Book extra

by Veronice

This is Book extra. It overlaps Book 9 and 10. It also overlaps the books of Valencio's story, now available with some re-writing, as original fiction. I was not intending to republish this book, but since every month, there are several readers of the first ten books, then maybe some will enjoy this as well.

37. Chapter 37

* Notes: Khatabis:, Bouchra, Pasquila-Kha of Morocco. Hicham. Suma, Haru. Khatabi-Richi: Abensur, Bara-Kai of Japan. Patek, Pitono, Fighters. Baradan: Falen & Arpi Mahmood. Rahni, girl, small boy and a baby. Prali & Sangod Haidi, 2 girls, and a small boy. Other characters mentioned, Dache Pierre Tranter. (UK) Dache Vincent Reynolds, (US) Narzu-Han Khattak, formerly Khatabi Elder, owner of Valencio, now Dassio of Turkey.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & his world belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 37:

In the morning, when Bellamy asked when they were to go to Denmark, Zoe replied, "As soon as we're dressed, after lunch. We congregate this evening, the main formalities are tomorrow, and then that's it."

"That's it?" he asked.

Zoe turned her face away and said uncertainly, "I don't know."

Bellamy phoned home, just to let them know he'd be away two days. He should accept what he could have. It never did any good fretting over what he could not have. And he tried to be cheerful as he used his magic to unload trucks, clean saddles, and vanish unused food, now looking most uninviting.

By lunch time, things were back to normal, the significant horse show was over, and the talk was of Tiffany's wedding to be held at Loch Lomand the following Saturday. "Will you come?" asked Tiffany.

Bellamy said that he didn't know. Zoe said nothing. The invitation hadn't been for her in any case, and she still didn't know about a future with him.

Connie said to Mary, hesitantly, "We said we'd show him the Pamela Track again today."

"That woman. Zhor. She's a Khatabi. I don't want her on our track."

Connie was relieved. "She used us, too, that time, to learn the control spells. She would have been up to the Spell of Pain, but Haru skipped it and went on to something else. But then she stopped coming."

"She was quick to learn. Would she have been quick to master the Pain Curse?"

"Some were slower. As far as I know, not a single student ever objected to doing it."

Mary nodded decisively. "No Khatabi, ever, on the Pamela Track." Instead, they saddled Ruby and Kellie and rode it again, just themselves. The track was better defined now. It was frequently ridden, usually in ones and twos, always slowly, always solemnly.

At lunch, Bellamy was still in casual jeans and colourful shirt, as he customarily dressed. Zoe looked disapprovingly at his hair, now black again, but short, and the white strands discoloured with the remains of the dye. "No more haircuts," she said. "You have to look like a great wizard from now on." His surge of hope was clear to her, but she only looked back at her meal. She didn't know.

Carol sat opposite. "You're going after lunch?"

Zoe answered, "It's an important conference. We have to dress suitably, and then we'll go."

Bellamy said, "I'll have to go home to pack..."

Zoe shook her head. "I have an outfit for you with me, and there's more clothing waiting in our room in the hotel." She'd betrayed herself again, but no-one said anything.

Carol glanced from one to the other, and said, "I'd appreciate it if you took your leave properly, in case it's a while before you come back. No strangers are about, so come outside, where most of us will be, and just say good-bye before you go."

Jeremy whispered to Gloria, and she laughed at him, before nodding her head. They went to her room again. She'd taken a great fancy to Jeremy, who was not only very attractive, he was also intelligent, her own age, and had a sense of humour. Plus, he walked like a panther.

Bellamy and Zoe were in her room, and she opened a large trunk, where their outfits were carefully packed. She indicated, and he touched the rich material before beginning to dress without a murmur of protest. Afterwards, she inspected him closely. The shoulders were stiff, heavily embroidered, and flared steeply upwards at the ends, the sleeves beginning from below. She rearranged the drapes of his outer robe.

"That's a very wifely gesture," he murmured. And then, so softly, "I'd love you to marry me," just in case she was in doubt.

"You'd love to marry both of us, wouldn't you?"

He didn't dissemble, just said, "Yes."

She finished dressing herself, then checked in the large mirror she'd conjured. Combed her hair, adjusted an emerald encrusted hair decoration, and she was ready.

"We have to go outside. They wanted to say good-bye."

But this wizard in the jewelled robes of a Khatabi Elder, wasn't their John. Even Jeremy, just emerged from Gloria's room, saw him as a stranger.

