"Golden Ring and Cobalt Lamp"
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dochermes"Golden Ring and Cobalt Lamp"
11/11/1997
I.
When the old man stepped through the front door of the KDF headquarters, his feet stuck firmly to the polished hardwood floor as if they had been nailed there. He scowled and struggled but not could lift either foot even a fraction of an inch.
Watching his visitor, Jeremy Bane felt his suspicions confirmed. This man had given his name as Radi ben Mohallet and had asked for an appointment to discuss a serious Midnight War crisis in the making. He seemed be about seventy, below average height although some of that might come from his back being curved with age. Mohallet wore unremarkable Western clothes, a light brown business suit with a tan shirt and black tie; his white hair was cropped short and contasted with the deeply tanned wrinkled face. A prominent beaklike nose and deepset glowering eyes did not make him any more personable.
Standing off to one side, well out of reach, Bane was not alarmed but intensely curious. At forty, he remained gaunt and wiry in his invariable outfit of black slacks, sport jacket and turtleneck. The infamous grey eyes were colder than usual. Leaving the inner door open, he moved around to where he was facing Mohallet while staying a prudent distance. "You can't move because you're a threat to me," he said evenly.
"This is intolerable!" Mohallet snapped with a distinct but unobtrusive accent. "I have come here in good faith. Whatever Black Magick you are using on me, I demand to be freed."
"It's the farthest thing from Black Magick," replied Bane. He did not explain that a potent Eldar talisman was secured beneath the floor directly inside his headquarters. Nor did he explain that the Shield of Elvedal guarded those who lived here and would not allow enemies to pass. This was a secret he intended to keep. "Listen. Either your intention is to attack me or you are carrying a malevolent gralic talisman on you. What's the deal?"
Mohallet took a deep breath and got hold of himself. "Oh. I see. Very well, Dire Wolf. I suppose a man with many enemies must take precautions. What do you make of this ring?" With that he held up his left hand, showing a gleaming band on the second finger.
The Dire Wolf moved closer, staying wary getting a better look. "Hmm. Not pure gold, I'd say 12 karat. Obviously old. The oval on the face has an outline incised of an old-fashioned railroad lantern complete with handle. There is an inscription on the outer surface but I would need a magnifying lens to make it out. I don't see anything supernatural about it."
"This is a mighty talisman from the Days of Ignorance," said Mohallet. "My family has passed it down for many generations. Right now, it is cold and empty. Its flame has gone out. Yet I suspect that enough gralic traces remain that whatever you use to guard yourself has reacted."
"Well, certainly I'm interested." Bane held out an open palm. "Tell you what. Let me put that ring on the bookshelf beside the front door, right behind you there. You should be able to move around normally after that."
"Surrender the ring....?" The horror in Mohallet's voice sounded as if Bane had asked him to cut off the finger as well.
"It's up to you. Otherwise, you can slide a few steps backwards, that's available to you. I'd have to talk to you outside."
Mohallet chewed this over, then finally decided to tug the ring off one gnarled finger. He held it out and Bane took it to the top of a bookcase, between a framed photograph of William Murdock and a curious five-pointed fossil.
"It's as safe there as anywhere," Bane told the unhappy old man. "When the front door closed, all the locks and alarms armed themselves. You should be able to move now."
Stepping around in an experimental circle, the aged mystic grumbled, "A good host makes his guest comfortable."
"Yeah, right. And a good guest doesn't show up wearing a hostile talisman. Let's go in my office, that door over there." The Dire Wolf ushered Mohallet to a chair in front of a wide oak desk, then crossed over to seat himself facing the man.
The sorcerer was regarding the beautiful handpainted map of the world as it had been in 1937 that hung over Bane's desk. "So much has changed," he muttered as he peered up at the details. "Empires have fallen, new nations have risen, the lands shift. The world goes downhill."
"That's the way it goes," Bane dismissed the thought. "So. Mr Mohallet, you called me for an appointment a few days ago. The Dire Wolf Agency mostly handles serial killers, assassins, maniacs and so forth these days. But you are obviously deep into the Midnight War."
After the old man got himself comfortable, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back. "Yes. I know your reputation, Mr Bane. You have been a Tel Shai knight for twenty years. Your list of conquered enemies is most impressive. As you can see, my days of swift action and physical confrontations are behind me. In this hour of dark uncertainty, I could think of no man better suited to intervene and protect the race of humans."
"It's nice to be appreciated," said Bane. "What is it you think I can do for you?"
"Ah. You see, that ring is one of a pair of talismans from the elder days. According to the lore passed down, it was crafted by the great Suleiman himself, wisest of men, at the same time he fashioned an oil lamp. The two sigils are linked."
"Excuse me for bringing up what must be obvious," interrupted the Dire Wolf, "But the lamp outline cut into the ring is not from ages ago. It looks to me like a 19th Century railroad lantern. The kind workers carried when they walked the tracks at night."
"This is so. Over thousands of years, the ring and the lamp have changed. Some think that it was done by wizards to make them less antique in appearance. Some.. and here I tend to agree.. feel that the talismans adapted themselves gradually to changing times."
Bane did not smile in the slightest. "The idea is that these objects reshaped themselves? Well, I've seen stranger things happen. Where is this lamp anyway?"
"Ah. That is the great peril." Mohallet leaned forward, bony hands clasped and stared a bit too intensely for comfort. "If the ring and the lamp are brought together, enormous gralic power will be released.For good or for ill. And here in this country of yours, a vile thief and notorious rogue is even now hot on the trail of the lamp. I know he intends to snatch the two artifacts and gain such magic power that no one will be able to stand before him. I do not think there is much time, Mr Bane. If Aden succeeds, this land will groan under the heel of a new tyrant who cannot be stopped."
II.
Forty minutes later, Bane escorted Radi ben Mohallet to the front door and made certain that the mystic had the gold ring on his finger again before showing him through the tiny foyer to the outer door. With one foot on the stoop, the old man turned back and insisted, "I still urge you take me as a client. Money is no problem. Whatever you charge will be covered."
"No," the Dire Wolf answered politely. "I absolutely am going to investigate this matter. But I am not ready to commit myself yet. I may need to make inquiries and arrange deals where having an agreement with someone involved could complicate things. But you've researched me. You know I will try to do the right thing."
Mohallet slumped visibly and started down the steps to the sidewalk. "Very well. Please keep in touch. My heart is heavy with worry."
