It was time to go, George knew, but Bufesqueu was in no hurry. And neither, evidently, were the eunuchs. Nor, for that matter, the ladies themselves.

So the salon continued its philosophic investigations, what Bufesqueu had called their "marvelous talk." The men and the women. The men and the women and the eunuchs.

They discussed whether what a sultan felt toward his favored ladies might not actually be a form of love.

They discussed whether what the concubines felt toward their round-the-clock, day-cared-for children was.

Bufesqueu laid down a premise: that a woman in a harem necessarily entered a sultan's bed, particularly a sultan who was also the head of a vast empire, with a certain amount of fear. In such circ.u.mstances, he speculated, was it possible to achieve o.r.g.a.s.m?

"Define your terms," Bani Suwayf said.

Was fate a question of bone structure, an individual geometry that made one woman a concubine and the other a slave?

Were all human skills acrobatic, Sodiri Sardo's strength acrobatic and the girls' jackknife f.u.c.ks too?

"Horsey s.h.i.t," Amhara said.

"We've got to get out of here," Mills told Bufesqueu. They were back in their dorm.

"You worry too much, George. It's very simpatico."

"We've got to get out of here."

"No way, pal. That private army the Kislar's always talking about? They're deployed out outside the walls. They're over them like graffiti."

"We've got to get out of here."

"Look here, Mills. Look here, George. Don't you think I know what you're up to? Your problem's written all over your face. You want a kid so bad, knock up one of the harem girls. Take her aside and rape the c.u.n.t. They catch you, they take your b.a.l.l.s off. Big deal, it makes you strong."

"A son. It's got to be a son."

"Yeah," Bufesqueu said, "I see what you mean. You get one shot. If it's a girl or it don't take, then--pffftt."

"We've got to get out of here."

"Maybe you could adopt."

"We've got to get out of here, Bufesqueu."

"Yeah, well, I know it. Don't you think it's all I think about morning, noon and night? In the laundry or out? Don't you think it's all I think about?"

He didn't, no. Because he understood now what the Chief Eunuch had warned them of on the occasion of their interview.

Complacency, la.s.situde, getting used to things. The piecemeal slide of the heart. All submissive will's evolutionary eas.e.m.e.nt. Seventh heaven was seven heavens too high. They were having, Mills knew, the time of their lives. (Even the smells, he thought. Balmed, luxurious as jungle, sweet and fruity as tropic, as florid, shrubby produce. He'd had a cold a week--fever, runny eyes, headache, stuffy nose. The pampered, lovely smells had still insinuated themselves onto his very breath, caught on his tongue, snagged on his teeth, so that what he tasted, its flavors overriding the very food he chewed or liquids he drank, was like some perfumed, s.e.xual manna, the gynecological liqueurs. A sort of climate raged in him, headwinds, the fragrance in his head, mingling sweetly with the ache in his bones, swooning his soupy sleep like delicious ether. And he'd experienced, as he experienced now, as he'd experienced that first time in the harem-why did he have the impression that he had come not among women but into some vast and sensual female wardrobe?-a useless and cozy semitumescence, idle and abstracted.) And they could live there comfortably, whatever the mysterious authority for their dispensation, in their strange sanctuary forever, for as long as their lives, immune as diplomats, tenured in tease and tea party, servicing some ideal of fairy tale p.o.r.nography, as, when they'd been Janissaries, they serviced some ideal of epic viciousness.

Complacency. Acceptance. Bufesqueu was used up. Had probably been used up on those Janissary prayer rugs. "Incense" he'd said to a Mills too dumb to scoff.

Mills had his first conviction and suddenly seemed dangerous, even to himself.

He sought out Fatima.

"All right," he said, "his name is Sanbanna. I want to see him. I want to find out what's going on."

And Fatima mollifying him, all over him with her slave's flattery as earlier she'd been all over him with her hands. "He's only a tradesman, Master. A niggling peddler. Foolish women d.i.c.ker in the millets with him over kurus. A kurus. A street Arab. Common as straw. It isn't drama, Lord. It's barely negotiation. He's a cheat, Honesty. A rascal, Righteousness. Let Fatima do for you." street Arab. Common as straw. It isn't drama, Lord. It's barely negotiation. He's a cheat, Honesty. A rascal, Righteousness. Let Fatima do for you."

"I want to see him, Fatima."

