Yasmin was horrified. Her very slavery bound her to Khalid el
Bey. Without it he could cast her off at any time, and now he
probably would.

“Oh, no! No! No, my lord! I do not want my freedom.”

“Very well then, my dear, it shall be as you decree. Now, get
up, Yasmin, and see me out.” He rose. Taking her arm, he raised
her up. “You really are invaluable to me, my dear,” he said in a
kindly fashion, and though she knew it to be a tossed bone, she was
somewhat soothed.

“When may I come and wish the lady Skye happiness?”

“I would prefer you didn’t, Yasmin. Like any sensible man, I
would prefer to keep my wife away from my business. And you,
my dear, are a part of that business.”

“I understand, my lord Khalid,” she said smoothly, and thought
bitterly to herself: Yes, I understand completely. You do not want
your precious wife associating with a whore! And I am a whore!

They walked out into the sunlit courtyard, and the little girl
brought Khalid’s horse to him. The Whoremaster of Algiers chucked
the child underneath the chin, then slipped her a silver piece. “A
nice touch, Yasmin,” he complimented her. Then, mounting the
prancing animal, Khalid el Bey rode away.

Chapter 10

In the next few days the preparations for Khalid el Bey’s
wedding were made. The few invitations were issued, the
feast and entertainment were planned, and the bridal chamber
was decorated. Since Skye’s memory loss prevented her from
having any religious preference, and since she had been a practicing
Moslem since coming under Khalid el Bey’s protection, the chief
mullah of Algiers found no impediment to the marriage.

On the afternoon of the nuptials six virgins from the House of
Felicity arrived at Khalid el Bey’s estate and were housed in the
women’s quarters. Unlike the Turks, who separated the sexes at a
wedding, the inhabitants of Algiers were less formal. Although it
was not necessary for the bride to be in attendance at the religious
ceremony, which would be performed at the neighborhood mosque,
she and other women were invited to the feast. For what was a
celebration without soft and fragrant femininity?

The little French secretary, Jean, had been given his freedom in
honor of his master’s wedding. Jean had, however, elected to remain
in Khalid’s employ rather than return to his native land. He and the
other guests were to be gifted with feminine companionship for the
evening. Khalid and Skye looked over the girls and decided the
pairing. “I think,” he said, “the pretty plump little Provencale with
the black-cherry eyes will do quite nicely for the mullah. He is yet
a young man, but inclined to be overserious and weighed down by
the importance of his position.”

“Has he no wife to ease his travail?”

“No, Skye, he has not, although I know he is not a celibate.”

“Then the choice is an excellent one, my lord, for should she
insinuate herself into his affections she will make him supremely
happy. I see beneath the youth and sensuality a proper housewife
and mother.”

Khalid chuckled. “Bravo, my Skye! I see that also, and should
God will that it be so, think how grateful the mullah will be to me
when his first son is bom! Now… for the head of the merchant’s
guild, and for my banker, the delicious blondes. Each of these
gentlemen is well into middle life. Each has a carping wife and a
houseful of greedy, brawling children and relatives. What is needed here is simple, and quite physical. Maidens whose light-colored eyes
with admiration easily, with big, soft breasts, and feather heads,
ho have only one desire, to please the master.”

Skye examined the two girls. They were fluffy creatures who
would amply fill the bill. “What of Osman and Jean?” she asked.

“The petite creature with the soft hazel eyes and thick, chestnut-
)lored hair comes from his own Brittany. They will be quite a
surprise for each other.”

“Oh, Khalid, how kind of you. The girl looks frightened, but
tan will reassure her nicely, and I will be delighted to have a friend the house.”

“Yes, she will be a friend for you. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Let me guess the others, Khalid! The sweet-faced, grave-looking
girl is for Osman!”

“Yes,” his eyes were amused.

‘Then that leaves that rather fierce-looking creature for the Turkish commandant. God, Khalid! She looks like she could devour a
ian. Is that a wise choice?”

“My love, there are many things you don’t remember about human
nature. The commandant of the Casbah fortress is a regular patron of the House of Felicity. His taste in women is, ah, somewhat
sophisticated. Easy conquest bores him. He enjoys a woman who
fights him. The girl I have chosen for him is half-Moorish, half-
berber. She is a wild little savage, and should delight him greatly.
Now, my love, see that these maidens are bathed and clothed in time
for the feast. The next time I see you, my sweet Skye, you will be
my wife.” His golden amber eyes warmed her. His mouth brushed
hers tenderly, and quickly he turned and was gone.

