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Summary
“Mother.” Jasmine's voice was eager, pressing, on the last afternoon of her mother's life. “Tell me of Djinn.”
“Curious child.” The woman's voice was sticky with the black phlegm of her illness, but also with affection for her only child. Her land was lucky to have such an heir. “Very well. I shall sing you the song of the Djinn.”
And this is the song the girl was sung.
