She kicked off her slippers and in a few seconds was soundly asleep.
Chapter IV
Drake had been led from the presence of the Caliph by the giant black guards to a dark, dank dungeon in the bowels of the palace and left there, locked in a miserable cell, five feet by five without illumination or ventilation of any sort.
When he heard the ponderous footsteps of the guards departing, fading away into silence, he made a groping inspection of his quarters. There was a tiny trickle of running water in one corner that fell into a small open drain; and against the opposite wall a bundle of cold dirty rags was evidently a comfortless substitute for a cot.
He tried the door, but it was locked securely. He sat down then on the bundle of rags, turned his collar up about his neck against the damp chill of the place and settled down to await developments.
They were not long in coming.
Hardly fifteen minutes had passed before he heard footsteps in the corridor and saw an edge of light under the door. A key clicked against metal and the door swung open; Humai, the plump Wizard, stood in the doorway, holding a lamp above his head.
“Greetings,” he murmured. “May I come in?”
Drake got to his feet.
“Make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically. “Take any chair you like. Would you care for a drink? Something to eat?”
“You mustn’t be bitter, my friend,” Humai, said suavely. He stepped into the small cell and carefully closed the door behind him.
“Where is Sharon?” Drake demanded. “What are they going to do to her?”
Humai shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Tonight she will spend with Zinidad, but after that—” He turned his palms out and shrugged again. “Who knows?”
Drake clenched his fists and stared helplessly at the heavy door and thick walls of his cell.
“Isn’t there something I can do to help her?” he asked.
“We may all need help before long,” Humai murmured. “You are scheduled for the water torture tomorrow. And if our Caliph’s disposition doesn’t improve very shortly he will also want to remove my venerable head.”
“Possibly,” Drake suggested, “we can work together.”
Humai smiled. “I was thinking of something like that. I brought you two here to please the Caliph, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way. After all my experiments and labors I have failed to please Zinidad. And in Bagdad that is fatal.”
In spite of the desperate plight he was in, Drake couldn’t suppress his curiosity in regard Humai’s miraculous ability to pierce the planes of time and space.
“Just how did you work it?” he asked. “Time travel has been experimented with in the twentieth century but no one ever got beyond the theoretical stage.”
“It was simple enough,” Humai said. He smiled, his little eyes twinkling. “And I had a very powerful compulsion to stimulate me. The Caliph wished for women of the past and future and I was ordered to provide them for him. I worked for several years on my device and his patience was wearing very thin. If I hadn’t succeeded on my last attempt it is doubtful that I would ever have gotten another chance.”
“Were we the first to be honored with your attentions?” Drake asked drily.
Humai nodded.
“I chose the year nineteen-forty-three at random. But I made a miscalculation on my first attempt and landed in the year of nineteen-forty-four. I stayed just long enough to find out roughly what was going on before coming back to nineteen-forty-three.”
Humai’s words caused a sudden quiver of excitement to race through Drake’s veins.
“You were actually ‘in’ nineteen-forty-three?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Humai.
Drake seized him by both arms.
“Can you tell me of anything you saw?” he asked.
Humai frowned and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“I didn’t pay much attention,” he said, “I listened to scraps of conversation, drifting here and there, but I wasn’t awfully concerned about what was going on.”
“You must remember something,” Drake insisted.
“Oh, yes,” Humai said, “I remember several things. For one, everyone was talking about a place called Dakar.”
“Yes,” Drake prompted anxiously, “what were they saying about Dakar?” Humai squinted at the ceiling and frowned.
“They were saying something about an attack being launched from there toward a place called Brazil.”
Drake snapped his fingers suddenly. “Of course, of course,” he said tensely. “Do you remember anything else?
Humai thought for a moment and then shook his round head deliberately.
“No,” said he decisively. “That was all the people were talking about. Everyone seemed quite concerned about it.”
“Had the attack succeeded?” Drake asked quickly.
“Oh, yes,” Humai said. “I gathered that it had been quite a thorough success. That was why everyone was so concerned. It seems they hadn’t expected anything like that.”
“Of course they hadn’t!” Drake said bitterly. “What stupid fools we were.” He began to pace the narrow cell, his clenched hands jammed into his pockets. Humai’s news had shocked him from the thought of his own predicament.
The Germans had struck — or would strike in ’44 — at South America from Dakar. And that attack was going to succeed unless something could be done to warn the Allied leaders of its impending threat.
He wheeled suddenly on Humai. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he said fiercely. “I’ve got to get back to my own time.”
“I’m afraid that is quite impossible,” Humai said. “The time device has not been prepared for another trip as yet; and that is liable to take quite some time.”
“How long?” Drake demanded.
“I don’t really know,” Humai said. “But,” he added, smiling gently, “only one person at a time can make the trip. And if the Caliph’s present unfriendly attitude toward me continues, I know who that one person is going to be. I will have to use the time device to save myself from his wrath. That may be my only possibility of escaping.”
“But you don’t understand,” Drake cried. “It’s absolutely imperative that I get back. Or, if only one can go, send the girl back. I’ll stay here — gladly. But one of us has to get back with the information you’ve given me.”
Humai chuckled softly.
“It is useless to talk,” he murmured.
The cell door behind him suddenly swung slowly open. Humai stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the creak of the hinges. He turned slowly to the door, his face bland, impassive, unrevealing.
Drake was staring at the woman who stood in the doorway. She was tall, with fine skin and dark smouldering eyes. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, except for a spot at each temple that looked as if it had been brushed lightly with silver dust. She wore a crimson robe that buckled at her throat with a huge diamond clasp and fell in straight, classic folds to the ground. The points of her small golden slippers were visible under the hem of her cloak.
Humai inclined his head slightly toward the woman.
“It is indeed a surprise to see you here, O beautiful Tana.”
Tana regarded him calmly but there was a faint enigmatic smile at the corners of her curving mouth.
“I, too, am surprised,” she murmured. “I had hoped to talk to the prisoner alone. It is a pity that you must leave so soon, my dear Humai.”
“Some things cannot be helped,” Humai sighed. He turned and smiled softly at Drake. “I will speak to you again, my friend.”