"I'll keep you up to date," Bane promised. As the old man strode briskly enough toward Park Avenue, the Dire Wolf watched him with a wry expression. He had not believed anything that Mohallet had said. Decades of Kumundu training enabled him to judge body language, how sentences were tentatively formed before being spoken, the subvocal tremors and tension in neck muscles... all clues to the speaker's mental state. He had decided immediately that this Mohallet was an excellent liar.
But then, Bane himself had not admitted he already knew all about the golden ring and the cobalt lamp. It was the alleged thief Aden who was the wild card here. The name did not mean anything to Bane off the top of his head. Going back inside, hearing the Trom safeguards buzz into place, he recognized the pleasant thrill of a new case underway. He thrived on stress and danger that would traumatize a normal person.
Returning to his office, he went over to stare at the fish tank in one corner while he mulled the situation over. He saw that the water was clear and checked the temperature, and he had sprinkled appropriate food flakes in there earlier that day. The yellow starfish crawling on the white pebbles regarded him with a single red eye in the center of its body between the five arms. Floating high near the top of the tank, an abnormally large seahorse opened its muzzle to reveal tiny sharp fangs. And the three multi-legged hermit crabs had finished binding pebbles together with a secretion from their bodies to create what resembled an igoo. He would have to carefully drop more pebbles in and maybe add some twigs to see what they did with them. Taken from the adjacent realm of sunken Ulgor, these creatures each had a story behind their coming in his possession.
While he gazed at the fish tank, the Dire Wolf thought over what Mohallet had told him. The name 'Aden' was not familiar at all. He crossed the office and sat down behind his desk. On a shelf behind, his laptop sat charging and he placed it in front of him to begin searches. Before he even flipped open the laptop, the front doorbell rang. Bane leaped to his feet and was out into the hall as quickly as a runner hearing the starting gun. On the wall next to the door was a wooden panel which he slid aside to reveal a monitor screen and a bank of controls.
Bane thumbed a button and said, "Just a minute. I'll be right with you." He pressed another button to unlock the street door. When the screen lit up, the interior of the foyer was clearly shown. Not very large, this nook held a bench with a few decrepit old magazines, a shelf holding a ceramic lamp and a rubber mat for wiping shoes. On the left wall was one entered was an oil portrait, of Kenneth Dred 1900-1979.
Standing uneasily in that foyer was a gorgeous young woman, barely twenty years old, tall and slender in a long cloth coat. Her glossy black hair had been arranged on top of her head to leave her neck bare. In a second, Trom sensors far advanced of anything the most modern MRIs or CAT scanners could match hummed and buzzed as they took readings. She felt nothing, not even a tingle of discomfort.
Studying the monitor's row of green letters and numbers, Bane saw that this person was not in his files, nor listed in any records of the NYPD. In another second, using a methods that would be a Federal offense if discovered, the Trom systems also came back negative from the files of the FBI, the CIA, the Mandate and INTERCEPT. This woman had no passport or driver's license as far as he could tell.
Also, and as important to him, she was carrying no metal other than a standard Nokia phone and three keys on a link. The sensors reported no dangerous chemical signatures. Since she had arrived immediately after the departure of Mohallet, Baner was intensely curious. He slid the wall panel shut and stepped over to open the inner door. The whole procedure had taken only fourteen seconds. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Mr Bane? Jeremy Bane? Please, I need your help. It's an emergency." It was apparent that she had nearly the same accent that Mohallet had shown, quite a bit more pronounced. The huge dark eyes in an oval face with a strong acquiline nose and the gleam of brilliant teeth added to the similarity. The woman was voluptous in a way that the simple high-necklined black dress and topcoat could not conceal and her necklace of fine-linked gold chain and medium-sized hoop earrings completed the striking impression she made.
But her voice was shaky with fear and anxiety. Bane motioned for her to enter and closed the door behind her. "Come in my office and tell me about it," he said.
"Yes, thank you so much." Once she was settled in a guest chair, the Dire Wolf went around his desk to sit facing her. "Okay, what brings you here?"
"It is about a... friend of mine. He has placed himself in great danger and will not listen to me. Even now, he is risking his life and his immortal soul against a demonic enemy." The woman stared at Bane with the expression of a drowning person eyeing an offered hand.
"First, let's get some basics. Your name?"
"Hamida. Hamida Sharifi. I was a student here in this city, at Columbia University. But I have not been to classes in some time because of the troubles. Mr Bane, my friend's name is Wakim Al-Aden but for some reason he has become known as 'Al,' perhaps because Americans find it more familiar."
Hearing that name, Bane managed not to smile. His first reaction was to think that this alleged thief at least had a sense of humor. But then, maybe there was a darker, less amusing explanation. Leopold Vidimar was still out there with his Preincarnation spell...
"Al will not speak of his past, even to me," the young woman went on. "He says only that his family is all dead and that he came from a small village in Iraq. I think he must be in this country illegally. He uses money for everything and tries to leave no paper trail."
"I see," said Bane in what he hoped was an encouraging voice. "And this enemy you're worried about?"
"Mohallet!" sighed Hamida. "Radi ben Mohallet. An ancient warlock, known for his vile practices and his many crimes. He worships a demon called Draldros who lives in a Hell populated by winged terrors. Al has been trying to stay out of Mohallet's clutches but they are both looking for something valuable. A treasure of some kind, I do not know its exact nature."
"Miss Sharifi, where were you ten minutes ago?"
"Ten minutes...? What? Well, I was in a taxi. I rode here down from my dorm room. Why do you ask?"
Bane did not answer. He was adding up his impressions of the girl. His evaluation was that she was agitated and worked up but was basically telling the truth as she knew it. His reading of body clues was not perfect, of course, and he had been fooled in the past. For the moment, he would accept that she had not seen Mohallet leaving the building. He did not think she was working for the ancient sorcerer.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demanded finally.
"I am already interested in this whole affair," he said without resentment. "I agree there is serious danger here for both you and your friend Al. This man Mohallet is serious trouble. Can you take me to your friend Al?"
"Oh, I don't know where he is right now. He's always on the move. But I am certain he intends to rob Mohallet tonight. At the Paradise Hotel. Mohallet has many occult talismans he brings with him. Also, to be honest, the wizard usually has a sizable amount of cash on hand and I'm sure Al will help himself to some."
"The Paradise. Yes, I know it. Down on 17th Street, not the best neighborhood," Bane said. "All right, let's figure that Al will make his move late at night in the dark. I think we can settle this without anyone getting hurt."
"Mr Bane, I hate to bring it up, but I can't pay you much. My parents cover my living expenses but they don't allow me any extra funds. They say there is too much chance I would, as they say, 'run wild' and get in trouble."