Valencio backed off. There had been too many Khatabi for him, always dressed in those same elaborate robes. The women had been used by Khatabi too, of course, but usually only Khatabi-Richi, in far less elaborate robes, without the jewels, and more, without the air of power that all the most powerful ones seemed to wear like a second skin. Adil, Hicham, Narzu-Han - they'd always worn rich robes. Brahim, Yiko. The most powerful. The Khatabi Elders. They'd all used him. Now it was as if John, with the change from casual medj clothing, had thrown off his disguise and revealed himself for what he was, a wizard more powerful and dangerous than any other.

Emma, close to him, said softly, "He's not really a bloody wizard just because he's dressed like a Khatabi. He's still our John, who gets into fights, falls off roofs, and turns red when we embarrass him."

Valencio's voice was unsteady. "I just don't want him near me. Not looking like that."

Maliwan laughed to Sheila, "Should we stock outfits like that in the Frock Shop?" went to him, kissed him, and said good-bye. She couldn't resist running her fingers over the bodice of the dress part, black embroidery over the grey and green, with dozens of emeralds securely attached as part of the design. "It's beautiful," she said, in frank awe.

Most were accepting it now, and there was a chorus of touching and good-byes, until he protested, "I probably won't be gone for long."

But Thierry ran her hands gently over the flared shoulders of his robe. "It's seeing you in this. Makes us realise you're from a different world. We only borrowed you for a time."

Zoe stood close, feeling their affection for her John. She was ignored.

Tiffany looked around. "Cam's coming, You'd best go."

In an identical gesture, Zoe and Bellamy checked their wands were in their wand pockets, Bellamy extended an arm, Zoe came underneath, and they were in the App. Zone in Esbjerg Hotel, Denmark. Their full guard of six waited for them, and Bellamy greeted those he knew, and was introduced to the others.

There were sidelong glances, and someone said quietly, "Khatabis." They were given space.

Left behind, Jeremy said, puzzled, "Where's he going?"

"Denmark, for some special do."

Jeremy said, "Shit! No bodyguards."

He turned to Gloria, apologised, and strode swiftly to the first place he was out of sight and disapparated, though it took three apparation steps before appearing in the foyer of the DMT and hurrying to the auror department.

It was an informal function that evening, a generous feast available, but no set seating. Zoe felt a great pride in her partner. He was the legendary great wizard, the one with unparallelled power. He was older than any other human in the world. He was even goodlooking, in spite of his scars and white streaks in his hair.

Hundreds were there, representatives from all the civilised nations of the world, usually the heads of wizardry, in whatever terminology they used. Both Zoe and Bellamy were alert for potential threats, though they appeared at ease talking to Abensur and Gunma, his assistant. Abensur was more gorgeously dressed than they were themselves, though his guard was a touch more subdued, still in scarlets and golds, but with no rubies or diamonds, and their gold was only colour, while some of the gold on Abensur's outfit was real. Abensur spoke proudly of new laws, new law enforcement, and a new cooperation among the powerful families.

Kupec, the big, black British auror approached, and Bellamy smiled. "I should have expected it. Jeremy saw me go."

Kupec regarded his splendour, his mouth quirked, but he was only introduced to the other bodyguards, both Zoe's and Abensur's, and then took his place at Bellamy's shoulder, looking very subdued in his black auror's cape, even though scarlet edged. Kupec was a very large man, and appeared to regard the much smaller bodyguards as of minor importance. It was a mistake, if so. Zoe's guard were Khatabi Fighters, fierce when necessary, skilled and practised. Shizuoka may not have been Khatabi, but he, too, was extremely well trained, and with far more serious fighting experience than any British auror.

As soon as word spread that the man with Zhor Khatabi, was the great wizard himself, there were suddenly a lot more needing to talk business with Morocco's representative. Zoe smiled to herself as she bargained an unexpected concession from Germany, merely because the man wanted to shake Bellamy's hand.

Dache Reynolds of America was on top of Bellamy then, wringing his hand, and saying how beautiful were his grandchildren, who were also descendants of Bellamy, as he must know. Bellamy was polite, but unenthusiastic, while Zoe said how impressed she'd always been with America's expertise in medj relations. Within minutes, Reynolds was promising to send her an expert for a few months, in order to guide the woman she'd appointed to the position of head of Medj Relations.

Abensur watched in admiration, and resolved to try the same, maybe with Denmark, who'd achieved the feat of having a wizarding area that took up half the city, apparently without the slightest objection from the medj population.

