The Sultan's Strength - chapter 2

[rosa_heartlily]

A/N - this chapter's quite fun, I think.

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Karen’s Story

Chapter 2

Simon noticed the locket as soon as he came home, hanging below my breasts on its long chain.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked, reaching for it.

 

I drew back, reluctant to let him touch it although I could not have explained why.  “It’s my inheritance.  From Great Aunt Mina.”

 

“What?  That’s it?”  I could see that he was holding back laughter and I felt my anger rise.

 

“It’s very valuable,” I snapped.  “It’s 24 carat gold and is hundreds of years old.  I have its full provenance, which can only increase the value.”

 

“Well, get it valued, then.  We could do with some extra money.”

 

And that was it.  Great Aunt Mina’s gift was reduced to a way of helping to pay the gas bill or a new carpet for the stairs.  My thoughts were all of anger, unfocused, undirected.  How dare he?  How dare he speak to me like that, dismiss my most precious possession so glibly?  He deserved to pay for what he had said but, at that moment, I could get no further in my thinking than that.  The locket felt warm through my clothes, which I supposed was due to me wearing it all afternoon.  I laid a protective hand over it, silently promising that we would have our revenge.

 

Whilst he cooked tea, he wanted a full explanation of how I had come by it and I wished he would just be reasonable, not ask pointless questions.  I did confess to setting up the appointment without telling him but he did not seem to mind.  I was slightly taken aback, expecting a lecture on the importance of trust and openness in marriage.  Instead, he was more interested in praising me for allowing Dani to use the bedroom to feed and change the babies.  I could make no sense of his words.  I had no need of praise when all I really wanted was to get them out of the way.  He did tease me a little about my dreams of inheriting all of Mina’s wealth and I smiled in return, biding my time.  Some day, I would make him regret these words.

 

“So, what’s inside it?” he asked.

 

“Inside?”

 

“It’s a locket, yes?  So, does it have a mirror, or someone’s picture, or a lock of hair, inside it?”

 

“Oh, I hadn’t even looked!”  I lifted the locket in my hand and pushed my thumb nail between the halves.  The hinges were a little stiff but it fell open to reveal a mirror on one side and a curl of hair the exact colour and texture of mine on the other.  I held it out for him to see.

 

“That mirror looks brand new,” he said.  “Mina must have replaced it.  Something that old should be stained, surely?”

 

“I don’t think so…  She gave such a detailed account of its history…  I’m sure she would have mentioned replacing the mirror.”

 

“Maybe she did it after writing the history?  Well, if it is a modern mirror, that will probably reduce the value.”

 

There it was again, undefined, undirected anger, swirling around my head, looking for a focus, a form of expression.  I soothed it, assuring it that we would find a way to express it.  All I said was, “Actually, I rather like it.  I don’t want to sell it.”

 

“Really?  Well, OK, then.”

 

And that was that.  No fight, no struggle, just acceptance.  I wished he was always this agreeable.

 

What I had not told him was that, when I first looked into the mirror, it was not my face that I saw looking back.  The person in the mirror appeared to be a boy in his late teens, dark hair and eyes, olive complexion.  He was very pretty, almost pretty enough to be a girl.  In fact, it might have been a girl with the squarish jaw of a boy…  Whoever it was winked at me.  When I looked again, I saw only my own reflection.

 

“Have you finished?  I’ll get on with the washing up.”

 

I nodded, absently.  We had a rule; if one of us cooked, the other did the washing up but here he was clearing the table.  Well, if he was going to do it without a fight, I was certainly not going to stop him.

 

The next day, I had a shift that ran from mid-morning to mid-afternoon, the worst kind.  People are in and out the whole time and it is almost impossible to get to your break, let alone have anything to eat.  Being hungry and busy is not a good combination for me.  Still, a job is a job and if the hotel were still willing to pay me, I supposed I owed them seven hours of my labour.

