Uг§an Ећato Вђ“ Diana Wynne Jones -

"You've come," she said, her voice clear as a bell. "But the djinns are waking, and the castle is turning toward the wastes."

As he approached, the castle looked less like stone and more like captured light. It drifted aimlessly, anchored only by the magic of the djinns who had stolen it. On a balcony of pearl, he saw her: Flower-in-the-Night, the princess whose name was a melody he had only dared to dream. Uçan Şato – Diana Wynne Jones

Abdullah sat in his small booth in the Market of Zanzib, surrounded by carpets that did not fly and lanterns that only held oil, never djinns. His life was as dusty as the silk he sold, but his mind was always elsewhere—soaring among the clouds in a palace made of silver mist and sunrise. "You've come," she said, her voice clear as a bell