The giant black guards separated into two columns when they reached this throne and Drake and Sharon were suddenly face to face with the occupant of the dais — a great, bloated creature with sagging soft jowls and sprawling limbs, a man who stared at them sleepily with hard little eyes and breathed noisily through his loose pink lips. He lay rather than sat on the great cushioned dais, his legs sprawled loosely, his short pudgy arms resting carelessly on the rounded arms of the throne.
Humai stepped forward and bowed low.
“I have done my best to fulfill your wish, O mighty Caliph,” he said. “You alone can judge whether this lowly servant has succeeded.”
The gross creature on the throne waved a limp hand negligently at Humai in a weary gesture of dismissal, and the plump little man retreated several steps. The Caliph studied Drake for an instant with sharp little eyes; a slow frown creased his forehead.
“Who is this creature?” he asked. His voice was soft and throaty.
Humai stepped forward again, bowing submissively.
“I was forced to bring him with me, illustrious Caliph,” he murmured.
“I did not want a man,” the Caliph said, waving his limp hand in a feeble gesture of irritation. “I asked you to find me a woman, a beautiful woman.”
“And I did, O glorious Caliph,” Humai said. “Look on her; fair as the morning when the sun’s rays break over the purple mountain; as mysterious as the shrouded night when the stars hurl their shafts of light at the surging waters; as passionate as Love, itself. This is the woman I have brought to you, O exalted Caliph. This fairest flower of the future I brought to you to grace your own gardens forever.”
The Caliph belched sleepily and turned his eyes to Sharon. She felt herself blushing as his sharp gaze moved over her slim body. A slow smile touched his sensual lips as he finally raised his eyes to Sharon’s face. He studied her pale cheeks, crimsoned now with shame and anger, surveyed her flashing green eyes and red hair carefully and impersonally, as if she were an inanimate object he was considering buying.
“You have done well, Wizard,” he said at last, to Humai.
“My grateful thanks are yours, O immeasurable Caliph,” Humai said humbly. “May I die the instant I displease you.”
“Have no fear,” the Caliph said, absently scratching his great belly, “you will.”
He turned his bright gaze again to Drake.
“Why did you bring this creature?” he asked.
“He was her companion,” Humai said. “When I transported her through the realm of Time he had his arm about her waist and thus was transported also.”
The Caliph frowned.
“I do not like the thought of his arm about her waist,” he said. “She is mine. She should have been keeping herself for me. You should have brought me a virgin, Wizard. You know my preferences.”
“Just a minute,” Sharon said angrily. “If you’re implying that I’m not—”
“Silence, woman,” the Caliph said softly. “You would not look well with your tongue torn out by its roots.”
“I won’t keep quiet,” Sharon cried. “You’re not going to talk about me as if I’m a loose woman and get away with it. And you’re not going to talk about me like a piece of furniture. If you’ve got something to say to me, I’m standing right here and I’ve got two ears.”
“Don’t boast of such things,” the Caliph said, “or you may lose them.” He turned to Humai and rubbed his lips petulantly. “I did not want a chattering jay,” he said fretfully. “I could do with a little less beauty and a little more silence.”
Humai looked pale and distressed.
“I am so sorry, O mighty Caliph,” he said miserably, “but there was no manner in which to determine that beforehand.”
“If you’ll pardon me,” Drake said drily. “I’d like to ask you just what your object was in having us brought here. I am an accredited attaché of the United States diplomatic corps and, as such, I demand the right of being heard.”
The Caliph put his plump hands to the sides of his head and rocked back and forth on the dais.
“Why does everyone want to talk?” he wailed. “I will go deaf with the noise.” He took his hands down and gestured sharply to two of the giant blacks. “Take this noisy creature to a dungeon, the deepest one you can find, and lock him up there. Tomorrow I will have his tongue cut out.”
Drake felt huge hands on his arms almost instantly. He struggled with all his strength but it was a futile effort. Sharon ran to his side and clung to him, until another of the blacks pulled her away and held her firmly.
“Oh, darling,” she cried, fighting against the powerful grip of the giant black. “Make them kill us both. I don’t want to live without you. Please—”
That was the last Drake heard. He was dragged through a side door of the great throne-room and it slammed behind him with a crash, shutting out the last piteous sound of Sharon’s voice.
Chapter III
Drake was dragged from the room, the Caliph frowned at Sharon’s sobbing figure, held helplessly in the grasp of the giant black guard.
“Take her to my harem attendants,” he said, with a weary shake of his head. “Have her prepared for me. I wish to see her again tonight.” He frowned darkly at Humai. “I am not pleased, miserable Wizard. There is too much noise and crying. If I remain displeased after tonight, I shall wish to see you again.”
“Yes, O glorious Caliph,” Humai muttered. With a forlorn bow he retreated from the throne.
Two of the black guards led Sharon from the great throne room and down several long winding corridors until they reached a large door guarded by a company of the Nubian giants. The door opened, Sharon was ushered into the room beyond, and the door closed with a dry, final click.
She looked around and saw that she was in a well-lighted room, much smaller than the one in which the Caliph had his throne. There were comfortable divans about the walls and in the air was the heady scent of fragrant perfumes.
A door on the side opened and two women, dressed in plain, knee-length cloaks, entered. One of them spoke sharply to the black guards and they withdrew with submissive bows.
“You must come with us,” one of the women said to Sharon. She was a middle-aged woman with fine, delicate features and gleaming black hair faintly streaked with grey. “My name is Tana,” she added. “I am in charge of the Caliph’s harem. We must prepare you for tonight and there is not much time. Will you come along, please?” Sharon realized that no point would be gained by resistance. She followed the women through a connecting corridor of pale marble to a room with couches against one wall and several padded tables in the center. At one end of the room was a sunken tub of black marble which was filled with clear, faintly scented water. There were mirrors on all walls, and an elaborate marble table near one wall was covered with pots of pastes and creams and long tubes of colored wax and rouge.
The room was furnished so exquisitely that Sharon couldn’t help admiring the details of the appointments.
A door opened and three plainly dressed young girls entered.
“They will bathe you,” Tana said. “When you are ready I will come and see that no detail has been overlooked.” She inspected Sharon with a critical, experienced eye. “You will do,” she murmured. “For one night you will be completely satisfactory, I am sure.”
“Why only one night?”
Tana smiled sadly. “You will soon know,” she said. With an impulsive gesture she patted Sharon’s cheek shyly. “And you are so young,” she murmured, turning away.