Robert Weinberg - A Calculated Magic

“What the heck is he?” he muttered to himself, forgetting the two invisible ravens sitting on his shoulders.

“A ghul,” said Mongo, calmly. “We’ve encountered several of their kind during our wanderings. Powerful brutes, they eat human flesh. They have incredibly alert senses that enable them to hunt unwary travelers in the desert.”

“Spare me the lecture,” said Jack, backing up to the wall. The ghul was looking straight at him, its eyes the color of glowing coals. The monster grinned in anticipation, displaying a mouthful of yellow fangs. A dribble of saliva ran down its jaw as it took a giant step forward.

“You birds remember any special weakness I can use against this monster?” Jack asked queasily.

“Sorry,” said Mongo, “not a thing. They’re tough, really tough.”

“You want us to slow him down a mite?” asked Hugo. “We could try the old double-beak-in-the-ears routine.”

“Do it,” said Jack, sliding along the wall as the ghul advanced another step. “Hurry.”

“Men can’t come in the locker room,” said the ghul, spreading open his huge arms. “The boss would be angry with us if he learned you was here. But he’s never gonna ever find out. ’Cause there won’t be any evidence left.”

There was no mistaking what the ghul meant. Anxiously, Jack circled a nearby dressing booth. His gaze swept the counter, hunting for a weapon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a nail file present. The only things on the table were a half dozen atomizers filled with perfume and a powder puff.

Desperately, Jack pushed a chair into the ghul’s path. Laughing, the giant kicked it aside. “You can’t get away from me,” the monster declared. “I can smell you a mile away.”

“I bet you can,” replied Jack, inspiration striking. As did the two ravens.

The ghul shrieked and slammed his hands to his ears. “That hurt!” he bellowed. Swinging his head to and fro, he hunted wildly for his invisible assailants. “That hurt my ears bad.”

“See if you like this any better,” said Jack, pushing an atomizer as close to the giant’s nose as he dared and spraying. Suddenly, the locker room smelled like roses. Bushels and bushels of roses. It was an extremely potent perfume.

The ghul sneezed explosively. Once, then again, and again. Jack grabbed another atomizer. “Didn’t care for that fragrance?” he asked mockingly, squeezing the trigger. A overwhelming mix of orange blossoms and hyacinths filled the air. He grabbed a third, then a fourth, and a fifth. “How about this? Or this? Or this?”

Eyes tearing, hands waving about frantically, the ghul stumbled into the metal lockers. Its head rocked back and forth with one gigantic sneeze after another. Jack continued to empty atomizer after atomizer at the fiend. Its painful howls mixed with sneezes as it sank to the floor, trying to escape the overwhelming mixture of perfume.

“There’s a hot plate on the third table that should perform wonders,” said Mongo in Jack’s ear, “Try knocking him on the head a few times with it.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. It required eight smashes to the ghul’s skull before the creature finally collapsed unconscious. Panting, Jack dropped the metal appliance to the floor. “Thank God,” he declared. “My arms were tiring out.”

“Smart idea, realizing the ghul’s overdeveloped sense of smell would make him vulnerable to perfume,” said Mongo. “That was quick thinking.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “Anybody check on Cassandra?”

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” asked the Amazon from the doorway. She caught a glimpse of the motionless ghul spread-eagled on the floor. “Sorry I left that one for you, but the other two proved to be more difficult than I expected. Ghuls are rough customers. Looks like you managed fine on your own. I told you that training in unarmed combat would pay off.”

The Amazon’s nose wrinkled, noticing for the first time the overwhelming smell of perfume. “What happened? Did he overturn one of the tables when he fell?”

“Not exactly,” said Jack. “I’ll explain some other time,” He shook his head, dismayed with his carelessness. “Remind me next time I make a deal with nymphs to press them a little harder for pertinent details. Alis never mentioned ghuls in her description of the guard post. She probably didn’t think it mattered.”

Bending over, he rolled the motionless giant onto its stomach. “This goon should be out for hours, but let’s tie him up to be on the safe side,” He glanced at his watch. “Then off to rescue Megan. We’re running out of time.”

Jack’s scheme called for him to use the uniform of one of the security guards as a disguise. The notion made perfect sense until their actual run-in with the security force. Jack had never thought to explain his full plan to Alis and Candi. He now realized that had been a major mistake.

Cassandra, walking casually beside him, her arm linked with his, stifled a giggle as he tripped over his pants for the third time. All three of the ghuls had been giants. Their pants rolled down past Jack’s shoes while their jackets stretched to his knees. In a hurry, without any sort of sewing equipment, he managed the best he could, rolling up and tucking in. But he couldn’t walk more than a dozen steps without one garment or another betraying him.

His companions found his predicament endlessly amusing. Cassandra, forced to endure the entire weekend in garments she found degrading, took particular pleasure in gently mocking Jack’s efforts. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled along, trying not to attract attention.

Fortunately, that didn’t prove to be very difficult. Invisible on his shoulders, the ravens provided directions through the maze of linked chambers that led to the solitary bridge across the moat of fire. Approximately half of the rooms were occupied by two or more nymphs. None of them expressed the least interest in Jack or Cassandra.

Keeping his mind on his destination was the hard part. In keeping with the traditional trappings of Paradise, modern means of entertainment such as TVs, radios, or CD players were not allowed. Instead, the women in the chambers were forced to amuse themselves in other fashions. A few played chess or checkers. Most of the rest indulged in procedures that had Jack gasping for breath and averting his eyes. There was only so much a man could bear to watch.

“Are we almost there?” Jack muttered after staggering through a chamber occupied with six nymphs engaged in a complex act he would have sworn impossible to accomplish. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Otherwise, I might have to put on a blindfold.”

“Two more rooms,” answered Mongo. “Do you find the sexual practices of the female of your species disturbing? Strange. Hugo and I consider their actions extremely fascinating.”

“We view them from different perspectives,” said Jack. “Take my word for it.”

“If you insist,” said Mongo. “Birds don’t engage in orgies. I think that is why we find them so intriguing.”

“Just find the damned moat,” said Jack. “And cut the chatter.”

“I was merely trying to keep you from getting nervous,” said Mongo, sounding miffed. “The entrance is through that portal.”

“Thank the Lord,” Jack said, and pulled open the door. And found himself staring at a vision of hell.

The center of Paradise consisted of a crater eighty feet in diameter. It was circled completely by a narrow rock rim four feet in diameter Unlike the rooms surrounding it, the crater was not covered by a roof. Instead, the stone ceiling of the cavern was visible thirty-five feet from the floor. The walls of the chambers stretched half that distance, forming a natural amphitheater. The only break in the brick surface was the door from which they had emerged.