"Elffled!" Elfhild exclaimed, looking up from the wash basin where she was cleansing her hands. "How did you fare at the feast?"

Elffled released a shaky sigh, her entire body seeming to go limp as she staggered through the kitchen door. "I survived."

After the dancing had concluded in the great hall, many of the guests gave their farewells and departed for their pavilions, declaring their favorite entertainments during the celebration and praising the hospitality of their host. Esarhaddon and a small circle of friends and associates remained in the great hall, where they planned to engage in long-winded discussions and drink long into the night. Anúrnissa and Shumeeren retired to the women's parlor with their own inner circle for a smaller, more intimate gathering after the day-long festivities. Since there was no longer the need for large amounts of servants, most of the students who had served at the feast were dismissed for the evening.

Elfhild's eyes widened at the weariness upon her twin's face. "You look as though you have been fighting battles, not waiting upon tables." Drying her hands upon a towel, she stepped away from the small trestle table by the hearth which the kitchen staff used as a wash station.

"I do feel that I have been behind enemy lines," Elffled remarked drolly.

Elfhild raised an eyebrow. "I saw you at the high board waiting on Esarhaddon and all the other nobles. That must have been very frightening! Why were you assigned to serve there anyway? I thought only apprentices served the high board."

"One of the apprentices got the runs and I had to serve in her stead." Elffled walked over to the wash basin, picked up the accompanying pitcher, and poured a stream of water over her free hand.

"Well, it would seem that you succeeded in your task, for no one is berating you or threatening bodily harm." Elfhild gave her a grim smile of encouragement as she glanced towards the irritable cook, who was terrorizing a poor novice over some trivial mistake. "Fortunately, our next assignment is far easier."

"Oh, right, I almost forgot." Elffled put a hand to her forehead and huffed out a sigh of exhausted frustration. "We will be serving the guests at the women's party."

"Lady Anúrnissa is not a harsh taskmaster, and she treats the students who are assigned to work for her more like guests than servants." Elfhild glanced around the lantern-lit kitchen as she waited for her sister to finish cleaning up. The few servants who remained were busy scouring pots and pans, or putting away utensils. "I understand that Master Guli will be telling a lengthy story from that book of his."

The scowl on Elffled's face softened, her eyes brightening with anticipation. "I remember the tale about the riddling djinn that he told to amuse Lady Anúrnissa when she was going through labor. A suspenseful story indeed, but one with a happy ending."

"Come, let us hurry to the women's parlor." Elfhild took a few steps towards the door, and then turned to look back at her twin. "We do not want to be late for the storytelling."

The light of a dozen or so lamps and lanterns turned the darkness of the night into a soft gloom, imparting a cozy atmosphere upon the parlor. The small gathering was much less formal than the feast, with guests from all ranks of society seated upon the couches which lined the walls, or upon cushions on the carpet covered floor. Anúrnissa and Shumeeren sat together on the divan at the far end of the room; Goldwyn had retired early, claiming a terrible headache.

"I wish to thank all of you for choosing to spend your night with me." Ever the gracious host, Anúrnissa surveyed the room, acknowledging each guest with a smile of welcome. "For tonight's entertainment, Guli – the most noble treasurer of the School of Industry, Master Scholar from Kha'savay's prestigious Brotherhood of Scholars, and storyteller of great skill and talent – will be delighting our ears with a thrilling tale of magic and adventure."

The Second Wife gestured to where Guli sat nearby, and as the eunuch rose to his feet, the women cheered and clapped their hands in appreciation. Beaming, Guli walked to the center of the room, where he addressed the crowd.

"The story I am about to tell you comes from One Hundred and One Tales of the South and East, a marvelous tome of myths and legends from the various kingdoms and peoples of Near and Far Harad, Khand, and Rhûn," he began, clasping his hands before him. "Two months ago, I acquired this extraordinary book from the Grand Bazaar in Turkûrzgoi, and I hope that it brings you, my most esteemed audience, as much enjoyment as it has brought me. The tale I tell you tonight is called…"

Long ago in a land far away there lived a poor man named Adabo. Once he had great herds of sheep, but fate turned against him, and a terrible sickness fell upon his sheep, causing every last one of them to perish. Even though the man's sheep were all dead, he still had a sizable herd of goats, and he hoped that they would restore to him a portion of his wealth. But misfortune yet again knocked at his door, and brigands fell upon his goats and drove them away.

Without his herds, Adabo was reduced to the direst of poverty. All that he had possessed of any value was stripped from him, and he was left with nothing but a mud-brick house which was far too small for his large family. His wife died of sorrow and grief, and the man was left forlorn and miserable. He took such work as he could to support his family, but no matter how hard or how long he labored, all of them went to bed with empty stomachs. He lived in fear that he would be forced to sell some of his children into slavery if he could not provide for them.

He had only one thing remaining and that was of little worth – a brown-feathered rooster with wings of the brightest gold. Adabo thought of having one of his daughters kill the bird and make a pot of soup, but he could not bring himself to do it, for the rooster sat atop his gate every morning at dawn and crowed his praises of the new day. There were many other roosters in the village that were more handsome or could crow louder or more forcefully, but Adabo's bird was always the first to break the silence of the night with his loud and lusty crow.

The king of that land was a strange man with many quirks. His subjects told that the man's brains had been addled from drinking too much wine and smoking too much hashish. He was vastly wealthy, though, and could put on any spectacle that he pleased. Often he sponsored absurd contests, such as giving a great purse to the ugliest or fattest maiden of the land. Of course, few women wished to participate in such a contest, but every year there were always some candidates who vied for these questionable honors. Some will do anything for gold.

As I told you before, this king was an eccentric, and often he proclaimed all manner of strange contests. Once he devised a contest where teams of goats were pitted against dogs in a pulling contest. The two teams were yoked like oxen and drew heavy weights behind them. Though his contests were bizarre, still they drew great crowds, for if entertainment is free, people will usually attend, no matter how absurd.

Adabo finally managed to find employment cleaning the dung from a merchant's stable. Every day from dawn to nightfall, he and his sons labored in the filthy barns. In spite of their long hours, they were barely able to earn enough to buy flour to make bread. One day after going to the marketplace and spending his meager earnings for food, he heard the approach of the village crier. The crier was on his rounds, beating on his drum and calling the public's attention to the king's latest edict.

As Adabo listened to the crier proclaim the latest news, his eyes lit up with delight. The king had proclaimed another great competition, as strange as any he had organized in the past. For years, the monarch's prized rooster had awakened him at dawn, but the bird had died a few days before, and no suitable replacement could be found. All birds in the royal poultry flock had been tried, but none had been able to rouse the king, who was a sound sleeper. In a fit of rage, he ordered all the birds slaughtered and their keepers beaten.

The crier stopped not far from Adabo and announced the king's proclamation. "If any of my loyal subjects has a bird that can awaken me at the day's dawning, I will make him a rich man," the town crier proclaimed, quoting the king's words. The prize he offered was so generous that if Adabo won, the money would keep him for the rest of his life. He was so certain of winning that he barely heard the rest of the proclamation, which read, "If any man enters an unworthy bird in the competition, he will be thrown into the dungeon along with his bird." That part of the edict caused Adabo to worry, but he did not worry for long.

Walking home that evening with only a small sack of flour to show for his week's work, he pondered the king's competition. He was desperate. In spite of their hard work, he and his three sons barely earned enough to keep the family alive. No suitors had ever asked permission to marry his four daughters, for they were all so scrawny and ugly that no one wanted them. If he had been able to provide some sort of dowry, he might have been able to find husbands for them, but he was too poor for that.

When Adabo reached his house, he went outside to his small walled garden, where his daughters tended a few rows of vegetables and herbs in their pathetic garden. As he looked around the desolate place, he pondered the wisdom of entering his bird. If he won, he would be rich – but if he lost, he might be in the king's dungeon the rest of his life. He mulled over the problem but reached no conclusion. Then he thought perhaps his friend Onaer could advise him. Onaer had the reputation in the village of being a wise man. At least he was able to earn a living for his family in a tannery on the outskirts of the village. Even though he could never quite rid himself of the stench of the tannery, Onaer had always been a good friend to Adabo. Adabo felt better when he left his garden and walked down the street to talk to his friend.

Onaer's wife and daughters were serving him his supper when Adabo arrived, and Onaer would not be satisfied until Adabo took his supper with him. After a meal of grilled chicken with eggplant and chickpeas, the two friends savored flavorful cups of tea. Although it was the best food he had eaten in months, Adabo felt desolate. He just could not make up his mind! While the reward would be great if he won, the penalty for failure was unimaginable.

"Why such a long face, my friend?" Onaer asked. His concern was apparent.

After Adabo had explained his dilemma, Onaer looked thoughtful. "You have few choices, my friend. Our village is poor, and there is little work to be had. You could always leave the village and go to a richer one." Onaer studied his friend's face. "No, I see by your expression that you do not want to do that."

