Three Tokens

Granada, 1492.

Asma was almost spotted by a guard in the garden. She crouched low behind a tree and held her breath. When he went back inside the palace, she released a long sigh. That was close. Her usual meeting spot was always deserted of people, but not today. Word was buzzing around the palace of King Ferdinand's usual threat to overtake Granada. It was the last Muslim city still standing in what had once been the all-powerful Al-Andalus.

Asma needn't worry that the guard would see her. At the present, she was in her invisible state. All jinns had the power to do so. What would give her away would be any noise she might make. Humans were sensitive to such things. As she sat crouched against the tall stone wall, she thought about her friendship with Muhammad. The Sultan was the only human who knew of her existence, and what she was. They met every Friday during Jumuah prayers when everybody would be congregated in the mosque.

"Asma?" the Sultan whispered. He lifted the branches above his head to see the stone wall in front of him. Magically, she appeared before him, which always took him by surprise. He was fascinated by her.

"How have you been?" she whispered, smiling.

"Well, you know," he said. His beard danced as he spoke, and she admired just how handsome he was.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"You know I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I would be taking advantage." His coy smile made Asma wonder if he knew about her feelings for him.

"I can go to the King and bewitch him," she whispered. "For you."

"I know you could, but they'll never stop. They want our city as much as we do."

Asma wrung her hands in worry. She wanted the Sultan's approval so badly, to make him love her for doing something so grand for him. But he wouldn't let her.

"Your Highness," someone called. Muhammad looked up to see who was speaking, and when he looked down again, Asma was gone.

***

Asma had a dilemma. She couldn't let the Catholics take her city. But what could she do? She was only one jinn. If she had had time to plan something, create an army, then maybe. But it was too late. Granada would soon fall, she could feel it. She kicked a rock in the road and almost tripped over her long robe. The cool sun shone on her face almost pitifully, as if it knew.

Suddenly she could see a man coming towards her. She thought she knew everyone in the city of Granada, but this was a man she didn't recognize. He whistled and carried a bag over his shoulder.

"As-salamu alaykum," she said out of habit. As she was in her invisible form, she didn't expect the man to respond to her.

"Wa alaykum salam," he said. She stopped mid-step. How on Earth did this man see her? Perhaps he was another jinn. But Asma knew all of them, too. She must meet this mysterious man.

"I am Asma," she said.

"Greetings." His smile was fascinating.

"Are you entering the city?" she asked.

"Why, yes, I am."

"Then welcome."

"I thank you."

"Where are you from?"

"Oh, all over."

"Where are you most recently coming from?" she asked as she sat atop a large rock on the side of the road. She indicated for the traveler to join her.

"From all over," he laughed. She didn't like how vague he was being. She yearned to know what he was, and why he could see her.

"Well, Asma, I'm here to propose something to you."

"To me?"

"I was coming to see you, after all."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Shaytan."

Asma laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? Do I not look like him?"

"But I don't know what he looks like."

"Then how can I prove it to you?"

Asma thought for a moment. "Burst into flames, then make them go away."

She almost cried in terror as he stood up, waved his hands, then was all at once engulfed in fire. His face began to crackle and melt while his hands shriveled.

"Stop!" she cried. She put her face in her hands and trembled. When she looked up, he was sitting beside her, grinning. He looked perfectly normal.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"I suppose so."

"Now what I want from you is this: You will perform three simple tasks for me, and in return, I will give you eternal life."

"Really?" she breathed.

"Do I lie?" he teased.

"What do I have to do?"

"First, I want you to steal the largest, most gorgeous necklace you can find in the market."

"That won't be a problem."

"But you have to do it in human form."

"But they'll see me!"

"How can I be sure of your allegiance if you don't prove yourself to me?"

"Very well. What else?"

"You must make the Sultan Muhammad fall in love with you."

"Done. What else?"

"You must kill the Sultan Muhammad."

Asma shuddered. That she couldn't do. This was all going so well until this third mission.

