"He's fit, by Allah. He's my son." Arangbar impulsively seized another ball of opium and began to chew on it thoughtfully. "I’ll find a way to compensate Jadar. Surely he'll be reasonable. After all, there must be a wedding gift."
"Then you'll agree to grant it?" Janahara's tone was quiet and inquiring."
"Majesty." Nadir Sharifs voice seemed strangely unguarded. "Prince Jadar . . ."
Arangbar seemed not to hear him. "I grant it. In the morning I'll summon the qazi, and let this be recorded as my gift to my youngest son and his new bride." Arangbar's tenseness seemed to dissolve as he leaned back on the bolster and took another ball of opium. "But only on the condition that he perform his duty tonight. Let him plow the field he has before he's granted more."
Arangbar turned to Hawksworth. "Do you know what else will happen, Inglish, if he fails in his duty the first night?"
"No, Majesty."
"Some of her women will send him a distaff, which they use with their spinning wheels. With a message that since he cannot do a man's work, it is fitting he should do a woman's. But I think he'll succeed." Arangbar turned to Janahara with a wink. "He's been practicing for months with the nautch girls in the palace."
The queen did not smile as she took a rolled betel leaf from a tray.
A messenger appeared at the foot of the dais and performed the teslim. His voice was quivering. "The sheet has not yet come out, may it please Your Majesty."
Arangbar laughed. "Then perhaps the furrow is too narrow to receive his plow. Have a mullah bless some water and send it in to him. And tell him I'm waiting to see if he's yet a man."