“It’s too bad it happened just when it did,” Sharon said moodily. “I had the Caliph right under my thumb. He was so intrigued with the stories I told him that he was willing to do anything for me. If Tana hadn’t turned rat on us I might have talked him into letting us go.”
“Well, there’d still be the problem of getting back to our own time,” Drake said. “The wizard, Humai, controls the time machine and he was getting ready to use it himself to get away from the Caliph. I wonder if he’s gone yet.”
“No, he’s still around,” Sharon said. “I’ve seen him several times. He was very respectful to me because he knew I was the Caliph’s favorite.” She smiled ruefully. “Queen for a day, that’s me.”
The bolts on the heavy door suddenly rasped; Drake glanced warningly at Sharon.
The door swung open and Tana, tall, cold and imperious, walked into the room and faced them, her thin face hard and expressionless. The door closed behind her.
She flicked her eyes from Sharon to Drake; a mocking smile touched her lips.
“Comfortable?” she asked, amusement in her voice.
“As comfortable as possible,” Drake said, “considering the company.”
Tana glared angrily at him, her reserve shattered for an instant. She breathed hard and spots of color touched her pale cheeks.
“You won’t be quite so spirited in a few more hours,” she said harshly.
“Is that what you came here to tell us?” Drake asked sarcastically.
Tana smiled. “As a matter of fact, no. I came here again to bargain with you. You are in even a worse position now than you were on the first occasion.”
“But I have the benefit of experience,” Drake said. “I know that bargaining with you is a profitless business. Whatever the deal, the answer is no.”
“A pity,” Tana said calmly. “I was prepared to help, not you but the girl, for your cooperation, but since you are obstinate—” She shrugged and moved toward the door.
“Wait a minute,” Drake said quickly. “I’ll do whatever I can if it will help Sharon.”
Tana turned back, smiling mockingly.
“I shouldn’t give you another chance,” she said, “but I am preparing to be merciful. For information concerning the whereabouts of Ali Baba I will see to it that the girl dies quickly.”
“But I don’t know where he is,” Drake said desperately.
“You must do better than that,” Tana said. “You and he attempted to escape together. You were caught; he got away. You must have an idea where he was going.”
“I swear I don’t,” Drake said. “He grabbed me by the arm and led me to the door. I haven’t the faintest idea what he had in mind.”
Tana shrugged.
“Obviously then we can’t bargain. I would have been willing to spare the girl the unpleasantness of being tortured to death, but since you can’t help me I have no recourse but to order the royal torturers to proceed.”
She was standing with her back to a large, massive pillar and as she turned to leave a brown arm appeared from behind the pillar, whipped swiftly about her throat and closed inexorably.
Tana’s reaction was instinctive and ferocious. Every muscle in her lithe, steel-strong body contracted in a wild effort to break the strangling pressure of the arm against her throat.
Drake’s heart pounded with a sudden hope as he watched the woman’s frantic struggle.
Her face reddened and her eyes bulged horribly. Her mouth opened like a wide, red wound as she fought to draw breath into her laboring lungs.
But her struggles were futile. The arm tightened slowly and finally her body slumped with the suddenness of a taut wire snapping.
From behind the pillar stepped a lean, wiry man with brown face and snapping dark eyes. He released his arm from Tana’s throat and stretched her on the floor.
He looked up then and smiled at Drake.
“I did not forget you my friend,” he said.
“Ali Baba!” Drake cried incredulously. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Ali Baba looked reproachful.
“I do not forget my friends,” he said. He glanced down at Tana’s still form and his face darkened. “Or my enemies.”
He crossed to Drake quickly and unscrewed the gyves that held his wrists. Drake then, with Ali Baba’s help, released Sharon. She massaged her arms gratefully.
“What now?” Drake asked tensely. “We’re free, but that’s about all.” He glanced at the still figure on the floor. “Is she — dead?”
Ali Baba shrugged. “Probably not. She is tough and hard.” He chuckled grimly. “But when the Caliph’s men find her here and it is learned that you have escaped,” he grinned wickedly, “the Caliph will certainly make her wish that, she had never been born.”
“But how are we to get out?” Drake asked. “The doors are well guarded.”
“Trust me,” Ali Baba said. “I know another manner of leaving. We will be safe in my cave in another six hours, I can promise you that.”
“No, we can’t go with you,” Drake said. “We’ve got to find Humai, the wizard, and get back to our own time. Can you help us do that?”
Ali Baba looked dubious.
“I can try,” he said. “But let us hurry. His chambers are on the other side of the castle.”
The approach to Humai’s laboratory was well guarded, but Sharon walked confidently and boldly and the soldiers, who apparently did not know that she had fallen from the Caliph’s favor, bowed deferentially to her with elaborate salaams.
The wizard was peering into a great emerald ball when they entered his smoky chambers. He was wearing a long white gown, marked with the signs of the zodiac. Steaming beakers filled the high-domed room with aromatic gases and in the midst of these swirling vapors Humai appeared as a fat, smiling gnome.
He regarded them with a cheerful, benign smile.
“What an honor,” he said, rubbing his pink hands together. He bowed to Sharon. “I trust you are well and happy?”
Drake realized that Humai probably didn’t know of recent developments between Sharon and the Caliph. He still thought of her as the Caliph’s favorite. That one fact might save them all.
“We’re quite well,” Drake answered. “We are here at the orders of the Caliph. He wishes that Sharon be sent back to her own time.”
Humai peered at them, blinking good-naturedly.
“Is our Caliph so tired already of his little story teller?” he inquired mildly.
“His reasons are his own,” Drake said, “and none of our business. But speed is important.”
“Of course,” Humai murmured. “But we must wait until I talk to the Caliph. There are several things I must ascertain before I can send his story teller back to her own time.” He smiled gently. “How do I know the Caliph wishes her to leave?”
“You have our word on that,” Drake said.
“That, I am sorry, is not sufficient,” Humai said.
“Why do we waste words with the fat fool?” Ali Baba said disgustedly. “Treat rogues like rogues and saints like saints has always been my credo.”
He grabbed Humai by the front of his cloak and jerked him forward. A knife appeared magically in his other hand and its gleaming point grazed the wizard’s pink neck.
“Do you need more persuasion?” he growled.
Humai’s fat face was the color of chalk. His loose lips sagged foolishly and his eyes were wide with terror.
“Please,” he gasped weakly, “take the knife away. I will do as you wish.”
“That’s better,” Ali Baba said.
“I can’t send all of you,” Humai said, breathing a little more easily. “I can send you at the same time, but you will arrive a year apart in the future. My device is graded only at yearly intervals.”