And changed her tack. "What, you think only the males in this place get operations? The women too. The royal princesses have their wombs cut out. They lose b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Or their faces are so disfigured beneath their veils that not even a eunuch will look at them."

"The royal princesses?"

"And offending slaves, offending slaves do. There are harem women, some of them once highly regarded concubines, some of them once favored ladies, who insulted the Sultan, who didn't writhe enough to suit His Majesty, or who entered his bed by the side rather than raise the coverlet at the foot and hold it to their faces to crawl the bed's length like some veiled reptile, who've been carved into fright masks and sent out into the world again. Think, Boss, if they cut off a hungry man's hands for picking up lost coins in the gutter, what would they do to a woman's lips for speaking out of turn or returning unlawful kisses?"

"What did they do to you, Fatima, when you lay with Bufesqueu?"

"I disfigured myself," the now grotesque fat woman said. "Shameless, shameless," she said. "Oh," she said, "I'm such a greedy greedy girl. I'm so hungry. hungry. Oh, I have such a sweet tooth. Bribegold. Will you give me bribegold?" Oh, I have such a sweet tooth. Bribegold. Will you give me bribegold?"

He gave her the last of his bribegold. In a week or so, she said, when Guzo Sanbanna might next be expected, though he made no regular rounds, she said, she would introduce him, she promised.

Three weeks went by and still no Sanbanna.

"You've put on a few pounds," Mills said. "Where is he, Fatima?"

"I h.o.a.rd," she said. "He's old, he could die, so I h.o.a.rd."

She came into the laundry. Bufesqueu spotted her and went into the back.

"The Kislar Agha wants to see you," she said.

"Hey, Bufesqueu," Mills called.

"Not Bufesqueu. He didn't ask to see Bufesqueu."

Four months earlier a summons from the Kislar would have terrified him, but Bufesqueu was right, the man wasn't a bad fellow. At the salons-he was no regular, and neither was Mills, but he came to their affairs perhaps once every three weeks, always on the afternoon preceding an evening when a virgin was scheduled to attend the Sultan-the Chief Eunuch was often the most amusing man there, outdoing Bufesqueu and Qum el Asel himself on the th.o.r.n.y philosophical points they so loved to raise. Nor was the s.e.xual horseplay, though not proscribed, so much in evidence when the Kislar was there. Although the s.e.xuality of these afternoons was even more forthright than any Mills had witnessed when the great eunuch was absent.

Ostensibly the love lessons-everything they did could be perceived as instruction; Mills was fascinated (when he wasn't terrified), as he was by all protocols-were for the benefit of the young virgins among them. It fell to the women to tell these girls which things seemed most to please the Sultan, which parts of his body she was forbidden to kiss or to touch, which she was encouraged to, what obeisance she was required to make after he climaxed, what she must do to protect the Sultan's skin from the blood or, if there were danger of spilled s.e.m.e.n contacting his body, which remedial actions were permissible, which taboo. It seemed there were dozens of things for a virgin to remember, not the least of which was the virgin's "tribute." This was some new technique or position she was required to bring to his bed should the Sultan require it, some clever trick he'd never seen or heard of before. (Comprehensive lists, updated each time a new virgin paid a visit to the Sultan, were posted in all the dormitories in the harem, and it was an offense punishable by death if a virgin attempted to contribute something which another virgin had already offered. It did a girl no good to rely on the man's faulty memory, since duplicates of all lists kept by the women were kept by the potentate.

"He old, honey," Amhara might say. "He an old old man. Likely he won't do more than ask can you tell him your moves." man. Likely he won't do more than ask can you tell him your moves."

"I'm not here," the Chief Eunuch would explain, "to embarra.s.s anyone. I'm here to choose one of you and I'm here to protect you. I don't believe that women by nature are either more or less duplicitous than men. We're only human, alas, and if I'm privy to these discussions it's not, in this instance at least, prurience which draws me. Rather it's my conviction, one or two steps up from belief, that the nature of any organization is built on the principle of self-interest. In a harem the natural enemy of a woman is another woman. The mothers are jealous of the favored ladies, the favored ladies are jealous of the novices, and everyone everyone is jealous of the virgins. Only in s.e.xual organizations like our own, you see, does the jealousy leak downward. is jealous of the virgins. Only in s.e.xual organizations like our own, you see, does the jealousy leak downward.

"I'm fairly certain you've already been briefed but suspicious enough to believe that it's only because I was expected. If I didn't show up on these occasions it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility that these ladies could fail to tutor you in what's expected. You could fault tonight, you could die. In any event I trust a review can do no harm, and I enjoy our chalk talks.-Yoyu?"

