Moon Face’s blood-red lips trembled as she pried open a satin pouch. Who was this woman who had caught the Bibi’s interest? She exchanged glances with Gulf Lily, her private eunuch. With his giant bulk, the light from the lanterns reflecting on his shaven ebony head, he resembled an ageless statue. He was dumb but not deaf. Years ago, he was castrated so he could attend upon the women of the harem while they bathed. His tongue had been cut off, so he would not recount their secrets, but he made up for that loss by the elegant language of his eyes and hands, which now danced in reply to Moon Face’s concern.

“Bring more of this kind!” the Bibi declared.

Rebekah raised her fingers to her eyes in a gesture that assured the sultana she would obey as if it were a command from her cherished eyes.

The Bibi flung the chador away from her massive body and raised her short skirts above her pants. “Am I too thin for these fabrics? Should I gain more weight?”

“You are ample and voluptuous,” Rebekah assured. “Like a ripe melon.”

The Bibi displayed two rows of gold teeth. She chose a rice cake from a plate, bit half off, and offered the remainder to Rebekah. The bundle woman hurried to accept this token of friendship. A rumble of anger bubbled in Moon Face’s throat.

Narcissus entered the hall and with a repetitive wave of his head indicated that Rebekah’s time was up. She thanked the ladies and followed him to the exit. Under an oak archway, inlaid with tortoiseshell, and before Narcissus had time to collect himself, Rebekah unpinned the diamond cluster on his turban and untied meters of fabric the color of amber. She lured out a stretch of yellow satin from her bundle and coiled it around his head and pinned the brooch back at an angle. She bent and kissed his forehead.

His plump arms hugged her waist. His head rested on her bosom, listening to the laughter in her chest. He gave her another stamp with his image engraved on it. “You are now the official bundle woman of the harem.”

Careful to conceal her brand from him, Rebekah unbuttoned her blouse and lodged the alabaster cube deep between her breasts.

He shuddered at the ivory flesh bared to him, the crescent of one nipple exposed. “If I were a man, I would have invited you to my quarters.”

“You are more than a man,” she sang. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now I’ve got to hurry to my daughter. She’s in her budding years. I shouldn’t leave her alone. She’s warm-blooded like me.” She lifted the eunuch’s hand and with the tip of her tongue licked tiny circles on his palm. She turned to leave, took a few steps toward the exit, then glanced back. “Narcissus, will you consider my daughter for the harem?”