Two weeks later, Julian entered the hot city of Merrakath by boat. In his possession were visitors' passes to the palace. He was met at the docks by a delegation of the palace, which escorted him into a carriage.
As he rode through the city, he watched out of the windows. The people seemed fairly happy and content for such a cruel-seeming lord. He kept the words of his friend in mind though, and reserved judgement.
They arrived at the palace and he was immediately taken to a private room to freshen up and change. His things were unpacked for him by a heavily veiled maid, and then he was whisked away to meet the caliph.
He entered the huge throne room with some awe. There were silk tapestries hanging on the walls, and veiled girls with beautiful eyes everywhere. Everyone was dressed in silk, and while the city was well over 100 degrees in the shade, the palace was cool. They had brought him lemonade to drink to cool himself off. He was wearing one of his best suits.
He entered the throne room behind the advisor and kowtowed properly as he had learned years ago, when he entered the eastern lands before. He was grateful for that time, since he had also learned to speak the local language. He knelt at the last position and waited for the summons.
"Rise, Julian Alexander." The voice was deep and cultured, with no trace of an accent. It continued, "Your family is well-known and respected here. Your father did my father a service once that has not been forgotten."
"What can the court of Fadjlan ibn Ahmed do for you?"
Julian rose, and looked at the caliph for the first time. He was about fifty or so years old, with a beard so black and glossy it had to have been dyed. At his feet sat his four wives, all heavily veiled…
Wait a minute, four wives! Inside Julian cursed him. The bastard must have gotten remarried. To gain time, he launched into the florid compliments expected by the lords here. "Most merciful lord of the east, I have come to beg your mercy on something that is important to me. If my lord could spare but a moment of his time I would state my case."
The caliph nodded. "Proceed."
Julian hesitated, but not for long. Best to just get the question out in the opening right away.
"I come with a message from your esteemed brother-in-law, Sir James Roenall the Third." Did the skin around the caliph's eyes tighten ever so slightly? Julian couldn't be sure. But he plunged on anyway with the story James had arranged.
"Sir Roenall has recently been informed that his niece has just turned sixteen. As you know, it is the custom in both your culture and his for marriage proposals to be considered at this age. Sir Roenall understands you have already received a worthy proposal. However, Sir Roenall wishes to delay the marriage by a few months so that he may get to know his niece." James had thought only to get the girl out of his clutches. Later they would figure out what there was to be done.
"Sir Roenall wishes his niece to come and visit him for a period of three months. Then she may return and be married in the customs of your people." Julian heard a tiny gasp, so soft that if he hadn't been honed by years of adventuring he certainly wouldn't have heard it. He flicked his eyes to the right and saw a gaggle of veiled women. It was from amongst these the gasp had come. He wondered if Roenall's niece was among them.
He stopped then, and bowed to appear polite. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the caliph. He was tapping his chin, thinking. That was a good sign, that he had not been rejected outright.
Suddenly the caliph beamed. "How honored we are, to receive such a proposal. However, I will need some time to think it over."
He clapped his hands before Julian could protest. "You will be my guest. I will need twenty-four hours to decide. Until then you will be my…honored guest."
Julian began to speak but the caliph waved a heavily bejeweled hand expansively. "You needn't worry about imposing, my friend. We are more than welcome to have you." His smile did not reach his eyes, though, and Julian thought he'd better drop it.
That night he was wined and dined to the best of their ability. The caliph himself entertained him, which was a great honor, but he would not let Roenall's niece be discussed at all. Julian was finally able to retire to his room.
To his surprise, there was someone waiting there for him. A servant girl rushed to him as soon as he entered and knelt at his feet.
"I am yours to command, my Lord." She spoke in heavily accent common. He started to wave her away, but she lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes and said softly, "The Princess herself sent me for your comfort, my Lord. I am her slave girl."
Julian hesitated, then nodded. "You may stay." He closed the door, and sat on the bed, watching the girl. After a few minutes, she spoke.
"May I speak my Lord?"
He nodded. "Speak freely."
