I sent Max a slightly superior smile, one that said, You see? They’re still buying it. I didn’t want to be too blatant, for fear the other scribe would notice me reacting to things I wasn’t supposed to be able to follow. Bob I wasn’t worried about. Bob noticed nothing, as he proved by believing me.

The other scribe sent him a pitying smile, as if he still thought Eliphalet drank the extra mug of beer people put out for his name day. “It’s a crock of crap, Bob,” he said in Albionese. “This guy’s lying through his teeth. Either he is or the Atabeg is, anyway, and the Atabeg sounds too cheesed off to be blowing smoke. Something’s screwy somewhere. You wait and see.”

I wasn’t supposed to be able to follow that, either. By my expression, you’d never know I did. I glanced over at Max. I wasn’t expecting a slightly superior smile from him, and I didn’t get one. Max doesn’t waste smiles like that. I’d never imagined anybody frowning a slightly superior frown, but there it was. Max’s face is made for expressing subtle shades of disapproval.

“Are you really the Atabeg’s nephew, your Majesty?” Bob asked. He had a childlike faith that, because he was a scribe, nothing he said could land him in trouble. Or maybe he was trying to prove he was a perfect idiot after all; I don’t know. I do know his keeper turned a shade of chartreuse that didn’t go at all well with the dark green jacket he was wearing.

“What does he say?” I asked again, as innocently as if I were innocent.

Instead of answering me, the other scribe spoke to Bob in a low voice. I really couldn’t follow all of that. What I could follow was…entertaining. Bob’s keeper wasn’t telling him all the different kinds of fool he was; he’d still be standing there in the Peshkepiia market square talking if he tried it. He did seem to make a judicious selection.

“What does he say?” I asked again after a while.

“Never mind, your Majesty. He’s decided he doesn’t really want to ask that question,” the other scribe said in Schlepsigian. “Haven’t you, Bob?” he added in ominous Albionese.

“It really would be interesting to find out,” Bob said. “Add a bit of human interest to things. Make a good story-do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, and the story right after it would be how an Albionese scribe got his nose cut off because he couldn’t keep from poking it into dark corners with knives hidden in them.” His keeper had some basic grasp on reality. The man switched to Schlepsigian to tell me, “Bob really and truly doesn’t want to ask that question.”

Bob really and truly did, but I wasn’t supposed to know it. So I smiled and nodded and let the other scribe lead the ineffable Albionese out of danger. Out of danger from me, anyhow-I had the feeling Bob would keep on putting himself in danger wherever he went and whatever he did. And he wouldn’t even know he was putting himself in danger, which would be all the more dangerous for him.

“Your Majesty.” By the exaggerated patience with which Max said it, he didn’t think I even knew I was putting myself in danger. “Your Majesty, it’s unraveling. It’s coming to pieces. Don’t you think we ought to get out while the getting’s good? Don’t you think we ought to while we still can?”

I sighed and reached up to pat him on the back. “Go if you want to, old fellow. I won’t say a word about it. But I’ll miss you tonight, I really will. Even with Zogu’s charm under the bed, I don’t know if I can handle six of them all by myself. Oh, well. I’ll just have to try my, ah, hardest. It’s my patriotic duty, after all.”

Max walked back to the palace with me. I’m sure his patriotic duty was the uppermost thing in his mind. Max always was a very patriotic fellow.

Strati. Hoti. Rruga. Jeni. Zarzavate. Silnif. The last of the harem. Thinking that made me sad. There wouldn’t be any more first times for me and Max. Ah, well. Some things don’t get boring even with repetition.

By that fourth night, Skander had given up asking the whereabouts of my distinguished minister for special affairs. He assumed Max was in the room where he belonged. I assumed Max belonged in the room where he was. Skander’s assumption satisfied him-and presumably Rexhep. Mine satisfied me.

Max seemed quite capable of satisfying himself.

Between the two of us, we seemed quite capable of satisfying Strati and Hoti and Rruga (roll those first two r’s as hard as you can) and Jeni and Zarzavate and Silnif. Yes, Zogu’s magic helped. But we knew what we were doing, and we did several different things. If we’d just done that, we never could have managed, even with a helping hand from the wizardry.

“Oh, your Majesty!” Zarzavate said at one point in the proceedings. I think it was Zarzavate. Whoever it was, I don’t believe I got a more heartfelt compliment in my whole reign.

But all good things must come to an end, which is another way to say you can’t keep coming forever, no matter how much you wish you could. We sprawled across the bed and across one another, worn out but happy.

“Which of us did you like best, your Majesty?” asked Hoti-I do believe it was Hoti.

“All of you,” I said. I might not be a politician, but I’m not an imbecile, either. I sounded sincere, too.

The girls laughed. Even Max unfrowned a little. But Hoti-was it Hoti?-didn’t want to leave it alone. She pouted prettily. “Yes, your Majesty, which of all of us?”

Well, I had an opinion. I had it, and I was bloody well going to keep it to myself. The Atabeg’s torturers couldn’t have torn it out of me. So I say, anyhow, never having made the acquaintance of those illustrious gentlemen.

“All of you,” I repeated. “I can’t imagine how any king anywhere in all the world could be happier than I am right now.” And I could imagine the harem wars if I didn’t stay evenhanded. I could, and I didn’t want to.

None of the girls felt combative just then. I liked the way they felt just fine. “We’d do anything for you, your Majesty,” Strati said. I’m almost sure it was Strati. “Anything at all.” If she was the one I thought she was at one particular moment-exactly who was who when blurred a bit-she meant every word of that, too.

“And for you, brave Captain Yildirim,” Silnif added. Well, let’s say it was Silnif. “We don’t want you to feel all alone, now.” She giggled. My minister for special affairs might have felt a lot of things right then, but he was most unlikely to feel alone.

A little later, Max did his amazing, astounding, never to be equaled disappearing act: he went back into my closet. The girls sighed with regret. I restored myself to something resembling decency. They sighed about that, too, which did ease my mind. Then they got dressed, which gave me something to regret.

I summoned Skander. Skander summoned Rexhep. The eunuch took the girls back to the harem. “You’ve made yourself remarkably popular, your Majesty,” Skander said, for all six of them went right on sighing. “Remarkably.” He knew something was going on, but he didn’t know what. A good thing he didn’t, too.

That was the end of my fourth night as King of Shqiperi.