Chapter Thirteen.
The Prism of Destiny.
With sudden movement she drew aside the silken curtain, and we stepped into a small, dark, stone chamber, almost a cell. Then with a word of warning she guided my footsteps to a narrow flight of stairs, which she descended with caution, her golden anklets jingling as she went. As I followed, there clung about her soft draperies those sweet perfumes of the harem, the fragrance of which had intoxicated me.
Again she flung back a second heavy curtain that barred a horse-shoe arch at the foot of the stairs, when instantly my eyes were blinded by a flood of brilliant light. Under my feet I felt a carpet so thick that my slipper sank deep into it, and gradually as my dazzled vision grew accustomed to the unusual glare, I realised that I was in a chamber about the size of the one we had just quitted, but decorated entirely in bright green, the hue of which, reflected into Azala’s anxious countenance, gave her a complexion pallid and ghastly. The walls and ceiling were painted green, with good counsels from the Korân in long, lean letters of darker shade, the divans and cushions were of green silk, the stools of malachite, the large alcoves at the end fashioned from dark green marble, beautifully carved, while a malachite table, shaped like a crescent, near the end of the apartment, was studded with huge green crystals that glittered in the light like emeralds. The effect was weird and startling, for the bright white light came from a thousand lamps cunningly arranged overhead, while screens of glass, the colour of the deep sea, shot from the walls slanting beams of brilliant green.
The place was luxurious, yet, as I gazed around it, I could not repress a shudder.
“Go! Take thine ease upon yonder divan,” Azala said in a strange voice, pointing to the great couch within the alcove, and as I obeyed her, she took from her arm the gold band with its talisman of leopard’s skin and handed it to me. Apparently she dare not wear it there.
Standing in the centre of the curious chamber, she clapped her hands loudly, and instantly a curtain opposite was drawn aside, and there appeared the ugly, hunchbacked form of the grinning dwarf, Tiamo, followed by two female Arab slaves handsomely dressed in tissue of white and gold, and wearing long strings of talismans, and embroidered bags containing mysterious powders, cabalistic figures, and prayers in the language of Maghrib.
The trio, advancing, knelt before their mistress, and with a murmured blessing kissed her feet, prostrating themselves before her.
“Rise,” she commanded, almost breathless with excitement. “Know ye that in one brief hour the dawn will show in the direction of the holy city. Speed therefore on the wings of haste and execute my will.”