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This book is an Ace original edition, and has never been previously
published.
THE LAST ARABIAN NIGHT
Book Three of the Arabian Nights
By Craig Shaw Gardner
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace edition / April 1993
All rights reserved. Copyright © 1993 by Craig Shaw Gardner.
Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016.
ISBN: 0-441-47054-8
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200
Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016.
The name "ACE" and the "A" logo are trademarks belonging to Charter
Communications, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This one's for Barbara,
with no excuses.
The Prologue,
in which we manage to simultaneously reiterate
certain points of difficulty,
while once again starting anew.
Then it is my turn?
I will tell you therefore a story of life and death, of dreams unforetold
and places no able man has ever seen. My tale shall hold within its
bounds the hidden secrets of beasts and the true nature of men, and it
shall range from the distant day before there was a Baghdad to a time
far after every one of us is gone from this earth, and ifrits and magicians
are thought of as nothing more than childish fantasies.
Not, of course, that my humble excuses for storytelling are in any way
exceptional. But I digress.
You have heard from the others now, concerning the glories of
Baghdad and the wonders of other lands. And both of these men,
clever Sinbad, who was once a porter, and bold Ali Baba, who once
cut wood to survive, have proven themselves to be noble adventurers
and grand storytellers. It would be almost impossible for an unassuming
tale spinner like myself to best their stories of magic and terror, and I
must admit that I have, by and large, led a somewhat less venturesome
life than these men, as is suited to my sex and station.
But this is not to say that my story is without drama, for, in a certain
way that you shall see, my very life depended upon my every word,
for, were my words to fail me, my head would quickly be separated
from my shoulders.
Ah, I can see our captor takes an interest now. Yes, even a great djinni
such as Ozzie might appreciate the effects of the spilled blood of
maidens. But I will talk of more than blood, and more than maidens.
For, while you shall see that my life has always hung near the blade of a
headsman's axe, I have also discovered certain more subtle dramas as
well, but no less strange for their relative calm.
My existence has been a life hidden, by and large, from the world of
men, within your world and yet totally separate from it.
So it is that I have discovered that there are stories within stories,
thoughts within thoughts, and lives within lives. And it is now my task to
unravel all these stories, thoughts, and lives for you and, I hope, reveal
those truths that hide within truths.
So I pray you to grant me the proper time and attention, so that I might
tell you the most unusual story of Scheherazade.
Chapter the First,
in which certain unfortunate errors
are quickly cut away.
Know now, that while I tell my own story, it is the story of many others
as well. First and foremost is it the tale of two mighty kings, one named
Shahryar, who ruled over the great city of Baghdad, and his younger
brother, the great King Shahzaman, who ruled the neighboring kingdom
of Samarkand. And both these rulers reigned over their kingdoms for a
full score of years, bringing peace and prosperity to all their subjects,
and thus both were known throughout each of their kingdoms, and
indeed throughout the entire civilized world, as being among the fairest
and most beneficent of rulers.
But a man is more than a throne and a talent for judgment. So it was
that the elder of the brothers, Shahryar who was known to his people
as the tall king, found himself with a violent longing for his brother and
childhood companion, whom he had not seen in all of those long years
that the two of them had ruled their separate domains. He therefore
sent his trusted vizier to visit his brother, King Shahzaman, who was
still, for all his years and wisdom, known as the younger king to both
his subjects and those of the neighboring kingdom.
And the younger king, hearing of his brother's longing for reunion,
readily agreed to such a meeting. He then prepared his court for a
prolonged absence, having long discussions with his own majordomo,
and his chief of eunuchs and his chief of slaves, telling them to tend to
their particular duties, and to take special care to watch over his wife
and to protect her from all trouble, for he loved the woman dearly.
Oh, but that fate can change any and all without warning, and that no
man can control his Destiny! So it was that, mere moments after he had
departed from his court, the younger king remembered a certain item in
his apartments that he had wished to present t o his brother as a gift. No
sooner had he returned to his apartments, however, than he discovered
not one form, but two, residing upon his wife's favorite couch.
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