“I have one last wish, my friend,” says Ala ad-Din warmly. “I wish you free.”
The golden manacles fall away, and the djinn’s joyous laughter booms out over Maghreb. The sky is filled with his beaming visage, and then his hands, reaching down.
“What is thy third wish, our Lord and Master?” intones Ala ad-Din as he and the other ten thousand shackled slaves toil away at the foundation of the new palace.
“I think I’m going to wish for more wishes,” says the djinn brightly, atop his throne of kneeling bodies. “That’s clever! See how clever I am?”