"I have no money to take my family with me on a long journey, and I could never forsake them," Adabo replied sorrowfully.

"Then let us think this matter over, my friend." Onaer thoughtfully stroked his graying beard. "Your rooster is a superb crower and can be heard all over the village when he heralds the dawn. Perhaps this is your opportunity to better your condition. Who knows? Perhaps fate will favor you."

The two men sat until the hour grew late before Adabo finally made up his mind. The very next morning he would take his rooster to the king's palace and enter the contest. To strengthen his friend's resolve, Onaer offered to go with him. Adabo accepted his friend's offer and decided that he would take his eldest son as well, leaving his second son in charge of the household.

Before dawn, the three set out for the king's palace. The rooster – who had opposed being roused from the coop which he shared with Adabo's one remaining hen – was housed in a covered cage constructed of boards donated by Onaer. Several times Adabo was ready to turn around and go back home, but Onaer persuaded him to continue on his quest.

When the three saw the huge palace looming ahead in the distance, they were awed by the immense size of the structure. At the main gate, the guards barred their way with crossed spears and demanded to know their business. After Adabo had explained the purpose of his visit, they grudgingly allowed them to enter the great interior courtyard, but they followed them every step of the way. The three men were shown to one of the chamberlain's many assistants, who looked them over, wrinkling his nose and sniffing haughtily.

"So you think you have a chance of winning His Majesty's contest?" the arrogant young man asked. "I can tell you now that many have tried and many have failed, and the king's dungeon is filled with fools who thought they had a chance. It can still hold another one."

"I understand the risks, my lord, and am willing to take them," Adabo told him, his voice trembling.

"Then you are the owner of the bird?" The assistant stared pointedly at him.

"Yes, I am, my lord."

"And these men with you?"

"My son and my friend Onaer."

"Come with me," the assistant ordered. As they walked along, he explained the provisions of the contest. "All of you must be aware that His Majesty is a very sound sleeper." Adabo nodded his head, and the man continued. "The royal rooster died of advanced years and His Majesty is disconsolate. The three of you will wait in the courtyard below, and if your bird can rouse the king when morning comes, His Majesty will rush to his window and shout to greet the newborn day. If the king does not stir, the owner of the rooster will be thrown into the dungeon. Do you understand the rules of the contest?"

"Yes, my lord."

The assistant left the three to wait in the spacious courtyard for whatever fate might bring. Adabo thought of his own small courtyard with the dry, poor soil and stunted garden. If his rooster should prove the winner, he planned to move his family to a fine house in a well-to-do section of the city. Such thoughts as that bolstered his courage, but his son was nervous and apprehensive.

"Father," the boy lowered his voice, the sight of the nearby guards upsetting to him, "perhaps we could just forget the competition and leave now."

"It is far too late for that, my son. We are in this, and cannot get out," Adabo explained. "They would just throw me in the dungeon without giving my bird a chance to show his mettle. Do not speak about it anymore."

"Your father is right," Onaer added. "They will not let him withdraw his bird now."

When the sky in the east began to lighten, Onaer took the rooster from its cage and held it, stroking its hackle feathers and talking to it. "He is ready," Adabo murmured.

When the sun burst over the horizon, the rooster gave a long, lusty crow, the loudest and finest which it had ever uttered. The sound penetrated the great palace, awakening cooks, servants, and the women of the harem. However, it did not wake the king, who slept as though he was dead.

"Let your magnificent voice sound! You can wake him, my darling!" Adabo encouraged the bird, but though the rooster continued crowing, one rousing call after another, the sound did not wake the king.

"Seize him!" the guards cried, and they fell upon Adabo, binding him hand and foot. One guard grabbed the squawking rooster, and both the man and his bird were taken to the king's dungeon. "Go away," they told Onaer and Adabo's son, "this fool will remain here a long time."

Onaer and the boy were disconsolate and implored the guard to release Adabo. The guards were unyielding and again told the pair to leave, and so dejectedly, they made their way back to their homes.

Adabo was terrified when he was cast into the dungeon, and he lay there, trembling and shuddering, his hands and feet tied, unable to move, until the long day was finally spent.

At last the guards opened the door to his cell and untied him. One of the jailer's assistants brought in a pail of water, a pan of thin gruel, and a bucket where Adabo could relieve himself.

"Please," Adabo exclaimed, "how long do you think His Majesty will keep me here?"

The guards only laughed.

Dejected, Adabo sat down on the old straw upon the floor of the cell and began to drink the thin gruel which he had been given. The rooster jumped on his lap and cocked its head, looking hopefully up at him.