She sighed. He was so good to her. And she still worried that
she should not be marrying him. Something deep inside her nagged her, yet try as she might, she could not understand what it was.
sometimes in her dreams there was a man, always the same man,
butt she could never see him clearly, she could only sense him crying
out to her. It made no sense.

Sighing, she clapped her hands and the slaves came running. She
gave orders for the six girls to be bathed and perfumed. Then she
went about choosing their garments from the vast wardrobe in the
rem quarters.

For the mullah’s golden-skinned dark-haired Provengale it would apricot silk pantaloons, a gold-embroidered sash, and a boleronged in little gold beads. Because of the heat and the lateness of the feast, she could forego the gauze blouses. The choice for the
two blondes was simple: baby pink for both. For the Breton girl with
her chestnut hair and hazel eyes, apple green was perfect. For the girl chosen for Osman, a sky blue would set off her dark-blond hair.
Lastly, she chose flame-colored silks for the Turk’s maiden. Handing
the clothing to the servants, she gave orders for their distribution
and returned to her own quarters to bathe and change into her own
wedding garments.

At moonrise exactly, the chief mullah of Algiers performed the
simple ceremony uniting Khalid el Bey in marriage with Skye, who
became known from that moment as Skye muna el Khalid-Skye,
the desired of Khalid. Then the groom and his guests returned to his
house through the winding lantern-lit streets of the upper city, led
by dancing, cavorting musicians whose reedy pipes and thumping
drums pierced the dark velvet of the night.

The groom wore white silk pantaloons with silver-and-deep-blue-
embroidered bands that stopped at the knee. His feet were shod in
silver-colored leather boots. His shirt was also of white silk, open
at the neck, with full sleeves and tight cuffs, over which he wore
a white vest, embroidered in silver and blue. It was all topped by
a long white satin cape lined in dark blue. His dark head was bare,
his short black beard had been well barbered.

Behind the closed shutters along his route, maidens and matrons
alike peeped out and sighed with longing. The legendary Whore-
master of Algiers was a fairy-tale prince.

Behind Khalid el Bey walked the Turkish commandant of the
Casbah fortress, Capitan Jamil. As tall as the bey, he was heavier
set, and to the spying female eyes that watched, as sinisterly handsome as the bey was kindly. His face was long, as was.his nose.
His eyes were black and unfathomable, his mouth thin and cruel
below a slim mustache. He was known to be cruel, even brutal, in
his handling of fractious prisoners. Now, however, he strode along
with his host and the other guests, chatting amiably.

“I understand your bride is a captive.”

“Was,” came the reply, “I bought her. Now she is legally free.
And my wife.”

“I had heard you were training her for the House of Felicity. She
must be quite good at whatever she does if you have decided to
marry her.”

Khalid el Bey laughed lightly but he burned inwardly. “Skye has
no memory of her past,” he said. “At first I thought that to train a
women such as she might prove amusing. But she is actually far too
innocent for such a life. I had been considering marrying and siring
sons for some time now. But what respectable father would allow
his daughter to wed the great Whoremaster? Skye is obviously of
the upper class, wherever she comes from, and she is beautiful. Is
that not an ideal choice for my purposes?”

“I am eager to meet your bride. Khalid.”

They had reached the house now, and entered through the wide
doors into the square hall where the bey’s majordomo awaited.
’Felicitations, my lord! Long life and many sons!” he cried, ushering
hem through into the banquet hall. Waiting slaves took the men’s
cloaks, and brought silver-chased basins of rose water and soft linen
towels so they might bathe their hands and faces. Refreshed, they
;at down upon the large plump cushions strewn about the table.

“Gentlemen,” said Khalid el Bey, sitting at the head of the table,
it gives me great pleasure that you are here to share this moment
with me. I would share my happiness with you, and so I present, to each of you, for your many nights of pleasure, a virgin who has
been trained in my own House of Felicity.” He clapped his hands
and the six girls, all dressed in their butterfly colors, entered and
moved swiftly to the gentlemen for whom they were intended.

“By Allah!” swore Capitan Jamil, “you do things with style,
Khalid! Even in Constantinople I never saw such a display of elegant
manners. I shall write the Sultan tomorrow telling him.”

“Many thanks,” said Khalid carelessly. He was more pleased by
he reactions of his other guests. The head of the merchant’s guild
and the banker were pleasantly overcome by the two little blondes.
And Jean was rendered momentarily speechless by the pretty girl
who shyly greeted him not only in his own tongue, but in the dialect
peculiar to Brittany alone. The chief mullah actually had a smile on
lis face-the first time Khalid had ever seen that phenomenon! And
Osman was obviously quite taken by his maiden.