The street they entered on the other side of the market square was slightly steeper, and gently terraced with wide stairs. The houses along it were larger, obviously belonging to a more affluent class of citizen. The street itself began to widen as they moved up it. India could see the dome of the grande mosque, and realized if the dey's palace were just below it, they must be getting closer. The procession entered another square; this one empty of people. There were no buildings on either side of the square; it was walled, and above it was nothing more than cloudless blue sky. The square was paved in blocks of cream and red marble. Ahead of them stood the dey's white marble palace.

They passed beneath a deep, wide entry arch into an open courtyard. Armed guards lined the entry and the courtyard. Their procession moved through another wide archway flanked with heavy wooden doors entering into another courtyard, this one planted, with a tiled fountain in its center. India's litter was set carefully down, and a moment later Aruj Agha opened the curtains and offered her his hand, helping her out. He looked at her a moment, and then nodded as if satisfied.

"You will follow me, my beauty. Do not speak unless the dey gives you his permission to do so. If he questions you, you may answer him. Now, let us go. The time of the dey's audience is almost over."

India looked quickly about her, but her cousin and the other English captives had been already taken away… but to where? She couldn't be afraid. She must not be. She genuinely believed her life depended upon her being strong, and so she followed quickly after the janisarry captain. He led her down a wide corridor, and finally into a large, pillared room with an opaque dome through which sunlight filtered softly. The room was crowded, and hot, but she shivered nonetheless. Seated cross-legged on a pillowed dais at the far end of the room from the entry was a man garbed all in white but for a cloth-of-gold sash about his waist. His broad pantaloons were white with wide embroidered bands of gold and pearls, and, most extraordinary, his feet were bare. He wore an open-necked white silk shirt, and she could see a heavy gold chain with a pendant upon his smooth bronze chest. A white satin cape lined in cloth-of-gold was fastened about his neck with a thin gold chain. On his head was a small, low turban, from whose front and center wrapping sprouted an aigrette feather set in a perfectly round diamond.

"Aruj Agha, my lord," the large black slave who was the doorkeeper boomed in stentorian tones.

"Stay here," the janissary commanded her. "When I call you, you may come forward, my beauty." The he hurried up to the foot of the dais, and, falling to his knees, kissed the dey's foot.

"Arise, Aruj Agha. You have returned sooner than I expected. You have had good hunting then, I assume?"

"Indeed, my lord Caynan Reis, I have." The agha scrambled to his feet once again, bowing as he did so.

"What have you brought us?" the dey asked. His face was an oval, and a short, well-barbered black beard fringed his jaw, making a circle about his mouth.

"A fine English round ship, my lord. It is not even a year old, and was meant for the East Indies run, but its captain was breaking it in gently by sailing it between London and Istanbul for the last few months. Its cargo, I regret, is not particularly valuable. Just Portuguese hides, English wool, and tinware, oranges and lemons from Cadiz, and a number of barrels of sherry from Malaga, which we dumped into the sea, remembering the prophet's admonition on wine. Its crew, however, is made up of well-disciplined seamen, quite a cut above the usual scurvy creatures we generally take off these ships. Many, including the captain, have already said they are willing to convert to Islam, and sail beneath the flags of the sultan's government, and El Sinut. And, the vessel carried two passengers. A young English milord, who will undoubtedly fetch a respectable ransom, and the captain's cousin, a young noblewoman, said to be an heiress of great wealth. She was being escorted to visit her grandmother in Naples. I am assured she is a virgin, my lord Caynan Reis. She is, I believe, quite a prize."

"Beautiful?" the dey asked. His long fingers toyed with his beard.

"Of course, my lord," the agha replied.

The dey laughed. "First things first," he said. "Bring me the captain of this ship that I may assure myself of his honesty."

Thomas Southwood was escorted in by two janissaries. He first bowed, and then, making obeisance as he had been instructed, touched his forehead to the dey's bare foot. Remaining upon his knees, he straightened his body, and waited.

"Tell me your name, and who your family are," the dey instructed.