"You do not deserve to have any," Adabo grumbled. "You are the cause of our dilemma!" Still he grudgingly fed part of his rations to the rooster. When he had finished his meager supper, Adabo wrapped himself in his cloak and tried to find sleep on the cold stone floor.

Suddenly Adabo heard a loud scraping noise, as though stone was being dragged over stone. His eyes instantly snapped open, and there before his horrified gaze was a huge and beastly shape. Terror gripped his heart and soul, and he lay there, unable to move, as the monstrous form grew closer. The rooster, though equally frightened, squawked loudly, and in a flutter of feathers, hid behind the dung bucket.

As Adabo lay there, his teeth chattering, his knees knocking together, his nose was reviled by some odor, feral and wild, sickeningly sweet. There was something in the dungeon with him! His eyes searched into the darkness for the unknown presence in the room. Finally, towards the back of the cell, he saw a sickening blue light outlining the grotesque body of a gigantic spider. Unable to believe what he had seen, he blinked his eyes, but when he opened them again, the creature was still there.

His eyes met the glassy orbs of the spider, which were all glowing with a terrifying red light. Adabo felt the overwhelming press of the spider's will upon his, and he felt his own will evaporating. A shudder of fear raced down his spine, and he shivered with cold dread. He wanted to spring to his feet and dash from the room, but he found that terror had taken the strength from his legs and he could not budge an inch. Was this how he was to meet death? As dinner for an oversized spider? And all because the king was a sound sleeper! Surely he must be cursed!

Shaking with fear, Adabo squeezed his eyes tightly closed and waited for the beast to spring upon him. When time passed and nothing happened, he wondered if the spider was toying with him, or if it had left the chamber. He opened one eye, and to his horror, he saw that the spider was directly over him, its hypnotic eyes burning bright red in the darkness. What was it doing? He felt a gentle movement of the air, and a sticky gossamer tendril brushed across his cheek. Then he realized what the spider had been doing – rebuilding its web, using him as an anchoring point and shooting a strand up to the supporting beam above his head. His reason told him to escape, but the spider had worked some sort of fell magic upon him, and he could not move. The spider worked patiently, arching its web between Adabo and the beam, and as Adabo watched helplessly, he became fascinated by the marvelous skill of the weaver. Occasionally his eyes would meet the spider's and he felt that he was being drawn into the creature's power. Cold sweat poured over his scrawny body as he listened to the chattering of his own teeth.

"It is spinning you into its web," he screamed inwardly, but he could not break the power the spider held over him. "Run!" he whispered frantically, but, locked in the spider's spell, his body would not obey him. The spider ignored him, shooting out another tendril up to the beam. It would soon be all over, and he would be a shriveled up little husk stuck in a giant cobweb. Adabo began to sob uncontrollably, big teardrops running down his cheeks, his nose becoming red and sniveling.

The sound must have roused the rooster, for it let out a mighty crow which jarred Adabo out of his lethargy. The spider's spell broken, Adabo grabbed the closest strand of the giant web and jerked it fiercely until he had freed himself, pulling down half of the web in the process. He jumped to his feet and forced his legs to run, but when he looked back over his shoulder, he could see the spider chasing after him.

Adabo was out of breath, panting heavily, and trembling so fiercely that he was afraid he might fall. He stopped to catch his breath and heard the spider's skittering feet behind. Terror renewed inside his heart, and he ran on in pure fear. He was certain that the spider was getting closer but he could run no more. He wished he had a weapon, but he had nothing. He grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and turned to face the thing. The huge monster's eyes glittered in the torchlight like obsidian gems, and Adabo knew that he was facing death. How many other poor fools had been fed to the spider? Jabbing at the creature with the torch, he backed away. Perhaps he could hold it off until he found a way to escape from this prison. The creature retreated from the flame, but his relief was short lived when he backed into something stronger than the thickest coils... He was caught in the spider's web! He tried to move away, but his back was stuck. Suddenly the spider was upon him, chattering and chittering as it reached out its legs to grab him. He thrashed and struggled in the web like a trapped fly, but he could not free himself from his bonds.

When all seemed lost, a feathered blur shot out of nowhere, hurling itself at the spider's face. The rooster raked its spurs across one set of the creature's eyes, tearing them out. The spider screamed in pain and released the terrified man. Grabbing another torch off the wall, Adabo drove the end of it into one of the spider's remaining eyes as the rooster spurred and pecked at the rest. With a sickening, shuddering wail, the spider staggered away, dripping ichor as it fled to a deeper part of the dungeon.

