H. A. Lamb

“ Piles of fruit lay rotting about the floor.
"It is time," chattered the Kurd, who was sipping at a goblet of wine, "Halen ibn Shaddah showed himself. He comes to the banquet-place every night, and we drink to him. Drink, Khlit—are not Cossacks born with a grape in their mouths? You are lucky to be alive, for Rashideddin is a viper without mercy."
"Who is this Rashideddin?" asked Khlit, setting down the wine, for it was not to his liking.
"Oh, he is the wise man of the arch-prophet—the master of Alamut. He knows more magic than all the Greeks and dervishes put together. ”

“ As Khlit watched, Halen ibn Shaddah moved along the balcony among the eaters. On the banquet floor a murmur grew into a shout—
"Blessed be he that has unmade all laws; who is master of the akd; chief of chief, prophet of prophets, sheik of sheiks; who holds the keys of the gate of paradise."
Iba Kabash shouted as if in ecstacy, rising on his knees and beating his palms together, as the group of the sheik came nearer them. Once or twice Khlit saw Halen ibn Shaddah beckon to a man who rose hastily and followed the Dais. Iba Kabash, he thought, was drunk, yet not in a fashion known to Cossacks. ”

“ Toctamish wiped his brow on which the perspiration had gathered and touched the dead man with his foot.
"The good Rashideddin will not kill you," chanted the Kurd eagerly. "It must be a miracle, for you are both fools. You have me to thank for your safety. I have given good advice, have I not?" ”