Lord of Desire

That settled it; Mahmoud went.

The warriors guarding Jafar's house allowed her to pass without challenge, but as she approached the crowd, Alysson slowed her pace and drew the hood of her burnous forward to hide her face.

For a short while, her presence went undetected. Nearly all the men of Jafar's tribe were there, Mahmoud explained in a whisper, as well as the ranking officials of ail the neighboring tribes, but they had their backs toward her, their attention focused on the speakers in the center of the gathering. She could not see Jafar, but she heard him speak occasionally. And with help from Mahmoud, Alysson was able to follow the line of conversation.

Jafar's prime accuser, it seemed, was a cousin of Zohra's, a caid of another tribe, and the prime allegation was one of betrayal of the blood oath.

"You have failed to avenge the death of the late lord, your father," Zohra's cousin charged in a ringing tone.

In response, Jafar began his defense for sparing the life of his blood enemy. "My lord father's death has been avenged. Blood has been spilled in battle."

The sudden chorus of whispers that suddenly broke out around Alysson made her realize she'd been found out. She felt a hundred pairs of eyes on her.

Then the whispers quieted, while the sea of warriors slowly parted, making a path to the highest-ranking members of the council. She could tell by the severe expressions on the faces of the Berbers around her that they highly disapproved of her interruption. Some, like Zohra's cousin, were incensed by her presence.

As for Jafar himself, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. His eyes narrowed for a moment upon seeing her, but otherwise he showed no sign of surprise. Perhaps he had come to expect such outrageous behavior from her, Alysson thought uneasily.

He stood there waiting imperiously, looking every inch a prince in his flowing scarlet robes, a regal warlord in total command of the moment. Drawn by the power of his golden gaze, she moved forward, while Mahmoud trailed miserably behind.

"I should like permission to address the council," she said finally to Jafar, and was pleased that her voice did not quaver.

"To what purpose, mademoiselle?" His cool tone was devoid of emotion, giving her no encouragement.

Alysson bit her lip. Perhaps she was acting foolishly for daring to intrude on the council's business, but she couldn't stand idly by while Jafar paid such a high price for his act of mercy. "I . . . want to speak in your behalf. Whatever your reasons for sparing Gervase, politically it was a wise move. He is one of the few officials in the French government sympathetic to your cause, and he can help. I think your tribal leaders should consider that before they condemn you."

Jafar's features seemed to soften for a brief instant, but if he was flattered or displeased by her eagerness to defend him, he gave no other sign. "There is no need for you to be here, Ehuresh. "

She started to protest, but his next words forestalled her; Jafar raised his voice again to address the crowd. "Gervase de Bourmont is a good man," he said clearly in his own language.

At first Alysson thought she must have misunderstood, even with her growing command of Berber, but Mahmoud's translation into French verified what she'd heard. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Jafar was actually defending his blood enemy?

"This Frenchman is not like the others of his kind," Jafar told the council. "He has used his office to help our people, not to drive us into proverty and submission. The Englishwoman has pleaded on his behalf and sworn his innocence, and I believe her. This man Bourmont is not his father. It is not required that his life be forfeit."

Stunned, Alysson listened with amazement and throat- tightening joy. This man is not his father, Jafar had said. Gervase should not die for his father's sins. It was a huge admission for Jafar to make. She watched as he continued his defense.

"Bourmont's capture proved advantageous for our side. His exchange will spare the lives of a score of our sultan's warriors. They will live to fight again."

That point was deliberated in detail, which Mahmoud tried to translate. Then the discussion shifted to Alysson herself.

"The infidel Englishwoman is an evil influence over Sidi Jafar!" Zohra's cousin cried. But Jafar scornfully refused to debate either Alysson's influence over him or her presence in his home.

"She is only a woman," he told his accuser in a lethal tone, "and you insult me by suggesting I could be corrupted or governed by her. She is also my captive to do with as I please. You may choose to cast your vote against me, but that is the extent of your power. You will not prescribe my choice of women or dictate what manner of guests I invite into my home. I will step down if you wish another to lead you, but let me be judged on the issue at hand."

At the moment Alysson was too concerned with the seriousness of the charge against Jafar to be incensed by his demeaning dismissal of her. She remained silent, straining to follow the conversation.

The dispute then swung back to the crucial question of Jafar's clemency for his father's murderer. It was a solemn, black-bearded man who offered another argument by quoting the words of the Prophet Mohammed. "Avert the infliction of prescribed penalties as much as possible, the Prophet says. If there is a way out then let a man go, for it is better for a leader to err in forgiving than to err in punishing."

Caught up in what was being said, Alysson was startled to realize Jafar was addressing her again.

"If you will be so kind as to return to the house, mademoiselle," he said gently, "we have business to attend to."

His quiet tone of command left her no room for argument. Realizing the total irrelevance of her presense, Alysson flushed and ducked her head. Jafar hadn't needed her testimony at all. If anything, she had only provided ammunition for his accusers, the ones who claimed his judgment had been corrupted by an infidel woman.

With a small murmur of apology, she withdrew as gracefully as possible, leaving Mahmoud behind to observe the rest of the proceedings.

She retreated to the courtyard of Jafar's house to await the verdict, but it was nearly two hours later before Mahmoud came running and, despite his limp, began dancing in excited circles around her, exclaiming in rapid Berber. Alysson jumped up in alarm, while the greyhound bitch lying at her feet bared its teeth menacingly at the boy.

"The council has voted!" Mahmoud exclaimed in French. "The lord has been cleared of all charges! He is still amghar el-barood!"