Pitono murmured to Zoe, and she looked where he pointed. Narzu-Han, a former Khatabi Elder, now Dasse Narzu-Han Khattak of Turkey. For the first time in years, it occurred to Zoe that no-one had ever tried to call her to account for killing Grandmother Riza. Would Narzu-Han? But she reminded herself that Narzu-Han was under a pendreiya, and even though he'd obviously managed to overcome it to some extent, it was unlikely that he was capable of attacking her.

She gave her orders. "Zhang, stay with John. Pitono, come with me. I'm going to talk to Narzu-Han. John, just amuse yourself."

Bellamy nodded, leaned against the wall, and asked Zhang how the new school was going.

Narzu-Han and Zoe greeted each other with civility, calling each other cousin. Zoe had to work at remembering she was as important now as the former Khatabi Elder, and Narzu-Han was careful to treat her with the respect due to the leader of the great Family Khatabi. The talk was casual at first, but then moved on to the problems of imposing a more ordered society on one more accustomed to excitement, and 'honour' among men, which mostly appeared to mean a lot of duelling.

Zoe said, "John once told me that Turkey was one of those barbaric nations that doesn't appreciate its women."

Narzu-Han said, "I'm working on it. It all takes time." He changed the subject. "The ones he took from the Enclosures. Where have they gone?"

Zoe said coldly, "I do not believe you even have the right to ask the question." And when Narzu-Han attempted to probe her mind, her shield was far too strong. Pitono was very alert. There was hostility in the air.

Narzu-Han's gaze went to him, and he said gently, "I do not threaten the leader of the Khatabis."

Pitono stood firm, still regarding the senior Khatabi as a potential threat to his leader. Narzu-Han looked at his young cousin with some regret, and said that he had to speak to Brian Draffen of New Zealand.

Brian had been specifically invited to attend the AOCWN, though neither New Zealand nor Australia were members. Their Aniragi population was tiny, in New Zealand less than a hundred. But they had Juana Stonehouse, who could break spells that defeated the healers. To its own surprise, New Zealand had become important to wizardry. There were even three App. Boxes, that took spellbound wizards and witches to Juana's offices, from Thailand, to cover Asia, from Britain, to cover Europe, and from America.

But now the French Dassier was approaching Narzu-Han. "My sister wants to open a clothing store in Ankara. She's heard it's a good market and a lot safer than it used to be."

Narzu-Han hesitated, and then said, "Advise your sister to wait a year or two. It will be a place to be - just not quite yet."

Dasse Canet thanked him, and offered him help if he wanted. "My Chief Auror says she has some youngsters, just qualified and itching for action. A few years with you, if they want, will give it to them, and then you can send them back, experienced, and happy to be in a more peaceful environment."

Narzu-Han smiled broadly. It was also the other thing, that values and expectations were shared. The French aurors would be a good influence. He warned, "It can be dangerous, of course." Details would be settled later, but if they volunteered... And as many as France could spare.

Narzu-Han was making progress. Maybe it was partly Bellamy's instructions still having a subtle effect, part of it was the belated influence of the time when Valencio had thrown all his anger and condemnation at him, and then he'd had him screaming and writhing on the floor until he no longer moved. But also, partly, it was himself. When he'd been eleven and saw his best friend's regret at the judgement that he be sterilised, and then a few years later, his half-brother, he'd wondered if what they did was right. But when he questioned too loudly, he heard his teacher thinking a severe whipping would soon teach him not to question his elders. His questioning had been silent after that, and he had not been whipped.

Once he was confirmed as Khatabi, it might have been safer to question. Khatabi could also be whipped, in theory, but Narzu-Han had never seen it happen. It would have been very risky for the Khatabi-Richi Disciplinarian, of course.

Advanced Combat and Control had been difficult for him, but Yiko had taught him to shield his mind and to ignore the panic of the doomed dirt-people, at that time men taken at random from Baradan. Yiko had explained that the skills he practised were necessary. Narzu-Han knew all the serious curses, but had used them seldom, only enough to ensure that it was known the Khatabis were to be feared. He'd never tried to change things, and he acknowledged his guilt. He hadn't been as bad as most, he knew. He'd tried to use the dirt-girls, for instance, when he used them, with consideration. And he'd stopped Nusa'pei castrating Valencio as he wanted to - when the boy was fifteen, to make him more docile, and when he was seventeen, and Nusa'pei insisted it would make the use of him easier for the boy, maybe the only way Narzu-Han could continue to use him once he reached full manhood. Poor Valencio. He'd carried such a rage within him...

