He didn’t quite make it. As the djinna came through the portal, a huge hulking guard with a long beard and a hooked nose turned to glower at her. He wore a tall turban, a short open vest over a bare chest with bulging muscles, and loose billowing trousers pegged down to pointed slippers. The guard decided she didn’t have the look of an abject worshiper and stepped forward to bar her way.
It was a bad mistake. Lakshmi had already been under the influence of the ring when Matt told her to eliminate anyone who came between her and it, so she took his words literally. She gave the man a glare and he slumped, unconscious. Lakshmi stepped over his body and glided onward into the mosque.
Matt followed, stomach sinking at the ease with which the djinna had disposed of a merely human adversary.
Several of them. Other guards saw what had happened to their fellow and came running to avenge him, shouting with anger. Lakshmi glared at them, turning her head slowly, eyes burning with anger at the audacity of the mere mortals who dared to bar her from the ring that was calling, calling …
The guards jolted as rigid as though they had run into a wall, then slumped to the floor, limp. Matt snatched a scimitar from one and tried to keep up with Lakshmi. He took one quick glance behind and saw a woman coming through the door, veil wrapped about her from head to foot. She had drawn a fold of her white gown over her head so that it shaded her eyes, and the dark brown veil made an inverted V over the center of her face, disguising the youthful appearance of her eyes. Matt couldn’t see the wand, but he was sure it was under the veil in her hand.
A quick glance only; then Matt turned back to Lakshmi and discovered the djinna had gone farther than he’d thought. She glided zombielike toward the ring, and the old man who wore it.
Four guards stood by him, two before and two behind. He wore the tall bulging-then-tapering hat and robe of his priesthood, midnight-blue. His hair and beard were long and white, his eyebrows bushy and gray, his eyes a faded brown. He sat at the focal point of the mosque’s dome in a throne whose gilding glistened with newness, his elbow propped on one arm to hold up the huge emerald ring that decorated his palsied fist.
“Princess!” Matt shouted. “Close your eyes!”
“Begone, dog!” one guard snarled as he advanced toward Matt, scimitar swinging high. Another guard was only a step behind him.
Matt met the scimitar with his own. Steel rang against steel, and the other two guards came running, just as Matt had hoped. He backed and sidestepped, parrying madly, keeping the first guard between himself and the other three. That wouldn’t last long, but it wouldn’t need to—if his words had penetrated Lakshmi’s daze, and she had heard him and closed her eyes.
If she hadn’t, she’d be the old man’s next weapon, and the guards’ scimitars wouldn’t matter.
One thing at least was working: the guards were so intent on Matt that they didn’t see the small black-and-white cat trotting past them with the stick in her mouth.
Black and white?
The old man was grinning now, beckoning and crooning, “Look at my pretty jewel, Princess. Look upon it, look into it, deeply into it.”
Lakshmi drifted closer and closer, eyes growing wider and wider, pupils shrinking, fixed on the gem.
The guard swung; Matt leaped back, but another guard stepped in from the side, slashing. Matt ducked under the blade, but the knuckle guard struck his head, and he reeled backward, the room swimming about him. He fought to hold his scimitar up, hoping desperately.
Then the old man screamed. Matt’s vision cleared enough to show the guard pivoting away from him in alarm.
A young woman stood beside the priest, wearing a black veil and white under-robe, chanting in Allustrian. She held a wand near the old man’s elbow, and he howled in pain, arm limp, grasping the injured funny bone with his other hand.
The other three guards had whirled to see what was the matter, too. The fourth remembered the strange man barely in time; he snarled and turned back, cutting wildly at Matt, who parried, then swung high. The guard’s scimitar leaped up to parry, and Matt pivoted in to slam a fist into his belly. The man folded, eyes bulging, but still managing to keep his sword up. Matt beat it down, kicked his feet out from under him, and gave him a punch with his hilt for good luck.
