"How can we get to Cinnebar?" Oth asked Nada.

She smiled broadly at him. "How fortunate you are that I took you for my lover," she said. "Gold jewelry from Cinnebar is for the wealthy, not a mere innkeeper. Fortunately the shopkeeper I am taking you to meet is my cousin. His sister is married to a merchant of Cinnebar. Melek is a resourceful woman, and she will help you. The first thing we must do is find a caravan going to Cinnebar. If not from here, then from Carthage, or Alexandria, or Damascus. You will probably not be able to travel directly, for caravans to Cinnebar are rare."

"We could travel by sea to Carthage, could we not?" Oth said.

"Yes," Nada said thoughtfully. "We will speak with my cousin the merchant about it. He will know, and perhaps you can act as his agent. He would pay your passage then, so your pretty young master would have only two passages to concern him." She looked at him longingly. "Oh, I am indeed going to miss you, Oth. It will be a long while, if ever, before I find another lover like you!" She patted his rump affectionately, and then said, "Let us go now. I want my gold bangle so I may always remember you, my little Welshman." Then with a chuckle she was off, and Oth dutifully followed behind her.

There would be time enough this evening to tell Glynn about this most interesting bit of news, and they might as well begin looking in Cinnebar as anywhere else. It seemed most logical. He would miss Nada, too, Oth thought. She had indeed proved a lusty fuck, but it was her good heart and easy laughter that had delighted him as well. Still, they would surely have a few more hot afternoons before he and his companions departed. If God was kind, Oth considered with a grin.

Chapter 12

“You came to me practically a virgin, and now you are probably the most wanton creature I have ever known," Rashid al Ahmet teased bis beautiful second wife. "Ah, yes, you witch!"

She knelt belore him, her bands and her mouth entertaining the various aspects of his manhood. One hand gripped him, keeping him steady within her month while her tongue encircled him, tantalizing him expertly, even as the fingers of her other hand bedeviled his pendulous jewels, stroking them, tickling them lightly as he grew harder and harder in the warm cave beyond her succulent lips.

He kneaded her gilt-colored head as she continued to arouse him, but finally he said in a thick voice, "Enough, witch!"

Rhonwyn looked up at him with a wicked smile. Then swinging her lithe body about, she knelt upon all fours, elevating her milky white bottom to him. "Does it please my lord to play the stallion with his willing mare?" she taunted him. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder at him seductively. She was burning for his passion.

"Yes!" he growled, kneeling behind her and thrusting easily into her hot, wet love channel, pushing deep, withdrawing, and thrusting again. "I cannot get enough of you, my exquisite Noor. It pleases me that you now feel the same way."

She whimpered her open pleasure as his fingers dug into her hips, steadying her against his onslaught. His lance probed her deeply, sending ripples of shivers down her spine. Until the caliph she had never even dreamed of such pleasure, and the thought struck her as it always did when Rashid made such passionate love to her: that she wished she might have shared this loveliness with Edward de Beaulieu. Her head spun, and she half sobbed, "Oh, Allah, 'tis wonderful, my lord! Do not cease! Do not cease!" She reached the apex of her delight, shuddering violently as it shattered over her, receded, and left her weak. Her body collapsed onto the carpet. But withdrawing, he turned her onto her back and pushed his manhood into her again.

"Not yet," he ordered her. "I am not ready, my fair Noor, and you are too quick to grasp your pleasure, just as a greedy child with a sweet. I must teach you more self-control." His dark eyes mocked her as he moved slowly, deliberately, upon her, arousing her once again to heights to which she did not think she could return so soon. And when he was satisfied at last, his love juices burst, flooding her channel, leaving them both but half-conscious as the pleasure drained slowly away. He rolled onto his back, drawing her onto his chest within his embrace. "Ah, Noor, my love, you are magnificent."

His words comforted her as she fell into an exhausted sleep, not even knowing when he arose and carried her to her own bed, drawing a light coverlet over her beautiful body. The caliph of Cinnebar smiled softly upon his beautiful second wife. His life, it seemed, had become so perfect since she had entered it over a year ago. At first she had been but a beautiful possession, but then he realized he had fallen in love with her.