"Sir?"

"Would you be kind enough to recite for Shariz the Prayer of Virgin Grat.i.tude?"

So he followed Fatima.

In his office the Kislar Agha was speaking to a short man in a striped gown just long enough to trip over should he step rather than shuffle. He wore a small fez-it could have been cut for a child-from which the ta.s.sel had come loose. "Oh, Mills," the eunuch interrupted himself, "come here a moment, would you?" And then to the man: "Show Mills, won't you? Fatima's right, he's the one with whom you should be taking up this point. Thanks, Fatima, it was a good idea, your bringing Laundry into the discussion."

"Laundry," the man said, "you've seen one of these?" He produced a strange, toylike object from inside his caftan. "Now this is only what we call a 'mock-up.' It's scale, however, and should give you a pretty good idea. In real life this particular item goes forty-five by sixty. You've seen this?"

Mills shook his head.

"No? See, Kislar Agha? Even Laundry ain't seen nothing like it. It's brand new but I'm not offering you no novelty item. I don't take nothing away from novelty goods, but in Yildiz? They don't look right in a palace, novelty goods. They're a ma.s.ses thing--kickshaw, straws and pins."

"Get on with it, Guzo."

Guzo? This? This was Guzo Sanbanna?

"I'm piquing his interest, Kislar. In my line you don't get nowhere you don't pique their interest. All right, Laundry, you want to take a guess what this mock-up is a mock-up of?" He handed Mills the model, which, now it was in his hands, he saw was actually two components, one on top of the other, the first a sort of cloth-covered frame, the second a thick rectangular pad which fit on it. "Can you guess? Remember, it's only a model."

Mills shook his head.

"I'll give you a hint, Laundry. What's the dimensions of your sheets?"

George shrugged.

"It's a box spring and mattress!" Sanbanna said as if delivering a punchline.

"A box spring and mattress," Mills repeated dully.

"You've never heard of mattresses?"

"Sure," George said. "I've heard of mattresses."

"Well the box spring fits under under them! On a them! On a bed bed frame! It gives frame! It gives back back support! You know, before the Industrial Revolution none of this would have been possible. Look-here, give me, I'll show you, this cloth part snaps off-rows of coil springs! Just imagine what one of these could do for the backs of all those favored ladies you got around here. Or the novices. Or anyone else for that matter whose back takes a beating from time to time. Why, sleeping on one of these is like sleeping on a cloud! For the rest of your life you wake up refreshed! support! You know, before the Industrial Revolution none of this would have been possible. Look-here, give me, I'll show you, this cloth part snaps off-rows of coil springs! Just imagine what one of these could do for the backs of all those favored ladies you got around here. Or the novices. Or anyone else for that matter whose back takes a beating from time to time. Why, sleeping on one of these is like sleeping on a cloud! For the rest of your life you wake up refreshed!

"And I'll tell you something else. With these new firm support mattresses there's never any sag. You're healthier, more cheerful. They put a spring in your step. They help keep you regular."

Sanbanna lowered his voice. "The wh.o.r.es of Amsterdam, where this product was researched and developed under the supervision of the world's most distinguished orthopedic scientists, the biggest men in the field, the wh.o.r.es of Amsterdam have been using these box spring and mattress sets on an experimental basis for months now. The incidence of pox has never been lower and some of the girls claim literally to have doubled their business. I can't vouch for that part of course, but I saw the biggest smiles on those Dutchmen's faces when I was up there last time. Ear-to-ear. I thought their d.a.m.n faces were cracking. Here, you can look at my pa.s.sport you don't believe I was up there." He shoved an Empire pa.s.sport under Mills's nose and s.n.a.t.c.hed it back quickly. His lowered voice was laced with confidentiality. "Listen, I I know the Sultan is no ordinary john. What, are you kidding? A know the Sultan is no ordinary john. What, are you kidding? A carte blanche carte blanche guy with the pick of the litter? I'll let you in on something, Laundry. This is strictly a company store in a strictly company town and what makes its owner happy can't help but trickle down and make some of its clerks happy too. Am I talking out of turn here, Kislar? Am I out of line on this?" guy with the pick of the litter? I'll let you in on something, Laundry. This is strictly a company store in a strictly company town and what makes its owner happy can't help but trickle down and make some of its clerks happy too. Am I talking out of turn here, Kislar? Am I out of line on this?"