"Don't worry about a fee," he said. "I don't expect to have a client on this case. It's something I want to handle to protect the public from a potential threat."
"I don't understand," said Hamida. "I thought this was your profession... that you do this sort of thing as your trade."
"Oh, it's more than that," Bane answered. The grey eyes were bright and his voice could not hide anticipation. "It's what I was born to do."
III.
At one-thirty in the morning, the Dire Wolf caught movement from the roof of the neighboring building. The Paradise was a run-down hotel starting to border on being a flophouse for those down on their luck or pandhandlers able to swing one night's warm bed and shower. Only eight stories high, the Paradise was separated by a twelve foot wide alley from its neighbor, a building once a furniture outlet but now closed up and dark. On the roof of that building, a slightly built figure carefully placed a wooden packing crate up against the knee high ledge and stepped back to the opposite edge.
Bane watched with interest. He had been waiting since dusk, when he had sneaked up here himself. Impatient at the best of times, he found keeping a vigil to be torture. Isometrics and breathing exercises and fingertip push-ups in the shadows of a chimney had helped him get through the wait but he was immensely relieved to see action was at hand.
Light was sparse in this neighborhood where street lamps were widely spaced and where nearby business had closed hours earlier. In the gloom, Bane watched the dark figure race toward the crate, hop up on top of it and spring across the gap to reach the roof of the Paradise Hotel with a roll that redirected his momentum. A young man hopped nimbly up onto his feet as if rising from a couch. That was well done, the Dire Wolf thought.
Now the boy could be seen more clearly. He was not even five foot ten, slim like a runner, wearing an open black vest over a white T-shirt and baggy cargo pants. Over one shoulder was a coiled length of black cord and he started tying one end of this to a steam pipe near the edge of the roof. That figured. Mohallet had taken room on the top floor and this would be a quick way to directly get in there. As the youth concentrated on securing his knot, Bane crept up behind him more silently than a real wolf. At the last possible instant, the boy sensed movement behind and whirled in time to receive a sharp hooking punch to the pit of his stomach that jacknifed him in half.
As the young man fell doubled up, Bane was glad he was pulled his blow to a minimum. Recently, he had become more concerned about the damage he sometimes did striking people who were not hopeless psychopaths. It was still better than simply shooting them as he could do and claim self defense, but this kid didn't deserve a concussion. Unbuckling a pair of regulation cuffs from the back of his belt, the Dire Wolf fastened the boy's hands behind him and helped him sit up.
"It'll pass in a minute," he told the wheezing young man. "Aden, right? No, don't try to speak yet."
Eventually, Aden got his breath back and wriggled experimentally but the strong hand pressing down on his shoulder convinced him he was not going to get away easily. "Who...?"
"My name is Bane. Some call me the Dire Wolf. We're going to go confront ben Mohallet soon, but first I want to explain something to you. This is an educated guess. In the past few years, I have tangled with modern versions of Achilles, Gilgamesh and Prospero along with his pals Ariel and Caliban. These were all actually living people who were transformed by a spell into replicas of those ancient people. A man named Vidimar heads a cult which uses this Precincarnation spell to collect wealth and to commit brutal murders."
"Why do you tell me these things, Dire Wolf?"
"I'm going to help you stand up. Here. Don't try anything dramatic. Now, listen. My guess is that you have no memory back before a few years ago. There may be a few confused images in your head of escaping a cell and taking to the streets. But even though your mind is normal and you can speak both Iraqi and English, your past is blank. Am I right?"
"Yes, yes, it's all true! I have tried not to think of it but it preys on my mind."
"You are a Preincarnator. Whoever you were a few years ago might come back some day if the spell is broken," Bane explained as slowly as he could to let the information. "But right now, you are someone out of ancient history and legend. A thief who became a hero. Does it all make sense?'
Aden wrested himself away from Bane's hand and hung his head. "Stop it. It's too much. I don't want to know all this. Let me go."
"It's not going to be that easy. If I let you confront Mohallet some other time, it might end with you dead and him wielding the power that rightfully belongs to you. Okay, stay there a second." Bane went back to where he had been hidden and came back strapping a black canvas satchel over his shoulder. When it was secured, he led Aden over to stand by the cord hanging down over the edge of the roof.
"This might be a little bit scary," the Dire Wolf said. "I suggest you close your eyes, take a deep breath and hold it." With that, he picked Aden up under one arm, seized the cord with his free hand and hopped off the roof.
IV.
in the next few seconds, Bane slid down the cord to where the window below them had been left up. He held himself with one hand and flung the flabbergasted Aden in through the opening, then seized the window sill and dove through immediately after. All this he did so smoothly and seemingly effortless that it appeared he had practiced this sequence of difficult acrobatics every day of his adult life. It wasn't often that anyone witnessed what the Dire Wolf was fully capable of.
Landing in a heap on a carpet in the hotel room, Aden could only make incoherent gurgling noises until he got hold of himself. Finally, he got his legs under him and rose up to a kneeling position with his hands still cuffed behind him. "Ack," he managed to say. "Urk."
"Yeah, I know that was a surprise," Bane commented with remarkable composure. "But I thought it was better not to give you time to get nervous. Aden, here's the guy we've been waiting to meet."
Bound with clothesline to a wooden chair which itself had been tied to a radiator to prevent any escape attempts, Mohallet glared at them with murderous intensity. A gag secured between his jaws prevented any of the vicious language which otherwise would have spewed out.
"Mohallet, it's time to settle permanently with you!" Aden's fierce words lost some of their threat when he started forward but was stopped short by a hand that clamped down painfully hard on one shoulder. In the light cast from a single lamp on the bedside nightstand, Aden could be seen as a handsome young man of no more than twenty years old. His thick shiny black hair had been raggedly cut evidently by hand using scissors.
"Ease up there, son," said the Dire Wolf. "This has a ways to go yet." He unslung the satchel from his shoulder and lowered it to the floor. The hotel room was sparsely furnished with a single bed, two plain wooden chairs and dresser on which a decrepit old TV sat. On the wall with the door was a list of laws and regulations, as well as a calendar from an insurance company that was a year out of date. There was no bathroom.
Moving oneof the chairs facing Mohallet on the opposite side of the room, Bane pushed Aden down onto it. "I don't want to have to cuff your ankles, too," the Dire Wolf said. "Let this play out."
"You have the upper hand, American," the Preincarnator grudgingly admitted. "I only hope you know what you are doing."
