardly believing himself to be awake, struggled to sit up enough to look out at the port-hole, but he only fell back upon the pillow with his back aching worse than even

"Of course it was Siddereticus," he thought; "nobody but a Djinn could possibly make up songs on purpose for people and sing them out of nothing in the mid of the water. Oh, Siddereticus!" he whispered suddenly, "can you hear me? You're a Djinn, you must be able to! It was such a beautiful song! Thank you, dear Djinn!"

After a time of gazing through the porthole, he murmured drowsily:

"That was the star it meant, about being my night-light. Think of Djinns telling—stars—to be my—night-light!"

The Nile murmured past, and the star shone on, but Fen was fast asleep.

The elders having been occupied with dinner on the other side of the yacht, Fen was the only one who had heard the slumber-song of the Nile. Being a rather lonely and very sensitive person, and having met with a good deal of skepticism from his cousins upon reporting the doings of Siddereticus the day be , Fen said nothing to any one of what had happened that evening, but he thought about it constantly. This gave him a more than usually preoccupied air, which annoyed Sally.

"I s'pose you're thinking about that old Djinn," she remarked. She was marching up and down the deck to the accompaniment of tinkling bangles and necklaces, having several layers of these ornaments—souvenirs of the bazaar—on her person.

"There isn't any a such thing, anyway," said Larry, who was trying to shin up a stanchion.

"There used to be," said Fen, rather hotly, for him, "an' why couldn't there be now—specially in an awfully old ancient place like Egypt?"

"Well," pursued Larry, "if he is one, why don't he look like one, 'stead of like just any old person?"

"I've told you lots of times how he 'splained to me about it," said Fen; "an' I think it's nice of him not to frighten all the people by his greenish face an' all. 'Sides, he doesn't look like 'any old person'; he 's quite queer an' diff'rent looking—all brown an' thin."

"Well, anyways," retorted Larry, "I don't b'lieve there's any a such thing, nor I won't b'lieve it till I see him doing magics myselluf."

Fen was on the verge of tears, and Sally, whose heart was really in the right place, gave Larry a rather hard kick, and said to Fen:

"Well, maybe there are lots of Djinns here (of course you wouldn't see 'em in America, Larry), and I hope your one will come and see you soon again. Fen, for he must be a wonderful thing."

Larry, whose shin smarted from his sister's vigorous hint, went off to the en , while she repaired below to find a book, and Fen was left alone to his thoughts.

III. The Amulet

CHAPTER III

THE AMULET

FEN had been lying for some time with closed eyes when something like a very light kiss on his forehead made him open them instantly, but nothing was to be seen. He sat, tense and expectant, when all at once a little chain of mummy-beads, with a small, greenish charm attached to it, dropped quietly into his lap. He looked up with a gasp.

"Siddereticus!" he cried, "please don't be invisible! Oh, I do want to see you!"

The Djinn, tall and impressive, stood beside him. He was clad in a blue robe which fell straight from neck to ankle, and on his head was a crimson fez. Fen gazed at him, speechless and awe-struck.

"Now I'm sure you're a Djinn!" he murmured at length.

"Greeting, Fen Effendi," said Siddereticus, seating himself cross-legged on the deck. "Alone again?"

"Well, they're not ashore to-day," answered Fen. "Father's up for'ard smoking, an' I think Larry went to talk to the engineer, an' Mother's writing letters, an' Sally's reading, I think."

"Very good," said Siddereticus, and, putting out his hand, picked up the chain from Fen's lap.

"Please tell me about it," said the little boy. "Is it a magic?"

"Well," replied Siddereticus, "it's an amulet—a sort of talisman, you know. They do different things—you wear them round your neck, and they protect you against evil spirits and sickness and famine and such."

"Does this one do that?" asked Fen, eagerly. "What does the carving mean? It looks like people."

"It is. Two people standing hand in hand,—and it protects you from loneliness. It isn't as powerful a charm as some of them are, and it doesn't always work; but on the whole, I think it does pretty well."

He hung it about Fen's neck as he spoke, muttering a few words of Arabic. Fen, quite overcome, clasped his hands fervently.

"I sha'n't ever feel lonely with this on," he said, "I'll feel as if you were there. And oh," he added, "it was you that came in the middle of the water and made such a beautiful song, all for me! And the star was my night-lamp and shined in at me."

"I'm glad it obeyed instructions," said Siddereticus.

"What did it mean, please," asked Fen, holding the amulet, "about the somethings singing in the dawn?"

"The Memnon?" said Siddereticus. "Alas, people say that it happens no more, but I, for one, believe that it does—in solitary dawns, when no living creature is about. But I'll tell you."

He lit a cigarette, and for a moment watched the blue smoke rising straight upward in the still air. Then he went on:

"Far into the desert, where it is sometimes overflowed by the Nile, stand two great statues, bigger than anything you can imagine, yet each one is carven from a single block of stone. Their mighty hands rest on their knees; the wind and the sand have worn away their faces; armies that are passed and gone have shattered the great crowns they used long ago to wear. Silent they sit there, as they have sat for ages, while the water creeps over their feet, and they are reflected in it. But—when the first rays of the sun touch them, and light up their mighty forms, they lift a faint, mystic voice and sing,—one high note that dies away as the sun rises—and then they are dumb again till another dawn."

