“I’ve got a weapon, all right,” said Tony. “I’d intended to use it on the ground, away from you and Nasim. It’s pretty deadly to any djinn anywhere near by.”
Abdul make a moaning sound.
“But if anything happens to you,” said Tony, “I’ll have a nasty fall. So—hm… get us some height, and then if you can let Es-Souk dive at me from behind, I think I can use my weapon so you won’t be affected.”
The desert shrank as the unnamed creature into which Abdul had transformed himself strove desperately for height. Tony found a strap hitched to the saddle, intended to make the rider secure in his place. He fastened it and felt better. He saw the roc, far below, beginning to beat upward with furious strokes of its long pinions.
He tucked away his cigarette case and got out his two stones and the handkerchief and the full phial of lasf. He rearranged the stones and the phial in the handkerchief. He tied the whole together, tugging at the corners of the handkerchief with his teeth. The combination made a fairly handy if eccentric hand grenade. But of course it could not possibly explode.
Then he watched with an unnatural calm. Just as in an airplane one has no sensation of height, so on this peculiar mount he felt as if he were in some sensational illusory ride in an amusement park. He even examined the creature he rode, while the mountain tops grew level with him and then sank a thousand feet or more below.
“Abdul,” he said. “What on earth are you, anyhow? I’ve never seen anything like this!”
Abdul said miserably:
“I had indigestion one night, lord, and dreamed this. So I practiced making myself into it. It has been much admired. The touch of having the creature possess no actual, visible face is considered very effective, and I—I thought at one time that Nasim was much impressed by it. But she became betrothed to Es-Souk. I think, lord, that the form I wear might be called a chimaera.”
Tony said: