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nly； where the two children were。
〃I heard what he said。 Despite that； Almalik ibn Almalik has a nature not immune to enticement；〃 he replied； still being cautious。 In its own way he was making an appalling suggestion； though by no means an unprecedented one。 Royal sons succeeded fathers； in more ways than one。
She gave him a sidelong glance。 〃A man's enticement； or a woman's？ Perhaps you could enlighten me as to that？〃 she said sweetly。 Then went on before he could reply： 〃I know him。 I've had him watched a long time； Ammar。 He will be immune to whatever charms I yet retain。 He is too afraid。 For him； I will carry the shadow of his father wherever I go； in bed or in court； and he isn't ready to deal with that。〃 She sipped from her drink again and looked out at the gleaming curve of the river and the reddening hills。 〃He will want to kill my sons。〃
Ammar had been thinking the same thing； actually。
He decided it was better； in the circumstances； not to ask where the boys were； though it would have been useful knowledge for later。 The servant returned with two more glasses； water and wine in a beautifully crafted decanter。 He had spent a small fortune on glass over the years。 More things to leave behind。
The tray was set down and the servant withdrew。 Ibn Khairan mixed water and wine for the two of them。 They drank； not speaking。 The wine was very good。
The image of two small boys seemed to hang in the air in the gathering twilight。 Suddenly； for no good reason； he thought of Ishak of Fezana； the Kindath doctor who had attended upon Zabira for both those boys…and had lost his eyes and tongue after the delivery of the second。 He had gazed with an infidel's eyes upon the forbidden beauty of the woman whose life he had saved。 The woman now standing here； her scent vivid and distracting； her white skin flawless。 He wondered if she knew what had happened to Ishak ben Yonannon； if Almalik had ever told her。 That led to another unexpected thought。
〃You really did love the king； didn't you？〃 he asked at length； uncharacteristically awkward。 He didn't feel entirely in control of this situation。 Murdering someone left you vulnerable to certain things； he had almost forgotten that lesson over the course of fifteen years。 How was one to proceed with the lover of a man one had slain？
〃You know I did；〃 she said calmly。 〃That isn't a difficult or even a real question； Ammar。〃 She turned and stood facing him for the first time。 〃The difficult truth is that you loved him as well。〃
And that he had not expected。
He shook his head quickly。 〃No。 I respected him； I admired his strength； I enjoyed the subtlety of his mind。 His foresight； his cunning。 I had hopes of the son； as well。 In a way； I still do。〃
〃Otherwise your teaching was wasted？〃
〃Otherwise my teaching was wasted。〃
〃It was；〃 said Zabira flatly。 〃You'll see； soon enough。 And though I heard a denial of love； I am afraid I do not believe it。〃
She set down her empty glass and looked up at him thoughtfully； standing very near。 〃Tell me something else；〃 she said； her voice changing timbre。 〃You suggested the new king was not immune to enticement。 Are you； Ammar？〃
He was； perhaps； the least easily startled man in Al…Rassan； but this； following hard upon the last remarks； was entirely unexpected。 Hilarity； intense and swift； rose within him and as swiftly subsided。 He had killed her lover that morning。 The father of her children。 The hope of her future。
〃I have been accused of many things； but never that；〃 he said； parrying for time。
She granted him none。 〃Good； then；〃 said Zabira of Cartada； and rising on her toes； she kissed him upon the lips； slowly and with considerable expertise。
Someone else did this to me； not long ago； ibn Khairan thought； before all such associations were chased away。 The woman on the terrace with him stepped back； but only to begin…silk sleeves falling away to reveal the white skin of her arms…unbinding her black hair。
He stared； mesmerized； words and thoughts scattering in disarray。 He watched her hands descend to the pearl buttons of her overtunic。 She undid two of them； and paused。 It was not an overtunic。 She wore nothing beneath。 In the extremely clear； soft light he glimpsed the pale； pear…like curves of her breasts。
His throat was suddenly dry。 His voice husky in his own ears； ibn Khairan said； 〃My rooms are just here。〃
〃Good；〃 she said again。 〃Show me。〃
It did occur to him just then that she might have e here to kill him。
