Chapter 39: Lama

The Emir did not often communicate with the Imperial Voyager, and he had not used the ship for some seven years, so the Admiral was surprised to receive a telephone call from him in person.

"Admiral," he said, "It occurred to me that it must be boring, sitting in Mayia Asrag waiting for me to need your services. I thought I might relieve that boredom somewhat, so I am sending you a small present, a loan of one of my women; she has some special skills you may enjoy."

With that enigmatic comment, and not waiting for a reply, he rang off.

On deck some hours later, Henry saw an abaya-covered figure descending from one of the Golden Palace Rolls-Royces. She was conducted aboard through the Purser's gangway and when Henry went below she was waiting for him in his stateroom, dressed in the familiar silken gown of the Golden Palace harem, but a golden one, a colour he had never seen before. She immediately dropped to the floor and did not rise until he told her to do so.

"The Emir said he was sending you to me for a while so that I could enjoy your skills, which are unusual. Tell me what he meant by that," said Henry, wondering what sexual variation there could be of which he had never heard.

"Master, my special skill is singing. My father taught me, and later His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever, kindly took me to the opera on a number of occasions. Shall I sing to you, master?"

"What can you sing?"

"Many arias from different operas, Master. The favourite of His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, my Master, may he live for ever, is Gilda's aria Caro Nome from Rigoletto. I have heard it on a real stage, twice. The first time was in the Theâtre de la Monnaie in Brussels and the second was in the Sydney Opera House. If that is as the Master wishes?"

"When were you in Brussels and Australia?" asked Henry, curious that a harem concubine who looked to be well under thirty should be so well travelled.

"My Master, the Emir, may he live for ever, kindly takes me with him if he is going to the opera. When we are there he lets me listen and watch the opera. If he wants a woman, someone else has the privilege of pleasuring him. I love the opera," she explained.

"Do you know Vissi d'Arte?"

"Of course, Master. Shall I sing it for you?"

Henry nodded and Lama sang Puccini's famous aria as Tosca soliloquises on a life devoted to art and to love and bemoans the ill-fortune that has been visited on her. As she sang, he contemplated Lama's life as the slave of the Emir, to sing at his command and probably to fuck anyone he chose whenever it took her Master's fancy. Had she been born in the West, the world's opera houses would have been queuing up to hire her, for her voice was superb. By the end Henry was almost in tears, it was so beautiful.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, "You may go to your room."

Lama threw herself into an obeisance at his feet.

"My Master does not want me?" she asked.

"That is your choice, my dear. I thought that you were loaned to me because you sang, and so perhaps that did not did not include..."

His voice tailed off.

Lama sprang to her feet and ran to the door to his bedroom, saying, "I love it, Master. Please?"

She fought to put an excitement she did not feel into her voice as she said this. She must please this man or the Emir would be angry, and no concubine willingly angers a Master who is all powerful.