Chapter 10: Entertainment

"Now, where is that Rifleman?" asked the Emir.

Rifleman Abubakar Ibn Abbas was duly fetched and was indeed much more sober, not least because the identity of the Emir had been confirmed and he was in mortal fear. In ten years as a soldier he had annoyed most of his superiors at one time or another, but never an Emir accompanied by a General.

"What were you doing last night?" asked the Emir.

After a moment's thought the miscreant decided that a well varnished version of the truth would serve him best.

"I went to the approved 'Other Ranks' Brothel master. I did not realise until too late that there was alcohol in the drinks they served there."

"Take me there now. We will enter incognito and the bodyguards can stay outside, but within call," came the surprising reply.

The Emir had decided to see how the lower orders amused themselves, and to put the fear of Allah into the booze salesman.

"We will go into the brothel together," he said to the Rifleman, "What is the protocol of such a visit?"

"Well, Master. You go in and the girls are paraded. You take your choice, and pay the attendant. When you have finished you leave."

"Fine. Let's do it."

They walked to the brothel, only some few yards from the gatehouse and entered, leaving the bodyguard just outside. The attendant greeted them with bored indifference; evidently the news that the Emir was visiting the barracks had not reached him. When they were seated, the girls were brought in for their approval. The women were dressed in a variety of costumes, most of which were dirty, and many of which had obviously been torn and repaired many times. The Emir assumed, rightly, that this was an occupational hazard of working in a low-class brothel. One of the women was, underneath the dirt, apparently a white woman. He asked the rifleman to call her over for closer inspection. When she sauntered across to them, she smiled at the Emir and Rifleman Abubakar Ibn Abbas quickly told her to make proper obeisance to the Emir.

~This is the Emir? Here in the Other Ranks' Brothel?~ she asked in Kobekistani sceptically, Yes, he looks like an Emir, and you are Sorastro and I am Queen of the Night.~

"What is your name?" asked the Emir in English, not apparently put out in the least by her rudeness, "And why do you quote Die Zauberflöte?"

"Here I am called Pamina and you are here to enjoy me, whoever you really are," she answered in the same language, "nothing else matters. Now it's one Kobek for each hole you want to use. Yes or no?"

"I am truly the Emir," he said, "So tell me why you use the Mozartian names?"