He glanced back at where Bellamy talked to Draffen, and knew he could tell him where the boy was. With Tasha still? Or had he yielded to temptation and looked for what he'd been taught to want?

He went and greeted Abensur, talking a long time with his old friend, though it was so long since they'd been in touch. Patek and Shizuoka were not far away, alert for threats, and pretending to be deaf to the private conversation.

Narzu-Han sent his own bodyguard to watch from the wall, out of hearing, and Abensur glanced at him and then followed suit. Narzu-Han still lowered his voice when he asked Abensur what he knew of Valencio.

Abensur replied, "Zhor and Najia know, but they refuse to discuss it with me. They say no Khatabi has any right to progress reports." He sighed and said, "There was a girl, Brigitta. I still miss her."

"A dirt-girl?"

Abensur nodded. "She was acting to begin with, trying to make me love her so I wouldn't clear the enclosures. But I loved her from the start. She didn't need to act."

Narzu-Han was interested, and they talked on. The last time Narzu-Han had seen Valencio was when they'd been moved to a new enclosure. He'd been a touch taller and more solid than when he'd been in Enclosure 1. Narzu-Han had wanted him again, the moment he saw him, and when Valencio looked through the Cloaking Magic and saw him there, he knew that it was mutual. But it would have finally destroyed him, as Yiko had reminded him. Instead, he'd tried to satisfy himself with Abensur's monthly reports, wanting to know that his boy was safe and happy.

Having him... It had been like having a beautiful, but half-wild beast, except that Valencio's sheer excitement had made it such an experience for Narzu-Han, listening and sharing. There had been times when he'd come close to fainting with the intensity of his boy's feeling. It was his own telepathy, and maybe because Valencio also had the talent, though undeveloped. It made for explosive sex. Even now, thinking about it...

Abensur grinned at him. He knew exactly what Narzu-Han was thinking about. He said casually, "I have people I still want to meet."

At his gesture, Pitono and Shizuoka came closer again, and Abensur and Narzu-Han said a few polite words and separated. Half-brothers, but not even 'cousins' under Khatabi custom. Now they were equals, the heads of wizardry in Japan and Turkey, respectively.

It was beginning to be late in the evening, and Narzu-Han looked for what he wanted. Standing back, letting his eyes rove, and extending his senses. She was Swedish, he thought, an assistant to their Dachier. Not involved, not married, sensual. As Bellamy had said years before, Ethics of Telepathy was not a required subject in the Khatabi Family.

Narzu-Han Khatabi casually moved to join the woman, somehow managed to radiate sexuality, and invited her to join him for a drink in the Midnight Bar.

Lena Roos turned to him, scanned him up and down with a cold glare, and said, "You're a Khatabi, I hear. I'd rather talk to a cockroach!"

Narzu-Han's bodyguards drew their wands. Narzu-Han, face slightly reddened, retreated and went to his second choice. Zanebono Dragonetti looked at the good-looking man, of about forty, she thought, and smiled. She was still smiling the morning after. Narzu-Han knew how to give pleasure, as well as receive pleasure.

Patek that night, wondered about the notorious Valencio. He may not have been able to hear the discussion, but he had a very good idea of the subject. Why was he so special? He'd seen him in the first of Abensur's tour groups, seen how men around stared, especially the older ones, and then he'd seen Pitono very much excited simply by being allowed to fondle that last night.

He'd almost been tempted himself, and he'd never been tempted by either man or boy, besides having a wife. And yet neither Abensur nor Narzu-Han were normally, either, as far as he knew. Most of the Khatabis were not. The boys they'd had in Japan, three in the last fifteen years, had excited some interest for a little, but by the time they'd died, one of suicide, two because of Ahjmed, no-one had cared. They'd been eunuchs, of course. Had that made them less desirable?

And Madam Zhor was sharing a bed with John Bellamy again. It probably didn't mean anything, of course. And if it did? He guessed that if anyone was worthy to marry his leader, it was the great wizard.

Bellamy looked nervously at Zoe. She waved a wand, imposing a silencing shield. "Of course I want to sleep with you. Why do you think I booked us in together?"

"Sometimes, you don't like it."

Zoe smiled. "You can feel how much I like it. It just makes me afraid, sometimes."

"With Luna, it happened gradually, that we just came to communicate more and more. But you have a far stronger talent than either Luna or I, and now I'm skilled, and couldn't totally close my mind in that situation if I tried." He hesitated, and finally said, "Besides, there's nothing more wonderful than making love with someone who loves you, and each can feel the other. It might be extreme, but it's very good."

