“Genii, spirits elemental of air, of fire, of earth, and of water! By the bond between us, by this wand which ye know, by the spells I have woven, by this magic circle in which I stand, I summon you, I summon you!”
He then turned toward the other cardinal points, repeating to each the same formula, though appealing to different personal names. At once there fell on the ear the faint beat of distant wings. Shadows began to flit through the air, and monstrous shapes vaguely showed themselves on the walls and roofs of the khan. Then the lights on the stage burned blue, grew feeble, flickered, went out. Everything was now in profound darkness—save that on the stage the circumference of the circle with its inlying border of mystic characters was become a glowing belt that cast a wierd light on the magician and his cowering companions, but seemed to have no power of illuminating beyond the stage. Now the beat of wings was heard more distinctly. It grew apace. Soon it was like the rush of winds—high in the air above the stage, and at various points in the passage left behind the seats under the piazza. There it swept along with terrific force—whistling and howling. Into these noises others immediately insinuated themselves. Strange whisperings and mutterings became audible. These gradually passed into raps, detonations, groans, shrieks; and occasionally a yell so fierce and demoniacal as to be appalling, rent the air and the ear.
But the chief place of commotion was the edge of the platform, just outside of the fiery zone. Here, all the noises that were scattered elsewhere were condensed and intensified into the roar of a tempest. To fiendish laughs and screeches and yells that made the ear tingle were added the bayings of many sorts of wild beasts when hot after their prey. It seemed as if the spirits were crowding to get at the magician, and tear him limb from limb, and were chafed to madness on being prevented by the magic circle. It was the many-voiced sea, lashed into fury, leaping in spray and thunder on a rock-bound coast. What a carnival! Was hell emptied? And through the blackness and the uproar and the fury, pierced voices like swords—voices that cried:
“We are here, great Master, to do thy bidding. Lo, we are here!”
At no time during the evening had Cimon, or even Aleph with his younger eyes, been able to see who occupied the adjoining seats on their right and left. These seats had not been taken till it had become too dark to distinguish faces or even figures: and the single lamp before themselves was so ensconced among the ornaments of the eaves of the piazza that it threw no light to either side. But from both sides they occasionally caught low sounds of movements and voices; and knew very well that they had neighbors. And they felt quite sure that if an attack should be made upon them it would come from those nearest to them. So, as soon as the lights had all gone out, after a moment’s whispered conference together, they noiselessly set their seat back against the door of their room, and as noiselessly took stand in front of it and facing it, but at a distance from it of several feet—and waited for what might happen.
At the height of the uproar and darkness, their ears caught a stealthy movement at both right and left; and then the careful footfall of unsandalled feet. A moment more, and there was a stumbling against the seat they had left, as of men who had been expecting a clear passage; while they felt the presence of others just before them. At once came a hasty succession of heavy blows, as of bludgeons, on the seat and door behind it. Two heavy thuds promptly followed, and as many groans and falls: for both Cimon and Aleph had struck with clenched hands into the dark, and had encountered something more substantial than spirits. This done, they stepped back to their former places and waited for what might yet follow. Nothing followed—save the sound of footsteps hastily retreating to the right and left. And, all at once, the hubbub of wierd noises began to lull; the whispers and howls and other diabolic sounds dwindled rapidly; in a few moments the rush of departing wings had died away in the distance.
“Now go in peace,” cried the magician. “If any have been injured by the Powers I have summoned, it is because they did not obey my directions. Their blood be on their own heads. I take you to witness that I am not responsible.”
The court and piazza were soon emptied. The people had been too soundly frightened to stand on the order of their going; and rushed out pell-mell through the darkness—overturning benches and hurdles and one another.
During this final uproar, which was almost as great as the spirits had made, Aleph felt a hand on his shoulder, heard a whisper at his ear—“Shaphan and Nathan.”
“Welcome,” he whispered back. “Come into our room.”