"I can't do that."

"Why, because you love him?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh, but it is, my dear. Now, you accomplish those three things, and I will be there to grant you eternal life."

Asma stood up, not quite able to let the possibility of eternal life pass her by. She must make sacrifices. She held out her hand to shake the Shaytan's, and they were in agreement.

***

Stealing the necklace wasn't easy. In the exact moment when she was to start running, a man grabbed her arm and shouted out to the crowd that she was a thief. When she turned around, she was shocked to find out that it was the Shaytan himself who was giving her away.

"What are you doing?" she shouted. "You're supposed to help me!"

"I'm just trying to see what you're made of," he said with a wink and a smile. Horrified, Asma punched him straight on the nose, and took off in the opposite direction.

He found her later, and she handed over the necklace to him. He put it on, exclaiming at how beautiful it was and how good he looked in it. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She had never met anyone so vain.

Her next mission was a little more delicate. She didn't exactly know how she was to go about seducing the Sultan. She decided to sneak into his private chambers and wait for him.

He arrived before dinnertime, and she made herself visible to him.

"Asma!" he cried. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," she said silkily. She was going to try her best at the temptress role and prayed that it would work.

"What is it?"

She swayed over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I couldn't stop thinking about you since I last saw you."

"Me neither," he whispered.

"Really?" That was unexpected.

"If the Catholics seize Granada, I want you to come with me. I'm going to Fes."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll go." He took her hands in his and kissed the top of each one. That was even more unexpected. He had never shown emotion toward her before. He was always simply fascinated to know a jinn.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"Tonight, at midnight."

"And your wife?"

"Don't worry about her. It'll be you and me."

He cradled her head in his hand and kissed her softly. A tear slowly escaped from the corner of her eye as the thought about the next mission she must accomplish. She could do it tonight, when she met up with him. There would be fewer witnesses at midnight.

***

"Well, well, you seem to be a very busy bee." The Shaytan leaned against the doorway, filing one of his fingernails with a sharp rock.

"I'm almost finished," Asma said.

"So how goes the young Sultan? Getting ready for his demise?"

"In more ways than one," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?" the Shaytan said.

"Nothing."

Asma stood up from her bed and walked over to the Shaytan. He was a handsome fellow, and he knew it.

"So when's the big moment?" he asked.

"Tonight, at midnight."

"I'll have to be there, you know. I'll need proof."

"Of course."

Asma set out for the palace a half hour before midnight. She didn't know how she was going to be able to push him out of his bedroom window, but it had to be done. Eternal life was at stake.

She found the Sultan in his room waiting for her. He beamed at her when she entered, grabbing her hands and kissing them. She quietly closed the door as he showed her the bags he had packed for the two of them. The Shaytan waited downstairs in the gardens.

"I'm going to miss Granada," the Sultan said.

"Me too," Asma whispered.

"You're not having regrets, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Then what preoccupies you? I can see it in your face."

"Oh, it's nothing. Come, look out the window with me."

As he stood close to her, the warmth radiating from his body over to hers, she couldn't find the courage to do it. He was a good man, a decent man, and Asma had never used anyone or anything for her own gain. She mustn't start now. Down below, she heard the cackling laughter of the Shaytan. He flirted with a young palace maid who was bewitched by his mere presence.

Suddenly, she understood. The Shaytan was never going to make good on his promise. He was the Shaytan after all, a liar, a trickster. He was merely toying with Asma, making her do things she'd never dream of doing otherwise, and all for a false promise. She hated him in that moment. She'd show him.

"Muhammad, please turn around."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want you to go sit on the bed. I can't do this. I can't leave, and I can't let him have you."

"Let who have me?"

"Never mind, it's too complicated." She hugged him tightly, the last embrace. Then she dashed out of the open window, falling into oblivion as a shocked Shaytan observed from below. On to the next one, he thought, and replaced the hood of his cloak onto his head, whistling a merry tune.