"Well, I do my best," said Bane. He found a small oval table in the corner which held an old-fashioned rotary phone and a copy of Gideon's Bible. Clearing its surface off, he brought the table over to the middle of the room and then unzipped the satchel he had brought. Bane carefully extracted a two foot high railroad lantern and set it for the two men to gape at. The metal cap and bottom of the lamp had been enameled a lovely deep blue, the glass bulb which held the wick was clean and unscratched.
"YOU had it all this time?" Aden sounded personally aggrieved.
"You bet," answered the Dire Wolf. "A few interesting knick knacks have come into my possession over the years. This was stored in a crate marked DANGEROUS."
The snapping of cords stopped him. Radi ben Mohallet was on his feet as his bonds fell away and he furiously worked the gag out of his mouth. The sorcerer pointed his left fist as if aiming a gun and on its finger, the golden ring shimmered with a lurid yellow haze. "Fool of an unbeliever!" he spat.
"I guess that's me," Bane admitted with a rare sheepish grimace. "I thought that your ring was out of charge?"
"Look upon the lamp," said Mohallet. "Gain wisdom too late."
Around the metal artifact, a similar glow of deep blue flickered and played, casting new shadows in the room. The talismans were affecting each other.
"The ring awakens the lamp, which returns its power a hundredfold," Mohallet gloated. From his ring, brighter glints of golden force stung everyone's eyes. "Nay, do not move, Dire Wolf. I can blast you to a lump of charcoal with but a thought."
"Well, you can try," said the Dire Wolf. He had kept one hand on the cobat lamp and abruptly, he wheeled and took two quick steps to place it in the lap of the seated Aden. In the same motion, he dove to the floor and rolled in a tumble far to one side. Quick as he was, Bane did not entirely escape the bolt of gralic force that crackled across the room and scraped across his back. The material of his jacket was burned away in a trough, revealing the sheen of the Trom armor beneath.
Enough of that malevolent energy had struck him that Bane convulsed and had trouble scrambling back up onto his feet. His hands were shaking and his legs were so wobbly that he fell again.
"Your death will be a foul and painful one," Mohallet yelled. "I believe I will have the Djinn turn you inside out..."
As he spoke, the door to the hotel room swung inward, taking them all by surprise. Stepping into the room, Hamida smiled uncertainly. "Here you all are. I am still in time."
V.
"Honey, run!" Aden screamed. "Run and don't look back."
Before the young woman could react, Mohallet had lunged to slam the door shut. He thrust the ring at her. It was blazing with gold fire now, hissing and sputtering angrily. With that in her face, Hamida gasped and ran over to stand by the chair where Aden was seated. "Al, Al, you are all right. I found you in time."
"Silly child, be quiet!" Mohallet ordered. "Dire Wolf, remain where you are. This is my hour of triumph."
The haze of blue light around the cobalt lamp swirled up to form a cloud near the ceiling and, in reply, a plume of golden light from the ring floated up to join it. The gralic force turned green, a brilliant emerald hue too bright to stare at with comfort. The green mist grew denser, solidified, and began to form a vaguely humanoid shape with thick arms reaching down and a rounded head at the top. Within that head, a pair of oblique red eyes shone hotly.
"Too long has the Djinn been divided and weak," said Mohallet. He braced his forearm with his free hand to keep the ring pointedup towhere the shape was becoming more distinct. "The green fire of Life itself, green as are the growing things of the soil. Ha ha!"
"What is thy bidding, oh my Master?" came a distant ethereal voice from all directions at once. "Hold! What is amiss here? Who holds the ring? Who holds the lamp?"
"I am in command," Mohallet shrieked. "You are bound by King Suleiman himself, blessed be his name, to do as I bid."
"Yeah? I don't THINK so!" retorted Hamida. The young woman snatched up the shining blue lantern and cast it out the open window with a single wide swing of her arm. As soon as the talisman tumbled out of sight, the green radiance snapped off. The oppressive heaviness in the air eased up. And blurring across the room, Jeremy Bane crashed a left uppercut that lifted Mohallet up off so that bottoms of his feet showed. Immediately, the Dire Wolf wriggled the now-cooling golden ring off the mystic's knobby finger and tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket.
The old man wheezed and twitched. He attempted to turn over but would obviously not be entertaining thoughts of reprisal any time soon. Bane left him for the moment and sprang over to where Hamida was staring out the window. "What about the lamp? Was it broken when it hit the street?.. I hope."
The gorgeous young woman chuckled. "See for yourself. That pick-up truck, the one with the tools and bags of peat in its bed? The lamp fell safely there. Behold the light has turned green and the truck rolls away."
Squeezing past her, Bane got only a glimpse of the truck, not catching the license plate number or any identifying dents or rust to help locate it. The vehicle had turned at 18th Street and was gone. "Hell. I guess we can advertise in the papers, offer a reward."
Aden had gotten to his feet and he turned his back to wiggle his fingers at the Dire Wolf. "Perhaps now you would be so considerate...?"
"Eh? Sure." Bane unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them on the back of his belt again. He saw that the Preincarnator was clenching his fists and setting his feet preparatory to taking a swing. "Don't try it," Bane said. "You'd embarass yourself. I only used half impact before on the roof." He swung around again and started to say something but stopped short. Again, the Dire Wolf rushed forward with such acceleration that the two watching were confused by what they seen.
"He's gone," Hamida said blankly. "Like the swipe of a tiger's paw. He is faster than mortal Man should be."
"Don't you see? He went after Mohallet. The wizard fled while we were looking out the window."
Five minutes crept by while the two young people waited uncertainly. Their attempts at conversation broke off before anything could be said. Then the Dire Wolf stormed back into the room.
"I can't believe he got away!" Bane fumed. "That broken-down old geezer! The elevator door must have been opening as he reached it. I ran up and down the street both ways but there was no sign of him and no one in sight to question." He smacked his left fist into his open right palm with a noise like a gunshot. "Dammit! This is the worst case ever! We're back where we started."
"Not exactly, sir," Aden said. "True, the lamp is missing and Mohallet will search for it. But now we know the location of the golden ring and I believe it will be in safe keeping. Am I right?'
"I'll lock it in my vault with a hundred other cursed talismans," Bane told them. "The defenses are solid. It's as protected there as anywhere. What about you, Aden?"
"I shall take up the treasure hunt again. Racing against Mohallet and his henchmen, following hints and rumors, stealing to live and living to steal. But, Hamida, what will you do? Your parents are worried you have missed so many classes at the University."
"Oh, I have decided to travel with you," she replied with a wicked smile. "Obviously you need a clever woman to keep you safe. And how can Aladdin be without his Princess?"
