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HOME > Classical Novels > Daughters of Destiny > CHAPTER XVIII THE VIZIER OPENS THE GATE
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CHAPTER XVIII THE VIZIER OPENS THE GATE
 When Agahr entered his daughter’s apartment that night the girl sat propped1 with silken cushions while a female slave brushed and arranged the folds of her glossy2 hair and another woman sat at her feet to anoint them with pungent3 and sweet-smelling ointments4. A shaded lamp of Egyptian design swung from the ceiling and cast a rosy5 hue6 over the group, and the air was redolent of the spicy7 perfumes of the East.  
Agahr stood before his daughter for a time in silence, searching her fair and composed face with much earnestness. The soft, languorous8 eyes met his own frankly9 and lovingly, and she smiled until the dimples showed daintily in her pretty cheeks.
 
“You are welcome, oh my father,” she tenderly exclaimed.
 
He seated himself in a chair and waved the women away.
 
“You are about to retire, my Maie?” he asked, when they were alone.
 
“I am preparing for the night, dear one, but I shall not retire as yet. How could I sleep with our fortunes swinging with the pendulum10 of fate? This night we win or lose all.”
 
He did not reply, but sat moodily11 studying her expression, and she moved restlessly and turned her face slightly to the shade.
 
“Yet there is small risk of failure,” she continued, after a pause. “The Khan, secure in the strength of his loyal tribes, has neglected to prepare for immediate12 battle, and Kasam’s host, once inside the gate, will carry all before it.”
 
“And then?” he asked, gravely.
 
“Then Kasam will keep his promise, and make me his queen. It is the price we demanded for giving him his throne. And, through me, my father, you shall hereafter rule Mekran.”
 
The vizier sighed and stroked his beard.
 
“Are you willing to become Kasam’s queen when you know he loves the American girl whom he attempted to carry away by force? Will you be able, without his love, to bend him to your will?”
 
Maie laughed softly, clasping her jewelled fingers behind the folds of her hair.
 
“Let him love the American girl!” she answered, a touch of scorn in her voice. “While he dallies13 in her presence I will direct the affairs of state. Listen, my father, I have never loved Kasam from the first. Nor could that cold-eyed Ahmed Khan have ever won my heart. Yet to favor my ambition I would have mated with either one. The fates now favor Kasam, and if I cannot rule him through love I will rule him through cunning. The foreign girl will not stand in my way. In the harem of a khan are subtile poisons and daggers14 with needle points, and no dull-witted Western maiden15 can ever hope to oppose your Maie’s intrigues16.”
 
Agahr stared at her as if afraid. The perfect repose18 of her features as she hissed19 the fiendish words struck a chill to his very bones.
 
“You are false as Iblis itself, my Maie,” he said. “How do I know you will sacrifice me, also, to your great ambition?”
 
“Have no fear, my father,” she returned, her low laugh rippling20 through the perfumed atmosphere. “You live but to please your Maie; would she foolishly betray her most faithful servant? We are one in all things.”
 
Again he sat silent, the frown growing upon his face. Perhaps he had begun to realize, for the first time in his life, that all this loveliness before him breathed passion and sensuality, but no warrant of a soul beneath its exquisite21 outlines. His child was beautiful, indeed; so beautiful that he had worshipped her as an angel of paradise, sent to comfort and console his old age. He had longed to see her acknowledged above all women of Baluchistan as the brightest star in the harem of the Khan himself—the greatest pride and glory a father and a true believer could conceive. He had plotted and planned to this end without regard or consideration for others: even with an humble22 subversion23 of self. But she had given him nothing in return. Her very love for him was more calculating than filial. And he knew her furtive24 mind so intimately that he might well doubt her truth.
 
“Since you were a child,” he said, musingly25, “I have made you my comrade; more, my confidant. You were not treated like other women of Islam, but given the full freedom of my household. I have loaded you with jewels, with fine cloths from the looms26 of Persia, of Turkey and of China; with precious perfumes and cosmetics27 from Arabia. Your slaves are the loveliest maidens28 of Circassia and Morocco, purchased with vast sums to minister to your lightest whims29. Even the harem of the Khan cannot boast a greater luxury than that which surrounds you. Yet you have dared to deceive me.”
 
The last words were spoken with impetuous force, as if evoked30 by a sudden thought. The lashes31 that veiled her eyes flickered32 slightly the accusation33, but she made no other movement.
 
His voice grew stern.
 
“Tell me, why have you favored a dog of an infidel?”
 
“I, my father? I favor a dog of an infidel? Are you mad?”
 
“It has come to my ears,” he said, stiffly. “The young American who came here with Kasam.”
 
Maie stared at him as if amazed, as in truth she was. Then her head fell back and from her slender throat burst a peal34 of merriment that was well-nigh irresistible35. She sprang up lightly, dropping her outer robe, and cast herself with abandon into the old man’s arms, clinging to his neck and nestling within his lap while her laughter filled his ears like the sweet chime of silver bells.
 
“Oh, my foolish, ridiculous old father!” she cried, while kissing his forehead and smoothing his beard over her bosom36, like a mantle37. “Has the serpent of folly38 bitten you? What monster of Agoum put such dreadful thoughts of your little Maie into your suspicious head? An infidel! Has the Prophet forsaken39 me? Were I lacking in any modesty—which Allah forbid!—would a daughter of Raab choose an infidel?”
 
Agahr held her tight, and his heart softened41.
 
“The tale was brought to me, and I could not but doubt,” he said, doggedly42. “But I am very glad to find you innocent, my precious one. Forget the words, Maie, for they were inspired by a lying tongue—one that I will tear out by the roots at tomorrow’s sunrise!”
 
He arose from his seat, clasping her in his arms like a little child, and carried her to a divan43, where he gently laid her down. Then he bent44 over and kissed both her cheeks.
 
“I must go now,” said he. “Midnight approaches, and I must be at the gate to admit Kasam.”
 
“You will disguise yourself?” she asked, holding one of his hands as she gazed up at him.
 
“I shall cover my head with a cloak. Beni-Bouraz is Captain of the Guard, and he must know it is the Vizier who commands him to open. Afterward45 it will not matter who recognizes me.”
 
“Be careful,” she cautioned. “We must guard against treachery. Are you sure no one knows our plot?”
 
“The messenger who returned from Kasam is dead. Yamou attended to him.”
 
She nodded.
 
“Then go, my father; and may Allah guide your hand!”
 
Slowly he turned and without further word left the room. The passage was dark, and he stumbled along, feeling his way, until he came to the draperies that hid his own chamber46. Having thrust these aside he entered to find the room well lighted but
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