Adabo used the torch to burn away the webs that held him fast. He could scarcely believe that he was still alive as he bent down to pick up his little friend. The rooster was quite proud of himself and hopped up on Adabo's shoulder, letting out one loud and lusty crow after another which rent the gloom of the dungeon.

Adabo wandered up one corridor and down another of the seemingly endless dungeon, but he could find no way out. Forlorn of all hope, he buried his face in his hands and wept. The rooster, who was far wiser than his owner, jumped off Adabo's shoulder and walked down the corridor. Suddenly the bird started leaping and jumping straight up into the air, making little noises deep in its throat.

"You silly bird!" Adabo exclaimed angrily. "Are you bringing some new woe down upon us?"

Ignoring his owner, the rooster kept up this strange behavior until Adabo became curious and went to investigate. He held the torch high above his head, and there above him, he could see an opening in the dungeon ceiling. The king had cut his dungeon so deeply into the ground that it was necessary to have ventilation shafts for fresh air. If only Adabo could get to the top, perhaps he could escape! First, though, he had to get to the opening in the ceiling. He looked around for something upon which he could stand, but in this section of the dungeon, there was no rock or lumber or anything except... skeletons. Shuddering in revulsion, he began stacking the ossified remains of endless meals the spider had consumed. As he piled bone upon bone, the pile steadily grew. Somewhere far off in the dungeon, he heard eerie moaning, and he knew it was the sound of the wounded spider. Perhaps it was making its way back and planned to exact a horrible revenge upon him and his pet!

Filled with a great foreboding, Adabo worked harder and faster, tossing one bone after another onto the pile. When the stack was high enough, he began to climb, but he was alarmed when so many of the fragile bones broke and shattered under his weight. They would have to do, for he was running out of bones, and he heard a moaning shriek coming down the tunnel. The spider was getting closer!

Adabo took a very deep breath and steeled himself for the ordeal to come. Grabbing the rooster, he put him under his turban and began to climb up the ventilation shaft. This was a difficult feat for him, for he had never done anything like this before, and his legs were weak and shaky. Pressing his back against the wall of the narrow shaft, he lifted up his leg and pressed his foot against the opposite wall. When he felt confident, he lifted up his other leg, wedging his body in the narrow shaft. Moving his upper body and feet in unison, he slowly inched up the shaft. When he was halfway up, he felt something warm and wet on his head and knew that the rooster had soiled his hair. He cursed, but there was nothing he could do but bear the indignity.

As Adabo continued the arduous climb, the muscles in his back and legs ached with pain, and he wondered if he had the strength to make it to the top. Down below him he could hear the sound of bones being knocked aside as the spider climbed the stack of bones. If he fell, the creature would gobble him up. At least the spider was too big to get more than a leg in the hole. He kept inching his way up until at last he could see the light of the stars shining above him. He gave a last heave and he was free!

Adabo was too exhausted to do anything more than lie on the ground and breathe great gulps of air. He pulled off his turban, freeing the rooster, who jumped off his head and started pecking in the dirt. His head was scratched and covered with filth, but they were alive, and that was all that mattered.

When Adabo reached the top of the ventilation shaft, the night was fading and a new day was dawning. He looked around cautiously and discovered that around the top of the shaft was a fence to keep out sheep and goats. Fortunately, the place was unguarded. Quickly climbing over the fence, he saw that he was on a hill wooded with evergreens mixed with hardwoods. He climbed up the tallest plane tree, and he could see far in the distance the domes and spires of the king's capitol city.

"My little friend," Adabo told the rooster after he had climbed down, "we are far away from the king's dungeon. We must have covered miles in our flight. Who could know that the dungeons were so vast?" The rooster did not answer, because he had found a particularly juicy worm and he was enjoying his meal.

Picking up the bird, Adabo put it on his shoulder and walked down the hill. When he found a stream, he drank and drank until he thought his insides would burst. Then he set to work washing the rooster's filth off his head, and laundering his turban. While it dried, he sat down to think on what he should do. He was not a clever man, and his mind worked as slowly as a meandering tortoise, and when he would decide upon one plan, he would quickly discard it. He gnawed on his fingernails, looked around, threw rocks at the trees, stared into space, and watched the rooster scratch. After he had done all that, he was no closer to arriving at a decision than he had been when he first sat down.

"What am I to do?" he moaned, holding his head in his hands. "Have I escaped death in the king's dungeon only to find it when his men catch up with me?"

