Their hair was dressed by the slave women. Zuleika instructed them to weave her long black hair with tiny strands of pearls. Bahira's auburn tresses were pulled into a single horse's tail with slim braids on either side of her face. Their hair done, the two girls were dressed. Their gowns were simple in design, but extremely elegant. They wore nothing beneath. Each had a low open neckline. Zuleika's was a teardrop, and Bahira's was square. The gowns fit snugly beneath their breasts, and were designed with bejeweled bands set into the rich cloth beneath their bosoms. The broad sleeves had cuffs to match. Bahira sparkled with emeralds, diamonds, and pearls. Zuleika glittered with amethysts, diamonds, and pearls. Their nubile bodies were visible beneath the sheer fine silk of the garments.

A slave girl entered the princess's apartments, and hurrying up to Rafa whispered something in her ear. Rafa nodded, then she turned to Zuleika. "The barbarian is entering the city with his escort," she told her mistress.

Zuleika nodded, and said to Bahira, "We must hurry to the audience chamber so that if Haroun objects there is time to convince my father that our presence is necessary," she said.

Bahira bobbed her head in agreement. "I can't wait to see the look on Haroun's face," she giggled.

Together the two girls hurried through the sultan's palace, finally arriving at the great audience chamber. It was a large room with a domed ceiling decorated in sheets of beaten gold, as were the walls. The marble pillars in the chamber were smooth dark crimson. A floor of the same material was flecked with gold. It was the audience chamber of a powerful man. Ibrahim Sultan was already seated upon his throne, a high-backed bench of pure gold studded with multi-colored jewels and a striped satin cushion beneath him. It was set upon a black marble dais with two steps. Next to it on the right was a three-legged silver stool topped with a white velvet cushion fringed with gold.

The elderly sultan was garbed all in white and gold, an aigrette with a large diamond sprouting forth from his cloth-of-gold turban. To his left stood Prince Haroun, garbed all in black, but for a cloth-of-silver turban decorated with a pigeon's-blood ruby. Zuleika quickly seated herself upon the stool, and a slave set a red silk cushion down for Bahira next to the stool, and slightly behind it.

"You should not be here!" Haroun said sharply.

"Why not?" Zuleika demanded to know. "You would give me to this barbarian as his concubine. Should he not at least see what you offer him before he decides whether to accept, or reject it?"

"Why is Bahira here?" was Haroun's next question, his eyes openly admiring the vizier's daughter.

"Do you expect me, the princess of Dariyabar, to sit in the royal audience chamber unattended?"

"Would not a slave girl do?" Haroun asked.

"Bahira is my friend, and as curious as I am about these barbarians, and no, a slave girl would not suit me! How dare you even suggest such a thing! I am the princess of Dariyabar, and the vizier's daughter should attend me. Is that not right, father?" Zuleika turned her face up to her father's and smiled.

The sultan's eyes twinkled. He stroked his silvery beard thoughtfully, and then he said, "Yes, my daughter, you are absolutely correct. I permit you and Bahira to remain."

"Thank you, father," Zuleika said in a soft voice, but her eyes mocked her cousin, Haroun.

"Thank you, my lord," Bahira added, her eyes modestly lowered.

Haroun smiled, pleased by Bahira's response. Then he licked his lips, anticipating the pleasure the vizier's daughter would give him when he took the beautiful girl to wife.

The trumpets sounded outside the great doors to the sultan's audience chamber. The portals were flung wide to admit Amir Khan and General Sabola, along with their escort. They marched directly to the foot of the sultan's throne, and then the khan saluted the elderly ruler, his right arm, fist clenched, striking his broad chest in respectful salutation.

"Greetings, Sultan Ibrahim. I am Amir Khan, and he who accompanies me is my general, Sabola. We thank you for your invitation. Perhaps we can now settle this matter between us peacefully."

"There can be no peace between us as long as you continue to besiege our city," Prince Haroun said quickly, rudely usurping both the sultan and his grand vizier, Abd al Hakim, before either might speak. "You will never take Dariyabar, Amir Khan! No one has ever captured this city in a siege. We are at an impasse. But we respect you, Amir Khan, and so that you may withdraw without shame, we offer you our own princess Zuleika as your concubine. She is, as you can see, a beautiful young woman, and she is a virgin, though well trained in the amatory arts as are all the young women of Dariyabar." Haroun's dark eyes swept the barbarian lord. A handsome, if rough-looking fellow he thought. His cousin could certainly not complain.

