Matt looked down at the incense, mind racing, realizing that the priest could be right. He sniffed the incense and recoiled—the smoke might be sweet, but the resin itself was sharp and pungent. Nonetheless, he said, “Thank you, reverend.”
“I do it gladly. Resume your journey, then, and take the blessing of a priest with you.” The priest recited a short verse in a Latin dialect, then said, “Go with God!”
Matt bowed his head and turned away again.
He strode out of the temple and back to his companions. “Sudden change in plans,” he told them. “We still head due north, but we’re not trying to find Kharakhorum anymore.”
“Then where do we fly?” asked Marudin as he and Lakshmi both came to their feet.
“Prester John’s capital city,” Matt said. “He’s supposed to have an unbeatable army. He could be a big help against Arjasp.”
“Directly north, where Arjasp‘s headquarters lie?” Lakshmi stared. “How can he have escaped war with the horde?”
“And if he has fought, what if he has been conquered?” Marudin asked.
“Then Arjasp will have taken over John’s city,” Matt said, “and it will be the natural place for him to have hidden the kids! Let’s go!”
It wasn’t hard to tell when they came to Prester John’s kingdom. They flew over a mountain range that Matt was sure had never existed in his own world, especially since it was right-angled, the two arms running almost exactly north and east. The eastward arm dropped very quickly into foothills, then sank to a plateau bordered by a glittering river that descended from the mountains. Flying low, they were shocked to see that the river was made of stones, millions of boulders of all sizes, rolling onward as a current. On the southern side of that river was desert; but the northern side was lush with plant life, cut into a patchwork of green and golden crops interspersed with groves of trees. Through them all ran many streams, both marking the boundaries of fields and watering them. In the distance gleamed spires of ivory and gold—but as they crossed the peaks of the mountain range, Balkis’ ring blazed.
“Look!” she cried. “It glows!”
“Glows? It’s nearly blinding!” Matt shielded his eyes and called out, “We’re a little conspicuous, Princess! Maybe we ought to land and pretend to be ordinary travelers again.”
“The caution is wise, but I crave speed!” Nonetheless, Lakshmi began her descent. “Does that ring speak of djinn who guard our enemy, or of my children?”
“Either way,” Matt said, “I think we’ll be better able to deal with them on the ground.” He remembered the last nosedive brought on by the attack of the border-guarding afrit, and shuddered.
By the time they landed, Lakshmi and Marudin were back to normal human size. Lakshmi set them down, and Balkis, in human form, drew her gauzy veil about her and shivered. “I had not thought ‘twould be so cold!”
“We have come to the North, child. Even of a summer’s evening, it will be chill.” Lakshmi slipped off her yellow robe and wrapped it about Balkis’ shoulders. “Take this, and be warm.”
“I thank you.” Balkis looked up in surprise. “But what of you?”
“Djinn do not feel the cold.” Lakshmi smiled. “We are creatures of the warm South, and bear its heat with us. How else do you think I could race through the chill winds of the upper air with only this skimpy vest for a garment?”
“I had not thought,” Balkis admitted, and hugged the coat more closely around her. “I thank you for your kindness.”
With a pang of guilt, Matt realized he hadn’t considered the problem, either. The warmth of Lakshmi’s bosom had protected him from the chill of high altitude so well that he’d forgotten the air was supposed to be cold up there.
“Well, let us find a road.” Lakshmi and Marudin stepped off with the certainty of those who remembered the terrain from an aerial view. They had landed in a grove by a stream, and she followed the water as the easiest way of moving under the trees.
Matt followed, then looked back to see Balkis moving very slowly, looking about her, dazed. He went back for her, concerned. “What’s the matter?”
“It all seems so … familiar,” Balkis said, her voice dreamy, “as though I had been here before, moved by this very stream under these very trees.”
“Déjà vu,” Matt explained. “It’s a trick your brain plays, bouncing back your sensory impressions a split second after they’ve come in. Sure, you’ve been here before—about half a second ago.”
“Is it truly that?” Balkis wondered, but she let him lead her at a faster pace.
They caught up with Lakshmi and Marudin. Together they walked through the woods, exclaiming over the beauty of the flowers on the bushes set against emerald leaves. They inhaled exotic perfumes and listened, charmed, to the music of the brook—but Balkis moved like an automaton, directed by Matt’s grasp, looking about her with a gaze vacant and entranced. The azure sky seemed to burst upon them as they came out of the grove and stepped onto the road with a golden field to their left and trees heavy with fruit to their right. As Matt turned to ask Lakshmi how far she thought the city would be, barbarians burst from the trees.
They were ugly little men with long, pointed moustaches, bald heads ridged with scar tissue, and shaggy ponies under their bowed legs—but they also held sharp swords and screamed like demons as they charged down upon the party.
A sword cleaved into Marudin’s left arm, but he caught its owner’s wrist with his right hand and yanked the man out of his saddle, then tossed him under the hooves of the next rider’s mount. Another slashed at Lakshmi, slicing deep into her turban; she rid herself of it with a toss of her head and grew amazingly, catching the little man around the neck as his horse charged by.
Matt shouted in alarm and leaped in front of Balkis, who blinked, waking from her trance, but another barbarian dashed behind her, slashing at her, the yellow coat tangling about his sword. Balkis came fully awake with a shout like a spitting cat and turned to meet the man with fingernails hooked like claws as he turned his horse to ride back—but Lakshmi picked up one of his companions and hurled both horse and rider. The two men fell in a shouting tangle, too mixed up with their horses to see who had landed on top and who on bottom.
A warrior charged at Matt, howling, curved sword slashing down. Matt sidestepped, reaching for his sword. His hand closed on the wand instead, and the barbarian swerved to track him. In despair, Matt swung up the only weapon he had.
The sword struck it and sparks fountained. The rider shouted in pain and slumped forward onto his horse’s neck, unconscious and smoking—but the hilt of the sword struck Matt, sending him spinning. So secure was the rider‘s seat that the horse galloped a dozen yards before the rider fell.
Matt scrambled to his feet, hand pressed to his aching side, looking about the field frantically—but all he saw was a dirt road running between a field and some trees, with half a dozen Mongols lying on it, unconscious or dead. Several of the horses were, too; the others were still running.
Marudin pressed a hand to his left shoulder, chanting a charm, and when he took his hand away, the flesh was so smooth Matt would never have known he’d been wounded. Lakshmi stood over the fallen men, fuming and cursing in Arabic. Matt hurried to Balkis. “Are you all right?”
“I—I seem to be.” She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude.
For what? He hadn’t protected her. But she was trembling, and he gathered her in, pressing her head into his shoulder and letting the storm of tears break.
As it slackened, he looked up and saw Lakshmi watching him closely, frowning. Well, she could watch all she wanted—he was only comforting a child. Still, he winked at her and nodded. The djinna returned the nod and stepped up to take Balkis from him with an arm around the shoulders, saying, “There now, it has passed, and no worse than toms fighting over a puss! Poor lass, your new yellow coat cut short and ragged. There, there, it is over, and nothing more to fear.”