Adabo was battered and bruised, but at least he had not suffered any grievous wounds. He was very, very hungry but there was nothing to eat, not even any wild berries. He watched as the rooster pecked and scratched at the dirt, eating seed and insects that it dug up. For a brief moment, he thought of killing the bird and eating it, but then he felt guilty. The rooster had saved his life, and he was thinking of such treachery. What a pathetic, disgusting man he was! He had no more loyalty than a scorpion! He hung his head in shame.

He lingered there for a long time, uncertain of what he should do. Surely by that time, the king's men had discovered that he had escaped. The tyrant would be enraged enough by that, but Adabo had wounded his monstrous spider, and he shuddered to think of what would be his fate if he was caught again. He could no longer stay in the land of his birth; he was certain of that. He should go home and tell his children that he was leaving, but that would be dangerous, for sooner or later the king would set men to watch his house.

As indecisive and confused as he was, Adabo knew that he should not remain any longer this close to the opening of the ventilation shaft. Perhaps at that very moment, the king's men had discovered the pile of bones that he had used to climb to the opening of the shaft. Worried about what his next course of action should be, Adabo rose to his feet and wrapped his still-damp turban about his head. He clucked softly to the rooster, and the bird flew up and perched on his shoulder.

He walked down the hill until he came upon a path, but he decided to avoid that road because the king's men might use that one to investigate the opening to the ventilation shaft. He turned and walked back into the forest. He was certain that he must be to the north of the city, and if he could keep his bearings, he would be able to make his village near dark. He kept to the woods all that day, sometimes stumbling over roots and vines and tearing his clothing. By late afternoon he had come to a well-traveled road which he guessed might eventually lead to the village. What should he do? He would keep to the woods and follow the road at a distance, waiting until nightfall before venturing into the village. He was weary by that time, and decided he would rest in a small clearing and take a nap. Lulled by the happy scratching and clucking of the rooster as it pecked for worms, he fell asleep.

The sun was behind the hills when he finally awakened. He called the rooster to him, and together they set out. Before they had gone very far, he changed his mind once again, deciding that he did not dare go to his home. Instead, he would go to his friend Onaer the tanner and ask him for help. As he walked along, he cursed himself for ever thinking he could better his lot in life by entering his rooster in the king's ridiculous contest. "Nothing could wake up our regent. He spends his nights in riotous living, drinking wine, and carousing. If he is not drunk to insensibility, he dulls his brain with hashish. It would take an earthquake to wake him up. As lustily as you crow, my little friend," he told the rooster, "you could not rouse him." He patted the rooster on its back, but the bird only clucked sleepily.

When Adabo came to Onaer's house, the tanner's wife ushered him into the small parlor. There he found not only his friend but his own eldest son sitting on the floor at the table. Both men quickly rose to their feet and then joyfully embraced him.

"Father!" his son exclaimed. "We feared we would never see you again!"

"You almost did not," Adabo replied. "Were it not for my little friend, I would have perished." He briefly explained to them how he had escaped from the prison.

"Adabo, I do not know about that rooster," Onaer remarked, looking skeptically at the bird. "He got you in this dilemma in the first place, and then you say that he rescues you."

"The rooster is innocent; everything that happened is my destiny. The rooster is only an instrument of fate. Long ago before I was born, my destiny was written. Perhaps if there is any lesson to be learned from all this, it is that; we must accept fate because we cannot escape it," Adabo replied. "Some good must come out of all this."

"Perhaps you are right, Adabo," Onaer remarked. "But this is not the time to talk philosophy. Something must be done about your present predicament. I surely cannot hide you here for long."

"Yes, Father, he is right," Adabo's son interjected. "We have heard rumors that the king is livid with rage at your escape and has men watching all the roads. He has vowed to have your head set upon a post at the gates of the city. And this bird?" He looked over to the rooster, who was sleeping peacefully on the edge of a large basket. "The king states that he will hold a feast at your execution and the rooster will be one of the main courses of his dinner."

"Not a pretty fate for either of you," Onaer remarked, shaking his head. "We have to get you far away from here quickly."

"That might be difficult," Adabo sighed. "I am a poor man with no money and few friends to help me."

"Let me think on it," Onaer told him as he thoughtfully stroked his beard. After a few minutes, he continued. "As I see it, there is only one course you can take."

"What? What?" Adabo exclaimed, looking with hope to his friend.

"I have a little money which I can spare to help you. It is not much, but if you are careful, it might last you until you can get out of the country. However, you must do as I say."

