Castle in the Air

Castle in the Air
Diana Wynne Jones

A magical Arabian Nights tale from the captivating creator of fantasy, Diana Wynne Jones. The dazzling sequel to Howls Moving Castle, now a major animated film.Far to the south in the Land of Ingary, lives a young carpet merchant called Abdullah. In his dreams, he is the long-lost son of a great prince. This dream is a complete castle in the air… or is it?Abdullah’s day-dreams suddenly start to come true when he meets the exquisite Flower-in-the-Night, daughter of the ferocious Sultan of Zanzib. Fate has destined them for each other, but a bad-tempered genie, a hideous djinn, and various villanous bandits have their own ideas. When Flower-in-the-Night is carried off, Abdullah is determined to rescue her – if he can find her.

Illustrated by Tim Stevens

DEDICATION (#ulink_c2eca4ef-9001-5652-8c3f-c120375b093d)

For Francesca

CONTENTS

COVER (#uf49f110b-59e5-50cf-8df3-ee5e9c56f7f4)

TITLE PAGE (#u9f555af5-9e9c-51e6-b742-a3874f23d6ed)

DEDICATION (#uca8e67dd-60b6-5416-9d66-5cef910d039d)

CHAPTER ONE In which Abdullah buys a carpet (#udd08c26e-f43f-5a06-9ef7-43d8a58e33d8)

CHAPTER TWO In which Abdullah is mistaken for a young lady (#u7df038b0-158a-5a59-8f95-9561df7c2377)

CHAPTER THREE In which Flower-in-the-Night discovers several important facts (#u6868f1ce-7cf9-5530-8311-180efecc1167)

CHAPTER FOUR Which concerns marriage and prophecy (#udfd5aad9-203f-5b01-866f-0c79fc61ce98)

CHAPTER FIVE Which tells how Flower-in-the-Night’s father wished to raise Abdullah above all others in the land (#u912d2da5-3aeb-53ca-8848-2201e8ccbaa9)

CHAPTER SIX Which shows how Abdullah went from the frying pan into the fire (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN Which introduces the genie (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT In which Abdullah’s dreams continue to come true (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE In which Abdullah encounters an old soldier (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN Which tells of violence and bloodshed (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN In which a wild animal causes Abdullah to waste a wish (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE In which the law catches up with Abdullah and the soldier (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN In which Abdullah challenges Fate (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Which tells how the magic carpet reappeared (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN In which the travellers arrive at Kingsbury (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN In which strange things befall Midnight and Whippersnapper (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN In which Abdullah at last reaches the Castle in the Air (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Which is rather full of princesses (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN In which a soldier, a cook and a carpet seller all state their price (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY In which a djinn’s life is found and then hidden (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE In which the castle comes down to earth (#litres_trial_promo)

OTHER WORKS (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE In which Abdullah buys a carpet (#ulink_54b42e76-8daa-5257-b12e-6c81f15d26e4)

Far to the south of the land of Ingary, in the Sultanates of Rashpuht, a young carpet merchant called Abdullah lived in the city of Zanzib. As merchants go, he was not rich. His father had been disappointed in him and, when he died, he had only left Abdullah just enough money to buy and stock a modest booth in the north-west corner of the Bazaar. The rest of his father’s money, and the large carpet emporium in the centre of the Bazaar, had all gone to the relatives of his father’s first wife.

Abdullah had never been told why his father was disappointed in him. A prophecy made at Abdullah’s birth had something to do with it. But Abdullah had never bothered to find out more. Instead, from a very early age, he had simply made up daydreams about it. In his daydreams, he was really the long-lost son of a great prince, which meant, of course, that his father was not really his father. It was a complete castle in the air and Abdullah knew it was. Everyone told him he had inherited his father’s looks. When he looked in a mirror, he saw a decidedly handsome young man, in a thin, hawk-faced way, and knew he looked very like the portrait of his father as a young man – always allowing for the fact that his father wore a flourishing moustache, whereas Abdullah was still scraping together the six hairs on his upper lip and hoping they would multiply soon.

Unfortunately, as everyone also agreed, Abdullah had inherited his character from his mother – his father’s second wife. She had been a dreamy and timorous woman, and a great disappointment to everyone. This did not bother Abdullah particularly. The life of a carpet merchant holds few opportunities for bravery and he was, on the whole, content with it. The booth he had bought, though small, turned out to be rather well placed. It was not far from the West Quarter where the rich people lived in their big houses surrounded by beautiful gardens. Better still, it was the first part of the Bazaar the carpet-makers came to when they came into Zanzib from the desert to the north. Both the rich people and the carpet-makers were usually seeking the bigger shops in the centre of the Bazaar, but a surprisingly large number of them were ready to pause at the booth of a young carpet merchant when that young merchant rushed out into their paths and offered them bargains and discounts with most profuse politeness.

