Adventure Magazine Cover — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

50 ‘sword from him, passed through this grat- ‘ing. Give him that word.” : Lali, rising, half turned her head toward the embrasure. Then, without response, -she walked slowly to the feasters, adjusting her veil as she did so. The master of the ‘palace gave command for a silver-sewn ‘robe of honor to be brought her, and, -receiving it, she bowed her dark head to the carpet. The officers of the janizaries and the dignitaries of the city lifted their hands and voiced courteous praise, for the grace ‘of the girl could not be veiled. “Hair blacker than the storm wind!’ “Eyes like a_ gazelle, softer rls 1 “Nay, she walks like the wind of dawn among the flowers!” The host, sitting back in shadow himself, motioned Lali toward his slaves and leaned forward to present a costly gift to Demid, a simitar of blue steel, chased with gold. Michael groaned under his breath, for Lali had not ventured near Demid and -he remembered that now the singing girl had been given to Sidi Ahmad, and it would be mortal offence for Demid to exchange a word with her. Then a voice from near at hand spoke laughingly— “‘O watcher of the feast, is there no ease for thy hunger?” Michael looked down into the gloom of the torture chamber and slid to the floor. The speaker seemed to be within the wall. “Tell Sidi Ahmad what he seeks of you, and go unharmed from Aleppo on the morrow.” ‘“‘Who are you?” ‘fA prisoner like yourself, until my time comes. Aye, I have fled from daggers that would pierce these walls.” Now was Michael aware of the truth that an elusive memory had been whispering to him. He knew the man who spoke from the wall. “You are Captain Balaban, the Levan- ‘tine!”’ he cried. A pause, broken by a low, amused laugh— “‘Nay, unbeliever, I am Sidi ibn Ahmad.”’ than =———) GRIM was the palace of the Wolf’s Ear, and dark the passageways be- neath. Michael, hearkening to the lisp of lutes in the garden overhead, strained his eyes to make out the man who spoke to him, yet beheld only a black square where feast over our heads. Adventure a secret door had opened away from the torture chamber. In this opening stood Captain Balaban, erstwhile captive of the Cossacks, and the gloom of the dungeon was not more forbidding than the whisper- ing glee of his high-pitched voice. Michael bethought him of several things: the talk of the Moslems in the caravan- serai—that Sidi Ahmad had been on a journey from the Wolf’s Ear. And the warning of Ibnol Hammamgi that the pasha kept his face hidden when he was in Aleppo. Also, he remembered the high honor accorded the Levantine when the man escaped to the Moslems of the corsair. How better could Sidi Ahmad protect himself from assassins than by taking an- other name, and allowing one of his officers to pose as pasha during his absence? “QO dog of an unbeliever,’’ went on the amused voice, ‘‘do you doubt my word? Would you see the signet ring of a pasha that I kept on a cord about my neck when I ventured among the Cossacks who guard the Christian frontier, to learn their strength? Or shall I summon my wazir who sits now on the carpet of honor in my stead—he who questioned vou at my bidding?”’ : He clapped his hands and somewhere be- hind him a door opened, letting in a glow of candles. Michael saw that-a section of the stone wall had been swung back upon its sockets, revealing a stair leading down past the dungeon. Ona landing of this stair stood Balaban, robed in an Arab’s cloak. ‘‘Aye,” the Moslem said, “I bought you -of the thief in the sak and cheated him out of his profit—for you may be worth more than the price [ paid. Verily, my word, a while ago, sentenced you to the stake—if you are fool enough to turn from my service.”’ He lifted a hand significantly. ‘““My word can save you from the stake. Consider this,O Nazarene: my star is rising in Asia, and men flock to me. Soon the green standard will be carried from Bagdad to Moscow, and I shall ride before the standard bearer. Eyes serve me in hidden places and lips whisper in the Wolf’s Ear; but my eyes have shown me the weakness of your peoples, who flee from the sea be- fore the corsairs.”’ ‘“‘Can your eyes find Demid and the hand of Cossacks?” “Yes, by Allah! Demid sits at the Alone, on the frontier oO COMGHOO Sj CO