He was a fortunate man, Rashid al Ahmet thought to himself. Two beautiful wives. Both loving and compatible with one another. Could Paradise be any better than this? Although he still occasionally took his pleasure with one of the concubines in his harem, it was but a momentary diversion. It was Noor whom he loved with a young man's passion, and now he wanted children by her.

He was more than well aware of the methods used within his household to prevent conception. He even approved. The two wives he had executed had given him three children between them. His younger son, Omar, and his two little daughters. Mohammed, his heir who was fourteen, was now allowed sterile harem damsels for his pleasure. Rashid al Ahmet knew the dangers of too many sons and but one kingdom to inherit. His younger brothers had always been difficult to control even before their father died. Kasim had, quite fortunately, died of a fever at age fifteen, and bis own exquisite Noor had slain Abdallah in battle. Now he wanted a child from this wife he called his warrior woman. He would speak with Alia and with Baba Haroun, for it was just possible they would know how he might be certain of fathering only a daughter on Noor, not a son to perhaps one day challenge Mohammed and even Omar. He smiled down on Noor, and then left her sleeping peacefully in her own bed.

His first wile was sympathetic to his desires, but his chief eunuch was fiercely against it.

"Your life is peaceful and perfect right now, my lord. You have a son who is just about a man. You have a second son who should, Allah forfend anything happen to the first, be there to succeed. There is no certain way to guarantee the lady Noor would bear you a daughter. Think, my lord, think! Lady Noor is a fierce woman despite the passion you have for one another. She has killed without regret. She could kill again if the matter involved her own son. Do not put her in that position, or yourself, or Lady Alia, my lord," Baba Haroun said seriously.

"I must think on it," Rashid al Ahmet replied. "I do long for a daughter as beautiful as she is."

"Does she wish for a child, my lord?" the chief eunuch asked.

"She has not said so," the caliph answered.

"Then let well enough alone, my lord," Baba Haroun pleaded.

The caliph turned to Alia. "What are your thoughts on this, my honored first wife? You are remarkably silent in this matter."

"As always, Rashid, I want what will make you happy," Alia told him. "Mohammed is fourteen now, and little Omar almost six. If Noor gave you a son, I cannot see any danger to my son. By the time this child was grown Mohammed would have fathered his own sons, and Omar, too. Besides, I do not see that kind of ambition in Noor. And she might indeed give you a daughter, not a son. But if she has expressed no wish for a child, you would be wise not to force the issue for now."

"I must think on it," the caliph repeated, but both Alia and Baba Haroun knew that he had already made up his mind. He wanted a child from Noor and would not be satisfied until he had one.

"My lord, of interest to you, perhaps," Baba Haroun said, "there is a young poet in the city-the foreigners call him a minstrel. His songs are drawing many to the tavern of Akram Yasir. I have gone myself and heard him. He sings in both our language and the many languages of the world. Perhaps before he goes on his way we should have him to the palace to entertain. He is pleasant to look upon and nicely spoken. I believe the harem ladies and the children would enjoy him, as I am certain would you, my lord."

"Very well," the caliph said, "you may issue my invitation."

The chief eunuch bowed low and hurried off.

The caliph left his first wife, and Alia sent one of her women to ask the lady Noor if she would come and join her. Rhonwyn came willingly, for she liked Alia and enjoyed her company. When the first wife dismissed all of her women so that they were alone, Rhonwyn knew that something important was about to happen.

"What is it?" she asked Alia.

"Do you love Rashid?" Alia said softly.

"I respect him and I love his passion," Rhonwyn replied carefully.

"But do you love him?" Alia persisted.

Rhonwyn shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "My memories of Edward de Beaulieu are yet strong in my head. Perhaps one day they will not be, and I will love Rashid. Allah only knows he has been patient and kind. You arouse guilt within me by asking such a question, Alia. Why is it you do so? Surely you do not think I mean Rashid any harm?"

"No, no!" Alia replied. "I ask because of something he has said. He wants a child from you, Noor. Do you want a child?"

Rhonwyn looked astounded. "A child? I had not thought of having a child. A child would bind me to Rashid. With Edward…" She paused, and then said, "You know how it was with Edward, my friend. We were just beginning to explore our love when I was snatched away from him. Thinking on it, I know now that I should have liked to have borne Edward's children. Why does Rashid want a child of my body? He has children to follow him. I am his plaything, his latest passion. I am certainly nothing more to him than that, Alia."