"Onaer, I will do anything. What is it?" Adabo asked. "You have always been a good and loyal friend to me."

"If my wife will be so good as to loan you some coverings, you can sneak out of the city dressed as a woman," Onaer told him. "I will give you my oldest donkey to ride. He is so ancient that he is almost useless to me, but he can still carry you a few miles. Your rooster can travel in an old crate that can be strapped on the back of the donkey. I wish there were more I could do for you, but I am not a rich man."

So it was decided. Even though he had doubts, Adabo would shave his beard and disguise himself as a woman. His eldest son had offered to go with him, and Adabo had accepted his help. The king's men would be looking for one man alone, not a woman and a man. When anyone saw Adabo and his son, they assumed that the pair was an elderly mother and her son on their way to the market. To add to the subterfuge, Adabo never talked when they came to a village, only muttered to himself as the very old often do.

After a journey of many days, they were finally out of the country. When they were certain they were safe, Adabo removed his robes of concealment and dressed in his regular clothing. They were very near the sea, and while Adabo's son cooked their evening meal, Adabo and the rooster went to a high bluff overlooking the ocean. Neither had ever seen such a sight, and Adabo was almost bewitched by the beauty of the scene. The waves held such an allure for him that he determined he must see them closer. There was a path that meandered down the face of the cliff to the sandy beach, and Adabo carefully made his way down the side of the rock. While the rooster scratched in the sand, Adabo watched the waves as they rolled into the shore.

Suddenly the rooster let off a loud squawk, and Adabo rushed over to see the cause of the excitement. There he found that the rooster had scratched away the sand from a dented and tarnished brass bottle. When the bottle was opened, a maelstrom of smoke and mist swirled and twirled out of the vessel, casting the whole beach in darkness. Adabo was terrified and in blind fear he started running. The rooster let out a squawk and soon outdistanced its owner. Though he was running, Adabo felt as though his feet were not moving, and when he looked down, he saw that the dark smoke had wrapped around his legs. The sight was too much for him and he fainted. When he awoke, he was lying on the beach next to the bottle, which was smoking only slightly.

"I must have fallen asleep," he told himself, "and had a wretchedly frightening dream." Laughing nervously, he stood up and started to walk away when he heard a voice.

"What do you want?" the voice asked.

"I would not mind having some candied figs," Adabo answered, saying the first thing that came to his mind. He looked down, and on the sand in front of him, there sat a tray of the most succulent and delicious looking figs he had ever seen. How could that be? He was on the shore of the sea, and figs did not suddenly appear. He must still be dreaming. Then he was conscious of a presence behind him, and he turned around. There, before him, half transparent in the smoke, was a huge figure towering above him. Terrified, Adabo put his hand over his chest, and was certain that his heart would fail him.

"W–what are you?'

"We are called many things in many lands... Maiar by those in the West, djinns by those in the South." The smoke seemed to quiver for a time before solidifying, settling over a rock on the beach and finally materializing into the form of a maiden. Adabo could only gawk at her, for she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"What do you want?" Adabo's voice quavered.

"I want nothing," she answered. "I already have what I wanted. You freed me, and now I can live my life and go wherever I want."

"I am glad I helped you. Now do not let me detain you," Adabo told her nervously. As beautiful as she was, she was terrifying him. "It was good meeting you, but I must leave." He bowed to her and turned to go.

"It is not that simple," she replied, her brow wrinkling pensively. "Whether I want or not, I must give you three wishes for freeing me. You have already had one – the figs. You now have two more. What do you want of me? Tell me quickly and I can leave."

"You are not going to kill me?"

"No, silly man. Why would I kill a wretched worm like you? You are not worth the expenditure of energy."

Adabo was not certain of the creature's intention, but when the rooster cautiously came back and flew up to his shoulder, he felt himself becoming calmer. He had heard tales of djinn, but they had always been so evil and frightening. He could not believe that he had found one that seemed relatively harmless. Gathering up his courage, he asked, "Why were you in the bottle?"

"Several thousand years ago, I was tricked by another djinn. I was younger then and foolish, and I had made the mistake of falling in love," she replied. A sad expression came over her face, and Adabo felt such pity that he would have done anything to help her. He wondered if the magic creature had bewitched him.

"I am sorry," he answered.

"A mortal man, and you feel sorry for me?" She laughed and stood up from where she had been sitting on the rocks. She seemed even more beautiful than she had been when he first laid eyes upon her. Her face was as round as the full moon, her skin was like alabaster, her hair dark as ebony, and her eyes seemed to hold infinity. When she spoke, the spell was broken. "Tell me your remaining requests, and be quick about it."

