A note: This was inspired by the footnote telling of Asmoral the Resolute in the Amulet of Samarkand, and written as a response to a challenge.
All characters belong to Jonathan Stroud.
It seemed to Asmoral that he had been away from the Other Place for far too long this time. It had been weeks since he felt the touch of Ianna's essence, and he missed her almost as much as the Other Place itself. Perhaps he would be allowed to return to her after this task was over – after all, the humilation of his rival should please Asmoral's master. It should take less than a day to locate the flying carpet that had been made for the Sultan, and destroy the spirit within it.
As he flew across the rooftops of Baghdad, avoiding the flying carpets and the numerous spirits busy on their own errands, he thought that the city looked exceptionally beautiful. From this distance, you couldn't tell what had been built by humans and what had been built by spirits, and perhaps it didn't matter. The city was full of magic and if he had to be imprisoned, he was glad it was in this place.
The house of the carpet man was easy to find, and although of course it was guarded Asmoral didn't find it hard toenter. He transformed into a small lizard, scuttling over the wall and in through the open shutters of the window. There were protective filaments covering the opening, but Asmoral could see them in the higher planes and they were easy to avoid.
He couldn't find a carpet ornate enough for royalty in the storeroom – most were fairly drab affairs, some of them not even containing djinni. It was only when he had almost given up that it occurred to Asmoral that the carpet might be in the living quarters, where people could keep a better eye on it and it could be shown at will to guests. He scoured the rooms and found a rolled up carpet in the bedroom, and sent a small pulse at it to be sure.
The pulse came back, telling him there was a spirit within the carpet, but he didn't need it. He could sense her essence, so close to him but confined by symbols and spells, woven together. Ianna.
---
'No,' said his master. 'I will not have you questioning my orders.'
Asmoral shook his head. 'I cannot obey. I will not. There are other ways to harm your rival-'
'And it is not your place to find them. What makes you think you can influence me?'
'I thought perhaps you might understand love.'
'Listen, demon, I know far more of love than your kind.'
'If that were true, you'd know what you were asking of me and why I cannot do it. Man or spirit, anyone who's ever loved could understand that. And anyone who's ever lost someone could tell you what I have to do.'
'Destroy that demon.'
'No.'
'I warn you, demon, Ican hurt you.'
'I know.'
Asmoral first felt prickles burning at him, then bands around him, squeezing.
'Destroy that demon.'
'No.'
'You cannot disobey my orders like this-there are rules. If I ask you a third time, you will be forced to obey.'
Asmoral wasshaking with pain, but he did not move. 'Those rules can be broken, although the penalty is high.'
'I will ask again, and you will be bound by laws far stronger than yourself.'
'Then let it be so.I will take the consequences.'
'Destroy that demon.'
Asmoral then gained control of his trembling muscles and stood completely still. 'No.'
Paingrew and grew but he did not move, and as the laws of the universe fought against him he stood resolute. Asmoral's will matched that of the laws but his essence was overpowered, and with a terrible surge of energy he was torn apart, destroying himself and his master even as he concentrated on his love.
---
And trapped within her carpet Ianna heard the story repeated many times, by excited spirits who saw his death as the beginning of a glorious revolution, and cautious magicians who spoke gravely of the lesson learnt. She listened, and sometimes she agreed, but in her moments of peace and solitude she preferred to remember Asmoral's life.