Gateway to Elsewhere

by Murray Leinster

  “Majesty!” Abdul waved his hands. He had changed his costume, now, and appeared in garments which were exclusively seed pearls with ruby and emerald buttons. His turban emitted a slight and graceful plume of smoke, which looked incendiary but—he had explained—was quite safe under all ordinary conditions. “Majesty, it is simple! You, a human, defeated Es-Souk in single combat, hand-to-hand. This was in the night in Barkut. Such a thing has never before happened in the history of the djinn. Today you fought a duel with Es-Souk and detonated him so that no other of the djinn folk was even harmed. Only the King of the Djinns has even been able to destroy a djinn. It has been a thousand years since even our kings have had to resort to this measure, and on the last three occasions—going back more than two thousand years—in each case numerous other djinns died in the holocaust of the execution. And before my own eyes and many others you caused the former king and his councilors to flee and a part of his palace to dissolve. You are, therefore, more powerful than any djinn, you are more merciful than any king of the djinn in the past, and you are victor in a personal contest with the king we had this morning. Therefore you are the king!”

  “The logic is elaborate,” said Tony suspiciously, “but it isn’t airtight.”

  “Majesty,” repeated Abdul firmly, “you can destroy any of us, or you can spare any of us. Therefore we obey you. And therefore you are the king. It cannot be helped.”

  The Queen of Barkut looked at him, smiling.

  “Obviously,” she said brightly. “Abdul is quite right. And you can end my captivity if you wish. What rewards we poor humans of Barkut can offer you—”

  Tony looked sharply at Ghail. She flushed hotly.

  “All right,” said Tony. “So I’m the king. Do we have a civil war, or is my authority unanimously accepted?”

  “It is almost unanimous, Majesty,” said Abdul, beaming. “It may be necessary to detonate the former king. That, however, is not yet certain. He has fled with a few of his councilors. They feel that you have a prejudice against them—”

  “Intelligent of them,” grunted Tony. “Very well, then! The first thing is to get Ghail and the Queen back to Barkut. Then we’ll start fresh from there. Do you want to arrange matters?”

  “For what else,” asked Abdul blandly, “did your Majesty make me your grand vizier?”

  He bowed to the ground and vanished. The parade formed almost immediately after. It set out across the desert with the celerity of djinn traffic. The elephant litter maintained a forty-mile speed principally because the elephants were nearly five stories tall. Whirlwinds went on before, spreading out as scouts on all sides, and overhead some dozens of rocs cruised at different altitudes for an air umbrella against possible attack by the former king and his half dozen malcontents. It was all quite preposterous. The elephant litter itself was the size of an eight-room house and actually contained two floors and different compartments on each floor. The Queen sat gracefully underneath the canopy on the sun deck on top. Ghail sat beside her, her lips tightly compressed. Despite the speed of their journeying, the litter was hot. Ghail, however, remained wrapped up in all the voluminous wrappings of a respectable woman during travel.

  “Listen,” said Tony, “aren’t you hot?”

  “I’ll do,” said Ghail composedly.

  “As a slave,” said Tony, “the Queen can give you permission to make yourself comfortable. Why not?”

  Ghail regarded him ominously. But the Queen said:

  “He’s right, my dear. Why don’t you slip out of that dreadfully hot cloak?”

  “He,” said Ghail in even tones, “is very fond of looking at legs. My legs, or anybody else’s legs. And he hasn’t any djinnees with him to sit around like the hussies they are—for instance, that djinnee who held his coat while he fought Es-Souk! So he is unhappy!” Then she flared out at Tony. “Why don’t you get another litter for yourself? All you have to do is command it! Or we’ll get out of this litter and ride on camels, and you can have as many djinnees around you as you want! You can—”

  Tony scowled. “If you’re thinking of Nasim… wait a minute!”

