one time, been collected as one of Scheherazade’s many tales presented in Burton’s The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night. However, at some point it fell into disuse and doesn’t appear in any complete subsequent copies. Some scholars argue that this is simply a local tale added by an unscrupulous scribe meaning to include his own work in such a respected manuscript, a common practice of the time and one of the problems Gutenberg sought to eradicate with the invention of his printing press. Others argue that it is a lost folktale that became unfashionable, failing to espouse the beliefs of Islam, as many Nights tales do. Perhaps the best argument against its inclusion as a true Nights story is that it does not portray the sultan in a good light, something contrary to Scheherazade’s ultimate goal—that of appeasing her murderous sultan husband. It is included here for the sake of completeness and should not be considered in actuality to belong directly in Nights.
Excerpt from Timm’s Lost Tales: The Arabian Fables by Stephen Timm
Once upon a time there lived a very selfish djinn. While he was one of the most powerful and clever of his kind, he had become infatuated with the lifestyle of man. He would seek out men of this world and grant them wishes, be it great wealth, power, or a multitude of women, and in return he would ask them one simple favor: to make a wish that in no way benefited them directly. These men would often think of wondrous, selfless ideals—feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, curing the sick. But all the while the djinn had been seeding them with notions that he was in some way trapped or poor or suffering. To each man he told a different tale and often each man—hoping to further gain his favor—would grant the djinn some creature comfort with his spare wish. In this way the djinn amassed such wealth that it began to rival the sultan’s own. This estate afforded him a great many wives, all of whom he loved very much, each spoiled and pleasured in a way no other harem was ever spoiled. This djinn had a good life, one he felt he had earned many times over.
But in this very same kingdom, at this very same time, lived a very selfish sultan. Though the most powerful and respected man of his day, he had grown comfortable with his status and with all of his worldly things. And when he heard about the growing wealth of the djinn, the sultan grew nervous. Soon this djinn’s wealth would eclipse his own and he might one day claim himself to be sultan, ruler of all he surveyed. As far as the sultan was concerned, this djinn was one wish away from stealing everything that was rightfully the sultan’s—all of which was bequeathed to him by Allah upon his birth. And as no djinn was going to take away a birthright gifted by Allah, the sultan summoned together his wisest viziers to hatch a plan to put this djinn squarely in his place.
For days the viziers talked it over and could come to no agreement. Some thought they should put the djinn’s women to the sword and burn his estate. Others, fearing reprisal, thought they should only threaten to put his women to the sword and burn his estate. Still others thought the sultan should absorb the lands and estate as his own, by the will of Allah. But none of these options truly protected the sultan and his kingdom from possible reprisal—for while the sultan’s army was mighty, djinn were numerous and there was no telling how many would come to the aid of one of their own.
It was the sultan’s wisest vizier, a man whose name is no longer known to us, who sat silent for three days and three nights, letting the other men talk themselves hoarse before speaking up. And when he did, there was not a voice left in the room to contradict him. “You waste your time with talk of force and threats,” he said, condemning his fellow advisors. “If you wish to best a man, whether in warfare or in guile, you do not confront his strength. You play upon his weakness.” And with that he laid out his plans to humiliate the djinn and leave him no longer a threat to the sultan. But the vizier demanded a price from the king—albeit a small one—for it is