"English?"

"Scottish."

Abdar waved a casual hand. "It is all the same."

"Not to a Scotsman," Ruel murmured blandly.

Abdar turned to face him and Ruel stiffened with sudden wariness. In spite of the childishness of that face, he felt the same uneasiness as when he had regarded the statue.

After studying Ruel for a moment, the prince returned his gaze to Ian. "You do not look like brothers. I see no resemblance."

"We are only half brothers," Ian said.

Abdar's glance dropped to Ruel's hand resting on the golden dagger of the statue. "You should not touch her. For a foreigner to touch the goddess is sacrilege."

Ruel's hand fell away from the statue. "My apologies. The texture of gold begs to be touched, and I've always found the temptation irresistible."

Abdar's gaze suddenly narrowed on Ruel. "You have a fondness for gold?"

"It's more of a passion."

Abdar nodded. "Then we have found a meeting ground. I, too, have such a passion." He moved across the room and seated himself on the turquoise cushions of a finely carved peacock chair. "Colonel Pickering told my secretary you wish to ask a boon of me. I have little time. State your request."

"We wish an audience with your father, the maharajah," Ian said. "We've been in Kasanpore over two weeks trying to secure a meeting with him."

"He sees few people these days. All he cares about is his new toy of a railroad." Abdar's lips curled in a bitter smile. "But I am surprised you did not succeed in your quest. My father believes the British are his true brothers and even sent me to Oxford to be educated. He cannot see how the British queen seeks to make a puppet of him and Kasanpore."

"We have a business proposition for your father that has nothing to do with the politics of either India or England," Ian said. "All we ask is ten minutes of his time."

"It is still too much." Abdar stood up. "I cannot help you."

Disappointment rushed through Ruel before he caught a flicker of expression on Abdar's face that caused his disappointment to vanish. He was too good a poker player himself not to realize this was no dismissal but an attempt to intimidate them. "Cannot or will not?" he asked softly.

"Insolence," Abdar said. "You are very arrogant for a second son."

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but it has always been my philosophy that a man shouldn't be afraid to lose what he doesn't have." He paused. "And that he shouldn't ask for anything he isn't willing to pay for."

"And what are you willing to pay for my influence on your behalf?"

"What do you want?"

"Why should I wish anything from you?" Abdar smiled contemptuously as he threw out his hand to indicate the splendor of their surroundings. "Look around you. Do I appear to be in need?" His lips twisted. "The jewel I wear on my little finger could probably buy your Glenclaren."

"Possibly." Ruel leaned against the table. "But wanting sometimes has very little to do with need. Why did you agree to receive us, Your Highness?"

"As a courtesy to Colonel Pickering."

Ruel shook his head. "I don't think so. You've displayed no overwhelming fondness for the British."

"Then why should I permit you to come?"

"Why, indeed?"

Abdar hesitated before allowing a slight smile to touch his lips. "It may be that we can negotiate. There is something I desire that you may bring me."

"And that is?"

"A man." He nodded at the statue on the table. "A goldsmith named John Kartauk."

"He created this?" Ruel's gaze returned to the goddess. "Superb."

"A genius. My father brought him from Turkey six years ago and bestowed on him our royal patronage. Kartauk created many beautiful objects to grace our palaces." Abdar's lips tightened. "And then the ungrateful dog spurned our generosity and ran away from us."

"Ran away?" Ruel's brows lifted. "How curious. Why should an artist so favored find it necessary to run away?"

Abdar glanced away and did not answer at once. "I am not good with English. I merely meant he had left us with no farewells."

Abdar's English was better than his own, Ruel thought cynically, and the prince had meant exactly what he had said. "And gave no reason?"

"Great artists are often unstable and given to fancies." Abdar shrugged. "However, I am willing to forgive him and take him back"

"How kind."

Abdar chose to ignore the irony in Ruel's tone. "Yes, it is. But I must find him in order to, persuade him to return."

"Perhaps he's no longer in Kasanpore," Ian said.

"He is still here. I've recently seen an example of his work."

"Where?"

"You are aware of the railroad my father is having built from Kasanpore to our summer palace in Narinth?"

"We could hardly miss it," Ian said dryly. "Everyone in the city appears to be laboring on it."

"My father is like a child with a new toy. He imported this Patrick Reilly, a construction engineer, from England, to build it, and talks of nothing else. He is concerned only with engines and whistles and velvet-covered seats that—" He broke off and drew a deep breath. "I do not like these new ways. This railroad is an atrocity. Anyway, my father decided he desired a golden door carved with wondrous designs to grace his private car and insisted Reilly provide one."

"Rather an extravagant demand."

"Not for a maharajah." Abdar lifted his chin haughtily. "It is our right to demand what pleases us from those beneath us."

"And did Reilly provide what your father demanded?"

"Eventually. My father told him if he did not furnish the door, he would pay him nothing and find another construction engineer to finish the railroad."

"I can see how that might have proved an incentive," Ruel said dryly.

"The door was carved by John Kartauk."

"You're certain?"

"I know his work well." Abdar's lips thinned. "The door is an exquisite abomination."

"Exquisite abomination," Ruel repeated. "It would seem to have to be either one or the other."

Abdar shrugged. "My poor English again."

"The solution seems simple enough. Ask Reilly where your artist is to be found."

"Do you think me a fool? I did ask and he claimed he had no knowledge of Kartauk. He said his ward found a man in the town to do the work, and when I questioned her she would tell me nothing. She said he was only a local goldsmith and had left for Calcutta directly after he finished the door."

"She? A woman?"

Abdar nodded jerkily and his words were suddenly heavy with venom. "Reilly calls her his ward, though the slut is undoubtedly his whore. Her name is Jane Barnaby, a bold piece with no manners and an unbridled tongue. She frequents Zabrie's house of shame, where she mixes and sleeps with foreigners and low-caste workers and shows no—"

"Bribe her," Ruel cut into the tirade.

"I do not offer money to whores and liars."

"Pity. It's such a useful tool."

"However, I have set watch on her and she has not met with Kartauk in the past two weeks."

"Perhaps she told the truth and he did leave for Calcutta."