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"Djoura isn't nasty," he began, but seeing Ama's expression, immediately took a new tack.
"You are very dear to me, mistress. You are my closest friend in this place, and& "
"You have closer elsewhere?" Her dimpled chin jutted forward.
Raphael was not allowed to reply, for Ama found her own answer. "Djoura! That's why she wanted
you sold together; she said you were her brother, but what she meant was quite different, I'll bet! I'll bet
you lay together every night you could!"
"That isn't true," he said, but as he spoke his mind filled with unbidden images, with the Berber's song
all mixed with Ama's warm skin and the divine irresponsibility he had just learned to call lust. Therefore
his words did not carry authenticity to his mistress's ear.
"I'm going to tell Rashiid you attempted to force yourself on me!" the girl declared.
"Please don't," Raphael said weakly.
"Why not? Why shouldn't I?"
"Because it's not the truth."
This plain response seemed to daunt Ama. "Well, I'll just tell him you're a whole man. That's the truth,
and will be the same in the end."
He reached out a hand to her, but hers hid behind her back. "Rut you said he would do me harm."
Ama snorted and looked down the length of her nose at the fair face before her. "A moment ago you
were the upright one: the one who wanted to tell him. And you a mere Christian a giaour! Trying to
make me feel low. Well, where's your courage now?"
The entreating hand dropped to Raphael's lap. "I never said I was courageous, Ama. In truth I am not
very brave at all."
He blinked confusedly and rubbed his face with both palms. "Nor very clever, I don't think.
"But I do know this; if I lie with you, mistress, it will lead to great unhappiness, maybe death, for us
both."
His blue eyes gazed so steadily that Ama turned her head to one side. "I'm not afraid."
"I am," whispered Raphael.
Ama ground her teeth. "Then be afraid of this, Pinkie. Unless you're a lot& nicer to me by tomorrow
night, I have every intention of telling Rashiid what I know about you."
Ama snatched the candle and stalked out of the room.
He sat with his forehead propped on his spread fingertips, his elbows on his knees. "How have I
gotten myself into such a sticky web, when to my best understanding I did nothing wrong at all?"
It was the sort of question a man asks of the air, but in Raphael's case the air replied. "Know your
own duty; that's all that's asked of you, and it's simple enough, isn't it?"
Raphael lifted his beautiful, offended face. By the velvety movement of a shadow it seemed his friend
was standing just outside the window. "No, it is not! Simple? How can you say& "
Damiano's vague form wavered, shruglike. "That's word for word what you said to me once."
"I did?" The slave hoisted himself out of the window again, and took a calmative breath of night air.
"How dared I open my mouth about mortal concerns, having never been a mortal of any sort?"
There were the stars, up above his head in a Spanish sky untainted by clouds. There was the full
moon. Unaccountably, Raphael thought of Djoura. "A mortal of any sort," he repeated, lamely, to those
stars.
"Yet your advice was always of the best," Damiano chuckled, in a voice as soft as the wind. "You
told me to dress myself to attract girls. You cut my hair becomingly. You even won over my sweetheart,
who felt she had reason to hate you.
"In fact, Raphael, mortal or no, you have always known how to please the ladies."
The blond turned to stare at Damiano, which was difficult, since he had no clear idea where he was.
"You were listening!" he blurted aloud. "To Ama and me!"
There came a soft rustling, not like that of orange leaves but like that of a man shifting from foot to
embarrassed foot. "Yes, I was listening. Shouldn't I have been?
"After all, I hadn't said I was going away, had I?" Then, in tones airy and droll, he added, "Perhaps I
should write you a note to tell you when I'm nearby. I remember someone suggesting that policy to me
once."
The ghosts voice had taken Raphael to the garden wall. He slumped against it, feeling its coolness as
a relief more than physical. "Don't make fun of me, Darni. If I was officious in the past, you can console
yourself with the knowledge I'm wretched enough now."
Damiano stood beside him in an instant, perfect from his rough hair to his large mountaineer's boots.
His square hand (nails cut blunt on long musicians fingers) rested on his friend's shoulder. "I'm so sorry,
Seraph," he said. "I was only trying to make you laugh.
"Is it what your mistress said that disturbs you? Is it her displeasure, or do you fear your master will
really do you harm? I have some advice on that point, if you'd care to listen."
As Raphael opened his mouth to tell Damiano that he was quite definitely afraid of what Rashiid
would do, another answer came to his lips. "It's not any of that."
The cicadas were droning like a headache, like sleep. Rashiid's unused mare moved restlessly in her
confined quarters, kicking at a board.
"When Ama& embraced me, I really wanted to& to& "
"Of course you did," said the ghost.
"No, you don't understand. I wanted to& replace her with someone else. And make love to her
instead."
This statement hung between them in the air for some moments before Raphael added to it. "I miss
my friend Djoura."
"Ah." Damiano's voice held understanding, but he could not resist adding, in the next breath, "Wasn't
she the one who used to kick you at night to make you stop singing?"
"She only did that once," the slave replied with offended dignity. "And I understand now. Her whole
plan was to keep everyone from finding out. That I am not a eunuch."
A ripple of pigeon gray against the white of the wall showed that the spirit had ruffled his wings.
"Well. That leads us back to the original problem. The fact that you are not a eunuch."
Raphael, feeling very uncertain of himself, listened in his friend's voice for clues. "Is that what you
think, Darni? That the problem is simply that I OUGHT to be a eunuch? Perhaps, then, I should allow my
master to& "
There was an explosion of immaterial feathers. Damiano's twin sails snapped upward, hiding the
moon and stars. "Seraph! Teacher! Raphael! What are you saying?
"You must not permit yourself to be so maimed! Nor, for that matter, should you continue as a slave.
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