They stood together in Mufaddal's private chamber. The spell of
immobility had been transferred to the dark-faced Mufaddal and his
chief sorcerer, while Ramizail and El Sareuk with their allies the
Bedouins and captured Crusaders were free to move where they chose.
They clustered now about the ten-foot djinni.
"What of my eight men at the prison and barracks?" asked Godwin.
Mihrjan said, "Slain, O King, cut down by surprise without a chance to
defend themselves."
"Damn. And my falcon, Yellow-eyes?"
"She perches on a roof-top in the heart of Alexandria, watching
anxiously for a sight of thee."
"Bring her here, please."
The old bird, looking rather wind-blown and surprised, appeared on
Godwin's mailed shoulder. She thrust her notched beak into his ear
affectionately, and he said with fervor, "Ah, _thou_!"
"And now, O Master of My Being, shall I vanquish the foemen without
the house by a whirlwind from the plains of Hell, or lightning from
the clouds? Shall I bubble their eyes from their heads with gouts of
searing flame?" asked the djinni fiercely.
"No, man, no! We'll beat 'em in fair fight. Only keep this Heraj's
magic cancelled out, send him and Mufaddal out there now, and give me
a hundred more allies."
"That will still be two to one against thee," said Mihrjan, as the pair
of plotters vanished.
"Naturally. More fun. And don't bring me a hundred of the djinn,
either, but a hundred desert fighters or good tough Frankish champions.
And see my other lads are weaponed properly."
"They await your orders in the forepart of the house," said Mihrjan
resignedly.
"Then I'm off. El Sareuk, ready? Mihrjan, keep that fire-eating woman
of mine out of the thick of things, will you? Come on, boys, up and at
'em!" He charged out toward the front door.
Mihrjan said to Ramizail, understanding her nature as well as she did
herself, "Wouldst watch the battle, little one?"
"Oh, yes, Mihrjan, yes!"
"Then come." He gathered her in his monstrous, tender arms, and flying
upward, caused their atoms to pass between those of the clay and
timber, so that in a wink they were high above the earth, and hovered
there comfortably, peering down on the tiny figures of Mufaddal's
soldiers deploying around the house. Two standing by themselves and
pointing this way and that with shouts unintelligible at this height,
were the black-visaged Mufaddal himself, and his one-time potent
sorcerer Heraj.
From the door issued a running warrior, who at once engaged six men
in dazzling swordplay; behind him came others, many others, until a
hundred and fifty-five men had emerged. Hand-to-hand combats were
joined all over the grounds. Ramizail cried out with delight.
* * * * *
It was like observing two bands of toy soldiers endowed with the
power to move and fight and maneuver. Both the girl and the djinni
were enthralled. Godwin's force fanned out, coalesced, drove through
Mufaddal's ranks and turned and came back and drove again, till the
enemy broke and fled in hapless confusion. The Crusaders and Bedouins
pursued them, hacking them down from behind, forcing them to stand
and die in little knots. Two who fled toward the dock, casting away
their weapons, Mihrjan pointed out as Mufaddal and Heraj. After them
bounded a great figure in white, sky-blue, and gold, flourishing a long
sword above its head. "Godwin!" said Ramizail, biting her nails with
excitement. "Oh, Mihrjan, go lower! I want to see!"
The djinni sank until their feet were no more than ten yards from the
wharf. There they drifted along above the pursued pair.
Mufaddal panted out, "Only chance! Under the dock!"
Heraj gasped, "We might stand and fight him," with no conviction in his
voice at all.
"Ha," said Mufaddal, and with one desperate leap plunged off the wharf
into the sea. Heraj was one step behind him. Godwin came to the edge
and halted, baffled. Their heads did not show above the water.
"Mihrjan," whispered Ramizail, "they'll escape!"
"Observe," said the djinni equably. He gestured with a finger, and
a section of the dock became transparent to her gaze. Beneath it,
Heraj and his master were clambering up, dripping, onto a shelf of
boards some twelve feet from the outer edge of the wharf. Godwin still
scratched his head in bafflement. Obviously he could not see through
the pier as she could.
The two conspirators crouched there, watching the sea apprehensively.
"Now look," said Mihrjan. Ramizail, staring intent, saw a gray snout
poke up into view behind them, followed by a multitude more. "Rats!"
she breathed.
"Aye, rats. All those who live beneath the wharf, mistress, called here
by the scent of their dinner."
It was as though the lead rat had given a signal. In a trice the
legions of furred ghastly beings had poured over the two squatting men.
Screams of pain and horror came up through the boards of the upper
dock. Heraj straightened as though to stand, cracked his head on the
wharf, and sank down, half-conscious, into the midst of the swarming
rodents. He gurgled and flung his arms in the air as their small sharp
unclean teeth found his throat, his belly, his eyes.
Mufaddal flung himself into the water. His _gallabiyah_ snagged on a
projection, and held him fast, thrashing and squalling, only his head
above water. For a wonder, the cheap cloth did not give way. The rats
leaped down onto his head, slipping into the water, swimming back to
tear at his face, perching on his bare head and clawing insanely at his
scalp. And so, held helpless by the clutch of chance, Mufaddal died as
hideous a death as anyone might have wished him.
* * * * *
El Sareuk came up to Godwin. "What were those fearful sounds just now,
companion?" he asked, wiping the sweat of honest battle from his lean
bearded face.
"Mufaddal and Heraj, I take it, though how and where they died I can't
tell."
Mihrjan settled to earth with Ramizail in his arms. "Lords," he boomed,
setting the girl on her feet, "they perished in a niche beneath the
wharf, as they should have perished, shut from the light of day, with
the teeth of their own evil minions fastened in their gullets. Now is
the stain they put upon Islam cleansed with a vengeance."
"By gad," said Godwin, as Yellow-eyes fluttered down to perch on his
shoulder, "then it's finished, and as neat a case of poetic justice
as ever came my way." He looked about him. Mihrjan had on his own
initiative sent the Bedouins and Crusaders back to their own places.
Only corpses met his eye. "To horse, friends!" he bellowed gleefully.
"This battle's done, and there are a power and lashing of wrongs left
in the world to be righted!"
"Oh, heavens," groaned Ramizail. "Don't you even want to rest a week or
two, swashbuckler?"
"Rest is for the dead and the aged, witch-wench."
El Sareuk nodded fiercely. "The work for willing swords is never done,
lass."
Ramizail rolled up her beautiful eyes and shrugged, a slight smile of
resignation on her full lips. Mihrjan pointed out their horses, saddled
and champing at a little distance. "O Lord of My Life, I know a wrong
in Egypt that needs four, or it might be eight, strong hands," said he.
"We are in Egypt, by coincidence," said Ramizail.
"This Egypt lies three thousand years in the past," said Mihrjan.
"Can you transport us back?" asked Godwin eagerly.
"Assuredly, Sire."
"Well then, let's go!" he roared. He put an arm over the shoulder of
El Sareuk and another about the slim waist of Ramizail, and ran them
toward the horses. And Mihrjan's great laugh of fierce pleasure boomed
thunderously through the desert air....