  He stood up and went to the rail of the gently swaying sun deck. Alongside, a few hundred yards away, a smaller litter kept pace with this. That was the traveling carriage of Abdul, who had explained blandly that as grand vizier to Tony who was king of the djinn a certain amount of state for himself was desirable. But Abdul’s litter was merely carried by two thirty-foot camels, and the litter slung between them was no larger than the cabin of an eight-passenger plane. It was suitably less stately than Tony’s equipage. When Tony bellowed at it, its interior was completely hidden by silken draperies.

  “Abdul!” roared Tony.

  The thirty-foot camels intelligently swerved to bring Abdul’s litter close. And even so soon, Abdul had attuned himself to react instantly to a call in Tony’s voice. Instantly the drapes were torn aside. Abdul beamed across the space between litters.

  But for half a breath Tony did not recognize him. Abdul swaggered, of course—but that was part of his personality. It was his form which was strangely unfamiliarly familiar. He was, in fact, a duplicate of Tony. He wore exact facsimiles of Tony’s soft felt hat, his belted-in-the-back camel’s-hair topcoat, and undoubtedly his feet were encased in duplicates of Tony’s brown shoes. But the face was still the face of Abdul, and it beamed.

  Behind him, in the litter, Nasim also beamed at Tony.

  “Majesty!” cried Abdul happily. “What is your will?” Tony stared—and inspiration struck.

  “That is Nasim, isn’t it?” he demanded.

  “Yes, Majesty,” called Nasim archly. She came and stood beside Abdul. “Look! Doesn’t he look just like you? Isn’t he wonderful?”

  Tony said sternly:

  “It was my thought that I had not yet rewarded Nasim for her aid in the fight with Es-Souk. I see that she has chosen her reward. It is my will that the two of you marry!”

  Nasim giggled. Abdul bowed so low that he almost fell out of the litter.

  “To hear is to obey, Majesty!”

  “And it is also my will,” said Tony severely, “that if at any time in the future Nasim comes into my presence, she must have some clothes on! After all, I’m human!”

  “Aye, Majesty!” said Abdul. Nasim coyly pulled a drape about herself.

  “That’s all!” said Tony.

  He turned his back. The camel litter swerved away. The Queen seemed to be trying to stifle laughter. Ghail looked utterly infuriated.

  “Well?” said Tony.

  “If the Queen,” said Ghail furiously, “commands that I sacrifice my modesty to the King of the Djinns so that he can see if he wishes to purchase me—”

  Tony said just as angrily:

  “Hold on! I haven’t talked business to the Queen yet! But I’ll talk it now!” He turned to the much-amused Queen. “Majesty, I understand that I’m the King of the Djinns. Most of the riches I’m supposed to have are fake, as you know. But if there aren’t any real riches, I’ll make these djinns of mine work until there are! And I’ll pay you any sum you care to name if you’ll set Ghail free so she won’t be a slave any longer.”

  His conscience spoke approvingly. Tony snarled at it. The Queen almost choked on her laughter. Ghail’s face went blank. She stared incredulously at Tony.

  “And—and then what?” asked the Queen.

  “Then,” said Tony doggedly, “I’ll try to persuade her to marry me. It isn’t that I’m too damned moral, but I don’t think I’d like bought kisses, however legal the transaction might be in this country.”

  “And—and if she would not marry you?” asked the Queen.

  Tony looked at Ghail. Her face was crimson, and though there was no perceptible softening in her expression, her eyes showed distinct satisfaction.

  “If she wouldn’t marry me,” said Tony shrewdly, “then—I guess I’d have to take an interest in music. After all, I understand that Esir and Esim have pretty good voices.”
>
  The satisfaction vanished from Ghail’s expression. Fury came back.

  “I thought,” she observed in detached scorn, “that you would not care for purchased kisses.”

  “But I didn’t buy Esir and Esim,” said Tony. “They were gifts. That’s different!”

  Then he ducked. A dark shadow flashed past overhead, so close that it seemed almost to touch the sun deck. It was the monstrous body of a roc, soaring swiftly downward from the sky. It touched ground almost directly before the leading elephant, shivered, and became a twelve-foot djinn in what was probably the djinnian air-force uniform. He raced toward the elephant litter.

