The Ranee of Rukh, and her sister wives, of whom this was the youngest, were fairly good friends. They ate their hearts out, and beat their ayahs when a white woman’s shadow fell on the palace floors. And Ak-kok went farther. She took the dance-girls for granted, saw to it often that they were fairly fed, and softly clad, but she, watching her chance, had beaten a French danseuse once till the dancer never would dance again.
Rukh flung himself down beside the child’s low bed; La-swak held out his arms, and smiled, and the half-clad Raja caught him and held him close—all that he loved most in the world, and loved most purely, cuddled and cuddling tenderly there, with little brown, jeweled-cap-crowned head pressed contentedly against the stiff-starched shirt and the cerise silk braces. La-swak put up a dark dimpled hand and snatched at the brilliant braces. His moaning had ceased. Ak-kok had taken the silver pannikin from the brazier, and stood at the open window pouring the liquid it held back and forth from pannikin and cup till it was cooled to satisfy her. She brought it now, and Rukh took the cup and held it to the child’s lips. La-swak shuddered a little, but he drank it all, while the father fondled and encouraged him—then gave back the cup.
“He is not very ill?” the Raja stated rather than asked.
“Not now,” old Ak-kok answered. “He will do now. He soon will sleep—better he be left alone now.”
One by one the others went out. The young mother went first, and the women followed her one by one. The girl mother rose reluctantly, and hesitated a moment, hoping her husband might give her a word or a glance; but he did not, and she went slowly out, hanging her head, veiling beneath their blue-veined lids the rage and pain in her great, black eyes. Rukh felt nothing but kindness for the girl: she had borne him La-swak, she had bored and had disappointed him less than any other of his women ever had, and he and her father were close-sworn friends—they had throttled a half-grown wild beast together, and speared a great snake, they had shared war and blood-feuds, and frolic and schemes; but Rukh was engrossed with his boy. He did not even see Ko-sak go, scarcely knew she’d been there.
The child dozed. Ak-kok tugged at Rukh’s arm, and he rose and too went quietly out, through the long, twisted corridors with the great columns and arches back to his own room.
Just before he left the harem quarters he came upon a girl, almost a child, sitting idly and alone, on the wide seat of a window’s embrasure, the gay strip of embroidered stuff she’d been working lying neglected where it had fallen from her listless fingers on to the mosaicked floor at her feet She caught his footfall, turned her head carelessly, flushed passionately, rose quickly, and salaamed deeply. Rukh was in no mood for such companionship now, and well could have spared the encounter—but he paused, and spoke to her kindly, laying his hands on her shoulders; for she was big with child. A wild rose stained the pale amber of her delicate face, the terror faded out of her dark childish eyes; and Rukh knew she would have pressed her face to him, and clung, staying him so, had she dared.
“Nay, Zu-kunl,” he told her soothingly, “it is not too much, it lasts not long, your midwife is skilful, the auguries are kind, and the joy that it brings is a woman’s sweetest and proudest.”
“My lord!” she whispered. “If the child should be but a girl?”
He shrugged indulgently. “Some must,” he said, “and if it is as fair, and as obedient as you, I will forgive it and thee.”