2/25/2019
11/11/1997
I.
When the old man stepped through the front door of the KDF headquarters, his feet stuck firmly to the polished hardwood floor as if they had been nailed there. He scowled and struggled but not could lift either foot even a fraction of an inch.
Watching his visitor, Jeremy Bane felt his suspicions confirmed. This man had given his name as Radi ben Mohallet and had asked for an appointment to discuss a serious Midnight War crisis in the making. He seemed be about seventy, below average height although some of that might come from his back being curved with age. Mohallet wore unremarkable Western clothes, a light brown business suit with a tan shirt and black tie; his white hair was cropped short and contasted with the deeply tanned wrinkled face. A prominent beaklike nose and deepset glowering eyes did not make him any more personable.
Standing off to one side, well out of reach, Bane was not alarmed but intensely curious. At forty, he remained gaunt and wiry in his invariable outfit of black slacks, sport jacket and turtleneck. The infamous grey eyes were colder than usual. Leaving the inner door open, he moved around to where he was facing Mohallet while staying a prudent distance. "You can't move because you're a threat to me," he said evenly.
"This is intolerable!" Mohallet snapped with a distinct but unobtrusive accent. "I have come here in good faith. Whatever Black Magick you are using on me, I demand to be freed."
"It's the farthest thing from Black Magick," replied Bane. He did not explain that a potent Eldar talisman was secured beneath the floor directly inside his headquarters. Nor did he explain that the Shield of Elvedal guarded those who lived here and would not allow enemies to pass. This was a secret he intended to keep. "Listen. Either your intention is to attack me or you are carrying a malevolent gralic talisman on you. What's the deal?"
Mohallet took a deep breath and got hold of himself. "Oh. I see. Very well, Dire Wolf. I suppose a man with many enemies must take precautions. What do you make of this ring?" With that he held up his left hand, showing a gleaming band on the second finger.
The Dire Wolf moved closer, staying wary getting a better look. "Hmm. Not pure gold, I'd say 12 karat. Obviously old. The oval on the face has an outline incised of an old-fashioned railroad lantern complete with handle. There is an inscription on the outer surface but I would need a magnifying lens to make it out. I don't see anything supernatural about it."
"This is a mighty talisman from the Days of Ignorance," said Mohallet. "My family has passed it down for many generations. Right now, it is cold and empty. Its flame has gone out. Yet I suspect that enough gralic traces remain that whatever you use to guard yourself has reacted."
"Well, certainly I'm interested." Bane held out an open palm. "Tell you what. Let me put that ring on the bookshelf beside the front door, right behind you there. You should be able to move around normally after that."
"Surrender the ring....?" The horror in Mohallet's voice sounded as if Bane had asked him to cut off the finger as well.
"It's up to you. Otherwise, you can slide a few steps backwards, that's available to you. I'd have to talk to you outside."
Mohallet chewed this over, then finally decided to tug the ring off one gnarled finger. He held it out and Bane took it to the top of a bookcase, between a framed photograph of William Murdock and a curious five-pointed fossil.
"It's as safe there as anywhere," Bane told the unhappy old man. "When the front door closed, all the locks and alarms armed themselves. You should be able to move now."
Stepping around in an experimental circle, the aged mystic grumbled, "A good host makes his guest comfortable."
"Yeah, right. And a good guest doesn't show up wearing a hostile talisman. Let's go in my office, that door over there." The Dire Wolf ushered Mohallet to a chair in front of a wide oak desk, then crossed over to seat himself facing the man.
The sorcerer was regarding the beautiful handpainted map of the world as it had been in 1937 that hung over Bane's desk. "So much has changed," he muttered as he peered up at the details. "Empires have fallen, new nations have risen, the lands shift. The world goes downhill."
"That's the way it goes," Bane dismissed the thought. "So. Mr Mohallet, you called me for an appointment a few days ago. The Dire Wolf Agency mostly handles serial killers, assassins, maniacs and so forth these days. But you are obviously deep into the Midnight War."
After the old man got himself comfortable, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back. "Yes. I know your reputation, Mr Bane. You have been a Tel Shai knight for twenty years. Your list of conquered enemies is most impressive. As you can see, my days of swift action and physical confrontations are behind me. In this hour of dark uncertainty, I could think of no man better suited to intervene and protect the race of humans."
"It's nice to be appreciated," said Bane. "What is it you think I can do for you?"
"Ah. You see, that ring is one of a pair of talismans from the elder days. According to the lore passed down, it was crafted by the great Suleiman himself, wisest of men, at the same time he fashioned an oil lamp. The two sigils are linked."
"Excuse me for bringing up what must be obvious," interrupted the Dire Wolf, "But the lamp outline cut into the ring is not from ages ago. It looks to me like a 19th Century railroad lantern. The kind workers carried when they walked the tracks at night."
"This is so. Over thousands of years, the ring and the lamp have changed. Some think that it was done by wizards to make them less antique in appearance. Some.. and here I tend to agree.. feel that the talismans adapted themselves gradually to changing times."
Bane did not smile in the slightest. "The idea is that these objects reshaped themselves? Well, I've seen stranger things happen. Where is this lamp anyway?"
"Ah. That is the great peril." Mohallet leaned forward, bony hands clasped and stared a bit too intensely for comfort. "If the ring and the lamp are brought together, enormous gralic power will be released.For good or for ill. And here in this country of yours, a vile thief and notorious rogue is even now hot on the trail of the lamp. I know he intends to snatch the two artifacts and gain such magic power that no one will be able to stand before him. I do not think there is much time, Mr Bane. If Aden succeeds, this land will groan under the heel of a new tyrant who cannot be stopped."
II.
Forty minutes later, Bane escorted Radi ben Mohallet to the front door and made certain that the mystic had the gold ring on his finger again before showing him through the tiny foyer to the outer door. With one foot on the stoop, the old man turned back and insisted, "I still urge you take me as a client. Money is no problem. Whatever you charge will be covered."
"No," the Dire Wolf answered politely. "I absolutely am going to investigate this matter. But I am not ready to commit myself yet. I may need to make inquiries and arrange deals where having an agreement with someone involved could complicate things. But you've researched me. You know I will try to do the right thing."
Mohallet slumped visibly and started down the steps to the sidewalk. "Very well. Please keep in touch. My heart is heavy with worry."
"I'll keep you up to date," Bane promised. As the old man strode briskly enough toward Park Avenue, the Dire Wolf watched him with a wry expression. He had not believed anything that Mohallet had said. Decades of Kumundu training enabled him to judge body language, how sentences were tentatively formed before being spoken, the subvocal tremors and tension in neck muscles... all clues to the speaker's mental state. He had decided immediately that this Mohallet was an excellent liar.