  “Majesty!” he bellowed. “Enemy djinns sighted twelve o’clock overhead! Closing fast!”

  Tony reacted swiftly. He bellowed for Abdul and roared for a ladder. Instead, the gigantic trunk of the rear elephant swung around and held itself invitingly ready. Tony scrambled on board. Abdul bounced out of his litter in a wild leap, turned into something unusual on the way to the earth, and landed with a splashing of sand. He arose, himself again.

  “Majesty!” he said, beaming. “The chimaera form for this conflict?”

  “And make it snappy!” Tony rasped. “I don’t think anything drastic can happen, but—”

  Abdul puffed out into the snaky creation of his nightmare, with its face of mist. There was the saddle as before. Tony climbed into it and buckled the safety belt.

  “Go ahead!” he commanded.

  There was a sensation of almost unbearable acceleration and he rode upward into the blue.

  At five thousand feet they passed the first flight of rocs. The great birds wheeled aside to make room for them and then craned their necks to watch. At ten thousand feet Abdul and Tony passed the second line of air defense. From this height Tony could distinctly see the oasis and the gleaming white walls of Barkut. Still the chimaera hurtled skyward. At fifteen thousand feet the ceiling squadron of rocs was left behind.

  Abdul turned his temporarily snaky neck about and said triumphantly:

  “Majesty! They flee! From us!”

  Now Tony saw the djinn king and his few faithful councilors. They were not recognizable as such, of course. With the chimaera climbing vengefully toward them, they had adopted the emergency measures Es-Souk’s lasf frenzies had led to: They were now mere shapeless objects which flew straight up with lightning-like amoeboid movements. They expanded as the air grew thinner and they needed to act upon greater surfaces for support. But they went up and up and up.

  Tony was relieved. He had only one full phial of lasf, and he was highly doubtful that he could duplicate his trick of the fight with Es-Souk. Certainly he couldn’t handle half a dozen djinns with one improvised bomb, and if they attacked with any resolution at all…

  The air grew thin as the chimaera climbed. Tony found himself panting for breath.

  “Easy, Abdul!” he gasped. “No higher! This is enough!”

  The chimaera leveled off. Tony’s heart pounded horribly because of the lack of oxygen at this height. He felt dizzy. He sucked in great gulps of the unsatisfying thin stuff. Then he heard Abdul saying appreciatively:

  “Pardon, Majesty! I had forgotten that even you will not wish to be too close to your enemies when they explode!”

  Chapter 18

  Tony could not answer. The way to live at great heights is not to exert yourself and to breathe fast and deep. He busied himself with getting his breath. Presently he felt a little better. A little, not much. The horizon had broadened for hundreds of miles, it seemed. He saw the halted djinn caravan far below. It looked like a short length of string on a sand-colored blanket. But overhead, the climbing, writhing djinns—the ex-king and those who still obeyed him—were such tiny motes that, strain his eyes as he would, he lost them.

  He understood. Not only was his own weapon mysterious to the djinn, so that even Abdul expected him to strike down the fugitives from afar, but there was an even more rational reason for this long climb. Es-Souk, exploding at a fifty-mile altitude, had dimmed the sun and given off a momentarily intolerable heat. If the former king believed that the human-made apparatus Tony had seen would detonate his rebellious subjects at a distance, he must expect a much more terrible cataclysm below. He would get as far away as possible, though he had still to remain in atmosphere for support.

  The chimaera soared in huge, easy circles. Abdul said inquiringly:

  “Majesty? They have not exploded.”

  “I—can’t see them,” said Tony absurdly.

