Bedazzled

frying pan directly into the flame.

India came running with his kaftan. It was a comfortable cotton garment striped in deep blue and its own natural color. The sleeves were wide, and the neckline open to his navel. Without a word she flung it over his head, yanking it down so quickly he barely had time to fit his arms through the armholes.

'Does my naked form disturb you so much, India, that you must cover it as fast as you can?' he teased her.

'I am not used to such things,' she replied. 'You have not the chessboard. Tell me where it is and I shall get it.'

'It is in the chest in my day room,' he told her, smiling. Yes, she has possibilities. She was already learning to treat him with respect before others, while being a bit more at ease with him in private. She was so beautiful, indeed dazzling, with her creamy skin, her dark curls, and those fascinating golden eyes. He had never in his life seen eyes like India's. She would take time to woo and win, although she would never realize he was wooing her. She would come to him, for only if she did could she be truly happy with her decision in having done so. She would be acknowledging a parting from her former life when that day came, and India was certainly not ready yet to do that.

She brought the board with its carved red-and-white marble pieces, and they set it up on a low table upon the terrace, seating themselves upon large pillows I To his pleasure she played extremely well, almost beating him, and when he said, 'Checkmate,' she frowned.

'Where did I make my mistake?' she wondered aloud, and it was then he realized that she had indeed been playing to win. It surprised him almost as much as it delighted him. His harem women would have allowed him to win, if indeed they could even play with him. He showed her her error. 'I won't do that again,' she promised him.

She took the second game, and he the third. The light was now almost gone from the garden, and the night insects were beginning to hum their songs. He had not enjoyed himself so much in years. 'Come,' he said, rising, and then pulling her to her feet. 'Are you hungry? It is my habit to eat only bread and fruit in the evening.'

'I will fetch it,' she said, and hurried off.

When she returned, he invited her to eat with him in the cool garden. When they had sated themselves with grapes, melon, and warmed flat bread, Baba Hassan appeared.

'I must instruct the girl in preparing your clothing for the morrow, my lord,' he said.

'Take her,' the dey replied. 'I am content with my company.'

'Tomorrow,' the head eunuch said as he led her off, 'the dey must meet with the chief engineer for the city. The great aqueduct that brings fresh water into the town from the mountains is in need of repair. His clothing can be simple.' Baba Hassan brought India into a large, enclosed room. About the chamber were silver bars that stretched from one wall to another, and upon the bars were hung hundreds of garments. 'These racks,' the eunuch said, waving his hand, 'are his more elaborate garments. The others have the simpler robes.' Bending, he flung open a brass-bound cedar trunk. 'You will find his pantaloons, sashes, and shirts in these trunks. The slippers are on the shelves here. The dey's jewelry is kept in a large case in his bedchamber. His taste is simple, you will find.'

'How are these things kept clean and fresh?' India asked. 'This climate is so warm he must certainly need to change his garments each day, Baba Hassan. Am I expected to do his laundry? Let me warn you I have absolutely no experience in such matters.'

The head eunuch chortled. 'No, girl, we have laundresses aplenty.' He pointed to a large reed basket. 'Bring the dey's used garments here each evening when you come to choose the clothing you will put in the cedar cabinet for the following day. This basket is for the discards. A servant will bring them to the laundresses to wash. Now here is the cabinet in which you will place his fresh garments, girl. It opens on two sides, and on the other side you will find the dressing room in the baths. Each evening before you go to bed, choose the proper clothing for the morrow. I will inform you what sort of garments will be needed. Now, let us begin. What would you choose tomorrow for the dey?'

India's careful choices pleased Baba Hassan. The chief engineer of El Sinut, while a valuable civil servant, was not of great importance. 'The dey will not need a turban, but where are they kept?' she inquired.

He showed her, and then said, 'You are content to serve the dey in this capacity rather than as one of his harem women?'

'I am not content to be here at all,' India replied honestly, 'but as I am, I prefer being his body servant to being his whore. I only wish it were not necessary for me to be so unclothed.'

'Clothing confers status,' the eunuch answered her. 'You have no status except that which your master gives you, girl.'

'What language do you speak here?' India asked him. 'I have an ear for languages, as do most of my female relations. I would learn the language of this land. Will you teach me, Baba Hassan?'

Her request surprised him. 'We speak the Arabic tongue,' he told her. 'If the dey gives his permission for you to learn our language, then the lady Azura will teach you. I will inquire tomorrow. For now we will return to the dey's apartments. The final thing I must teach you is how to prepare the love cloths. Our master is a virile man, and requires female companionship every night.'

'I know how to prepare love cloths,' she said, surprising him once again.

'But you are a virgin,' he said, astounded.

'I am,' she confirmed, 'but my mother was the daughter of the Grande Mughal Akbar. She was raised in India, and when she came to England she brought her servants with her. When I began my monthly flow of blood, Rohana, one of Mama's women, with my mother's permission, taught me how to prepare love cloths. Mama always said that nothing spoiled a man's pleasure more than the unseemly evidence of previous pleasure.'

The eunuch nodded. 'Your mother was correct, girl, and now I understand why your eyes are almond shaped. Your Mughal blood shows.'

They had reached the dey's apartments again, and, leaving her at the door, Baba Hassan said, 'Since you know what to do, do it, girl.'

India reentered the dey's chambers. In one of the wall cupboards she found a silver ewer. She filled it with water, which she perfumed with rose oil. Next to the basin was a stack of neatly folded linen cloths. Taking a dozen, she brought them with the basin into the dey's bedchamber and set them by the bed. Going back out into the garden, she found Caynan Reis observing the moon. 'I have, I believe, completed my duties for the day, my lord. Is there anything I can do for you before I retire to my pallet?'

'Go to the harem, and bring back the woman, Nila,' he told her. 'She is a blonde, actually the fairest hair of them all; and most voluptuous of form. I wish her company tonight.' He looked directly at India, his dark eyes unfathomable.

'I am to fetch your whores for you?' India was outraged.

'You have the choice of fetching them to me, or taking their place,' he said coldly. 'And do not call them whores, India. They are perfectly respectable harem women, and honored within my house. Do not pass judgment upon that which you do ndt understand. This is not your England. It is El Sinut. When you have brought Nila to me, you may spread your pallet outside my bedchamber door in case I have need of you in the night. You will not hear me if you are further away.'

Turning on her heel, India ran from the room. This was the final humiliation, she thought. First she was forced to walk about half naked all day, the nipples on her breasts painted carmine to draw attention to them, except no one was supposed to look. She had waited on this arrogant dey hand and foot. Bathed him! Fetched his food! Laid out his clothing! Dressed him! And now she was expected to bring his whores to him? It was intolerable, but if she didn't do it, who knew what he would do to her. He was such a