“His ambition isn’t as naked as you are,” said Alai. “Please put on clothing so I can look at you.”

“May not a man look at his bride?”

Alai chuckled. “A dynastic marriage? I thought you already told Han Tzu what he could do with that idea.”

“Han Tzu had nothing to offer me. You are the leader of the Muslims of India. A large portion of my people torn away from mother India in fruitless hostility. And why? Look at me, Alai.”

Either the force of her voice had power over him, or he could not resist his desire, or perhaps he simply decided that since they were alone, he need not keep up the show of perfect rectitude.

He looked her up and down, casually, without reaction. As he did, she raised her arms above her head and turned around. “Here is India,” she said, “no longer resisting you, no longer evading you, but welcoming you, married to you, fertile soil in which to plant a new civilization of Muslim and Hindu united.”

She faced him again.

He continued to look at her, not bothering to keep his eyes only on her face. “You do intrigue me,” he said.

I should think so, she answered silently. Muslims never have the virtue they pretend to have.

“I must consider this,” he said.

“No,” she said.

“You think I’ll make up my mind in an instant?”

“I don’t care. But I will leave this room in moments. Either I’ll do it dressed in that sari, as your bride, or I’ll do it naked, leaving my clothing behind. Naked I’ll pass through your compound, and naked I’ll return to my people. Let them decide what they think was done to me within these walls.”

“You’d provoke such a war as that?” said Alai.

“Your presence in India is the provocation, Caliph. I offer you peace and unity between our peoples. I offer you the permanent alliance that will enable us, together, India and Islam, to unite the world in a single government and along the way cast Peter Wiggin aside. He was never worthy of his brother’s name; he’s wasted enough of the time and attention of the world.”

She walked closer to him, until her knees touched his.

“You have to deal with him eventually, Caliph Alai. Will you do it with India in your bed and by your side, or will you do it while most of your forces have to remain here to keep us from destroying you from behind? Because I’ll do it. Either we’re lovers or enemies, and the time to choose is now.”

He made no idle threat to detain her or kill her—he knew that he could no more do that than let her walk out of the compound naked. The real question was whether he would be a grudging husband or an enthusiastic one.

He reached out and took her hand.

“You’ve chosen wisely, Caliph Alai,” she said. She leaned down and kissed him. The same kiss she had given Peter Wiggin, and which he had treated as if it were nothing.