Heraj opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.
He had the grandfather of all headaches. He attempted to recall the
spell against headaches, but it eluded him. He tried several others,
but none of them would come out right. Evidently the blow at the base
of his skull had somewhat addled his memory. He closed his eyes and
resignedly waited for the thumping ache to pass.
He heard shouts of fear in other rooms, and then after a minute or two
Pepi's voice nearby said plaintively, "Don't you think you might remove
that blade now?"
Pepi was Heraj's favorite brother. He seemed to be in trouble. Heraj
made a valiant effort and rolled his head, ache and all, to one side,
opening his eyes as he did so. He saw the soles of Mufaddal's cheap
shoes, in the left one of which was a large hole with the dirty foot
showing through; disgustedly he swiveled his gaze and saw Habu, than
whom he had never seen anyone deader.
He lifted his gaze and saw El Sareuk standing beside Pepi, one
arm about the sorcerer's shoulders holding him steady, the other
presenting a scimitar to the poor fellow's throat.
Heraj worked through the spell of immobility in his mind. He felt he
had this one right. He flung it at El Sareuk.
El Sareuk did not move a muscle.
Heraj, uncertain that he had accomplished his purpose, glanced about
at the half dozen Crusaders and Bedouins who were in the room. He gave
them each a repetition of the spell. He enchanted Ramizail, who was
eating dates. Then he cautiously rose to his knees.
No one moved, not even Pepi.
"All right, boy," said Heraj, standing. "They're stuck."
"So am I," groaned Pepi.
His sound of sorrow was echoed by Mufaddal, who sat up and felt his jaw
tenderly. "Allah smite everybody," said Mufaddal. "Everybody!"
"Move, Pepi," said Heraj encouragingly. "He's immobilized."
"So am I, you lunkhead. Can't you see his arm and sword encircle my
neck?"
"Oh," said Heraj. "Hum. Well. Can't you force back one of his arms?"
"They're like stone. Ouch!" The edge of the scimitar had cut him a
little. "I tell you I don't dare move!"
"Neither can I," said Heraj, holding his head. "My stars and
thaumaturgy, what a knock I took! Which wall fell on me?"
"The gorilla fell on you," said Mufaddal spitefully, "and if you think
I'll turn a finger to aid either of you two fumble-handed fat-brained
cretins, you're badly mistaken. My jaw feels like a boil about to
burst."
Heraj took a step and winced. "I can't do it, damn the pain, I can't
move for a minute."
"I'm off balance," shrilled Pepi. "I can't stand here forever."
"Look," moaned Heraj, really wanting to help him but unable to bear
the skull-cracking ache, "I'll take the spell off him for a tenth of a
second. You get ready to push with all your might on that arm. It'll
give you enough leeway. Ready?"
"I'm pushing," said Pepi.
"Here goes, then."
El Sareuk had heard all this as he stood motionless with his sword at
the wizard's throat. He chuckled deep in his vitals, even though he
could not move so much as an eyelash. A whole tenth of a second, eh?
Pepi was pushing with insane strength at the arm. Heraj took off the
spell and immediately put it back on. There was a swish, a grating
sound, and a dull squashing thunk.
Pepi, a bumbler to the last, had pushed on the wrong arm. Indeed, he
had pressed so hard that El Sareuk in his new immobility now held it
straight before him. But the scimitar had been gripped in the capable
fist of the other arm. Pepi's head lay on the floor, an expression of
astonishment on its homely and now blood-bedabbled features.
Heraj raised a howl of anguish. He did not know that at the instant
Pepi died, the flying carpet with Godwin aboard it, no longer supported
by Pepi's incantation, had fallen into the sea almost on top of the
man-eating shark.