It did not occur to him to do anything about it。 He had； truly； never been accused of being immune to enticement。 He lifted her up； she was small…boned and slender； no real weight at all。 The scent of her surrounded him； dizzying for a moment。 He felt her mouth at the lobe of one ear。 Her fingers were about his neck。 His blood loud within him； ibn Khairan carried her through a doorway and into his bedchamber。
Is it the possibility of dying that does this？ he wondered； his first and last such clear thought for some time。 Is that what excites me so？
His bed； in a large room hung with Serian tapestries； was low to the ground； covered with cushions and pillows in a diversity of shapes and sizes； as much for love…play as for color and texture。 Crimson…dyed squares of silk hung from copper rings on the wall above the bed and set into the carved wooden foot。 Ammar preferred freedom of movement in his lovemaking； the slide and traverse of bodies； but there had been those among his guests in this room who derived their keenest pleasures otherwise； and over the years he had earned a reputation as a host solicitous of all of his guests' desires。
Even so； even with almost twenty years of nuanced experience in erotic play； ibn Khairan was swiftly made aware…though not； in truth； with any great surprise…that a woman trained as Zabira had been knew some things he did not。 Even； it began to emerge； things about his own nature and responses。
Unclothed among the pillows some time later； he felt her fingers teasing and exploring him； winced at a bite and felt his sex grow even more rigid amid the growing shadows of the room as her mouth came back to his ear and she whispered something quite shocking in the exquisite； celebrated voice。 Then his eyes grew wide in the darkness as she proceeded to perform precisely what she had just described。
All the training mistresses and castrates of Almalik's court had e over the wide seas from the homelands of the east； where such skills had been part of courtly life for hundreds of years before Ashar's ascetic vigil in the desert。 It was possible； Ammar's drifting thoughts essayed； that a journey to Soriyya might have more to offer than he'd imagined。 He felt a breathless laugh escape him。
Zabira slipped further downward； her scented skin gliding along his； her fingernails offering counterpoint where they touched。 Ibn Khairan heard a sigh of helpless pleasure and realized that； improbably； he had made that sound himself。 He attempted to rise then； to turn； to begin the sharing； the flowing back…and…forth of love but he felt her hands； delicately insistent； pushing him down。 He surrendered； closed his eyes； let her begin； her voice exclaiming in delight or murmuring in mentary； to minister to him as he had ministered to so many people in this room。
It went on； astonishingly varied and inventive； for some time。 The sun had set。 The room was encased in darkness…they had paused to light no candles here…before his sensibilities began； as a swimmer rises from green depths of the sea； to reassert themselves。 And slowly； feeling almost drugged with desire； ibn Khairan came to understand something。
She was beside him just then； having turned him on his side。 One of her legs was wrapped about his body； she had him enclosed within her sex； and her movements were indeed those of sea tides in their insistent； unwavering rise and fall。
He brushed a nipple with his tongue； testing his new thought。 Without pause in her rhythm…which was； intuitively； his own deepest rhythm…she caressed his head and tilted it away。
〃Zabira；〃 he whispered； his voice distant and difficult。
〃Hush；〃 she murmured； a tongue to his ear again。 〃Oh； hush。 Let me carry you away。〃
〃Zabira；〃 he tried again。
She shifted then； sinuous and smooth； and was above him now； more urgently； his manhood still within her； sheathed in liquescence。 Her mouth descended； covered his。 Her breath was scented with mint； her kisses a kind of threading fire。 She stopped his speech； her tongue like a hummingbird。 Her nails raked downward along his side。 He gasped。
And turned his head away。
He lifted his hands then； with some effort； and grasped her by the arms； gently； but so she could not twist away again。 In the darkness he tried to see her eyes but could discern only the heart…shaped shadow of her face and the curtain of her black hair。
〃Zabira；〃 he said； an utterly unexpected kind of pain within him； 〃you need not punish yourself； or hold back sorrow。 It is all right to mourn。 It is allowed。〃
She went stiff with shock； as if slapped。 Her body arched backwards in the first uncontrolled movement she had mad