Fen's eyes were wide and shining; he held the amulet with both hands and said not a word.

"So you see," said Siddereticus, "they sing in the dawn, and the storks fly, but I come and sing people to sleep in the dusk."

Just then Sally's voice could be heard, crying, "Oh, Fen!" and the Djinn sprang to his feet. Fen hastily thrust the amulet inside his dressing-gown, as Sally appeared at the head of the companionway. Siddereticus took one step toward her, made a quick pass with his hand, and had vanished over the side, his blue robe fluttering behind him, all before Sally could close her mouth, which she had opened in astonishment.

"So that's your Djinn, is it?" she said at last. "Well, I must say he's quite Djinnish-looking enough for anybody."

"You—you drove him away," faltered Fen, his hand pressed over the place where the amulet lay.

"Lan's sakes a-massy, chile!" cried Mammy, as she put Fen to bed that night; "wha' dis hyar heathen foolishness you-all got eroun' yo' naick?" and she put out her hand to it.

Fen shrank away from her with terror in his eyes.

"Don't touch it! Please!" he cried.

"Lemme dess take it offen you, so's I kin wash you nice," she begged. But Fen's distress was so real, and he clung to the amulet with such frantically repeated appeals, that Mammy was forced to yield.

"Dar, dar, honey!" she said soothingly; "Mammy woan' tech it. Dess you lay a-still, so's I kin wash you nice."

Fen listened and waited in vain for a song from the river, and went to sleep at last with his face to the star that Siddereticus had appointed as his night-light, and with his hand over the amulet that was to protect him from loneliness.

IV. While Fen Slept

CHAPTER IV

WHILE FEN SLEPT

"

BET you can't get where I am!" crowed Larry, from a very precarious perch, to which he had scrambled by means of every possible foothold.

"Bet I can so!" cried Sally, not to be outdone by one so young as her brother, and she started at full speed to climb up beside him.

As Fen watched them he wondered vaguely what it could be like to be able to climb up things that way. Or what it would be like to run—or even to walk, quite slowly and soberly. Very dimly he remembered walking, holding his nurse's hand and walking down a street in Baltimore,—but one vague memory is hardly enough to counteract so long a time of utter helplessness. It was not really Mammy's fault that it happened. She thought he was there beside her, but instead he had run after his ball, which had bounced into the parkway, and the automobile was going so fast that it couldn't stop in time. That had been four years ago—four years that seem like your whole life, if you are only seven. And because he was still not mending as much as they had hoped, the doctor had said this fall, "Absolute change of air—sea voyage if possible—Mediterranean, perhaps." So they went away, and Father had refitted the yacht and met them. And he was stronger. He could sit up really straight for half an hour every day, now, without his back hurting too much. The doctor said that some day he would be able to walk a little, and that was something very wonderful to look forward to.

Sally had reached the place beside Larry, and they sat swinging their legs and looking down at Fen. Larry fetched a cooky from his pocket. They broke it in half and munched it contentedly.

For convention's sake it is only fair to state that Siddereticus, clad in a perfectly civilized grass-cloth suit and Panama hat, made a proper call on the elder Norvells one night after the children had gone to bed.

As he stood by the rail, ready to take his leave, Mrs. Norvell said, "I think it's very kind of you to be so good to my little boy, Mr. Thornton."

The young man turned and looked at her for an instant. His face was inscrutable in the dusk.

"I think I asked you to call me Siddereticus?" he said. "The thing is, if you don't do it all the time, you might make a slip some time when it mattered." He left the rail suddenly, saying, "Might I take a look at Fen?"

"Why—if you want to—yes. Yes, certainly," said Mrs. Norvell, a little perplexed. "Show him the way, Hal."

At the head of the companionway Siddereticus paused. "Don't bother to come, Norvell," he said, "I can perfectly well find my way. Which is his cabin?"

"Well—all right," said Mr. Norvell, "it's aft—port side, second door."

With a little nod, Siddereticus vanished into the companionway. He made his way to the cabin and entered silently. In one berth, Larry slept robustly, with arms and legs flung haphazard; and opposite, under the port-hole, was Fen's bed. The young man bent close over it, gazing through the faintly luminous dusk.

Sleep had extinguished that light which Thornton had been accustomed to see in the child's face. The will power which kept him in his waking hours eager and brave, was relaxed, and one saw more plainly how much he had suffered. Somehow he looked smaller than Siddereticus had remembered him, and very tired and helpless. His hand had loosed its clasp on the amulet and lay limply near it, where it gleamed against the pillow. The young man glanced behind him, and, stooping, kissed the small hand. As he slipped from the cabin. Fen sighed and stirred a little.

"A most singular chap," said Mr. Norvell, when Siddereticus had taken his final departure. He sank into a deck-chair and lit a cigar.

"A most singular chap! What an idea, to be cruising all over creation in that absurd knockabout, with that outlandish Mohammedan servant, or whatever he is. And Thornton, senior, as I remember him, was a most practical man—an eminent physician, I think."

"Why do you suppose he takes up his time playing with Fen?" said Mrs. Norvell. "And why in the world did he want to go and look at him to-night? One certainly wouldn't fancy a young man's caring to look at a child asleep."