 

At breakfast, Simon offered me a lift.  “That will get me into town far too early,” I pointed out.  “You have to be in by nine o’clock to open up; my shift doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

 

“I just thought you’d appreciate not having to hang around the bus stop in the rain,” he said, mildly.  “If you want me to take you, I’ll ring Alex and ask him to open up; that’ll give you an extra fifteen minutes.  As for being in town too early yourself, you could do some window shopping, pick out what you want me to get you for Christmas.”

 

“Christmas?  It’s August!”

 

He smiled, the gentlest, most loving smile he had ever given me.  “We can make it an early present.”

 

“Why are you being so nice?”

 

“Nice?  I’m just being the same as always.  Look, if you want a lift you’d better go and get ready while I do the dishes.”

 

Offering to wash up again?  Something was definitely up.  Was he having an affair?  But then why would he offer to spend more time with me by driving me into town?  Unless it was because he was feeling guilty…  No, I knew Simon.  He could never keep a secret if his life depended on it.  The night he proposed was the best acting performance of my life because I had worked out what he was planning weeks earlier.  Something had caused the change, but it was not guilt.

 

“OK, I’ll take you up on the offer,” I said, hurrying into the bathroom.

 

The trip into town was far more pleasant than I had expected.  I knew Simon listened to Radio Four in the car but I really wanted something more upbeat in the morning.  “Juice or Heart?” he asked as I got into the car.

 

“Oh!  Er…  I don’t mind.  You choose.”

 

“We’ll go for Heart FM, then.  That dippy girl on Juice makes my teeth itch.”

 

“Good choice.  They sometimes have a ‘retro’ morning – I hope it’s an ‘80’s morning.”

 

He rolled his eyes but comically, in a way that was designed to make me laugh not insult me.  “One day, you are going to have to accept that the ‘80’s were over a long time ago,” he told me, switching on the radio.

 

Cindy Lauper was singing about how ‘girls just wanna have fun’, and I laughed.  “Maybe I will, but it’s not this day!”

 

The short drive into the city centre passed in a happy blur of great music and actually enjoying my husband’s company.  I felt I could get used to this and told him so, as I kissed him goodbye.

 

“Your chariot awaits your command, my lady,” he told me with a mock bow.  “You know, I can probably finish early, if you’d like me to drive you home, too.  Alex is doing a great job as Assistant Manager; he’s practically running the place.”

 

I laughed and shook my head.  “No, it’s OK.  You don’t want him to feel you’re taking advantage of him.”

 

“Are you sure?  OK, then.  But how about I take you out for dinner?  Buy yourself something slinky, something to make every other man in the restaurant jealous.”

 

“Something slinky?  Where are you planning on taking me?”

 

“That’s a surprise!” he said, tapping the side of his nose in a conspiratorial way.

 

As I said before, I can read him like a book.  “You mean you have no idea?”

 

He laughed.  “You got me.  Just get yourself something nice, OK?”

 

I watched him walking away and wondered who he was.  Dinner and a new dress for no particular reason, when he was the one always complaining about how we had to budget for everything?  I could not understand it.  Still, he had promised me dinner in a place that deserved a slinky dress, and by God he was going to deliver on that promise.

 

My next stop was most definitely John Lewis.  Whatever change had come over my husband was likely to be short lived and I wanted to make the most of it.  I wandered around the racks, pulling out a selection of dresses that all seemed to meet the definition of ‘slinky’.  My favourite was bright red, knee length and strapless, with a bow at the back and a sweetheart neckline, more daring that I would usually wear but it would certainly turn heads.

 

In the changing room, I eagerly removed it from its hanger and stepped into it, pulled it up over my hips and held the bodice against myself as I tried to negotiate the fastening.  It was the kind of dress designed for someone with four arms; I needed two hands to pull up the zip, one to hold the bodice against myself, and one to keep my hair out of the way.

 

“Oh, just fasten, will you?” I muttered.  To my amazement, the bodice formed itself to my body and the zip pulled itself up.  I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing only my own shocked face, not the effect of the dress.

 

“You look beautiful,” whispered a voice, the one that had told me to put on the locket.