But then, Bane himself had not admitted he already knew all about the golden ring and the cobalt lamp. It was the alleged thief Aden who was the wild card here. The name did not mean anything to Bane off the top of his head. Going back inside, hearing the Trom safeguards buzz into place, he recognized the pleasant thrill of a new case underway. He thrived on stress and danger that would traumatize a normal person.
Returning to his office, he went over to stare at the fish tank in one corner while he mulled the situation over. He saw that the water was clear and checked the temperature, and he had sprinkled appropriate food flakes in there earlier that day. The yellow starfish crawling on the white pebbles regarded him with a single red eye in the center of its body between the five arms. Floating high near the top of the tank, an abnormally large seahorse opened its muzzle to reveal tiny sharp fangs. And the three multi-legged hermit crabs had finished binding pebbles together with a secretion from their bodies to create what resembled an igoo. He would have to carefully drop more pebbles in and maybe add some twigs to see what they did with them. Taken from the adjacent realm of sunken Ulgor, these creatures each had a story behind their coming in his possession.
While he gazed at the fish tank, the Dire Wolf thought over what Mohallet had told him. The name 'Aden' was not familiar at all. He crossed the office and sat down behind his desk. On a shelf behind, his laptop sat charging and he placed it in front of him to begin searches. Before he even flipped open the laptop, the front doorbell rang. Bane leaped to his feet and was out into the hall as quickly as a runner hearing the starting gun. On the wall next to the door was a wooden panel which he slid aside to reveal a monitor screen and a bank of controls.
Bane thumbed a button and said, "Just a minute. I'll be right with you." He pressed another button to unlock the street door. When the screen lit up, the interior of the foyer was clearly shown. Not very large, this nook held a bench with a few decrepit old magazines, a shelf holding a ceramic lamp and a rubber mat for wiping shoes. On the left wall was one entered was an oil portrait, of Kenneth Dred 1900-1979.
Standing uneasily in that foyer was a gorgeous young woman, barely twenty years old, tall and slender in a long cloth coat. Her glossy black hair had been arranged on top of her head to leave her neck bare. In a second, Trom sensors far advanced of anything the most modern MRIs or CAT scanners could match hummed and buzzed as they took readings. She felt nothing, not even a tingle of discomfort.
Studying the monitor's row of green letters and numbers, Bane saw that this person was not in his files, nor listed in any records of the NYPD. In another second, using a methods that would be a Federal offense if discovered, the Trom systems also came back negative from the files of the FBI, the CIA, the Mandate and INTERCEPT. This woman had no passport or driver's license as far as he could tell.
Also, and as important to him, she was carrying no metal other than a standard Nokia phone and three keys on a link. The sensors reported no dangerous chemical signatures. Since she had arrived immediately after the departure of Mohallet, Baner was intensely curious. He slid the wall panel shut and stepped over to open the inner door. The whole procedure had taken only fourteen seconds. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Mr Bane? Jeremy Bane? Please, I need your help. It's an emergency." It was apparent that she had nearly the same accent that Mohallet had shown, quite a bit more pronounced. The huge dark eyes in an oval face with a strong acquiline nose and the gleam of brilliant teeth added to the similarity. The woman was voluptous in a way that the simple high-necklined black dress and topcoat could not conceal and her necklace of fine-linked gold chain and medium-sized hoop earrings completed the striking impression she made.
But her voice was shaky with fear and anxiety. Bane motioned for her to enter and closed the door behind her. "Come in my office and tell me about it," he said.
"Yes, thank you so much." Once she was settled in a guest chair, the Dire Wolf went around his desk to sit facing her. "Okay, what brings you here?"
"It is about a... friend of mine. He has placed himself in great danger and will not listen to me. Even now, he is risking his life and his immortal soul against a demonic enemy." The woman stared at Bane with the expression of a drowning person eyeing an offered hand.
"First, let's get some basics. Your name?"
"Hamida. Hamida Sharifi. I was a student here in this city, at Columbia University. But I have not been to classes in some time because of the troubles. Mr Bane, my friend's name is Wakim Al-Aden but for some reason he has become known as 'Al,' perhaps because Americans find it more familiar."
Hearing that name, Bane managed not to smile. His first reaction was to think that this alleged thief at least had a sense of humor. But then, maybe there was a darker, less amusing explanation. Leopold Vidimar was still out there with his Preincarnation spell...
"Al will not speak of his past, even to me," the young woman went on. "He says only that his family is all dead and that he came from a small village in Iraq. I think he must be in this country illegally. He uses money for everything and tries to leave no paper trail."
"I see," said Bane in what he hoped was an encouraging voice. "And this enemy you're worried about?"
"Mohallet!" sighed Hamida. "Radi ben Mohallet. An ancient warlock, known for his vile practices and his many crimes. He worships a demon called Draldros who lives in a Hell populated by winged terrors. Al has been trying to stay out of Mohallet's clutches but they are both looking for something valuable. A treasure of some kind, I do not know its exact nature."
"Miss Sharifi, where were you ten minutes ago?"
"Ten minutes...? What? Well, I was in a taxi. I rode here down from my dorm room. Why do you ask?"
Bane did not answer. He was adding up his impressions of the girl. His evaluation was that she was agitated and worked up but was basically telling the truth as she knew it. His reading of body clues was not perfect, of course, and he had been fooled in the past. For the moment, he would accept that she had not seen Mohallet leaving the building. He did not think she was working for the ancient sorcerer.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demanded finally.
"I am already interested in this whole affair," he said without resentment. "I agree there is serious danger here for both you and your friend Al. This man Mohallet is serious trouble. Can you take me to your friend Al?"
"Oh, I don't know where he is right now. He's always on the move. But I am certain he intends to rob Mohallet tonight. At the Paradise Hotel. Mohallet has many occult talismans he brings with him. Also, to be honest, the wizard usually has a sizable amount of cash on hand and I'm sure Al will help himself to some."
"The Paradise. Yes, I know it. Down on 17th Street, not the best neighborhood," Bane said. "All right, let's figure that Al will make his move late at night in the dark. I think we can settle this without anyone getting hurt."
"Mr Bane, I hate to bring it up, but I can't pay you much. My parents cover my living expenses but they don't allow me any extra funds. They say there is too much chance I would, as they say, 'run wild' and get in trouble."
