Laughter…but they were still wary of Virlomi’s wrath.

“I see that this counsel prefers to send Muslims to die in cosmetic wars, while the real enemy is allowed to gather strength unmolested, solely because he has not attacked us yet.” She turned directly to Thorn. “My husband’s good friend Thorn is like the man in a leaky boat, surrounded by sharks. He has a rifle, and his fellow passenger says, ‘Why don’t you shoot those sharks! Once the boat sinks and we’re in the water, you won’t be able to use the rifle!’

“‘You fool,’ says the man. ‘Why should I provoke the sharks? None of them has bit me yet.’”

Thorn seemed determined to press his luck. “The way I heard the story, the boat was surrounded by dolphins, and the man shot at them until he ran out of ammunition. ‘Why did you do that?’ his friend asked, and the man said, ‘because one of them was a shark in disguise.’

“‘Which one?’ said his companion.

“‘You fool,’ says the man. ‘I told you he’s in disguise.’ Then the blood in the water drew many sharks. But the man’s gun was empty.”

“Thank you all for your wise counsel,” said Alai. “I must now think about all that you have said.”

Virlomi smiled at Thorn. “I must remember your alternate version of the story. It’s hard to decide which one is funnier. Maybe one is funny to Hindus, and the other to Muslims.”

Alai stood up and began shaking hands with the men around the table, in effect dismissing each one in turn. It had already been rude for Virlomi to continue the conversation. But still she would not let up.

“Or perhaps,” she said to the group as a whole, “Thorn’s story is funny only to the sharks. Because if his story is believed, the sharks are safe.”

Virlomi had never gone this far before. If she were a Muslim wife, he could take her by the arm and gently lead her from the room, then explain to her why she could not say such things to men who were not free to answer.

But then, if she were a Muslim wife, she wouldn’t have been at the table in the first place.

Alai shook hands with the rest of them, and they showed their deference to him. But he also saw a growing wariness. His failure to stop Virlomi from giving such outrageous offense—to a man who had admittedly gone too far himself—looked like weakness to them. He knew they were wondering just how much influence Virlomi had over him. And whether he was truly functioning as Caliph any more, or was just a henpecked husband, married to a woman who thought she was a god.

In short, was Caliph Alai succumbing to idolatry by being married to this madwoman?

Not that anyone could say such a thing—even to each other, even in private.

In fact, they probably weren’t thinking it, either.

I’m thinking it.

When he and Virlomi were alone, Alai walked out of the room to the conference room toilet, where he washed his face and hands.