 

I whirled around looking for the speaker, but I was alone in the cubicle.  Of course I was alone.  I turned back to the mirror; I did look beautiful.  Five minutes later, I was walking out of the shop with my purchase.  As I left it suddenly occurred to me that I really did not have any shoes that would do the dress justice, let alone underwear or accessories, but a glance at my smartphone showed me that I did not have time to go back.  Of course, Simon had only said to buy a dress, but surely he had meant an outfit?

 

“I wish I had everything…” I thought.  At once, the bag I was carrying felt a little heavier.  Hardly daring to breathe, I peeped inside.  Not only did it now contain the items I had thought of, I could also see a clutch bag, various items of make up and hair products, and a bottle of my favourite perfume.  I really did have everything, now!

 

The locket, tucked under my blouse because we were not really allowed to wear jewellery at work, felt warm against my skin and something clicked inside my head.  “I wish I had a cup of coffee,” I whispered.  Instantly, a cardboard cup of coffee appeared in my free hand.  Somehow, the locket was answering my wishes.  I had my own genie!  Or, I was going mad and shop lifting.  But the coffee had really appeared out of nowhere.  I was not even outside a coffee shop at that moment.

 

It was almost time for my shift to start but luckily I did not have far to go.  I turned the possibilities over in my mind as I headed for the hotel.  When I wished for something, it appeared.  Or happened.  Simon’s changed behaviour now made more sense than it had earlier.  I could have anything, do anything, go anywhere!  All of our worries were all over; no more scrimping and saving…

 

And the best part was that the genie – or whatever it was – seemed to understand what I wanted.  When I said, “I wish I had everything…” it had supplied everything I needed for a night out with my husband, not literally ‘everything’.  So, no need to watch what I said, either, for annoying details.

 

There was one question I could not answer, however.  Should I tell anyone else – Simon, or Dani – about what Great Aunt Mina had really left me?  Would they think I was going mad?  Or try to use the genie’s power inappropriately?  Then again, what counted as ‘appropriate’?  It seemed that new shoes were…

 

I was at the staff entrance to the hotel by this time and let myself in with my key card.  I stowed my bags and jacket in my locker and headed right out to reception.  As expected, it was mayhem.  Luca, whose shift officially ended when mine began, was embroiled in a conversation with an elderly French couple – in French – which showed no signs of drawing to a close any time soon.  Sadie was checking in a coach party of Japanese tourists, with assistance from their tour guide who was translating.  Even Abbie was at the desk, giving directions to the Beatles Experience.

 

My stepping forward must have caught her eye because her head swivelled around the instant the Beatles fans had left.  “There you are, at last!  You knew we were short staffed today, but you just stroll in as if you had all the time in the world.”

 

“We’re short staffed?”

 

“I’ve just said so, haven’t I?  Ben’s on leave and Annabelle called in sick.”

 

“I didn’t know Annabelle wasn’t in…”

 

“I was going to call you and ask you to come in early but Luca said he’d cover.  Again.”

 

“I’ll thank him…”

 

“Well, now you’re finally here I can go and get some real work done in the office, with a nice cup of tea.”

 

Real work, indeed!  It was not that long ago that she was a receptionist like the rest of us.  She was promoted less than six months ago, ahead of me, I might add.  And Sadie, who is the only person on reception who has been here longer than me.  To hear her talk, you would have thought that Reception Supervisor was the most important role in the hotel, when in fact her job description looked very similar to ours with the added responsibility for drawing up the rotas.

 

She left the door of the office open, but whether it was so that she could keep an eye on us or to let us see her sitting down, I was not sure.  I was taking a pair of young women through the check in process but I could see Abbie out of the corner of my eye.  As she lifted her cup to her lips I thought, “I wish it was cold.”

 

The mouthful of tea she had just drunk came spraying back out, landing on the PC, a pile of papers and various other objects on the desk.  I smothered a smile as I saw her grab a handful of tissues and dab furiously at the mess.  The pair I had just checked in moved off to the lifts and were replaced by three men in suits.  As I called up their details on the computer, the now familiar voice whispered, “Make it hot!”