Balkis yanked the ring off the priest’s finger and cried, “Look, O Princess! See what I have found!”
Lakshmi looked, and was instantly spellbound.
The old man shouted a curse and reached for the ring, but his arm merely flopped, the nerves stunned. He pushed himself up from the throne to reach with his left hand, but Balkis stepped away, ring still held high, and as the priest tried to push himself out of his seat with both hands, his right hand gave way. He fell back into his throne, cursing.
The guards ran to help him.
Balkis chanted a spell, shouting the last line as a command. Lakshmi’s head snapped back, her eyes clearing. Then Balkis called out,
“With justice let this priest be served.
Treat him as he has deserved!”
Matt stepped forward, crying out in protest, but Lakshmi had no such scruples. She raised a hand, the three guards leaped between her and their master, and flame leaped from Lakshmi’s fingers. The guards turned to cinders so quickly that they didn’t even have time to cry out. Then the djinna advanced on the priest of Ahriman, eyes narrowed to slits, hands gesturing.
The old man shrank back in his throne and pointed at her, howling a verse in Arabic. It might have made for interesting study, but Matt didn’t really pay attention—he leaped forward, scooped Balkis up in his arms and ran for the door.
CHAPTER 21
“What are you doing?” Balkis cried, thrashing about in his arms. “She will need our help against his magic!”
“Not anymore she won’t!” Matt made it through the portal before the screaming started. He bolted across the square, then set Balkis down in the shadow of a marble-fronted building, but it wasn’t far enough—she could still hear the screams, hoarse and ragged. ‘She clapped her hands over her ears and sat trembling.
“Only what he deserved,” Matt reminded her. “You couldn’t know how many people he had butchered, how many he had weakened as the horde charged down, how many he had tortured.”
But Balkis clasped her head, still trembling.
Matt had to bring her out of it. He knelt as the screams faded and said, voice low but insistent, “Prince Marudin. While you have the ring, recite the spell! Free the prince, wherever he is, and you’ll weaken the horde enough so that they might retreat!”
“Do you really think so?” Balkis held out the ring on a trembling finger and began to recite once again in Allustrian—obviously one of the spells Idris had taught her. Matt doubted it had been invented solely for djinn, and wondered what kind of compulsions to obedience Idris had dealt with.
He caught the gist of the spell and could only admire the crafting of the verse—lines of alternating meters with an intricate rhyme scheme, ending in an imperative. No wonder it had freed Lakshmi from the sorcerer’s power … but bound her to Balkis’ spell, with deadly results.
Matt leaned closer. “Lakshmi, too! Command the ring to free Lakshmi, too!”
“I have,” Balkis gasped. “I should have before.”
“Believe me,” Matt said with total sincerity, “it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference.”
Balkis looked up at him with naked, vulnerable gratitude, then looked beyond him, horrified. “She comes!”
Matt turned to look. Lakshmi came striding across the square, long black veil whipping about her legs, angry eyes staring out above the cloth.
“It’s done!” Matt held up his hands to slow her down. “Princess, he’s dust! You’ve had a revenge you didn’t need!”
“Any who seek to enthrall the djinn merit revenge!” Lakshmi snapped. She looked past him and saw the little cat, now black and white, cowering in a comer of the marble. Instantly Lakshmi’s rage evaporated, and she knelt, re
aching out a hand and crooning. “Ah, poor mite! Did I so afright you, then? Surely I had not meant to do so! Do not pity that old monster, for he suffered only what he had given, and that much only by his own magic come back upon him, for I turned around the spells that he had cast on others, so that they struck him. Nay, poor child, come hither, for I owe you only gratitude, never harm!”
Balkis began to relax. She stepped forward, nose twitching warily to sniff the djinna’s hand.
“Yes, I owe you my freedom, sweet child,” Lakshmi said, voice soft as velvet. “Never would I seek to harm you. Your enemies perhaps, as I have smitten my own, but never you!”