Adabo considered his second wish. He thought of asking for ten thousand more wishes, but he feared that if he did, she would kill him for his impertinence. "In my native land, the ruler is very wicked. He treats his subjects as though they were dogs. He ignores the cries of the poor, and allows his favorite couriers to have rich rewards. I would like to see his reign of terror ended, and a good king take his place."

"A worthy request," she told him, smiling. "Consider it already done. The people have rebelled against him, and even now a great army marches upon his capital city. He will soon be overthrown. The rebels will place his exiled brother, a kind and just man, upon the throne."

"I am overwhelmed," Adabo mumbled, wondering if it were true. "Perhaps now at last justice will reign in my sorry land."

"Oh, it is true," she told him. "I do not lie." She smiled a perfect smile, and Adabo knew he was in love for the first time in his life. He had never loved his wife. Their parents had arranged the marriage, and he had endured long years of unhappiness. He did not dare tell the djinn of his affections, for he knew that she would laugh at him.

"One more wish," she declared, folding her arms across her ample bosom.

"Allow my son, my rooster, the donkey, and me to go back home and not fear that the king's men will harm us." Adabo took a deep breath, and waited, but nothing happened.

"Is that all you want?" she asked. "You certainly are not greedy. Perhaps something good will happen to you because you are an honest man and not given to avarice." A blue mist swirled about her as she moved towards him. Looking into his eyes, the djinn put her hands on his shoulders, and Adabo could feel power radiating from her touch. He closed his eyes and found himself back home in his own bed.

At first he wondered if it had all been a dream, but then he learned that the king had indeed been deposed, and all the wicked officials who had aided him were either killed or exiled. The king's brother was put on the throne as the djinn had predicted, and since he was a good and just man, he sought to right as many wrongs as he could. Hearing that Adabo was a man who had suffered at the previous king's hands, the new king gave him a heavy purse of gold and a position as a groom in the stables. One thing Adabo was good at was caring for horses, and he soon rose to be master of the king's stables. He bought a large house for his children so that they could live comfortably, and repaid Onaer threefold and bought him a new donkey. Adabo and his children lived to great ages, and though the rooster never appeared before the new king, he, too, lived a long life and had many handsome sons and lovely daughters.

"So ends the Tale of the Cock Who Crowed for Naught," Guli proclaimed, bowing with a flourish as his audience burst into riotous applause. As the women uttered exclamations of praise and extolled Guli's abilities as a storyteller, their voices blended together as one, the tremendous sound filling the parlor. Radiating with happiness, the eunuch repeatedly thanked them for their kindness, his bows becoming ever more grandiose as their commendations filled his ears. He lingered in the parlor for a while, answering questions about the stories contained within One Hundred and One Tales of the South and East; his knowledge of myths and legends and the lore of various lands; and his life with the Brotherhood of Scholars in the far distant kingdom of Kha'savay. When it came to inquiries about the secrets that the Brotherhood were said to possess, he merely smiled enigmatically, for the deeper mysteries were only revealed to those who had earned the Three Sacred Degrees of Scholarship.

After Guli bade the women farewell, the servants began preparing the parlor for those guests who would be spending the night. While the manor house had several rooms reserved for visitors, Anúrnissa's friends wanted to be closer to her and each other, and so the parlor became their communal sleeping area. The servants pulled blankets and pillows from chests along the walls, distributing them amongst the guests. All of the lanterns save one were snuffed out to encourage restful sleep in the hours that yet remained of the night.

As Elffled lay beside her sister, she reflected upon her busy day. While the lords and nobles of Rohan often engaged in the sport of hunting, she had never witnessed a hunt herself before that morning. Of course, she had not seen much of the actual event, just the men and women of the hunting party leaving for their adventure.

The rest of her morning had been spent cleaning all remnants of breakfast from the great hall, and then helping prepare the raised dais for the skits which would be presented by the theatre class. After the last performance had concluded, she cleaned the hall yet again in preparation for the evening's merriment.

The feast had terrified her, but she had survived unscathed. Now that she had time to reflect upon her evening, she felt a growing sense of pride stir within her. A challenge had been presented to her, and she had risen to the occasion. Although she had made mistakes, they were few and far between, for the most part overlooked or ignored by the guests. She had endured her terror and survived without calamity, and even overheard some interesting gossip. A smile came over her face, her senses reeling with this newfound sense of accomplishment. Perhaps Rufina's confidence in her had not been a mistake, as she had initially thought.