The young man’s eyes looked all of them over intently. Jafar was dressed poorly in the garments he’d taken from the dead jailor, and Cari’s manifestation made her seem like a young girl, wide -eyed and slender, in simple clothes. It was Selima, though, that the fellow stared at the most. Jafar’s daughter, thoroughly aware she was unveiled and being scrutinized by a handsome young man, averted her gaze and stared at her feet—but her modesty couldn’t hide the fact that she was not completely solid.
“Who—or what—are you?” the horseman asked, and Jafar noticed that his hand never strayed far from the hilt of the sword at his belt.
Before Jafar could speak, Cari stepped boldly forward. “I am Cari the Jann, slave to my master Jafar al-Sharif, wizard of the southern provinces and the greatest m