Mills looked at the Chief Eunuch.

"Guzo's enthusiastic," the Kislar Agha said, "but we've been doing business with him for years now."

"Did I steer you wrong on the baby doll nighties? Did I steer you wrong on the filmy lingerie? Tell him, Kislar."

"He's not the purchasing agent, Guzo. He folds sheets in the laundry."

"Yeah," he said, "and don't know their size. I can't help it," Sanbanna said, "I believe believe in my products. I'm this progress amba.s.sador." in my products. I'm this progress amba.s.sador."

A king, Mills thought, a sultan. Princes and princesses. A progress amba.s.sador.

"He folds sheets, sheets, Guzo." Guzo."

"Well the question question is sheets. Sheets are what's under discussion. Look, I'll lay my cards on the table. What are we talking about? Two or three hundred box springs and mattresses? My foot we are! We're talking revolution! A is sheets. Sheets are what's under discussion. Look, I'll lay my cards on the table. What are we talking about? Two or three hundred box springs and mattresses? My foot we are! We're talking revolution! A sleep sleep revolution! revolution! Sure, Sure, I want to sell you the box springs and mattresses. And of I want to sell you the box springs and mattresses. And of course course it would be a feather in my cap to bring two hundred sets on line in Yildiz Palace Seraglio. But the it would be a feather in my cap to bring two hundred sets on line in Yildiz Palace Seraglio. But the real real feather in the cap would be to get my box spring and mattress under the Sultan's a.s.s! feather in the cap would be to get my box spring and mattress under the Sultan's a.s.s!

"Think! Who does the f.u.c.king? Those two hundred or so girls? The Who does the f.u.c.king? Those two hundred or so girls? The Sultan Sultan does the f.u.c.king. Those favored ladies are lucky if they see him three or four times a year. The mothers of those kids got stretch marks on them like lines on rulers. Maybe does the f.u.c.king. Those favored ladies are lucky if they see him three or four times a year. The mothers of those kids got stretch marks on them like lines on rulers. Maybe they they have relations twice a year. As for the novices ... Well, I don't have to tell you. So it's the Sultan. This is the man with the smile on his face! have relations twice a year. As for the novices ... Well, I don't have to tell you. So it's the Sultan. This is the man with the smile on his face! That's That's the direction of my thinking. The box spring and mattress under the direction of my thinking. The box spring and mattress under his his back! If I could tell the world its greatest lover only trusts his body to one of these babies--well, I back! If I could tell the world its greatest lover only trusts his body to one of these babies--well, I don't don't have to tell you! have to tell you! That's That's where the plumage in the millinery is!" where the plumage in the millinery is!"

"Guzo," the Chief Eunuch said, "our seraglio is not a test kitchen."

"So I asked myself, I asked myself, 'Sanbanna, you got a problem. How does a person like yourself, less than a commoner, get next to the sultan of the Ottoman Empire? How do you advise such a person?' 'Good will. Word of mouth, Guzo,' I told myself. 'That's the way to handle it. Let the broads do the job.' " He was staring directly into Mills's eyes.

"He folds sheets, Guzo," the Kislar said.

"Forgive me, Kislar, haven't we been talking about sheets? Didn't I ask him sheet dimensions? Ain't that what our whole deal hinges on? Ain't that why we called Laundry in for consultations?"

"But, Guzo, he doesn't know. know."

"Maybe because it never came up. Maybe because Laundry's too conscientious for idle speculations. Maybe because he was never bored enough to say to some co-worker, 'Hey, pal, for the h.e.l.l of it, why don't we get a tape and measure measure the G.o.dd.a.m.n things?' " the G.o.dd.a.m.n things?' "

"They won't fit," George Mills said. "They're only forty by sixty."

"You shouldn't listen to c.r.a.p, George," Sanbanna said.

"They won't fit your whatchamacallits. They're five inches too narrow in the width."

"Why did you want to see me?"

George looked at him closely. "It's not important," he said.

"Sure it's important," Sanbanna said.

"No," Mills said. Suddenly he was very tired. "I thought maybe I ought to talk to the man who's making these women so fat."

"Sure," Sanbanna said.

George studied him a moment. He went on, keeping his voice flat, draining all curiosity from it. "They, you know, nibble."

"They gorge."

"Probably when, you know, the eunuchs aren't around."

"They cram it down."