Friday, May the Twenty-Eigth
The events that transpired in between
turned out to be quite nerve-wracking. I
flatter myself to think that I had a hand in
the relatively safe return of those people to
the ground, and yet speaking of my quick wits
seems almost self-serving. Yet I am proud of
myself. It may be one of the most sensible and
quick-witted things I have ever done.
Our time in the sky started out fairly
mundanely. Mr. Longville and I stood up once
the ground leveled out. The palace seemed
stable enough. We looked out into the sky as
we flew over the Mediterranean.
Shortly thereafter, the thief, Cyprien,
appeared dressed in a ridiculous approximation
of what rich people might wear if one had
never seen a rich person in the wild before. He
looked like a drunken peacock, or a grammar
school pantomime villain. With him was an
entire retinue of servants, including several
under-dressed young ladies who clung to his
arms, giggling.
“The Genie has said that everything that
was once Al-Khāfid’s is now mine, and as you
were his guest, you are now mine! Who is that
man with you? He is not your lover?"
"He most certainly is not," I said, allowing
something of my natural annoyance at having
to dispute this assumption. I tried to put some
distance between myself and Mr. Longville.
He then mistook Mr. Longville for my servant
boy, which Percy truly seemed to enjoy. I have
never seen so giddy an expression on a man
who was not an American.
"Come with me, and prepare your eyes to
be delighted!" the thief said to me, and I'm
still sure to this day I have no idea what he
meant by it.
Cyprien ordered that an English tea
be served, which, I must admit, was fairly