"Don't worry about a fee," he said. "I don't expect to have a client on this case. It's something I want to handle to protect the public from a potential threat."
"I don't understand," said Hamida. "I thought this was your profession... that you do this sort of thing as your trade."
"Oh, it's more than that," Bane answered. The grey eyes were bright and his voice could not hide anticipation. "It's what I was born to do."
III.
At one-thirty in the morning, the Dire Wolf caught movement from the roof of the neighboring building. The Paradise was a run-down hotel starting to border on being a flophouse for those down on their luck or pandhandlers able to swing one night's warm bed and shower. Only eight stories high, the Paradise was separated by a twelve foot wide alley from its neighbor, a building once a furniture outlet but now closed up and dark. On the roof of that building, a slightly built figure carefully placed a wooden packing crate up against the knee high ledge and stepped back to the opposite edge.
Bane watched with interest. He had been waiting since dusk, when he had sneaked up here himself. Impatient at the best of times, he found keeping a vigil to be torture. Isometrics and breathing exercises and fingertip push-ups in the shadows of a chimney had helped him get through the wait but he was immensely relieved to see action was at hand.
Light was sparse in this neighborhood where street lamps were widely spaced and where nearby business had closed hours earlier. In the gloom, Bane watched the dark figure race toward the crate, hop up on top of it and spring across the gap to reach the roof of the Paradise Hotel with a roll that redirected his momentum. A young man hopped nimbly up onto his feet as if rising from a couch. That was well done, the Dire Wolf thought.
Now the boy could be seen more clearly. He was not even five foot ten, slim like a runner, wearing an open black vest over a white T-shirt and baggy cargo pants. Over one shoulder was a coiled length of black cord and he started tying one end of this to a steam pipe near the edge of the roof. That figured. Mohallet had taken room on the top floor and this would be a quick way to directly get in there. As the youth concentrated on securing his knot, Bane crept up behind him more silently than a real wolf. At the last possible instant, the boy sensed movement behind and whirled in time to receive a sharp hooking punch to the pit of his stomach that jacknifed him in half.
As the young man fell doubled up, Bane was glad he was pulled his blow to a minimum. Recently, he had become more concerned about the damage he sometimes did striking people who were not hopeless psychopaths. It was still better than simply shooting them as he could do and claim self defense, but this kid didn't deserve a concussion. Unbuckling a pair of regulation cuffs from the back of his belt, the Dire Wolf fastened the boy's hands behind him and helped him sit up.
"It'll pass in a minute," he told the wheezing young man. "Aden, right? No, don't try to speak yet."
Eventually, Aden got his breath back and wriggled experimentally but the strong hand pressing down on his shoulder convinced him he was not going to get away easily. "Who...?"
"My name is Bane. Some call me the Dire Wolf. We're going to go confront ben Mohallet soon, but first I want to explain something to you. This is an educated guess. In the past few years, I have tangled with modern versions of Achilles, Gilgamesh and Prospero along with his pals Ariel and Caliban. These were all actually living people who were transformed by a spell into replicas of those ancient people. A man named Vidimar heads a cult which uses this Precincarnation spell to collect wealth and to commit brutal murders."
"Why do you tell me these things, Dire Wolf?"
"I'm going to help you stand up. Here. Don't try anything dramatic. Now, listen. My guess is that you have no memory back before a few years ago. There may be a few confused images in your head of escaping a cell and taking to the streets. But even though your mind is normal and you can speak both Iraqi and English, your past is blank. Am I right?"
"Yes, yes, it's all true! I have tried not to think of it but it preys on my mind."
"You are a Preincarnator. Whoever you were a few years ago might come back some day if the spell is broken," Bane explained as slowly as he could to let the information. "But right now, you are someone out of ancient history and legend. A thief who became a hero. Does it all make sense?'
Aden wrested himself away from Bane's hand and hung his head. "Stop it. It's too much. I don't want to know all this. Let me go."
"It's not going to be that easy. If I let you confront Mohallet some other time, it might end with you dead and him wielding the power that rightfully belongs to you. Okay, stay there a second." Bane went back to where he had been hidden and came back strapping a black canvas satchel over his shoulder. When it was secured, he led Aden over to stand by the cord hanging down over the edge of the roof.
"This might be a little bit scary," the Dire Wolf said. "I suggest you close your eyes, take a deep breath and hold it." With that, he picked Aden up under one arm, seized the cord with his free hand and hopped off the roof.
IV.
in the next few seconds, Bane slid down the cord to where the window below them had been left up. He held himself with one hand and flung the flabbergasted Aden in through the opening, then seized the window sill and dove through immediately after. All this he did so smoothly and seemingly effortless that it appeared he had practiced this sequence of difficult acrobatics every day of his adult life. It wasn't often that anyone witnessed what the Dire Wolf was fully capable of.
Landing in a heap on a carpet in the hotel room, Aden could only make incoherent gurgling noises until he got hold of himself. Finally, he got his legs under him and rose up to a kneeling position with his hands still cuffed behind him. "Ack," he managed to say. "Urk."
"Yeah, I know that was a surprise," Bane commented with remarkable composure. "But I thought it was better not to give you time to get nervous. Aden, here's the guy we've been waiting to meet."
Bound with clothesline to a wooden chair which itself had been tied to a radiator to prevent any escape attempts, Mohallet glared at them with murderous intensity. A gag secured between his jaws prevented any of the vicious language which otherwise would have spewed out.
"Mohallet, it's time to settle permanently with you!" Aden's fierce words lost some of their threat when he started forward but was stopped short by a hand that clamped down painfully hard on one shoulder. In the light cast from a single lamp on the bedside nightstand, Aden could be seen as a handsome young man of no more than twenty years old. His thick shiny black hair had been raggedly cut evidently by hand using scissors.
"Ease up there, son," said the Dire Wolf. "This has a ways to go yet." He unslung the satchel from his shoulder and lowered it to the floor. The hotel room was sparsely furnished with a single bed, two plain wooden chairs and dresser on which a decrepit old TV sat. On the wall with the door was a list of laws and regulations, as well as a calendar from an insurance company that was a year out of date. There was no bathroom.
Moving oneof the chairs facing Mohallet on the opposite side of the room, Bane pushed Aden down onto it. "I don't want to have to cuff your ankles, too," the Dire Wolf said. "Let this play out."
"You have the upper hand, American," the Preincarnator grudgingly admitted. "I only hope you know what you are doing."
