The Kadin - Bertrice Small [59]
“Thank your master for me,” replied the girl tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I had been separated from Alan, I should have died. If we must be slaves together, we will serve your master well for this kindness.” She lea the room.
Firousi moved back to Selim “It is done, master. The girl is grateful and will give no trouble.”
“You make a charming boy, little turquoise,” remarked Hadji Bey.
“You knew! And I was feeling so pleased to have fooled you!”
“So you might have, my child, had you not showed me those wonderful eyes.” He turned to Selim. “A very dangerous game, my boy. Why did you bring her disguised thus? If Besma gains knowledge of this, she will use it, you may be sure.”
“I needed her to help me choose a special gift for Cyra, and she did. No one knows but Lady Refet Her absence is concealed by the ruse of a high fever. We are safe.”
“Yes, only one of the harem slaves spies for Besma.”
“Who, Hadji Bey? Give me the name.”
“Selim, Selim. If you know, you will never be able to contain yourself. Believe me, the slave involved holds an unimportant post and can hurt none of the girls.”
“Very well, my friend. You have guided me successfully so far. There is no need for me to doubt your judgment now.”
“Have you taken other ikbals, Selim?”
“No, but when we return to the Moonlight Serai, Firousi will journey down my Golden Road, eh, little page?”
Firousi blushed beneath the brown stain on her cheeks. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered.
“And the others,” continued the agha, “they please you?”
“It’s like being offered a plate of cakes after a fast, my friend. Each is more delectable than the other. The fool gobbles them up quickly, but the wise man savors each in its turn to enjoy the full flavor.”
“Well spoken, Selim, and your choices were excellent, though the Spanish girl still worries me.”
“My sharp-tongued Sarina? She hides a warm heart, Hadji Bey, and Cyra found her weakness immediately. She is clever at making things grow. We have put her in charge of the gardens, which she rules like a benevolent dictator.”
“Good” smiled the agha. “Ah, David ben Kira, we are ready to depart?”
“Yes, my lord. The prince’s new slaves are in the courtyard, mounted and waiting.”
They arose and walked to the courtyard Selim pressed a purse into the Jew’s hand. “Your price—and for you, a small token of my thanks,” he said, holding up a large yellow diamond.
The merchant, gasping, took the stone. “My lord prince—such generosity—if I can ever serve you again—”
“I shall remember, David ben Elira.”
“Well done, my son,” whispered Hadji Bey. “And now,” he said, raising his voice, “I bid you farewell.” He climbed into his litter and raised his hand in salute. Commanding his bearers to go, he disappeared through the courtyard arch.
Led by Prince Selim and his page, the new slaves and the prince’s Tartars quickly left the city behind. They camped that night beside some ancient ruins, and Firousi had time to catch her breath. As her original journey to the Moonlight Serai had taken three days, she was amazed at the speed with which they now traveled. Of course, on her first trip they had taken the main road and were slowed by the vast caravan of slaves, women, and household goods. Yesterday morning they had ridden out of the palace, taken the more direct and rougher road and arrived outside the capital before sunset On their return trip they were again on the more direct road, but their progress was slowed slightly by the presence of the female slave.
Firousi was enjoying this respite from her friends and their more civilized way of life. Raised in the Caucasus Mountains, she had camped beneath the stars many times with her father and brothers. Gazing at the sky, the subdued noise of the camp behind her, she imagined for a moment she was home again. A touch on her shoulder startled her. Turning, she looked into the face of the prince.
“What do