And thus it was that the vizier found him.

When the vizier saw Shahrayar seated by the pool that Shahrazad had loved, a very long time ago it seemed now, he was surprised to feel his spirit lighten. Into his heart, which all night had grieved and was even now afraid for the fate which would befall his daughter should she fail in her endeavors, he felt a small, bright surge of hope. The first hope he had known since he had read Shahrayar's proclamation and understood how far the young man he loved and honored had traveled away from his true self.

Perhaps, the vizier thought, all might yet be well. For perhaps the king and Shahrazad were bound together in ways he himself could not fathom, but could hope that his daughter might. So, with his fine kidskin slippers making no more than a whisper across the cobblestones, the vizier moved to King Shahrayar and bowed low.

For many moments, Shahrayar did not acknowledge the vizier in any way, instead continuing to sit gazing upward and trailing his fingers in the water. But at last, he withdrew his hand and dried it on his pant leg, caring nothing for the way the water stained the silk. He made a gesture for the vizier to rise.

" Well?" Shahrayar said softly.

At the sound of the king's voice, the vizier felt a shiver ripple across the surface of his skin, the way a wind will make smooth water ridge and pucker. I am a fool to hope, he thought. How can there be hope when he sounds so cold?

"My lord, I bring great news," he said, once more bowing low. "A maiden has come forward of her own free will and asks that you accept her as your bride."

At this news, Shahrayar sat up straight. "Who is she? What is her name?" he demanded brusquely.

"She did not speak her name," the vizier answered, glad that he could do so honesdy. There was no reason for Shahrayar to know that the reason the maiden hadn't spoken her name was that she had no need to—for the vizier knew it as well as his own.

"You would present me with a bride when you do not know her name?" Shahrayar asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice like honey from a knife.

The vizier knit his brow, as if in confusion, though his heart had begun to pound in fast, hard strokes. If Shahrayar learned his bride's identity too soon, all would be lost. Thus the vizier had told Shahrazad as they made their plans the night before. And so they had decided how the vizier would speak upon this matter, and on his speaking, all their hopes might rise or fall.

"What difference does her name make, sire?" the vizier asked, his tone perplexed and querulous in the manner he and Shahrazad had agreed upon. "Will not one maiden serve your purpose as well as any other?"

Shahrayar shot to his feet, the color in his face high. Though the king's expression was frightful, at the sight of it the vizier felt a surge of hope for a second time.

For until his queen's betrayal, Shahrayar had always been as true in his dealings with women as he was with men. Never viewing them as interchangeable, but seeking always to see each for herself alone. And so the vizier found the king's anger pleasing, for, in this, he seemed more like he had been before.

"You are certain she comes of her own free will?" the king demanded.

The vizier nodded. "Absolutely certain, sire. I knew you would wish to be reassured of this, and so I questioned her closely. She is under no outside compulsion. She seeks only to spare you grief, your country turmoil, and others the fate which she knows must surely befall her."

Shahrayar began to pace, his brow knit, his movements brusque and choppy.

"So," he said after a moment. "You would have me sacrifice a paragon."

Oho! the vizier thought. So that is the way the wind will blow. I am not the one who set the termsof this harsh bargain, 0 my king. You did that all by yourself. If you no longer find them to yourliking, do not make me your scapegoat.

"A paragon? I cannot say, my lord," he said aloud. "To me she seemed a woman much as any other.

Will you see her at the appointed hour or not?"

Again the quick color flashed into Shahrayar's face, and in that moment the vizier knew that he and Shahrazad had gambled and won.

"What I have proclaimed, that will I do," Shahrayar pronounced, and his voice was filled with angry pride.

Satisfied that in his pride and anger the king would pursue the identity of his bride no further, the vizier bowed low for a third and final time.

"Then I will bring her to you as you have proclaimed it shall be," he said. "Tonight, as the full moon rises. By its light, you shall claim her as your bride."

That evening, in the cool of the twilight just before the moon appeared, the vizier went to his daughter’s quarters. Shahrazad had dismissed her women and was attended only by her sister, Dinarzad. At the sight of her father, the young girl ran to him and threw her arms about his legs.

"Papa, tell her she must not do this!" she cried.

"My little one," the vizier said. With one hand, he stroked his youngest daughters head. "Do you think I did not try?"

"Try again!" Dinarzad pleaded. She lifted her tearstained face to his. "Just one more time. I am afraid, Papa! So much depends on me. What if I do something wrong?"

"You will do nothing wrong if you do as Shahrazad has asked," said the vizier. "Nothing less, and nothing more. Go to your room now and wash your face. Let me speak to your sister alone."

Dinarzad did as her father asked, casting one look back at Shahrazad over her shoulder as she departed.

When she was gone, the vizier moved to where Shahrazad had been standing silendy all the while, dressed in her finest robes. They were white, and in them, Shahrazad seemed to shine like a candle flame against gathering darkness.

"You are still set on this course, my Shahrazad? It is not too late. You can still change your mind."

"I have not changed it, my father," Shahrazad replied. "Indeed, I think that I could not, even if that were what I truly wished. I cannot go back. Therefore, I must go forward."

To herself alone she kept the thought that it had been too late to change her mind in this from the moment she was born.

The vizier regarded his daughter steadily. At what he saw in her face, though his heart still grieved, his mind was satisfied.

"Come then," he said. "Say one last farewell to your sister. Repeat your instructions and ease her mind.

Then I will go forward as you have told me I must: I will take you to King Shahrayar."

Chapter 6

T H E K I N G T A K E S A W I F E B U T R E C E I V E S A S U R P R I S E

Just as the full moon began to climb in the sky, the vizier strode through the palace, Shahrazad at his side. The vizier was attired in cloth of silver. In one hand, he held the great curved staff, which was his badge of office. Through halls as dark as midnight, the vizier and his daughter walked together. And halls as white as a scorching noonday sky. Halls as green as the limbs of cedar trees, and as golden as the sand that stretched around the palace for countless miles.

Each place they passed was thronged with people, all longing to catch a glimpse of the woman who had come forward to be King Shahrayar's bride. But in this they were disappointed, for Shahrazad had drawn a veil across her face to avoid all chance that anyone might realize who she was.

At length the vizier and his daughter reached their destination: Shahrayar's great audience hall. Here the stones were clear as river water. Great columns of porphyry as purple-red as the flesh of plums flanked the entrance. Guards clothed all in white and armed with gleaming scimitars stood motionless on either side.