Zoe said in a low voice, "It's like I drown, and it frightens me."

"I drown, too, but one always surfaces..." He spoke hopefully, and she went to him.

And maybe they did drown, but they surfaced, and at last, Zoe put away her reservations. "Wednesday? We get married Wednesday? You, me and Najia?"

She pulled him close, feeling his emotion. There were tears again on his cheeks, and she kissed them away. It made her feel maternal, almost sad. He was a complex man, a very old man. She loved him, and thought she'd loved him almost from the start. She'd felt his pain that time, and she didn't think that she would have been so incapable of shielding herself, if it had been any other man than the one she loved.

Another day, Monday, and Monday evening, there was a formal dinner, with numerous lengthy speeches. Bellamy and Zoe again wore the green and grey of Morocco, different outfits, but the same foreign cut, and the same degree of richness as the ones they'd worn the previous evening. Behind Bellamy, Kupec stood. Behind Zoe, it was Pitono.

Zoe, now she'd finally made up her mind, was feeling a comfort and content, at rest, as she never remembered feeling in her life. She'd only had a mother for a month. Riza had ordered Fuigh Zee to feed her baby for the first four weeks, but had then yielded to her pleas, sterilised and released her. Ahjmed had not been the first for Fuigh Zee, but he was the last, or at least, the last Khatabi.

Tuesday morning was taken up with more business, meetings, speeches, addresses to those interested in certain topics, conferences. Zoe listened closely, alert and knowledgeable. She glanced at John. He was smiling slightly and missed the cue to applaud a speech. But he was happy - very, very happy. She knew that.

The conference ended after a final elaborate luncheon on Tuesday. They no longer wore the green and grey of Morocco. Instead, Zoe had selected a shimmering silver grey for Bellamy, but adorned with a thin stripe of a radiant red-orange, the colour she knew he loved. It was the colour of happiness, he told her once, and she wore it as well, in greater quantity.

How could she have ever doubted? They were made for each other, and she expected they would be together a very long time. Riza had lived a hundred and thirty-eight years, and Zoe was only twenty. They would lose Najia at some stage, Zoe thought, but even Najia was only twenty-three, and while her life span would probably be only normal, they would be together a lot of years. Zoe and Bellamy wore the colour of happiness.

**x**

Wednesday, Zoe and Najia fussed over their John's wedding robes, before allowing Felice to help them with their own. They wore cream embroidered with pearls. He wore tan, with a trim of gold and rubies. The robes looked heavy, impressive, but were light and cool. Magic, of course. Again, there was a border of red-orange.

Najia smiled at him. He was trembling again. She went to him and kissed him, but carefully, so as not to disarrange his robes, or her own. She'd known that Zoe would not be able to leave him. How could she be afraid of marrying John, who was so wonderful, so kind, so goodlooking? And he trembled because he loved them so much. She carefully wiped her eyes.

Felice scolded, and dabbed her face with water. "You can cry afterwards, in bed, if you want. Not now, when you're supposed to be beautiful."

Najia laughed. "Why would I want to cry in bed?"

Abimael was being fussed over as well. It was a very special occasion, and there had been whispers and rumours for weeks, though it had only been confirmed the previous afternoon, when Bellamy had made the formal request. Abimael wore new robes of crimson, laced with thin ropes of gold. His wife kissed him and whispered, "If you forget the words, I'll kill you." Abimael had been getting a little vague, just lately.

He smiled at her. "Little Najia's getting married. How could I forget the words today?"

"Don't forget it's Zhor, as well, then."

Abimael said, "Ryuichi Khatabi-Richi to Mamiko Khatabi-Richi, also to Melida Tanweer. Zhang Khatabi-Richi to Monikai Tanweer, two children, Yaussess and Yehuda. Thuli Khatabi-Richi to Kei Khatabi-Richi. Michiro Khatabi-Richi to Lia Khatabi-Richi." And then he said, with a great satisfaction in his voice, "Najia Khatabi-Vrie and Zhor Khatabi-Vrie to John Bellamy."

Nara, in the kitchens, declared for the seventeenth time that everything had to be perfect, both lunch and evening meals. "No getting drunk and sloppy," she said severely.

Hanri protested, "They never even touch the evening meal!"

"It doesn't matter! Five weddings, and one is our leaders! It has to be perfect!"

It was the tradition. The biggest man in the Compound was masked, dressed severely in black and grey leather and metal, was draped with a large sword, went to each of the bridegrooms, and escorted him firmly to wait at the place where the ceremonials would begin. The girls had forgotten to warn Bellamy, and he asked in surprise, "What's all this, Diethard?"