"Well, I do my best," said Bane. He found a small oval table in the corner which held an old-fashioned rotary phone and a copy of Gideon's Bible. Clearing its surface off, he brought the table over to the middle of the room and then unzipped the satchel he had brought. Bane carefully extracted a two foot high railroad lantern and set it for the two men to gape at. The metal cap and bottom of the lamp had been enameled a lovely deep blue, the glass bulb which held the wick was clean and unscratched.
"YOU had it all this time?" Aden sounded personally aggrieved.
"You bet," answered the Dire Wolf. "A few interesting knick knacks have come into my possession over the years. This was stored in a crate marked DANGEROUS."
The snapping of cords stopped him. Radi ben Mohallet was on his feet as his bonds fell away and he furiously worked the gag out of his mouth. The sorcerer pointed his left fist as if aiming a gun and on its finger, the golden ring shimmered with a lurid yellow haze. "Fool of an unbeliever!" he spat.
"I guess that's me," Bane admitted with a rare sheepish grimace. "I thought that your ring was out of charge?"
"Look upon the lamp," said Mohallet. "Gain wisdom too late."
Around the metal artifact, a similar glow of deep blue flickered and played, casting new shadows in the room. The talismans were affecting each other.
"The ring awakens the lamp, which returns its power a hundredfold," Mohallet gloated. From his ring, brighter glints of golden force stung everyone's eyes. "Nay, do not move, Dire Wolf. I can blast you to a lump of charcoal with but a thought."
"Well, you can try," said the Dire Wolf. He had kept one hand on the cobat lamp and abruptly, he wheeled and took two quick steps to place it in the lap of the seated Aden. In the same motion, he dove to the floor and rolled in a tumble far to one side. Quick as he was, Bane did not entirely escape the bolt of gralic force that crackled across the room and scraped across his back. The material of his jacket was burned away in a trough, revealing the sheen of the Trom armor beneath.
Enough of that malevolent energy had struck him that Bane convulsed and had trouble scrambling back up onto his feet. His hands were shaking and his legs were so wobbly that he fell again.
"Your death will be a foul and painful one," Mohallet yelled. "I believe I will have the Djinn turn you inside out..."
As he spoke, the door to the hotel room swung inward, taking them all by surprise. Stepping into the room, Hamida smiled uncertainly. "Here you all are. I am still in time."
V.
"Honey, run!" Aden screamed. "Run and don't look back."
Before the young woman could react, Mohallet had lunged to slam the door shut. He thrust the ring at her. It was blazing with gold fire now, hissing and sputtering angrily. With that in her face, Hamida gasped and ran over to stand by the chair where Aden was seated. "Al, Al, you are all right. I found you in time."
"Silly child, be quiet!" Mohallet ordered. "Dire Wolf, remain where you are. This is my hour of triumph."
The haze of blue light around the cobalt lamp swirled up to form a cloud near the ceiling and, in reply, a plume of golden light from the ring floated up to join it. The gralic force turned green, a brilliant emerald hue too bright to stare at with comfort. The green mist grew denser, solidified, and began to form a vaguely humanoid shape with thick arms reaching down and a rounded head at the top. Within that head, a pair of oblique red eyes shone hotly.
"Too long has the Djinn been divided and weak," said Mohallet. He braced his forearm with his free hand to keep the ring pointedup towhere the shape was becoming more distinct. "The green fire of Life itself, green as are the growing things of the soil. Ha ha!"
"What is thy bidding, oh my Master?" came a distant ethereal voice from all directions at once. "Hold! What is amiss here? Who holds the ring? Who holds the lamp?"
"I am in command," Mohallet shrieked. "You are bound by King Suleiman himself, blessed be his name, to do as I bid."
"Yeah? I don't THINK so!" retorted Hamida. The young woman snatched up the shining blue lantern and cast it out the open window with a single wide swing of her arm. As soon as the talisman tumbled out of sight, the green radiance snapped off. The oppressive heaviness in the air eased up. And blurring across the room, Jeremy Bane crashed a left uppercut that lifted Mohallet up off so that bottoms of his feet showed. Immediately, the Dire Wolf wriggled the now-cooling golden ring off the mystic's knobby finger and tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket.
The old man wheezed and twitched. He attempted to turn over but would obviously not be entertaining thoughts of reprisal any time soon. Bane left him for the moment and sprang over to where Hamida was staring out the window. "What about the lamp? Was it broken when it hit the street?.. I hope."
The gorgeous young woman chuckled. "See for yourself. That pick-up truck, the one with the tools and bags of peat in its bed? The lamp fell safely there. Behold the light has turned green and the truck rolls away."
Squeezing past her, Bane got only a glimpse of the truck, not catching the license plate number or any identifying dents or rust to help locate it. The vehicle had turned at 18th Street and was gone. "Hell. I guess we can advertise in the papers, offer a reward."
Aden had gotten to his feet and he turned his back to wiggle his fingers at the Dire Wolf. "Perhaps now you would be so considerate...?"
"Eh? Sure." Bane unlocked the handcuffs and clipped them on the back of his belt again. He saw that the Preincarnator was clenching his fists and setting his feet preparatory to taking a swing. "Don't try it," Bane said. "You'd embarass yourself. I only used half impact before on the roof." He swung around again and started to say something but stopped short. Again, the Dire Wolf rushed forward with such acceleration that the two watching were confused by what they seen.
"He's gone," Hamida said blankly. "Like the swipe of a tiger's paw. He is faster than mortal Man should be."
"Don't you see? He went after Mohallet. The wizard fled while we were looking out the window."
Five minutes crept by while the two young people waited uncertainly. Their attempts at conversation broke off before anything could be said. Then the Dire Wolf stormed back into the room.
"I can't believe he got away!" Bane fumed. "That broken-down old geezer! The elevator door must have been opening as he reached it. I ran up and down the street both ways but there was no sign of him and no one in sight to question." He smacked his left fist into his open right palm with a noise like a gunshot. "Dammit! This is the worst case ever! We're back where we started."
"Not exactly, sir," Aden said. "True, the lamp is missing and Mohallet will search for it. But now we know the location of the golden ring and I believe it will be in safe keeping. Am I right?'
"I'll lock it in my vault with a hundred other cursed talismans," Bane told them. "The defenses are solid. It's as protected there as anywhere. What about you, Aden?"
"I shall take up the treasure hunt again. Racing against Mohallet and his henchmen, following hints and rumors, stealing to live and living to steal. But, Hamida, what will you do? Your parents are worried you have missed so many classes at the University."
"Oh, I have decided to travel with you," she replied with a wicked smile. "Obviously you need a clever woman to keep you safe. And how can Aladdin be without his Princess?"
2/25/2019