 

I ignored it, focussing on getting the correct spellings for the three names, collecting a license plate number and credit card details.  There was a small lull after they had gone and I then had time to deal with the voice, which was repeating itself.

 

“Make it hot?  Make what hot?” I wondered.

 

“The drink.  You made it cold, now make it hot.”

 

“What for?”

 

“To burn her!”

 

“Burn…  What the…?”

 

I could not pursue the thought, however, as another customer had arrived at the desk.  By the time I had dealt with her, I had almost forgotten about Abbie and her tea.

 

Sadie appeared at that moment, back from her break.  “You two go and grab a coffee, quick, while it’s quiet,” she said to Luca and me.  “I’ll call Abbie through if I need anything.”

 

Thanking her, we both made good our escape.  As we sat down, Luca asked, “What were you contemplating so earnestly before?”

 

“Contemplating?  When?”

 

“Just before Sadie came back out.  You were dealing with three gentlemen, then they left and you stood staring into space for ages.”

 

“Oh, er, that…  I was trying to work out where Simon might be taking me tonight.”

 

He clapped his hands, as excited as if he was the one being taken out for dinner.  “Mr Skinflint is taking you out?”

 

“Yes!  And he told me to treat myself to a new dress for the occasion.”

 

“Do you have it here?”

 

Without answering, I went to my locker and pulled out the dress.  I left everything else in the bag, reluctant to face any further questions.

 

“Oh, Karen, that is beautiful!  You will be the belle, tonight.”

 

Before I could answer, Abbie appeared in the staff room.  “What are you two doing back here?  Skiving off again, I see.  Get back outside or I’ll report you to Paula.”

 

“We are only taking a coffee break, Abbie,” Luca informed her in his calmest voice, while I shoved the dress back into my locker.  “We are entitled to our breaks.  You would not want us to become tired and ratty and take it out on the guests, would you?”

 

“You are supposed to clear your breaks with me, not just take them whenever you feel like it.”

 

Luca painted on his most charming smile.  “Then we apologise without reserve.  It shall not happen again, shall it, Karen?”

 

“Oh, er, no.  Of course not.”

 

Our supervisor sniffed and looked as though she really wanted to say something else but any further delay would then be her fault.  “Well, you’d better get back out there, hadn’t you?” was all she could find to say.

 

“Let me burn her…” came the voice.  “All you have to do is want it…”

 

I had to do something, or it would be going on at me all shift.  “Er, I just need to nip to the loo…” I told Abbie, trying to look apologetic. 

 

She scowled her blackest scowl but what could she do?  “Be quick!”

 

Inside a cubicle in the staff toilets, I pulled out the locket and opened it.  Once more, the mirror showed not my face but that of the impossibly beautiful stranger.  A smile spread across his face, making him look more like a girl than ever.

 

“Karen…”  The voice seemed to surround me, come from inside me, caress me.  I closed my eyes, allowed myself to breath it in, to be breathed in by it, all of my senses heightened almost beyond bearing.  “I knew you would come to me…”

 

I opened my eyes and looked at my… my what?  Friend?  The Slave of the Locket?  My slave…?

 

“Look, I don’t know your name…”

 

“Nima Shahnaz.”

 

“Nima?  So you are a girl?”

 

A puzzled frown creased the perfect forehead.  “I am as you see me, Karen…”

 

Boy or girl, that voice was going to drive me mad with wanting.  And Abbie was going to drive me out of my job if I did not hurry up.  “Look, I’m in charge here, right?”

 

“Of course, Karen.  Your desires are…”

 

“Good.  Because my desires do not run to hurting people, OK?  I don’t want to hear any more about burning Abbie.”

 

“You disappoint me.  I thought you were strong, angry enough for anything…”

 

“Apparently not.  I have to get back.  No more about Abbie, OK?”

 

The face in the mirror actually pouted like a child denied a treat.  Sulkily, Nima replied, “Very well, then…”

 

“Thank you.”  I closed the locket and replaced it under my blouse, before heading back to the reception desk.

