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So, I gave it some.
“Find him—fast—and signal me when you do.”
The lopsided head got a little more so, tilting in an almost human-like way as it regarded the picture with its big, missing eyes. I hadn’t bothered to fill it in much, so it was mostly just a collection of glowing lines, showing the darkened city scape beyond. But there was obviously something at work inside that empty head. Because a moment later the stick guys were gone, just golden blurs against the night, shooting off in all directions.
“Get on!” I told Ray, while clambering back onto the rug.
“Yeah.” He eyed it. “Only I was thinking maybe you could make another one. I was kinda in a hurry and—”
“It’ll do. Come on!”
“—it ended up too small. And lopsided. And—”
“Ray! The magic cartridges are $10,000 a pop—”
“I know that—”
“—so I’m not making another one. And, anyway, we don’t have time. Get on!”
Ray was not getting on. Instead, he was backing up, his eyes on the tiny sort-of rug that I was straddling like a motorcycle. He did not appear to want another go.
“Did I ever mention I get airsick?”
And then a couple of jackals jumped onto the roof, and Ray s
creamed and threw himself at me. “Go! Go! Go!” he yelled, which I guess was all the command the little rug needed.
It took off like it had been shot out of a cannon, with Ray’s last word being exaggerated into a single long line that I thought might actually be his last word, as we dodged spears and flipped over and somersaulted in mid-air, which had me wanting to scream, too, only I was the master.
It wouldn’t have been dignified.
We finally stabilized high over the city, with Ray in front and me holding on behind. Old Town was spread out in a warren of broad avenues and narrow alleyways below, through which my tiny golden men were flickering. Not running down the streets as humans would, but appearing briefly on walls, on parked vehicles, and on the shuttered side of shops, the corrugated metal making their distorted shapes even more so. But they were flickering fast.
“Come on,” I breathed, watching them. “Come on.”
And then I saw it: a little man who was no longer golden. He was red—blood red. And no sooner had the color washed over him than it spilled outward to his closest brothers, who turned unerringly on his location. And then more did and more, until I had a bright red arrow spread out below me, fritzing like a neon sign in the darkness—
And pointing straight at where my lover was likely fighting for his life.
“There!” I yelled, gesturing—and forgetting how the carpet worked. The syllable had barely left my lips when it leapt ahead, causing Ray to yelp and me to clutch his waist as we took off at what could only be described as an extremely unwise pace.
I didn’t care. “Faster,” I breathed, and swore that I felt us speed up even more.
“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” Ray screamed, because there were no safety protocols on this thing, which had just fallen like a stone. But it had fallen in a slanting, forward motion-y kind of way, which literally seconds later had us hitting the Khan-el-Khalili, the huge bazaar in the center of the city.
I’d heard of this place, of course; everyone had. It was almost as famous as the pyramids, with its narrow, cobblestone streets, soaring arches, and limestone walls practically unchanged for seven hundred years. I’d heard tales of towering mosaics, of intricately carved wooden doors, of sagging wooden balconies hanging over shops filled with everything from cheap tourist crap to genuine finds. I’d been planning to visit before we left and maybe pick up some souvenirs for the folks back home.
But not like this.
Because our turbo charged ride did not seem to understand the difference between flying unimpeded through the air and flying through a still-crowded marketplace, where colored glass lanterns cast rainbows over what had to be hundreds of people—touts, tourists, locals, guides, and shop owners with their merchandise.
Especially their merchandise.
“Ow!” Ray yelled, batting at a hanging garden of copper pots, pitchers and platters that batted us back. And then at some blue beaded chandelier things outside the entrance of another shop, the strands of which hit us in the face like hail. And then through a lamp seller’s inventory, which—gah!
“Down!” Ray gasped, as glass shattered and sprayed everywhere. “Take us down!”
We went down, plowing through a shoe vendor’s rack, sending multiple pairs of leather slippers flying like a flock of startled birds. And then through another rack of brightly colored outfits, shimmering with beads and sequins, half of which clung to us. And then behind a local man on a motorcycle, who was staring over his shoulder with the panicked, disbelieving eyes of a guy being chased by a couple of djinn on a flying carpet.
