Free Genie Knows Best by Judi Fennell Page B

all her troubles and Kal had been good enough to oblige her. No way was she going to spend her time in this magical place listening to the marital woes of dragons. What good were genie wishes if she didn’t avail herself of them?
    She left the shield in the care of the rabbit thing. Miraj, someone had called him. She could see when, with those antlers, he might seem to be a mirage if he was seen hopping around, out of context, in the desert. Here in Izaaz, however, he was just part of the scenery.
    “Samantha, no!” Dirham hopped to his feet and bounced along the sidewalk.
    Kal spun around. “Sam—”
    “It’s okay, Kal. I just wanted to say that I wish you could make these two sit down and talk things out.”
    “I like the way you think.” He smiled at her, which warmed her in a far better way than the way the dragons were looking like they wanted to.
    “You didn’t.” Maille’s eyes were so black that Samantha thought she ought to feel cold, but with a fire-breathing dragon glaring at her, that was next to impossible.
    “Ha! Kal’s actually got himself a smart one. I like that.” Bart hacked out a laugh, then ended up choking. Not surprising, given his blowtorch imitation a few minutes ago.
    “See how much you like it when we’re stuck at a bargaining table for eternity, thanks to her.” Maille’s beak curled back in the center, those shiny white teeth now as menacing as Bart’s yellowed ones.
    And then Bart’s face turned yellow. His mouth dropped open for a second, then snapped shut. “Oh, imigh sa diabhal ! She didn’t!”
    Kal laughed. “You heard the lady.”
    He waved his hand and the two dragons disappeared in a trail of orange glitter.
    “You didn’t put them in the Forum, did you, Kal?” asked Orkney. Samantha still needed to find out what he was.
    “What’s wrong with the Forum?”
    “Ooh! Ooh! I know! I know!” Dirham bounced over like a gazelle on a pogo stick. “Maille blew the roof to bits a couple of months ago.”
    Orkney didn’t say a word.
    “You’re not fooling me, Ork.” Kal shook Orkney’s shoulder. “Wake up and answer the question.”
    The ogre let out a little snore.
    The satyr hiked his holster. “We haven’t, er, gotten around to fixing it yet.”
    Kal glanced at the lopsided tepee building. “Like a lot of things around here.”
    “Well, uh, things happen, and people, they don’t want to pitch in.” The satyr shrugged. “Pretty soon they’re all too busy.”
    “Too busy or too lazy?”
    Samantha had been aware of a low hum behind her, and when she turned around, she found, interestingly, that everyone had disappeared. Probably went back into whatever hole they’d crawled out of.
    Stavros looked like he wanted to join them. “It’s difficult to explain.”
    “Try.” Kal’s voice brooked no argument.
    The satyr scratched the sand and the spurs on his hooves rattled. “Apathy,” he said.
    “Appetizers?” Dirham’s ears perked up. “Cool! I’m hungry.”
    “Apathy, Dir, not appetizers,” said Kal.
    The bounce went out of the fennec. “Oh. Bummer.”
    “I’ll see what I can rustle up for you, little guy.” The satyr patted Dirham’s head. “Unless you’re in a hurry?”
    Dirham’s big brown eyes couldn’t be any more pathetic as he looked at Kal. “Please, Kal? Just a little nibble? You know how much I need to keep my strength up.”
    Bouncing as much as he did had to use up a lot of energy.
    “I’m not the one you have to ask. Sam’s calling the shots.”
    Sam? No one called her Sam. Her father’s stipulation when her mother had wanted to name her Samantha had been that no one was to shorten it to Sam because Sam was “a boy’s name, and I didn’t have a beautiful daughter to give her a boy’s name.” But she liked how it sounded coming from Kal.
    She was beginning to like a lot of things about Kal.
    “Samantha?”
    Ah, well, it’d been nice while it’d lasted. She nodded. “You said we have all the time in the world,