Caliphate

Castle Noisvastei, Province of Baya, 8 Muharram,

1538 AH (19 October, 2113)

Petra watched as thick, greasy looking smoke poured up from a chimney—a new one, not one of the old—at Castle Honsvang, far down the slopes. She'd seen such smoke dozens of times before and never thought much of it unless the wind came from that direction. On those days, she generally closed the window of her perch and retired down to her quarters. Her mother had been a decent cook and had never made pork smell quite so burnt and quite so bad.

Fortunately, today the wind blew from some other quarter, leaving Petra free to enjoy the fresh fall air and to peruse her great- grandmother's journal. She'd read it all many times before; between Besma and Ling she'd become quite well lettered. Still she found herself drawn back to certain passages over and over. With a sigh she closed the journal after reading once more great-grandmother Gabi's cri-de-coeur for her lost Mahmoud.

"Silly woman, grandma," she whispered. "You should have gone . . . as you yourself realized eventually. God knows, I wish you had. I wish—"

The words were interrupted as Ling danced in, waving a sheet of paper and exalting, "He's coming here again, Petra! And he's going to be here for a long time he says!"

"He?"

"Your brother, silly. Hans arranged to be assigned to local security at Honsvang, down the hill. He's finished all his training and is being assigned as an officer in the security company."

"Oh . . . oh, shit!"

"What? What 'Oh, shit'?"

"How often are we called down to Honsvang to service the men there, Ling, rather than them coming here? Every other month? Three times in four months? How do you think Hans will take it having you fucked in a different room in the castle? How will he take it when I am?"

"Oh." The Han girl bit her lip. "Hadn't thought about that. But . . . I mean it isn't like it's anything more than a job for me, and not one I like, either. Surely Hans would . . . no, I guess not. But he knows we sleep together and it doesn't bother him."

"'We' are a different matter entirely. What we do never seems to bother men, and that's not even counting when we're hired to put on a show."

"Crap. We'll have to think of something then . . . that, or explain it to Hans in . . . right, forget I said that. Stupid idea to explain things rationally to stupid men."