Diethard was a bit uncertain. He was supposed to be playing the Enforcer, but he wasn't about to try and force anything on the great wizard.

Zoe pushed Bellamy. "Go with him, John. It's just tradition." She was laughing, and Bellamy wanted to laugh, as well.

Diethard said severely, out of the corner of his mouth, "Don't laugh. You're supposed to look miserable!" Bellamy tried to look miserable.

Zoe and Najia had to wait, and it seemed a long time. The men would be waiting, as well, each of them standing with an 'Enforcer's Assistant' beside him, the largest men available to them after Diethard. Hicham was big, but Hicham was Khatabi, and no-one had thought of suggesting he take part. In the past, Khatabis had never married and seldom bothered attending such weddings. This time, Hicham was there, standing with his wife, Agneta.

Suma and Driss were also present, and Suma murmured to Driss, "Do you think it's time we married, as well?"

Driss said, "You're refused me too many times. But maybe I could be persuaded..."

At last, there was the knock on the door, and the oldest woman still able, Yang Dai, smiled at her leaders, and said the traditional words. "We have your man under guard. Please follow me now."

It was a slow walk, as Yang Dai was really too old for the job, was very tired after collecting the four other brides, and was now painfully hobbling. Najia took her place behind her, and Zoe, as the younger of the pair, behind her cousin.

Yang Dai was getting slower and slower, and Suma conjured a chair for her to collapse on, as soon as Najia and Zoe took their places to the left and right of Bellamy. He beamed and put an arm around each.

Chippo whispered, "Drop your arms and look miserable!"

Bellamy put down his arms, but he was not doing a very good job of looking miserable. Chippo frowned heavily, trying to mask his grin.

Abimael had been doing wedding and burial ceremonies since not long after he'd lost his leg, duelling. He knew the words of the solemn ceremonial backwards. It didn't take long, just a reminder of the binding nature of the vows they were taking, and a description of the obligations and duties of a husband.

Then one by one, this time without an Enforcer, the ones to be married came forward to stand before him. Bellamy was last, and he jumped and spun around as a shrieking erupted around him just as Zoe said the last few words.

There was a thump, and he looked in surprise at Diethard as a leather breastpiece landed on top of a sword already lying on the ground. More gear landed until the Enforcers were dressed in only thin, pale grey tunics, but still masked. They surrounded the pile on the ground, and Diethard, beaming, raised his wand, and set alight to the leather and metal, so that it burned fiercely, though without smoke, leaving a slightly blackened area in the grass.

Out of habit, Abimael waved his own wand, and the marred area healed itself, grass growing over it again. Abimael was also head gardener.

"They've done their jobs, and now they can celebrate," explained Najia to her puzzled husband.

Bellamy whispered, "Are we allowed to kiss our brides?"

"Oh, I think so," said Najia, and he pulled her close and kissed her with passion, and then Zoe. It was not part of custom in the Khatabi Family, but the other bridegrooms thought it might be a good idea, as well.

The Enforcers marched away, to return a short time later, unmasked, and dressed in more normal wizard robes, appropriate for the important event of a wedding celebration.

Zoe and Najia had put aside the aloofness of leaders, and were laughing and chattering with the others just married. Bouchra gave them both a kiss, and smiled proudly. Maybe her years as an unwilling breeder were not wasted when she could claim Zhor as her grand-daughter, and poor Saeko's ordeal had resulted in Najia, sweet and beautiful. The two girls who'd changed centuries of cruel tradition.

She supposed she should give some credit to the great wizard, and looked at him. For some reason, he was regarding Haru with a cold glare, but Zoe tugged at his arm and said firmly, "Stop it, John. It's finished and will never happen again."

Bouchra made a shrewd guess. She knew he was still heavily involved with the medj whom he'd rescued, and by now would have a very good idea of how they'd been treated. Haru, of course, was the Senior boys' teacher, and would no doubt have been hated.

Najia said to her new husband, "We have to have our photos taken and sign the book, and then Abimael gives us our documents."

He smiled at her tenderly, "Then can we go back to our rooms for a half an hour or so?"

Najia giggled, and one of the other new husbands laughed and looked at his own bride with an acute desire. Michiro and Lia had done the traditional thing, and stayed apart for the previous full month. In past times, of course, he would simply have used one of the dirt-girls, which didn't count because Lia wouldn't know. But without that outlet, it had been celibacy, and Michiro was convinced he was nearly dead from it.

