He gestured at his glasses and decanter, which supplied him with a shot of Scotch, and sipped judiciously. The Caliphate sect was also heretical with respect to strong drink; they maintained that while the Prophet forbade wine, he said nothing about beer, gin, whisky, brandy, rum, or akvavit.
"We shall have to use stronger measures," the emir said at last. "I was hoping to avoid them." He nodded at his guards.
Two held my arms. The pasha worked me over. He was good at that. The werefennec watched avidly, the emir puffed his cigar and went on with his paperwork. After a long few minutes, he gave an order. They let me go, and even set forth a chair for me, which I needed badly.
I sat breathing hard. The emir regarded me with a certain gentleness. "I regret this," he said. "It is not enjoyable." Oddly, I believed him. "Let us hope you will be reasonable before we have to inflict permanent injuries. Meanwhile, would you like a cigar?
The old third degree procedure. Knock a man around for a while, then show him kindness. You'd be surprised how often that makes him blubber and break.
"We desire information about your troops and their plans," said the emir. "If you will cooperate and accept the true faith, you can have an honored position with us. We like good men in the Caliphate." He smiled. "After the war, you could select your harem out of Hollywood if you desired."
"And if I don't squeal‑" I murmured.
He spread his hands. "You will have no further wish for a harem. The choice is yours."
"Let me think," I begged. "This isn't easy."
"Please do," he answered urbanely, and returned to his papers.
I sat as relaxed as possible, drawing my throat arid letting strength flow back. The Army geas could be broken by their technicians only if I , gave my free consent, and I didn't want to. I considered the window behind the emir. It was a two‑story drop to the street. Most likely, I'd just get myself killed. But that was preferable to any other offer I'd had.
I went over the spells I'd haywired. A real technician has to know at least one arcane language—Latin; Greek, classical Arabic, Sanskrit, Old Norse, or the like—for the standard reasons of sympathetic science. Paranatural phenomena are not strongly influenced by ordinary speech. But except for the usual tag‑ends of incantations, the minimum to operate the gadgets of daily life, I was no scholar.
However, I knew one slightly esoteric dialect quite well. I didn't know if it would work, but I could try.
My muscles tautened as I moved. It was a shudder some effort to be casual. I knocked the end of ash on my cigar. As I lifted the thing again, it collected some ash from the emir's.
I got the rhyme straight in my mind, put the cigarette to my lips, and subvocalized the spell.
"Ashes‑way of the urningbay,
upward‑way ownay eturningray,
as‑way the arksspay do yflay,
ikestray imhay in the aye‑way!"
I closed my right eye and brought the glowing cigar end almost against the lid.
The emir's El Fumo leaped up and ground itself into his right eye.
He screamed and fell backward. I soared to my feet. I'd marked the werefennec, and one stride brought me over to him. I broke his vile little neck with a backhanded cuff and yanked off the flash that hung from it.
The guards howled and plunged for me. I went over the table and down on top of the emir, snatching his decanter en route. He clawed at me, wild with pain, I saw the ghastliness in his eye socket, and meanwhile I was hanging on to the vessel and shouting:
"Ingthay of ystalcray
ebay a istralmay!
As‑way 1‑way owthray,
yflay ouyay osay!"
As I finished, I broke free and hurled the decanter at the guards. It was lousy poetics, and might not have worked if the fat man hadn't already sensitized his stuff: As if was, the ball, the ashtray, the bowl, the glasses, the humidor, and the windowpanes all took off after the decanter. The air was full of flying glass.
I didn't stay to watch the results, but went out that window like an exorcised devil. I landed in a ball on the sidewalk, bounced up, and began running.
VISOLDIERS WERE AROUND. Bullets sleeted after me. I set a record reaching the nearest alley. My witch‑sigh showed me a broken window, and I wriggled through that. Crouching beneath the sill, I heard the pursuit go by.
This was the back room of a looted grocery store plenty dark for my purposes. I hung the flash around my neck, turned it on myself, and made the change over. They'd return in a minute, and I didn't want to be vulnerable to lead.
Wolf, I snuffled around after another exit. A rear door stood half open. I slipped through into a tour yard full of ancient packing cases. They made a good hideout. I lay there, striving to control my lupine nature, which wanted to pant, while they swarmed through the area.
When they were gone again, I tried to considered my situation. The temptation was to hightail out of this poor, damned place. I could probably make it ad technically fulfilled my share of the mission". )~ the job wasn't really complete, and Virginia was alone with the afreet—if she still lived—and—
When I tried to recall her, the image came as a she‑wolf and a furry aroma. I shook my head angrily. Weariness and desperation were submerging my reason and letting the animal instincts take over. I'd better do whatever had to be done fast.