“I told her that last command she gave you didn’t make any difference,” Matt said, “that if she’d freed you to do as you wished, you’d have done just as you did.”
“Be sure of it.” But there was no anger in Lakshmi’s voice, only gentle reassurance. “He gained what he had given, no more. Indeed, left to my own devices, I should have done far worse.”
Balkis thawed enough to step forward, rubbing her head against the princess’ hand. Lakshmi murmured with pleasure, stroking the black and white fur, then rubbing gently behind the ears. Balkis raised her head, eyes closing for a minute of pleasure, and Matt knew the two had made friends again.
Lakshmi took up the cat’s paw, studying the emerald on her foreleg with a frown. “I cannot take it from you, though dearly I wish I could.”
“Really?” Matt stepped up to look more closely. “Why not?”
“See how its band has tightened to fit her—it knows it is hers now. Never shall she be separated from this gem while she lives, unless she comes across a magic greater than her own.”
“But the old priest’s magic must have been greater than hers!”
“You gave her a wand,” Lakshmi reminded him. “There is great power of magic within her, and the wand strengthened it tenfold. Nay, now the ring is hers by right, and I can think of few I should trust with it more.” She gave Balkis a rather bleak smile. “Or will you, too, seek to command me, little cat?”
“Never!” Balkis mewed indignantly.
Lakshmi laughed. “I believe you, as I would believe few mortals—but then, you are somewhat more than mortal yourself, are you not?”
Balkis gave a mew of doubt.
“Be sure that you are.” Lakshmi reached down to stroke the cat. “A thousand thanks for this fair rescue, sweet one! Three wishes shall be yours when this turmoil is done—three wishes and more, if I can free my Marudin!”
“He may be free already,” Matt said. “While we were waiting for you, she chanted a spell to give him his liberty, no matter where he was.”
“Let us hope the ring had so much power as that,” Lakshmi said fervently. “If indeed it has, we shall be ever in your debt, little cat.”
Balkis looked up wide-eyed. Then her look turned calculating.
Lakshmi laughed and scooped her up to hold opposite her face. “Aye, think what you can do with such a friendship, think of the wishes for which you shall ask, ponder long and carefully—for once a wish has come true, you shall have to live with it.”
Matt found that even a cat’s face could develop a thoughtful frown.
“Come, now!” Lakshmi said, all business again. “Let us take to the sky and see what effect this action has wrought upon the battle we passed on our way hither! If the horde was winning because of the magic of its sorcerers, then the slaying of this dotard should have turned the tide in the Caliph’s favor!” She began to grow, catching up Matt as she went.
In minutes they were high above the battlefield, and sure enough, the horde was retreating. The Caliph’s troops followed, but cautiously, wary that the barbarians might turn their own tactic upon them—retreating at full speed, waiting until the defenders had broken ranks to pursue, letting them get close, then suddenly turning on them and cutting them to shreds. Knowing that, the Muslims advanced without breaking their battle line.
“I see him!” Lakshmi cried. “Marudin! He rises above the battle, he fights for the Caliph!”
Sure enough, Matt could see a huge turban growing huger as it both rose and swelled, with a burgeoning set of shoulders beneath it. Prince Marudin rose high, scooping boulders from thin air and hurling them against his erstwhile masters.
“I must go to help him! Down, you two, where it is safe!” Lakshmi dove back toward the city. Matt cried out, then clung for dear life. So did Balkis—sinking her claws into Matt and yowling every foot of the way.
Lakshmi shrank as she descended, so that it seemed to be only a normal-sized woman who set them down in a back alley, then leaped into the sky again.
“Impetuous, isn’t she?” Matt tried to hide his shaking by kneeling down and holding out a hand to Balkis. “Care to ride for the first few blocks?”
Balkis spat and raised a claw.
“I know—I wouldn’t trust anybody’s arms after a trip like that, either.” Matt rose again, leaned against a wall for a minute, then started down the alley toward the little square at its end.