Nara, who was supervising the setting out of luncheon, looked in surprise at the sky. How often did it rain here? But it definitely looked threatening. Chippo was delegated, and waved his wand to make a shelter over the whole area, more than the shade trees which helped keep it cool.

That night, in the small hours of the morning, Zoe was wakeful, just looking at the face of her husband, sound asleep with a slight smile on his face. Najia looked just as content. Zoe rose and went to the back garden, looking in wonder at the torrential downpour. Rain happened so seldom here, and the desert would bloom.

In a small single bedroom, an old, old lady slept, also with a smile on her face. She was Khatabi-Richi and had never had children, but her sister had been Khatabi, and her daughter was Saeko, the grandmother of little Najia. She'd lived long enough now, and she'd seen her sister's great grand-daughter married to a man who loved her, as Khatabi women were never loved, though Khatabi-Richi women sometimes were. At the height of the storm, Yang Dai's heartbeat ceased.

In a larger bedroom, Bouchra Khatabi-Vrie heard the rain as a sign of renewing life. She wondered when the discovery would be made that her friend, Rocania, had managed to preserve her son from sterilisation. In the old days, she would have been very severely punished, and the boy would have been at least whipped, and probably a lot worse, as an example to others who thought to avoid the compulsory sterilisation. Suma had been so desperately looking for a breeding male. Would she have welcomed it if Ryuichi had made the admission? Or deemed it a bad example, and done what Riza would have done? She didn't know what that was, but it would not have been good.

Old Yang Dai could have told her what Riza might probably have done. It had been one of her age-mates. The boy had been fifteen when the discovery was made after a chance conversation between the Japanese and Moroccan healers, each of whom thought the other had done the job. The leader of the time had ordered the castration of the boy, rather than the mere routine sterilisation, and severe punishment for the mother. Then exile, at a time when the mother was still unable to walk. Yang Dai had managed to slip the boy some money, but even that minor misdemeanour had been punished by a whipping, though at least only a normal whipping.

In Baradan, shallow gutters overflowed, sweeping away rubbish and dirt. Falen's baby woke, crying, wet through from the rain that drove in the hole in the wall that was the window. Falen dried him, dressed him in a spare set of clothing, and popped him in bed with his older brother. The baby went back to sleep. It was only recently that she'd been able to contrive spare clothing. They were doing a bit better these days.

Next door, Sangod slipped on a wet place on the floor, turning his ankle. Prali bound it tight with cloth, and hoped desperately that he would not miss work, or not much. The loss of a few days' wages was enough to have them on the verge of starvation again.

In the morning, Sangod couldn't walk, and Prali donned the heavy burqua, more uncomfortable than ever as the city steamed. But if his employer wasn't notified that he couldn't work for a day or two, he would lose his job. Abdel-Halim was generous. He would be excused for two days, and Prali sighed with relief.

Prali had two girls, almost of marriageable age, and a boy of four. Time for the day's work, and the little boys were left to their own devices.

Prali went to Falen's place, finding Falen already at work carefully cutting the fabric. The good quality scissors had been a major investment, only possible because Rahni had discovered a way to get to where hundreds of pairs of pigeons nested. She explained anxiously to her mother though, that she had to be very careful. If she took too many they would go away, and if others saw her, she could lose the food resource entirely.

She didn't tell her mother just how perilous was the ascent she made almost every day, involving a leap to an insecure perch, and a quick scramble to a more solid footing. Rahni was taking a great pride in helping her family survive, usually only taking one egg or fledgling from a nest at a time, returning with maybe a dozen each day, only rarely taking an adult pigeon. It was immensely valuable protein. The baby was now better fed and bigger for his age, than almost any other in the neighbourhood.

Arpi and Sangod were not told about Rahni's success, as the women didn't trust them to share. Rahni didn't make the excursion when they had their weekly day off. The men also didn't know that Falen and Prali had decided to share resources, completely and unselfishly. They were both more likely to survive that way, and their children. The men might view the death of children as the will of Allah, but the mothers would fight to keep them alive.

They had had to teach themselves, but Prali and Falen now worked at hand-sewing men's shirts. The older girls worked at making baby clothes from small scraps. Soon they would open a street stall. Prali said, "It would be good if we had somewhere to hang the shirts."

Falen said, "Sangod? While he can't work?"

Luckily Sangod was amenable to the idea of helping the women, feeling guilty that he was losing probably two days' pay.