"Captain Thomas Southwood, master of the Royal Charles out of London, my lord. I am the fourth son of the earl of Lynmouth. The vessel I sailed belonged to the O'Malley-Small Trading Company, in which I have a small share. I am now at your service, my lord."

"You are willing to convert to Islam, and sail for me?"

"Aye, my lord."

"You are quick with your answers, Captain, and I am suspicious of such a cooperative attitude. Is it possible you are considering escape? That you believe you will be given your freedom if you convert and then may flee? I am not such a fool as you may think. You may speak."

"My lord dey, you would know me for a liar if I said I had no thought of escape. Surely every captive dreams of escape. However, once many, many years ago, my grandmother was a captive of Islam. She eventually returned home, and told her children and grandchildren that to suffer for dogma is both foolish, and wasteful of the talents we have been given. That the Christians, the Jews, and the Muslims all worship the same God, no matter the name they call him by. I willingly accept Islam, and I offer to you my services as both a ship's captain and a navigator. It would be a shame if my talents were wasted at an oar, or in the mines, or the fields. I have no wife to return home to, and so I am content for the time being to remain here in El Sinut serving the sultan, as many before me have done. If you will have me, of course, my lord dey. I realize you have the power of life and death over me, but if you will have me, I am your servant."

"You have a facile tongue," the dey remarked. He looked at Aruj Agha, and, speaking in Arabic rather than French, asked, "What think you, my old friend? Is the English captain trustworthy?"

"For the present I believe so, my lord dey. He has certainly been more than candid with you. You could ransom him, of course, if he is indeed the son of a noble."

"Ransoming these people is more trouble than it is worth," the dey replied. "I am giving you my new galley, the Gazelle, Aruj Agha. Take this Englishman with you as a navigator. That way you can lock him up when you attack other ships. At least until he proves his loyalty to us. In the meantime, you will have his skill, if indeed he has not lied about that."

"I do not believe so, my lord. He is exactly what you see. No more. My gracious thanks for the Gazelle. I shall take her out almost immediately, with your lordship's permission," the agha said. "What will you do with the round ship?"

"I think I shall keep her, and perhaps after your Englishman has proven he can be trusted, he will teach our people how to sail such a vessel. Now, where is this other Englishman of rank?"

The agha signaled, and two janissaries brought Viscount Twyford forward. Adrian Leigh, however, refused to kneel, or even bow, before the dey. Instead, he immediately began a harangue. "I am the heir of the earl of Oxton, sir. I can be ransomed for a handsome sum. Do so immediately that I may be quit of this savage place."

"On your knees, dog!" Aruj Agha roared.

"What? Bow to some infidel?" the viscount returned.

"Get on your knees, you damned fool!" Tom Southwood growled. "They will separate your head from your shoulders without a thought!"

Aruj Agha didn't wait another moment. He grabbed Adrian Leigh by his iron collar, and kicked his legs from beneath him, slamming him to the floor, where his aristocratic nose, making hard contact with the marble floor, began to bleed profusely.

The dey watched impassively. Then he said, "Send him to the galleys. I cannot be bothered with the arrogance of this young milord. Perhaps after he has rowed his way across the sea for a few months, he will be more amenable. Put him on the Gazelle. Take him away."

"What…what is happening?" Adrian Leigh demanded furiously, wiping his nose with his torn sleeve.

"You're going to the galleys for your stupidity," Tom Southwood said dryly.

"I am not being ransomed?" Viscount Twyford's tone was incredulous.

"You speak to the master of El Sinut like he is some stupid servant, and you expect him to ransom you? Jesu preserve you, Viscount. You are an incredible fool," Tom Southwood told him as they were taken from the dey's audience chamber. "And in all the time since we have been captured, you haven't said one damned word about India. Don't you care what happens to her? She has done nothing but fret over your fate, you selfish bastard, but you really don't care, do you?"

"We all know what happens to women in this sort of situation," Adrian Leigh said coldly. "Even if we could all be ransomed, India is surely no longer fit to be my wife. That agha fellow was certainly most solicitous of her, wasn't he? Knox told me he couldn't do enough for the wench. She has undoubtedly saved her own skin by giving herself to him. She's a passionate little bitch, you know."