 

I felt relieved, as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  Great Aunt Mina’ gift was obviously powerful; just imagine what it could do in the wrong hands!  Luckily for the world at large, and Abbie in particular, it had come to me.

 

The rest of my shift passed without incident.  Helen, my replacement, arrived promptly and I was able to leave on time.  I grabbed my stuff from the locker and headed home.  As an experiment, I wished that the very next bus would be mine and an 82 pulled up at the stop.  At the ‘bombed out church’, the bus continued across the lights and two or three of the passengers protested.

 

“Where’re you going, mate?” called an old man.  “You’re supposed to turn left here!”

 

The driver called back, “That’s the 86.  This is the 82.”

 

“This is the 86,” stated a teenage girl, who was leaning against the luggage rack.

 

“Get out and see for yourself,” suggested the driver, pulling up at the stop. 

 

The girl took him up on the offer and returned with a bemused look on her face.  “He’s right,” she said to the old man.  “It’s an 82.”

 

Muttering to himself the man stood and shuffled down the bus.  “I’ll be complaining about this,” he informed the driver as he stepped on to the pavement.

 

“What about my ticket?” asked the girl.  “I only had enough money left for my bus fare and I’ve spent it, now.”

 

“Not my problem, love,” the driver replied.  The people who had been waiting at the stop were all seated now and he was ready to go.  Looking anxious, the girl got off the bus.

 

I was feeling more than a little guilty, so I wished for her to find some money.  I sensed some reluctance but Nima could not disobey.  As my window passed the girl, I saw her stoop down and pick something up from the ground; a five pound note.  That would get her home and a few sweets into the bargain.  I settled back into my seat, feeling very pleased with myself.

 

At home, I had two hours to fill before Simon got home.  I also had a special night out to get ready for.  The time would fly by.  For my last birthday, Dani had bought me a set of bubble bath, soap and body lotion that all matched my perfume, and there was just enough left for me to use them tonight.  The bottle of perfume that my husband had bought, however, had run out last week.  Presumably, this was why only the perfume had appeared in my bag.

 

After running my bath, I stepped in, breathing in the scent of the bubbles.  I had taken the locket off, unsure how the water would affect it, but now I reached out to where I had left it, opened it, and prepared for a serious conversation with Nima.

 

“Karen…”  The face was all smiles.

 

“Nima, I want…”

 

“Nima Shahnaz.  The names must be said together.”

 

“Oh, er… I’m sorry.  Nima Shahnaz, then…  What does your name mean?”

 

“In the ancient tongue, it means ‘Renowned, The Sultan’s Strength’.”

 

“It’s a very pretty name.”

 

The figure bowed.  “What is it you wish, Karen?  May I dress your hair?  Apply your make up?  Fasten your dress…”

 

“No… er, well, maybe later.  For now, I want to know more about you.”

 

“I am as you see me.”

 

I laughed.  “You are an impossibility and if I told anyone else about you, they would have me carted off to the nearest psychiatric ward!”

 

“Your words are strange…  I did not understand them.”

 

“Never mind.  I want you to tell me about you, you know?  Where you come from, why you’re inside a locket.  Everything!”

 

“Does Mina tell you nothing?”  Nima Shahnaz raised a perfect eyebrow to emphasise the question.  How I wished my eyebrows were like that!  There was a small flick of a finger, a slight tingle above my eyes.  I knew without looking that my  eyebrows were now perfectly shaped.

 

But I had been asked a question.  “Er, Mina?  No, she didn’t say anything about you.  Of course, it’s over twenty years since I last saw her.  And you know she’s dead, now, don’t you?”

 

The eyes in the mirror gleamed and the smile turned into… what?  Something a little less pleasant than it had been before, if I am honest.  But at the time, I dismissed it as my over active imagination.  “Then let me enlighten you.

 

“I am a spirit, a creature of the elements.  I have no body and no need of one.  What you see reflected here is what you expect to see; I do not know what it is you see and I have no control over it.  I will be bound by powerful magic many, many years ago, to do the biddings of a mighty sultan.”

