"I will be the sultana," Zuleika said with a smile.

"And Haroun?" Rafa asked, her black eyes curious.

"He will not be the sultan," was all Zuleika would say.

"I will take my chances with you," Bahira told her friend.

"Good! I have asked my father for Rafa and one other person to go with me to the barbarian's encampment. He swore I might have anyone I desired. Haroun will not approach your father until after I am gone. I intend asking the sultan for you, Bahira. He has given his word, and will not take it back no matter Haroun's protests. That way I can keep you safe from my cousin." She reached out and took her friend's hand, and the hand of her servant. "Will you both trust me to bring us safely back to Dariyabar? I will, you know."

They both squeezed her hand in response.

"Good," Zuleika told them. "Now let us go and see what Kansbar will show me, provided he is in a mood to cooperate."

Without being asked, Rafa scurried across the room to a tall ebony wood cabinet. Opening it, she drew out a concave vessel, and bringing it to her mistress set it upon a low table. It was a bowl, wide, round, and almost flat in design. It was oddly plain, having no decoration upon it at all, neither carving nor bas-relief. It was dull in color, appearing to be made from some base metal. Rafa and Bahira sat about the low table on red silk cushions. Zuleika knelt before the bowl.

"Great Kansbar, guardian of Dariyabar, and supreme genie of the golden bowl, come forth, I beg you, and speak with me," she said.

The bowl filled with clear crystal water.

"Please, Kansbar, we are in danger, and need you," Zuleika pleaded politely.

The dull bowl suddenly shone itself a bright and shining gold.

"We are at your mercy, and await your august presence," Zuleika murmured.

Suddenly a face appeared on the smooth surface of the water. It was a male face, ageless, and his head was topped by a cloth-of-gold turban in the front of which was set a large pigeon's-blood ruby. Black eyes looked out upon the trio, curious, and perhaps just a trifle irritated at being disturbed. "It must be great danger, my princess, that you are so deferential to me," the genie said. "What has happened, and how may I serve you?" His voice was deep, and like thunder.