Genie vs. Djinn by Scott King

Author:Scott King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Majestic Arts

Chapter 12

“The ring of Aandaleeb can only be claimed by one who Solomon would deem worthy,” Zimmah’s echo said. “The penalty for not being worthy is death.”

“You don’t understand.” Whitney pleaded as she crossed across the marbled floor of the library. “The djinn, like all of them, have invaded earth. We need to the ring to send them home.”

“I cannot be reasoned with,” Zimmah said. “I have orders from Solomon that must be followed.”

“Then how do you determine if someone is worthy or not of claiming the ring?” Gramps said.

“There is a multipart test meant to judge the person seeking the ring.”

“I’ll do it. Give me the test.” Gramps patted his chest. “I seek Solomon’s ring.”

“No, you can’t!” Whiney blurted. “If you fail, you’ll die.”

“So what, I’m supposed to let you do it?” Gramps shook his head. “I couldn’t stop you from getting involved with this. I couldn’t stop you from climbing that cliff back there, but I sure as heck can make sure that you don’t do this.”

Zimmah motioned to the various tables scattered throughout the room. “Please take a seat.”

“Is this part of the test?”

“Everything from the moment you entered this room is part of the test.”

Whitney looked at the tables. She counted nine in total. There was an older wooden one that looked like it had been eaten by years of rain. There were more fanciful wood ones, with engravings and markings. One of the tables looked like it had been carved from a single slab of stone, while others were made from tiny stony pieces, metal, and one she swore was glass. The one that caught her eye the most was a round stone table that looked like stone henge and had a mystical feeling about it.

“Pick the round one,” she said. “It’s got no head, like King Arthur’s table. It’s gotta be the one.”

Gramps walked three feet, pulled the chair out from the nearest table and sat. It happened to be a bland wooden table.

“Why did you did you pick this one?” Whitney ran her fingers across the table’s top. It was smooth with a warm red finish.

“Are you a king from three thousand years ago?”

“No.”

“Then how can we judge which table we are supposed to sit at?” Gramps pointed to the weathered table and then to the glass one. “Who am I to judge which is better than the rest. I picked this one because it was the closest to where we stood.”

Whitney looked up to face Zimmah. The echo floated in the air, watching intently. “Was this the right choice?”

“This is a cognitive test, not necessarily one with ultimate right or wrong answers.” Zimmah waved a hand and a wooden cube appeared on the table in front of Gramps. Each of its sides seemed to be about a foot in length and it had no seams. “Open this.”

“What’s inside?” Whitney asked.

“Non-testers should remain quiet.”

“If that’s the case, then shouldn’t you not be allowed to speak either?”

“I like you.” The corner of Zimmah’s lip curved ever so slightly upward.

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