The wazir withdrew, leaving us to bid farewell to the khalifa. Lord Sadiq made several judicious observations of a general and pleasant nature, whereupon we prepared to make good our escape. Just as we were thanking the caliph for his charity, and bidding him farewell, the addle-pated fellow raised his hands and burst out chanting.

"Allah is the light of the heavens and earth!" cried the khalifa in a loud, cracking voice. "His light is as a pillar upon which stands a lamp in a glass, shining like starlight and glittering like a pearl, kindled from the blessed olive tree-neither of the east, nor of the west-whose fragrant oil gives light though fire touches it not. Light upon light! God guides to his light whomsoever he pleases, and sets forth parables for the instruction of the people. Allah is wise in all things; his knowledge is infinite!"

So saying, the khalifa lowered his hands; he slumped back on his cushions once again and closed his eyes. Sadiq bowed low. "Thank you for reminding me, Majesty," he said. "May God keep you well, khalifa."

"Fruit," the khalifa murmured sleepily. "We must be having some fruit. I see bowls of it here."

With a glance to me, Sadiq led the way from the garden and back through the hall to the courtyard where our horses, having been watered during our audience, were now waiting. As soon as we were beyond the hearing of the khalifa, I spoke up. "There were more than six survivors," I pointed out, and demanded: "What are we to do about the rest?"

"Be at peace," answered Sadiq placidly. "Tabataba'i will have everything in order."

"But he does not know," I objected.

"The matter was well in hand," Sadiq insisted. "You might have ruined everything with your clumsy meddling." He relented then, and said, "You worry for nothing. Have faith, Aidan."

Wazir Tabataba'i was waiting for us in the courtyard. The parchment was rolled in a bit of silk and tied with a length of the same material. He presented the roll to me, saying, "May Allah, Wise and Compassionate, speed your friends' return to freedom. It is a very great gift you have been given this day."

Not wishing to seem ungrateful, I nevertheless felt constrained to see for myself that all was in order. "Thank you, wazir," I said, and proceeded to untie the parchment. Once unrolled, I held the square between my hands and examined the graceful script closely.

"That is the royal seal of al'Mutamid," Tabataba'i said, pointing to the red embossed insignia. "Do you read Arabic?"

"Alas, no," I conceded. Handing the scroll to him, I said, "Please?"

"Of course," he smiled haughtily. "It says: 'Be it here known that the Khalifa al'Mutamid, Defender of the Faithful, has decreed that the bearer of this communication shall obtain the immediate release of certain slaves who are known to him. Anyone making bold to hinder or interfere in the execution of this decree shall be committing treason, and shall thus earn the full measure of the khalifa's wrath.'" He finished reading and looked up. "I trust this meets with your approval?"

"Indeed, it is all I could have asked. Again, I thank you, Wazir Tabataba'i."

"Do not thank me," the wazir said elaborately, handing me the scroll. "Thank al'Mutamid, and thank Allah the khalifa was in a reasonable mind today. It might easily have been otherwise." He bowed, touching his forehead in a sign of respect to the amir, then turned and strode away.

"Wazir Tabataba'i serves the khalifate, not the khalifa," Sadiq informed me when we were once again remounted and riding out through the palace gates. "No one knows better how to temper the royal rages." A cloud seemed to pass over the amir's face as he spoke, but I could not guess his feeling. "At all events, I knew the wazir would make the decree usefully ambiguous."

"Once more, I find myself indebted to your prudence and acumen. I will repay you if I can."

He shook his head. "There is no need. I only regret you had to see the khalifa in his infirmity, but there was no other way. Still, as the wazir has said, it was one of his better days. al'Mutamid has been known to disrobe before guests and defecate, or fly into an insatiable fury and demand all his servants be impaled on white-hot spikes." Turning in the saddle, he said, "Do not for the briefest instant believe Abu Ahmad shares any of his brother's attributes. Praise be to Allah! Abu's mind is keen as the blade at his side; he is both philosopher and prince. Eighty thousand men serve under his command, and each with but a single thought: to die for the greater glory of God and Abu."

"The people are fortunate that the khalifa has such a brother," I remarked. The amir only nodded. He said nothing more until we were dismounting in the courtyard of his palace. "Tonight," he declared, swinging down from the saddle in a single, fluid motion, "is the last night we will have in Ja'fariya. You will eat at my table. I will send Kazimain to bring you at the proper time."

"As you will, Lord Sadiq," I replied, trying to emulate his cat-like grace.

"Now, you must excuse me," he said. "I have three wives, and owe particular obligations to each. We will be gone many days, so I must do what I can to discharge my marital duties-as is proper in the sight of Allah."

"By all means," I replied, "it would be a sin to leave undone that which, for duty's sake, must be done."

"Although you are not yet a married man, I knew you would understand." I watched him walk away, much in envy of his sense of duty.

While the amir's many servants laboured with preparations for our journey, I spent the remainder of the day thinking what I would tell Kazimain. Alas, when I heard the familiar sound of her footfall in the corridor beyond my room, I was no closer to knowing what I should say. Seeing her face-glowing with happiness as she swept into the room-only made the grim chore more difficult.

She crossed the room in two running steps and came into my arms in a rush, knocking me over onto the bed. She kissed me once, twice, three times-whereupon I lost count, drowning myself in her all-encircling embrace. When she paused to catch her breath, she held my face between her hands and looked at me, the light of her happiness a dazzling ray that lit the room even as it lit her eyes.

"I have been waiting for you all day!" she said, placing her chin against my chest and staring into my face. "The servants said you had gone to see the khalifa."

"We did that," I told her. "I went to obtain freedom for my friends." How deep were her eyes, and how dark.

"Were you successful?" she asked.

"More successful than I could have hoped," I replied, tracing the curve of her lips with a fingertip.

"Are you not pleased?"

"But I am," I said, "very well pleased."

"You do not seem pleased. You seem unhappy." She kissed me again. "The banquet tonight will cheer you," she said. "It is only the amir's family, so we can sit together."

"Kazimain…" I said, cupping a hand to her cheek. The words stuck in my throat.

Concern drew her brows together. "What is troubling you?"

"You will have seen the preparations-"

"Yes, the amir is going away again. They say he is going to Byzantium."

"He is," I told her, "and I am to go with him."

The light went out of her eyes as if snuffed by a cold wind. Misery enveloped her like a robe. "Why must you go?"

"I am sorry, my love," I said, reaching for her. She pulled away.

"Why?"

"It was the price for my friends' freedom," I said, adding, "and for my own."

"And you agreed to this?"

"I would have agreed to anything. Yes, I told him I would go."

"It was wrong of Lord Sadiq to treat you in such a callous manner." She leapt up. "I will go to him at once and make him see that he cannot do this."

"No, Kazimain," I stood, and held out my hand to her. "No. It must be this way. The amir needs me with him in Byzantium, and the need is such that he would have taken me with him anyway. I made the best bargain I could."