Two months passed – two men died. Pushing their bodies overboard Peru felt his journey weigh more and more heavily on his heart; he found swearing promises to widowed wives and fatherless sons seemed meaningless when he held nothing to show for all the sacrifice of others. The remaining men were losing moral and forgetting why they were so eager to leave land, as was Peru, no matter how many times he looked at the fading picture. On the second month and fifth day the raft washed ashore an island carrying a strange air. Exhausted from thirst and hunger the group crawled onto land and collapsed.
Waking to the sun high overhead Peru struggled to move his body, stiff with dried sand and salt. Looking up he saw a man standing before him, tall and frightening, flanked by five others equal in presence. Sitting up Peru felt for his sword and found it gone.
“Stay calm Prince Peru, we mean you no harm,” the man said. “I am the Jinn king, and this is the jinn island. Tell me who you are, where you hail from and where you head towards.”
“You know my name,” the prince said cautiously. “So you must already know who I am and all other things.”
“Oh-ho, this is true. But it is so rare we have visitors,” gathering his robes the man sat cross-legged on the ground and motioned to the men on either side of him to do the same. “I would like to hear it from you directly. Tell me all that has happened.”
Peru did, laying bare his journey from the moment he first set sight on the image of Florette through the shipwreck, his time as a slave to the cyclops, the sirens, and the last voyage landing he and his men on the island. The Jinn king sat quietly, listening all the while as the landscape turned purple in the setting sun.
“You have been through much,” he commented. “Rouse your men.” Standing he made his way towards a ticket of tall grass a few paces away. Jumping to his feet Peru hastened to wake Lothar and the others, bidding them follow.