Morgiana followed her to the kitchen. They ate there, squat- ting like servants by the hearth, since neither of them was minded to spread a cloth in the hall.Hasan woke in the middle, and needed bathing and feeding.

"He'll be wanting weaning soon," said Sayyida, wincing as he brought his teeth to bear. "Ah! Cruel. Have a bit of bread, if it's chewing you're after."

He transferred his affections quite happily to a crust dipped in honey. His mother began to tidy the kitchen, while Morgi- ana watched, silent. Morgiana would never make a plain man's 339.

'wife. She knew too little of the womanly arts, and she did not seem inclined to Icam more.

"They're dull," she said.

"Necessities often are." Sayyida tested the washwater in its cauldron over the hearth, dipped out enough to fill the basin.

"It's pride that makes them shine: doing them well, and know- ing it."

"You like them?"

"They're what I do. Kahimah says I'm good at them."

"So does he."

"Khalid?"

"Aidan." Morgiana sounded almost angry. "As if he could know."

"He notices things. Ifs his way. I suppose because he's a Frank. They're odd when it comes to women's matters."

"He is purely odd." She set herself in front of Sayyida, block- ing her path to the basin. "Show me how."

"Why on earth would you want to-" Sayyida broke off.

"Well, then. Watch, and see."

By the time they were done, they had turned out the kitchen and the hall, and scoured them from end to end. Morgiana flung herself into it with rare pa.s.sion; what she lacked in skill, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.

When every inch was scrubbed and spotlessly tidy, Sayyida leaned against the wall and mopped her brow. Morgiana handed her a cup. Sherbet bubbled in it, rich and sour-sweet, exactly as she liked it. She stared at it. "We could have used magic," she said.

"Muscles are better." Morgiana propped Hasan on her hip.

She looked flushed, disheveled, and almost happy. "You want to go home, don't you?"

Of course she would know. Sayyida was a little disappointed: she had been working hard to find a way to say it. It was likeMorgiana to go straight to it, as soon as it came into her head.

"Yes," Sayyida said. "I want to go home." Now it was out.

She felt oddly empty; oddly excited.

Morgiana reached for her; she pulled away. They stared at one another. "You should go now," Morgiana said, "if you're going to go at all."

Sayyida shook her head. "I can't." She brushed at her gown; at her hair. "I can't go like this."

"A bath, then," said the ifritah. "Then we go."

340 Sayyida swallowed. This was more than she had bargained for. Though she should have known. She knew. Morgiana.

"Will you come with me?"

"Do you want me?"

She nodded. Her hands were cold, but her face was burning.

"He has to know how it was. So-so that he can decide."

"To divorce you?"

"Or to take me back."

"It seems to me," said Morgiana, "that the taking should be on your side."

Sayyida smiled, not too shakily after all; now that there was no escaping it. "I know that. He needn't."

"That's not honest."

"No," said Sayyida. "Bur it's love."

Morgiana shook her head. She did not understand. Maybe it was a human thing. That a man could give, while seeming to take; that a woman could choose, by letting him choose.

"Not my way," said Morgiana. "Or ours." But she was wise enough not to argue with it.

While Sayyida bathed and made herself presentable, she sc.r.a.ped together her courage. She was going to need all of it.

Morgiana had put on women's clothes, she noticed.

Then there was no more delaying it. Hasan was in his new coat. Morgiana was gowned and veiled. Sayyida was ready in every way that she could think of, except one.

That would never come while she waited. She drew a deep breath, and got a good grip on Hasan. "Now," she said.

Home was smaller and darker than she remembered: a little shabby, a little worn about the edges, but comfortable. Hernose twitched. Fahimah had been making zirbajah with its pun- gency of garlic, as only Fahimah could make it. It hurt to smell it again. To be home.

Morgiana's sudden movement brought Sayyida back to her- self. They were in a small room on the edge of the women's quarters, where no one ever went except, now and then, a guest for whom there was no room elsewhere. It was close and musry, as if it had not been opened in a long while. The ifritah opened the door, paused.

"Trouble?" Sayyida asked. She could hardly manage a whisper, her throat was so dry, her heart hammering so hard.

"No," said Morgiana. She beckoned. Sayyida stumbled after her. 341.

They were all at dinner. Morgiana's doing, maybe. Once in a great while Laila would wait on her husband, and Fahimah liked to a.s.sure herself that her men were eating well, but Mother never stooped to it. Except that, tonight, she had.

Maybe it was that Ishak was there. If she had pretended to play the servant, she had been dissuaded quickly enough and set on the best cushions, next to her son.

It was no joyful gathering, even with Ishak in it. Farouk looked almost old. Mother was grim. Laila was muted, quenched. Maimoun are methodically, but not as if his mind was on it. The line between his brows was etched deep; there were shadows under his eyes.

Sayyida started forward, but Morgiana's arm barred her.

Ishak set down his cup with a thud. The noise was loud, and abrupt. "Ya Allah! A month, you've been at this, and for what?

Won't you even begin to look for them?"

"What use?" his father said. "We know who took them."

