Conan and the Curse of the Djinn part 2

When Sonja reopened her eyes, she stood in the middle of the main square of Turan.  Merchants plied their wares; beggars pleaded for alms, to be ignored by the wealthy and arrogant; painted whores walked the street, flaunting their charms.
Sonja turned her head.  She turned to see herself, clad in scanty chain mail and leather boots and gloves, her sword of Turanian steel in its scabbard.
"Sonja!" the unwilling djinn-slave shouted to her past self, rushing through the crowds.  "Sonja!"
"What do you want?" the metal-clad Sonja asked her unrecognized counterpart.  "My time is...Mitra!"  She recognized the silks-clad wench before her as her double.  "Save for your garments, you could be my mirror image."
"That's because I am you," the djinn said to the warrior.  "A you that will exist if you take that wretched Sanju's offer."
The warrior-woman's eyes narrowed.  "What are you babbling about?" she demanded.
The djinn-Sonja placed her on the warrior-Sonja's forehead.  Suddenly, images of the events of a month into the future flowed through the Hyrkanian mortal's mind.
"There, do you see?" asked the djinn.  "That is why you must not accept Sanju's job offer!"
Sonja narrowed her sapphire eyes.  "If what you say is true," she argued, "then like it or not, I may have to."
"What!"
"If I don't," reasoned her past self, "then destiny itself will become unraveled."
The djinn gaped at her past self. Gods! she thought.  *Am I really that stubborn?*  Then she got an idea.  "And if you do," she countered, "you'll wind up subservient to a man!  Do you really want to end up like this?"  She gestured to her own rainment.
Red Sonja pursed her lips.  "How do I know that this is not djinn trickery?"
Djinn Sonja sighed.  "You don't.  But unfortunately, the whole reason I'm here is because of my master's ill-fated wish-command."  She gestured.  "So I'm sending you to Aquilonia, a place so far away that our fate will be postponed, if not averted."
"Now wait one -- "
But with a wave of her counterpart's hand, it was done.  Red Sonja looked about.  She was now in a city that was far different in customs and architecture.

The djinn smiled.  Her work here was done.  Already she could feel herself returning to the point where she'd left.
She opened her eyes...and saw Conan.
"Well?" asked the Cimmerian.  "Is it done?"
"'Done'?" Red Sonja asked.  "Of course it's done, you big..."
Then she realized that Conan was still standing in the desert.  Still holding that damned bottle.  Red Sonja looked down at herself, and saw her garb, and knew.
"NNOOOOOOOO!!!!"
 Her scream of rage and frustration rent the air.  Bolts of black flame roared from her hands, striking the ground at Conan's feet, forcing him to leap away.  He then looked up to see Red Sonja's tear-streaked, crazed face glaring as she continued to cast searing bolts of flame at her surroundings.
"Sonja?" he asked.  Then, "Sonja!"
"What?!" she demanded in a voice with the growl of a cat.  Her look of rage could send ice even into Conan's heart.
"I just want you to calm down before you hurt someone," Conan spoke gently.
Upon hearing her master's command, Sonja found herself forced to relax.  Then she began to cry.  Conan wanted to hold her until the sobs passed, but knowing Sonja he guessed that it was a bad idea.
"It seems that my past self was right about destiny, in a way," Sonja sighed when the crying stopped.  "Because it seems to be my destiny to be your
servant."
Conan frowned.  "Then we're both in trouble, because I don't want to enslave you."  Even if you are clad like an Iranistani concubine, he added in his private thoughts.  Aloud, he added, "And besides, you know I hate magic!"