 

I held up a hand.  “Can you just run that past me again?  ‘You will be bound many years ago’?”

 

An apologetic smile.  “My concept of time is different to yours.  For you, it runs in a straight line from what you term ‘the past’ into what you term ‘the future’.  For me, all moments are the same.  As I am meeting you, I am being captured against my will, I am meeting Mina and a hundred other ‘masters’, I am being released.”

 

“Oh, that’s…”  I felt suddenly sorry for… whatever it was that lived in my locket.

 

“I appreciate your sympathy.  But, for now, let me conclude by saying I have obeyed every wish you will make as well as I was able.  I understand you intentions as well as your words and I acted accordingly.”

 

I gave a grateful smile.  “I noticed that.  So, are there any ‘rules’?  Like a limit on how many wishes I can use or not feeding you after midnight?”

 

“Feeding…?  Karen, I have no need of sustenance…”

 

“I know.  It was a joke.  You could really do with working on your sense of humour.”  I had to laugh at the puzzled expression that appeared on that beautiful face.  “But are there?  Any rules?”

 

“Oh, no.  You may wish for anything at all, as many times as you wanted.”

 

“Anything…?”  For a moment, my thoughts were filled with mansions, jewels, enormous cars…  Then I became aware that the bath water was growing cold.  “Well, I shall give it some thought.  But, for now, I wish the flat was as clean and tidy as possible, and I wish that I was dressed and ready to go.”

 

There was a confused moment when I was surrounded by swirling lights and colours.  Then my head stopped spinning and I was sitting in the living room and dressed in my new outfit.  I stood to look in the mirror over the fireplace and almost did not recognise myself in the perfectly made up and coiffured image.  I patted the locket, which was still a little warm, and offered a silent ‘thank you’.

 

Just then, I heard Simon’s key in the door and hurried into the hall to greet him.  He stopped dead when he saw me.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried he did not like the dress, or some other aspect of my appearance.

 

He smiled, that smile that transforms his whole face, the one I fell in love with.  “There’s nothing wrong.  You just took my breath away for a moment.  What do you say we skip dinner?”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t.  I’ve spent all afternoon getting ready.  I thought you wanted to show me off?”

 

“OK, OK, I did make a promise, didn’t I?  Just give me a few minutes…” and he hurried off.

 

He had booked a table at a restaurant I had always wanted to go to but that he had as steadfastly declared to be for the most special of special occasions.  Somehow, we had never had one of those occasions, until tonight.  We were seated by a waiter who bore a strange resemblance to Nima Shahnaz.

 

“Don’t look at the prices,” instructed Simon.  “Just order what you really want, OK?”

 

I nodded, and turned eagerly to the menu, but I found it hard to concentrate.  There was a couple about our age seated a few tables away and the woman was speaking in a particularly loud voice.  From what I could make out, she was complaining to their waitress about some tiny detail in her order, something to do with the number of roasted cherry tomatoes on her plate.  The waitress replied that she was very sorry if the order had not been to the customer’s satisfaction and asked if there was anything she could do to make up for it.

 

“Oh, no!  What’s done is done.  I only mentioned it so that you would know to do better next time.”

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waitress take a ‘secret’ deep breath, the one everyone in customer service takes about fifty times a day when they are praying for the strength not to hit someone particularly annoying.  “Well then, thank you for pointing it out, Madam.  I will pass your comments on to the chef.  Can I get you anything else?”

 

The couple ordered dessert and then the woman stood and made her way towards the ladies and I wished her an unpleasant accident.  A moment later, the heel of one of her shoes snapped, and she fell heavily across the table of a family group who were half way through their soup, most of which ended up on her rather than on the people at the table.

 

I felt a wave of approval from the locket.  “Shall I crash their vehicle on the way home?” asked Nima Shahnaz, a mere breath in my ear.

 

Shocked, I gave a shake of my head.  Luckily, Simon was distracted by the scene of customers and waiting staff rushing to the rescue.  “No!” I whispered.  “That was quite enough.”

 

It suddenly occurred to me that when the genie had said it could do ‘anything’ it really meant it.