"And why." It was a growl in Ishak's throat.

Maimoun did not respond to either growl or glare. He chewed the last of his broad, swallowed, reached for his cup.

Ishak caught his wrist. "Iblis take your bones!"

He freed himself, easily, and drank.

"If they've been killed because of you-"

The cup jerked in Maimoun's hand. He set it down. He rose, bowed first to Mother and then to Farouk.

"No, you won't," said Ishak. "You've walked out enough.

Now you'll face what you did."

"I know what I did," said Maimoun."You tried to keep your wife in chains. What had she ever done to deserve them?"

"She kept company with a demon," Maimoun said.

"And you angered the demon. Which of you was the greater idiot?"

"I did what I thought I had to do."

"fmt thought." Ishak started to spit, caught his mother's eye, grimaced instead. "All you were thinking was that it was a heady thing to be someone's lord and master. Emirs who treat their troops like that, don't go far."

"I didn't say I was right," said Maimoun.

Sayyida could not stand it any longer. "You were as right as you knew how to be," she said.

In stories, the return of the long-lost child was perfectly simple. She-or more often he-came back, her aged mother 342 JwUth Tarr fell into her arms, her aged father wept on her neck, and every- one lived happily ever after.

Sayyida's father was not one to weep on anyone's neck, and Mother only swooned when she had something to gain from it. There was a very long silence. No one looked particularly surprised; merely nonplussed, and a little disappointed. It was difficult to shift one's mind from the prospect of a kinswoman lost and maybe dead, to one alive and alf too evidently thriv- ing. She could not even manage to look as if she had suffered for the lack of them.

Ishak was the first to scramble his wits together, and leap regardless of Morgiana who stood at Sayyida's back, and hug her and Hasan until they gasped for breath. He pulled them into the room, pelting Sayyida with questions. "Where were you? What did you do? You look marvelous-and Hasan, he's grown. Who took care of you? It wasn't-"

" 'Giana," said Hasan clearly. "Mama. Hasan." He waited.

"Ishak," his mother said, trying not to laugh. Her brother's expression was comically shocked.

"Ishak." Hasan grinned at them all.

No one could ever resist a baby; and this one had been taking lessons with Morgiana's Frank, who could charm a star out of the sky. Eahimah greeted Sayyida gladly enough, but she fell on Hasan, laughing and crying at once.

Without him to fill her arms, Sayyida felt naked. She could feel Morgiana behind her, a shadow in a veil- No one seemed to have noticed her, except Ishak, who was not choosing to speak of it.The fuss over Hasan gave Sayyida time to bolster her cour- age. Ishak still had his arm around her, a little too heavy, a little too tight, but blessedly welcome. Everyone else was coo- ing over Hasan.

All but Maimoun. He watched his son hungrily, but he could not seem to make himself move. He would not look at Sayyida.

Hasan decided his own share of it by wriggling out of Moth- er's clasp and onto his very capable feet, and clambering into his father's lap. "Papa," he said.

Maimoun fit like a lamp. "Did you hear that? Did you hear what he said?"

They nodded. Even Mother was smiling.

"He's walking, too," said Maimoun. "My son is walking.

And talking." 343.

"Talking." said Hasan. "Wuking."

After that, no one was much minded to flay Sayyida with questions, though Ishak looked near to death ot curiosity, Sayyida was back, sale and whole. Earouk seemed content; the women followed where he led.

They trusted her. She almost broke down, realizing it. Her father at least, Fahimah certainly, maybe even Mother-they were not afraid that she had dishonored the house.

Nor was Ishak, but he would die if he had to wait much longer. "I was in a place Morgiana knows," Sayyida said: "a secret place, far away from any city. I haven't seen a human being since I left here."

"That's horrible," he said.

"It was peaceful." Most of the rime. "I took care of Hasan. I looked after the house. I cooked. I did woman-things- Some- rimes I went out. The sky was very wide. I could scrctch my mind so far, there was hardly any me left at all."

"Don't tell me it turned you into a mystic."

"When there were dishes to wash? Don't be silly."

"You were really ... all alone?"

Maimoun said that. He still would not look at her. His voice was rough.

"Morgiana was there," Sayyida said. light, cool, steady. She was proud of herself.

They saw the ift.i.tah then: she moved out of Sayyida'sshadow, into the'light. She did not lower her veil.

"I asked her to come," said Sayyida, not so steadily now. "I owe her a debt, for giving me a place to go, and looking after me while I was there. I want her to stay for a while. She's not an a.s.sa.s.sin anymore. She wants to leam to be a woman."

They greeted that with varying degrees of incredulity. None of them went so far as to say it. Even Maimoun.

"I will not presume on your hospitality," Morgiana said. She did not sound as haughty as she might have.

"No," said Earouk, thickly. He cleared his throat. "No, you don't presume. You're welcome in my house."

Laila might have had something to say; Mother certainly would. But Parouk had taken it out of their hands. Sayyida could not tell if he regretted it. He did not seem to have done it for fear of what Morgiana could do; he had certainly not done it for liking.