The Djinn and the Solicitor

The solicitor had a magus for a client.
The magus had retained him early in his career, when he still had all his hair.
Before he gained all this weight.
It made him mournful to think about the weight he had gained.
He had been given a single ruby ring as a retainer.
As a ring it was indifferently valuable.
(He had had it appraised.)
But the ring was enchanted.
A djinn lived inside of it.

The solicitor had met the djinn but once.
That was when the magus had given him the ring.
‘A demonstration,’ the magus said, and smiled.
That smile bothered the solicitor, as did most things about the magus.
He kept the ring locked in his safe.
It wasn’t his to use unless the magus died or severed their connection.

He thought often about what he would ask of the djinn.
He had heard that djinni were tricky, and would twist your words.
He composed a brief.
It took him five years, but in the end it was airtight.

The magus died.
The solicitor took the magic ring from his safe and twisted it in a certain way.
A bright flash!
The djinn stood before him.
‘Yes, O Master?’ said the djinn.
The solicitor handed it the brief.
The brief was ten pages long, in small handwriting.
The djinn turned the paper over in its hands.
Then it crumpled it into a ball and blew on it.
A bird of paradise flew away.
‘I can’t read,’ explained the djinn.
The solicitor gave a cry of despair.