In this way, Abdullah was quite often able to buy best quality carpets before anyone else saw them, and sell them at a profit too. In between buying and selling he could sit in his booth and continue with his daydream, which suited him very well. In fact, almost the only trouble in his life came from his father’s first wife’s relations, who would keep visiting him once a month in order to point out his failings.

“But you’re not saving any of your profits!” cried Abdullah’s father’s first wife’s brother’s son, Hakim (whom Abdullah detested), one fateful day.

Abdullah explained that, when he made a profit, his custom was to use that money to buy a better carpet. Thus, although all his money was bound up in his stock, it was getting to be better and better stock. He had enough to live on. And, as he told his father’s relatives, he had no need of more, since he was not married.

“Well you should be married!” cried Abdullah’s father’s first wife’s sister, Fatima (whom Abdullah detested even more). “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – a young man like you should have at least two wives by now!” And, not content with simply saying so, Fatima declared that this time she was going to look out for some wives for him – an offer which made Abdullah shake in his shoes.

“And the more valuable your stock gets, the more likely you are to be robbed, or the more you’ll lose if your booth catches fire – have you thought of that?” nagged Abdullah’s father’s first wife’s uncle’s son, Assif (a man whom Abdullah hated more than the first two put together).

He assured Assif that he always slept in the booth and was very careful of the lamps. At which all three of his father’s first wife’s relatives shook their heads, tut-tutted and went away. This usually meant they would leave him in peace for another month. Abdullah sighed with relief and plunged straight back into his daydream.

The daydream was enormously detailed by now. In it, Abdullah was the son of a mighty prince who lived so far to the east that his country was unknown in Zanzib. But Abdullah had been kidnapped at the age of two by a villainous bandit called Kabul Aqba. Kabul Aqba had a hooked nose like the beak of a vulture and wore a gold ring clipped into one of its nostrils. He carried a pistol with a silver-mounted stock with which he menaced Abdullah, and there was a bloodstone in his turban which seemed to give him more than human power. Abdullah was so frightened that he ran away into the desert, where he was found by the man he called his father now. The daydream took no account of the fact that Abdullah’s father had never ventured into the desert in his life: indeed, he had often said that anyone who ventured beyond Zanzib must be mad. Nevertheless, Abdullah could picture every nightmare inch of the dry, thirsty, footsore journey he had made before the good carpet merchant found him. Likewise, he could picture in great detail the palace he had been kidnapped from, with its pillared throne room floored in green porphyry, its women’s quarters and its kitchens, all of the utmost richness. There were seven domes on its roof, each one covered with beaten gold.

Lately, however, the daydream had been concentrating on the princess to whom Abdullah had been betrothed at his birth. She was as highborn as Abdullah and had grown up in his absence into a great beauty with perfect features and huge misty dark eyes. She lived in a palace as rich as Abdullah’s own. You approached it along an avenue lined with angelic statues and entered by way of seven marble courts, each with a fountain in the middle more precious than the last, starting with one made of chrysolite and ending with one of platinum studded with emeralds.

But that day Abdullah found he was not quite satisfied with this arrangement. It was a feeling he often had after a visit from his father’s first wife’s relations. It occurred to him that a good palace ought to have magnificent gardens. Abdullah loved gardens though he knew very little about them. Most of his experience had come from the public parks of Zanzib – where the turf was somewhat trampled and the flowers few – in which he sometimes spent his lunch hour when he could afford to pay one-eyed Jamal to watch his booth. Jamal kept the fried-food stall next door and would, for a coin or so, tie his dog to the front of Abdullah’s booth. Abdullah was well aware that this did not really qualify him to invent a proper garden, but since anything was better than thinking of two wives chosen for him by Fatima, he lost himself in waving fronds and scented walkways in the gardens of his princess.

Or nearly. Before Abdullah was fairly started, he was interrupted by a tall dirty man with a dingy-looking carpet in his arms.

“You buy carpets for selling, son of a great house?” this stranger asked, bowing briefly.

For someone trying to sell a carpet in Zanzib, where buyers and sellers always spoke to one another in the most formal and flowery way, this man’s manner was shockingly abrupt. Abdullah was annoyed anyway because his dream garden was falling to pieces at this interruption from real life. He answered curtly, “That is so, oh king of the desert. You wish to trade with this miserable merchant?”

“Not trade – sell, oh master of a stack of mats,” the stranger corrected him.