  He clung to his saddle, panting. Staying up here was a bluff, while he clung to two possible hopes. Perhaps the djinn king could not make the ancient weapon work—that was Tony’s first hope. If nothing happened at all, he would go on down and explain that he had made the former king powerless, and now spared his life. The second hope was fainter. The instrument had bewildered its possessor. The king actually hadn’t known which end was which. And Tony had told him quite truthfully, as far as television was concerned, that one looked in the large end of such tubes as the conical glass object he saw. Now, gasping for breath, he hoped very fervently that his advice would be taken, and that it would be bad. He recalled very vaguely that a television tube works because it shoots a beam of electrons from the small end against the large end. If the antique instrument worked in anything like the same fashion, whatever detonated djinns would come out of the large end, too. And if the djinn king happened to be looking into that end when he turned on the instrument…

  Very high and far away, it seemed that the heavens burst. One splash of awful flame flashed into being, not directly overhead but near the horizon. The fugitives had not only put themselves as high as possible—a hundred miles perhaps—but had gone other hundreds of miles to one side so that as much sheer distance as they could manage would lie between them and the inferno they expected to create.

  The first flash only dwindled when there was a second, and then two more, and then three. They went off soundlessly, but like firecrackers set off by the same fuse. And very high up indeed, in the icy chill of the heights, Tony found himself unbearably hot. Six or seven djinns breaking down in atomic explosions, even at two or three hundred miles distance, make for high-temperature effects. And Tony knew, then, that the apparatus which would destroy djinns had been blown to atoms along with the atoms it had blown up. The djinn king had, after all, been looking into the muzzle of an atomic gun when he pulled its trigger to destroy his subjects.

  Abdul said happily:

  “You found them, Majesty! Now none will question your right to reign!”

  Without orders, he began a swift, slanting descent. In the thicker air, Tony’s feelings of weakness ceased. But something else occurred to him. He reflected gloomily that nothing ever happens just right. No achievement is completely satisfying. Each one creates new worries and new troubles.

  At five thousand feet, Abdul said:

  “Majesty!”

  “What?” asked Tony.

  “You will marry the Queen of Barkut?” asked Abdul. “It seems the logical thing to do. May I begin to make plans for the wedding, Majesty?”

  “Marry the Queen?” Tony shook his head. His new apprehensions hit him hard. “No! I’m not thinking of the Queen when I worry about what the gamma rays from those explosions may have done to me! Not a bit of it! I’m thinking of somebody else entirely!”

  Chapter 19

  The arrival of the djinn caravan created terror in Barkut. Practically the whole djinn nation—Tony learned that he had something over a hundred thousand subjects—came steaming out of the vastness which was the desert. The whirlwind scouts were sighted from the city walls. The aircraft curtain of rocs was sighted at the same time. When the caravan deployed before the city walls, fires of sulphurous material burned on the battlements, the city’s last supply of lasf had been served out, and the people of Barkut were prepared to defend themselves to the last drop of ragweed solution.

  There were the same people who only one day be
fore had fired off cannon and danced in the streets to celebrate the defeat of a single djinn in Tony’s bedroom. Now, prepared for destruction, when they learned that the djinns came not for conquest but as a guard of honor for the returned Queen of Barkut, that the Lord Toni who had gone away with only one slave girl for company had returned as King of the Djinns, there was no possible way to express their enthusiasm.

  Abdul, bustling about, supervised the instant erection of a palace for Tony’s lodging. It was simple enough, of course. He had merely to sketch the outline of a modest little overnight hut of some two hundred and forty rooms with floors of alternating gold and ivory squares, windows of sapphire and emerald and ruby, and a roof of jade and silver bearing fountains that sprayed milk, wine, honey, and diamond dust. Some three hundred djinns apportioned the structure among themselves, transformed themselves into the necessary sections and decorations, and the thing was done. It was waiting for Tony when he came back from his visit to the city of Barkut.

  “Majesty!” said Abdul happily. “We were worried that you might not be adequately served in Barkut. You should at least have let a few hundred of your servants go before you with golden basins filled with jewels and the like.”

  “I am,” said Tony, “a person of simple tastes. I came back mainly to give orders for tight discipline in the djinn camp tonight. I don’t want anybody sneaking into the human town. No matter how innocently, no matter how inconspicuously! Nobody is to wander in as a little centipede. Nobody is to be a little beetle or a fly or a grease spot or a moth’s egg. The human city is off-limits! Understand?”

  “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?”