There were women around the well, but their water jars were mere excuses—they were all chatting with excitement about having seen a djinna descending toward the city, disappearing, then flying away from it. There was speculation about Lakshmi being a weapon of the Caliph in the battle the barbarians were even then fighting, some guesses as to why she might have come otherwise, more guesses as to why she would have left so quickly, but no real information. Matt kept walking, but glanced back—Balkis was just coming out of the alley, with seemingly lofty indifference to the world of mere humans, but Matt was sure that if the women mentioned anything about the missing children, the cat would know it in an instant.
He crossed the square and went up the opposite alley; Lakshmi had dropped them at the western gate, so as long as he headed east, he should come closer to the city’s center. As he reached the end he heard an attack—yowl and turned back to see a young woman in black veil and white under-robe seem to sprout from the pavement. A huge tomcat let out a caterwaul of dismay and sprinted for cover. Balkis allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction as she shrank back into the form of a cat.
Matt came to an actual street, not another mere alley, and followed it north until he came to another street that met it at something resembling a right angle. He turned east again and kept going. There was gossip and speculation all around him—from porters carrying loads, merchants engaged in heated discussion on street corners, women walking along chatting with one another. The topic was the battle, and that the djinna must have been a sign that it was coming closer to the city. Speculation was rife—what would the barbarians do if they lost? Would they take revenge on the citizens? Or would they ride out the eastern gate and never be seen again? The consensus was that they would barricade themselves within the city and defend it against the Caliph’s siege.
No one mentioned two small kidnapped children, or anything that would give the barbarians leverage against the djinn.
Every now and again Matt glanced back and saw the little black and white cat trotting along, weaving her way between people’s feet, ears pricked up, listening with interest. He was quite sure he had the right cat—you didn’t see too many felines with an emerald ring around one foreleg. The sight was reassuring, but Matt doubted she’d learn anything he hadn’t.
Suddenly, the cat picked up its pace, running to catch Matt’s leg with a claw. “Ouch!” he said, looking down, but Balkis ducked into an alley and looked back to meow at him. Matt took the hint and stepped after her, but the little cat ducked behind a mound of trash and began to grow. Fur became cloth, and her body stretched in some very odd ways. Matt turned his back, feeling queasy and watching the street.
“I have had a thought.”
Matt looked down at the black-veiled teenager, marveling at the way she had arranged the extra cloth in the white robe to veil her head as well as her body—probably just as well, considering that the veil was rather translucent. “I’m
interested. What thought?”
“That this ring is tied to djinn.” Balkis held up her right fist. “Perhaps it can show us the path to a djinni.”
“You mean a very small djinni?” Matt felt a burst of excitement. “It’s worth a try. Got a spell handy?”
“I do not know one,” Balkis confessed.
“Let’s see what I can do.” Matt stared at the ring as he searched his memory, and came up with:
“Where ask is have, where seek is find,
Where knock is open wide,
Where someone lost our search abides—
There point! You to them this spell shall bind!”
“Of course, it’s tuned to you now,” Matt explained. “Probably doesn’t do any good for me to recite it.”
“As you say.” Balkis stared at the emerald and recited the verse. When she was done, she said, “It grew warm as I spoke, but now it cools.”
Matt wondered about crystal matrices and computers. “It was absorbing the spell and adding a new … call it a sensitivity. Try it for direction. Tell it who you’re looking for. Why don’t you start with Prince Marudin? At least we know which direction he’s in.”
“It will do for a test,” Balkis said, doubt in her voice. “Ring, show me where Prince Marudin flies!” She turned slowly toward the west. The ring began to glow, brighter and brighter as it came to line up with the western gate. Then, as Balkis continued turning, the glow faded.
“It works!” An idea lodged in Matt’s mind. “Try the same thing with Lakshmi.”
“But we know she fights beside her prince!” Balkis objected.
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