Zuleika waited eagerly for what was to come. Amir Khan looked impressive in his tight black leather breeches. He wore a wide jeweled belt about his supple waist. The buckle was fashioned of engraved ivory banded in silver. His massive chest was oiled but bare.

"He's magnificent," Bahira murmured so that only Zuleika heard.

"So is his companion," the princess breathed softly, her violet eyes inspecting Sabola as discreetly as she dared. "His polished metal breastplate adds a nice military touch, don't you think?"

"He is built like a bull," Bahira whispered.

"I will accept the sultan's gift, but only on one condition," Amir Khan replied to Prince Haroun.

"A condition? You would dare to make conditions with Dariyabar?" Haroun said indignantly. "Are you a peddler then, to attempt to bargain with us, Amir Khan?"

The khan ignored Haroun's insult, instead saying in a quiet voice that was somehow heard by all in the great hall of audience, "My general, who has mounted and maintained this campaign we have fought against you, must also be compensated lest he be dishonored. Give me the princess's companion, she who wears green silk and sits now by her mistress's side. She is, I believe, Bahira, daughter of the sultan's grand vizier, Abd al Hakim, a worthy prize for General Sabola. We will take these two women back with us to Khanistan."

Haroun was surprised by the request, and felt the briefest moment of regret, but then he said, "It is agreed. My uncle, the sultan, will make it so, Amir Khan." The Gods! He had looked forward to the little blossom, Bahira, in his bed. He would have treated her well. The vizier would have then been in his power. Now he must find another bride, but no matter.

"Are you in agreement, my lord Sultan?" the khan asked gently of the white-bearded old man. He watched cynically as Haroun bent to whisper in his uncle's ear. He could see the sultan was not really pleased with what was transpiring, but finally he nodded.

"It is agreed, Amir Khan. You will have my daughter, Zuleika, as your concubine, and General Sabola shall have Bahira for his."

The startled blue eyes of the vizier's daughter met the furious violet eyes of the princess of Dariyabar, but Zuleika knew better than to voice her outrage at this betrayal in her father's presence. What had made the khan deceive and mislead her? Was he really so stupid that he had not understood her proposal? She swallowed hard, as her anger threatened to burst forth and overwhelm her.

"We will return to our encampment with our prizes now, with the sultan's permission, of course," Amir Khan said, bowing.

Again the sultan nodded.

Now Zuleika spoke up. "What of my servants, and my possessions?" she asked boldly.

"I am not prepared to host a gaggle of females," the khan replied sternly. "You may share a servant between you. She will come tomorrow, and bring all your possessions with her. Is that agreeable, my lord?" He looked directly at Haroun.

"Indeed," Haroun nodded, smiling broadly. "I shall send Rafa to you, cousin, and you, vizier, will see that your daughter's things are packed up for Rafa to carry as well."

"Then it is settled," Amir Khan said in his deep, rough voice. He looked directly at Zuleika. "Come, woman!" he commanded her.

"Where is my litter?" Zuleika demanded. "Surely you do not expect me to walk like some slave woman!" Come, woman? He dared to address her as if she were nothing? Ohhh, he would pay for his words, and for his deceit! She glared angrily at him from her silver stool.

So she had a temper, the khan considered, amused. He struggled to maintain himself in the face of her outrage. The plan she had presented to him last night was well thought out, but not quite perfect. He hoped she would not kill him before he could explain the strategy he had devised to compliment her cleverness. His features retained their sternness. Without another word he stepped forward, and pulling her up from the dainty stool, he threw her over his broad shoulder and began to stride from the sultan's audience chamber.

He had taken her by surprise. She had never thought that any man would act in so barbaric a fashion. But he is a barbarian! her inner voice shouted at her in her outrage. Her dignity was in tatters now anyway. She pounded on his back with her balled-up fists as she was taken from the audience chamber. Free of the great hall he began to chuckle, and Zuleika, outraged ever further, swore at him in rather colorful language that he had not suspected a princess of Dariyabar would know.

Sabola looked to Bahira, and held out a hand. His handsome features were serious, with no hint of humor. Bahira reached out and took the hand, startled at the jolt that almost stunned her when their fingers touched. The sudden surprise in his brown eyes told her that he had felt it too. The Gods! Bahira thought with amazement. This man is my true mate. How very odd that such a thing should be, and yet I know it is so. With a reassuring smile at her father, and the sultan, Bahira walked from the hall with the khan's general. When they reached the courtyard where the khan was now mounted upon his stallion, Zuleika seated before him, they found the khan's guards awaiting them as well.