Gateway to Elsewhere

“Yes, Majesty!” said Abdul. “And you will return—?”

“I sleep in Barkut,” said Tony firmly. “There are some negotiations to be made. I’m quite safe. Hm… have you talked to Nasim about your marriage?”

“Yes, Majesty.” Here Abdul wore the expression of a cat completely filled with cream and canaries. “We are quite agreed. Er… Majesty, you are not offended that I wore a costume and form resembling yours for—ah— courtship?”

“As long as you wear that form strictly in private,” said Tony. “For the admiration of nobody but Nasim, and as long as you keep Nasim from bothering me, it’s all right. Why don’t you get married tonight?”

“To hear is to obey, Majesty!”

“You can use the palace I won’t be sleeping in, for a honeymoon cottage,” said Tony enthusiastically. “If you like, I’ll bring the Queen and her court out for the wedding!”

“Your Majesty is too good!” protested Abdul ecstatically.

“Then it’s settled—” Tony paused apprehensively. “You’ll see that Nasim wears clothes while she’s in human form?”

“Yes, Majesty,” Abdul beamed. “May I ask about your Majesty’s plans for this evening?”

“There’s a banquet,” said Tony, frowning, “and your wedding. And—the negotiations. If the negotiations are successful, I shall be engaged to be married and my plans are none of your business.”

“It is unthinkable,” Abdul assured him, “that your Majesty’s desires should be opposed by any creature under the sky! But in such an impossible event—”

“Music—” said Tony glumly. “And in that case my plans are even less of your business! But remember, Barkut is off-limits for djinns!”

Abdul bowed to the ground.

* * *

Tony went back into the city. It was very pleasant to have all the people smile at him joyously. It was not too uncomfortable to have the men bow to him, at once respectfully and with the joy of human beings who feel a share in the feat of another human who has become King of the Djinns. It wasn’t bad having large, lustrous eyes look warmly at him over traditional Moslem women’s veils. And there was a melancholy satisfaction in going back to his old quarters in the palace—though he had occupied them only one night—to find Esir and Esim waiting for him in the most incredible excitement. They kissed him soundly.

“Indeed, lord—Your Majesty,” said Esir, laughing, “you cannot protest, because by custom any slave may kiss her master when he performs a feat so that she gives thanks to Allah that she belongs to him and no other! King of the Djinns, no less! Tell me, are the djinnees beautiful?”

“Do you think you will prefer them to us?” asked Esim anxiously. “Indeed, lord—Your Majesty, we heard the news but an hour since, and we are fearful that you will not wish to keep us!”

Tony looked at them with a gloomy satisfaction.

“Things could be worse,” he said. “For a little while I cannot tell you my plans, but whatever they turn out to be, I will bear you in mind. Oh, definitely I will bear you in mind! Nil desperandum will be my motto.”

A tentative knock came at the door. They untangled themselves reluctantly from his embrace. It was a male slave.

“Majesty, the Queen of Barkut begs your attendance in the throne room.”

“Coming up,” said Tony with a sigh. To the two girls he said in comforting dejection, “I’m afraid I’ll be right back.”

He followed the slave to the great throne room he had seen once before, with the decrepit Council of Regency in session. The black marble floor was the same, and the brass zodiacal signs sunk into it. It occurred to Tony that life would be wearing in a house of which all interior and exterior features were subject to change without notice. There would be other disadvantages, too.

The great throne was occupied, now. The Queen sat on it. Soldiers in baggy trousers, wearing slippers and carrying flintlock guns, regarded Tony with the affection of men who have expected to fight a losing battle against the djinns, and now find that they can stay comfortably at home with their families. The courtiers of Barkut regarded him with no less approval. The Queen sat composed and non-committal on her throne.

“Majesty,” said the Queen sedately, as Tony came to a stop before her, “we wish to offer you the thanks of the humans of Barkut for our liberation, and for the liberation of the nation from the fear of the djinns. We wish to express our admiration and our affection. We wish to ask if there is anything which it is in our power to do, which will add to your satisfaction or happiness.”

Tony looked uneasily around. He did not see Ghail.

“I told you today, in the letter,” he said awkwardly, “that if by any means I could secure the freedom of the slave girl Ghail, that I would wish to do that. If you will make her no longer a slave—”

The Queen nodded toward a side door. It opened. Two male slaves escorted Ghail to the dais before the throne. She was very pale. The Queen addressed her gently:

“His Majesty the King of the Djinns has asked your freedom as the price of his aid to us. He desires also to marry you.”

Ghail’s lips moved a little, but she did not look at Tony.

“Majesty,” said the Queen, to him, “we can refuse you nothing. I make the slave girl Ghail free on one condition. If she does not marry you, she becomes again a slave. You would not impose that condition, but we can do no less!”

“But dammit—” began Tony indignantly.

“I—I can have no choice,” said Ghail almost inaudibly. “I—I will marry him.”

But she looked bitterly resigned. Tony bent over to her. She turned her face away. He whispered urgently:

“Damn it! Go through with it! I’ll divorce you before we leave this hall. As I understand it, all that’s necessary is for me to say ‘I divorce you’ three times and the trick’s done!”

She jerked her head about to look at him, her eyes wide. Then she flushed.

“Your hands?” said the Queen briskly. “The cadi is here. He will marry you now. At once. Immediately.”

A venerable figure pushed his way forward. The ceremony began. Ghail was very quiet, but her voice was firm. The formula was strange to Tony, and he did not know when it was finished.

But suddenly it was—and the Queen was laughing delightedly!

“Now, then! Majesty, the people of Barkut have been told only since my return that I am not their real queen! When I was kidnapped by the King of the Djinns he believed me the queen, and Ghail yonder was but a child. I am actually Ghail’s aunt, and it seemed best to pose as the ruler of Barkut lest I be strangled and Ghail herself kidnapped and subjected to the djinn king’s demands. A child might have been frightened into obedience. I—was otherwise.

“And so, while I posed as a captive Queen, Ghail remained among her people in disguise, learning the duties of queenship and also coming to know her people as few rulers do. The Council of Regency took its commands from her. And now that the King of the Djinns is also our friend and moreover a human being, it is right and fitting and proper that she return to her throne. And the kingdom of the djinns and the human kingdom of Barkut is now one nation, and there is now no reason for battle or anything but peace and joy.”

Cannon began to boom outside. There was uproar. The audience hall itself filled with noise. And as Tony stood utterly stupefied, the erstwhile Queen stood up and beckoned to Ghail. And Ghail held Tony’s hand fast and pulled him after her as she mounted to her throne. She pulled him firmly down beside her on it. It was a close fit, though not quite as close as the fit in the camel cabin, and it felt very pleasant.

The noise still continued. Presently Tony, still dazed, whispered into Ghail’s ear:

“But—you didn’t have to do it this way! If you were willing to marry me, why didn’t you just tell me so?”

Ghail smiled composedly down at the cheering people in the throne room. She said fiercely under her