But tonight he could not repress his vagrant mind. His feeling of failure churned too deep. It had stolen his spirit.
Day after tomorrow the Discovery weighs anchor, he told himself, with half the cargo we'd planned and twice the men she needs, while the Resolve slowly breaks apart on a sandbar. I've failed the Company . . . and myself. And there's nothing that can be done. Kali, dear Kali. The woman I really want to be with tonight is Shirin. Why can't I drive her from my mind? Half the time when you're in my arms, I pretend you're her. Do you sense that too?
"I'm sorry. I'm not myself tonight." You're right as always, he marveled, the mind and the body are one. As he paused, the singer's voice cut the stillness between them. "How did you know?"
"It's my duty as your courtesan to feel your moods. And to try to lift the weight of the world from your heart."
"You do it very well. It's just that sometimes there's too much to lift." He studied her, wondering what she was really thinking, then leaned back and looked at the stars. "Tell me, what do you do when the world weighs on you!"
"That's never your worry, my love. I'm here to think of you, not you of me."
"Tell me anyway. Say it's a feringhi’s curiosity."
"What do I do?" She smiled wistfully and drew again on the hookah, sending a tiny gurgle into the quiet. "I escape with bhang. And I remember when I was in Agra, in the zenana."
She lay aside the mouthpiece of the hookah and began to roll betel leaves for them both, carefully measuring in a portion of nutmeg, her favorite aphrodisiac.
"Tell me how you came to be here, away from Agra."