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Updated: May 21, 2025
Then the Khalif went up to the door of the pavilion and knocked softly, whereupon said Noureddin, 'O Gaffer Ibrahim, some one knocks at the door. 'Who is at the door? cried the old man; and the Khalif replied, 'It is I, O Gaffer Ibrahim! 'Who art thou? asked the gardener. 'I, Kerim the fisherman, rejoined the Khalif.
The left side of his face felt pushed out of shape; his left eye wasn't functioning too well, and there was a severe pulsing ache throughout the top of his head. But Gefty felt happy. There were a few qualifying considerations. "Of course," he pointed out to Kerim, "all we can really say immediately is that we're back in normspace and somewhere in the galaxy." She smiled shakily.
As for Dahir, he was tethered to one of the tent-pegs, for Kerim never used him as a charger, for fear some harm might befall him, or he might be killed. One of the slaves who had been left in the encampment, and had been among the first to see the approach of the Absians, went up to Dahir for the purpose of breaking the line by which he was hobbled.
The caliph opened the door, and stepping a little way into the hall to shew himself, "Scheich Ibrahim," said he, "I am the fisherman Kerim, who being informed of your design to treat some of your friends, have brought you two very fine fishes, fresh caught, to ask if you have any occasion for them." Noor ad Deen and the fair Persian were pleased to hear him name fish.
"Allah kerim!" cried the astonished Arab. "God is merciful! This is a sword for a sultan. See, it is as straight as when it was made. No chief in the army of Saladin has a better blade." "True, O son of Sheik Ibyn. The blade is perfect. But the hilt is not. Seest thou not that it is made like the cross of the infidel, the unbeliever? Good luck will not follow thee, wielding that sign."
"God is great," said Dicky to him: "I have no hurt, Mahommed." "It is the will of God. Extolled be Him who created thee!" answered the dervish, all suspicion gone, and admiration in his eyes, as Dicky cried his Allah Kerim "God is bountiful!" A kavass touched Dicky on the arm. "His Highness would speak with you," he said.
If that didn't release them immediately from its influence, he would see what putting the Queen's drives into action would do. "Gefty?" Kerim's voice asked. "Uh-huh?" He could hear her swallow over the intercom. "Those lights are back now." "How many?" "Two," Kerim said. "I think they're only two. They keep crossing back and forth in front of us." She laughed nervously.
Some minutes later Gefty was trying to decide whether it was taking a worse risk to believe what Maulbow said than to keep things stalled on the chance that he was lying. Kerim Ruse, perched stiffly erect on the edge of a chair, eyes big and round, face almost colorless, apparently believed Maulbow and was wishing she didn't.
But it wouldn't take long to find out. He backed up to the wall, pushed the door open and looked inside. Kerim was there, sitting on a chair in one corner of the tiny room. The reason she hadn't made any noise became clear. She and the chair were covered by a rather closely fitting sack of transparent, glistening fabric. She stared out through it despairingly at Gefty, her lips moving urgently.
Fifteen minutes later, Gefty Rammer was climbing down to the storage deck in the Queen's broad stern, the newly fashioned set of vault keys clanking heavily in his coat pocket. Kerim had remained with her employer who was getting back his color but still hadn't opened his eyes. She hadn't found the original keys.
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