Stanley and the Magic Lamp. Jeff Brown
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For Elizabeth Tobin
First published in Great Britain 1985
by Methuen Children’s Books Ltd
Reissued 2012
by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 1985 Jeff Brown
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by the Trust
u/w/o Richard C. Brown a/k/a/Jeff Brown
f/b/o Duncan Brown
First e-book edition 2014
ISBN 978 1 4052 0418 7
eISBN 978 1 7803 1221 7
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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CONTENTS
Once upon a very long time ago, way before the beginning of today’s sort of people, there was a magical kingdom in which everyone lived forever, and anyone of importance was a genie, mostly the friendly kind. The few wicked genies kept out of sight in mountain caves or at the bottoms of rivers. They had no wish to provoke the great Genie King, who ruled very comfortably from an enormous palace with many towers and courtyards, and gardens with reflecting pools.
The Genie King took a special interest in the genie princes of the kingdom, and was noted for his patience with their high spirits and desire for adventure. The Genie Queen, in fact, thought he was too patient with them, and she said so one morning in the throne room, where the King was studying reports and proposals for new magic spells.
‘Training, that’s what they need. Discipline!’ She adjusted the Magic Mirror on the throne-room wall. ‘Florts and collibots! Granting wishes, which is what they’ll be doing one day, is serious work.’
‘Florts yourself ! You’re too hard on these lads,’ said the Genie King, and then he frowned. ‘This report here, though, says that one of them has been behaving very badly indeed.’
‘Haraz, right?’ said the Queen. ‘He’s the worst. What a smarty!’
The Genie King sent a thought to summon Prince Haraz, which is all such a ruler has to do when he wants somebody, and a moment later the young genie flew into the throne room, did a triple flip, and hovered in the air before the throne.
‘That’s no way to present yourself !’ The Queen was furious. ‘Really!’
Prince Haraz grinned. ‘What’s up?’
‘You are!’ said the King. ‘Come down here!’
‘No problem,’ said the Prince, landing.
‘It seems you have been playing a great many magical jokes,’ said the King, tapping the reports before him. ‘Very annoying jokes, such as causing the army’s carpets to fly only in circles, which made all my soldiers dizzy.’
‘That was a good one!’ laughed the Prince.
‘And turning the Chief Wizard’s wand into a sausage while he was casting a major spell, you did that?’
‘Ha, ha! You should have seen his face!’ said the Prince.
‘Stop laughing!’ cried the Queen. ‘Oh, this is shameful! You should be heavily punished!’
‘He’s just a boy, dear, only two hundred years old,’ said the King. ‘But I’ll –’
‘Who knows what more he’s done?’ said the Queen, turning to the Magic Mirror. ‘Magic Mirror, what other silly jokes has this fellow played!’
The Magic Mirror squirted apple juice all over her face and the front of her dress.
‘Oooooohh!’ The Queen whirled around. ‘Florts and collibots! I know who’s responsible for that !’
Prince Haraz blushed and tried to look sorry, but it was too late.
‘That does it!’ said the Genie King. ‘Lamp duty for you, you rascal! One thousand years of service to a lamp.’ He turned to the Queen. ‘How’s that, my dear?’
‘Make it two thousand,’ said the Queen, drying her face.
Almost a year had passed since Stanley Lambchop got over being flat, which he had become when his big bulletin board settled on him during the night. It had been a pleasant, restful time for all the Lambchops, as this particular evening was.
Dinner was over. In the