When Rahni arrived with a dead adult pigeon and three half grown fledgelings, Falen put them quickly out of sight, in case Sangod saw them. But then she sent her to the man, to listen carefully to what he required. It would be a lot better if the materials could be found or stolen. There was no spare money for pieces of timber, though maybe coat-hangers could be purchased. And he did have a hammer and several nails, though more would be good.

Small children had a lot of freedom in the streets of Baradan, but the older girls were vulnerable, and seldom allowed out by themselves.

Rahni asked, "Can the boys come with me? I think I know where to look, but I need help."

The boys were only four, Falen's boy a little the younger.

Falen asked, "Will I help?"

Rahni shook her head decisively. A grown-up woman was prey, though few took much notice of small children.

The children waited near the banks of the river, flowing so much more strongly than usual. Bright-eyed Beni pointed, and Rahni carefully waded out, reaching. It was dangerous, small children braving disease-ridden waters in order to help their families. Timbers floated by, some floating close enough to the bank to be retrieved, the children fleeing with them when Bidi, as lookout, called a warning. The older boys chased them for a little, but were distracted when more, heavier timbers floated by. Talal was not as clever and cautious as Rahni, and was swept away and drowned.

Sangod worked well that day, using one of the pieces of timber as a crutch, and the small boys to fetch and carry. They were also learning.

"Small wheels would be good," he finally concluded, as he surveyed the completed clothes rack. There were some at work, not used for anything, but stealing from work could not be risked. Rahni had no immediate ideas, but promised to keep an eye out.

She left again, exploring. Four small wheels, like off a pram that Westerners used. She walked a long way that day, and by the time she returned it was almost dark. She had a question that night. "How do I take wheels off a pram?"

Sangod demonstrated the use of a screwdriver, but when Rahni tried the following day, she didn't have the strength, and was chased away by a furious woman, who then took the pram inside. They would have to do without wheels, at least for the time being.

Two days later, Sangod limped to work, watched critically by his employer to ensure that, lame or not, he did a full day's work.

Prali and Sangod were nearly forty, no longer young. Just a slip on a wet floor, and if it hadn't been for Falen sharing, they would have been hungry again. Prali shivered when she considered the future. With the clothing stall, and if only there were no more children, maybe they could survive. There was a K-T Clinic close, for women. Free contraceptive medicine, but young Friani had been beaten so severely by her husband when she was seen there, that she'd been unable to care for her baby, and now the tiny boy was dead. Neither Prali nor Falen risked going there, but still neither of them became pregnant.

The workers in the Clinic conferred, and as well as the lifetime anti-conception spell, reversible, that hit the client in the back, there was a weak Cloaking Spell, that only lasted ten minutes, enough to let the woman get safely away. They could still be seen as they came in, of course, but the women themselves knew to be very cautious.

**x**

Loch Lomand:

Valencio consulted his friend, Joe Corbett, who was a farmer, and Joe suggested they start cutting grass hay straight away. "If the cold weather arrives too soon, it will not be nearly as good." The day that Bellamy married the Khatabi leaders, was the day that Valencio climbed into the seat of a harvester, crunched the gears, and set off.

By Thursday, he claimed it was easy, and cut grass lay in mostly neat rows across a large paddock.

Thursday, Dot arrived in a horse-box that held three new horses for Loch Lomand. Victor was with her, and said, "Anglo-Arabs, quiet to ride, and good quality. Not on loan. They belong to Loch Lomand."

Gloria was thrilled, and made a fuss of the new horses.

Valencio made friends with them, and commented, "They're tall enough for me if I want to have a gallop."

Victor glanced at him, and agreed, "Easily up to your weight."

Valencio stroked a large bay horse, thoughtfully. Easily up to his weight. The horse moved over casually and trod on his toe, so that he swore and tapped him sharply on the leg, to make him move. The halter bore a name, as all their horses did. 'Caesar.' There were no saddles and bridles. That would be an expense.

The horse snorted and pawed at the ground. Valencio said, "Caesar, do you reckon you might like to be my horse?"

Caesar had his head high and whinnied shrilly. Answers came from the other paddocks. Valencio shrugged, "Come on then," and he followed Gloria's lead, putting him in a small paddock with the other two new horses.

A secret was shared that evening. The horse, Patrick, was to go to Tiffany - a wedding present. Gloria smiled. "She'll be thrilled. She loves that horse."

Wedding preparations were in hand. Cramsie wanted a religious wedding, and Tiffany had agreed, but it would be either outside, or if it rained, in the ballroom. Bernice would cater, others would decorate. Tiffany was the first to leave, and would have the best they could contrive.

***chapter end***