Zabrie smiled as she picked upher silver-backed brush and began to run it through her long dark hair."But I don't want him to wait. He is…unusual. A challenge. I've never before met a Westerner who hadthe knowledge and experience to dominate me. At times I was not sure whether Iwas really in control."
"You have British blood,that makes you half a Westerner yourself."
Zabrie's vermilion lipsthinned. "The British officers who come here to use me would not agree.They see only an alien with dark skin that excites them and they condescend totry me." She stood up and straightened the flowing saffron-coloreddrapings of her gown. "And once they've had me,Ihave them."
"You hate them?"
"I do not like them anymore than I like my own people who consider me untouchable because of mymongrel birth. However, it does not matter. Soon I will be so rich I will notneed either of them." Zabrie smiled mockingly at Jane in the mirror."We are both outcasts in our fashion, are we not? You come here in yourmen's clothes, sometimes so weary you can scarcely stand. There is a simplerlife than the one you lead. Why not give up that foolish railroad and come hereand let me show you where the easy riches lie?"
Jane shook her head.
"You should do wellenough." Zabrie regarded her critically. "You're young and notunattractive. Sometimes the British tire of the exotic and wish to indulgethemselves with one of their own race."
"Like your Scot?"
She frowned. "He meantonly to tease me. He would be disappointed if I sent someone else." Shestood up, her henna-tinted fingers smoothing the sheer material veiling herbreasts. "What do you say?"
"No."
She shrugged. "I'll wait.You'll change your mind. When a woman is alone and without protection, there isonly one road for her to take."
The certainty in Zabrie's tonesent a lightning bolt of fear through Jane. "I said no! I'm not alone, andeven if I were, I don't need anybody else. I can protect myself. I'm not awhore. I'llneverbe a whore."
Zabrie drew herself uphaughtily. "It seems you, too, think a whore is beneath your touch."
Jane drew a deep breath,trying to regain control. Her fierce response to Zabrie's words had caught herby surprise. "I didn't say that."
"You did not need to sayit."
"I didn't mean to hurtyou and certainly not condemn you. My mother was a harlot and in a far worseplace than this. You must make your own choices, but… " She hesitated andthen burst out, "I would rather die than sell myself."
Zabrie's gaze narrowed on herface. "You are afraid. Why?"
"I'm not afraid."Zabrie gazed at her in disbelief. Jane explained haltingly, "Such a lifetakes away your freedom, you become a slave."
"It is all how one looksupon the act. If a woman is good enough, it is the man who becomes theslave." Zabrie turned away from the mirror. "You must go now."
"Kartauk."
Zabrie smiled as she sawJane's determined expression. "You don't give up, do you? We may disagreeon many things, but it's one quality we have in common."
"Will you at leastprovide a shelter for Kartauk in the city if I need it?"
"If you can arrange it sothat there is no danger to me, I will consid—"
The door was flung open andthe young girl Zabrie had called Lenar rushed into the room. "Pachtal! Hecame in a few minutes ago. He demands to see you."
"What?" Zabriewhirled to face Jane. "You fool!"
"He didn't followme." Jane stood up. "I know Pachtal and would have noticed him. Hemust have been watching this house."
"And saw you come in.What difference does it make how he came to be here? He'shere."
Jane felt a thrill of fear asshe remembered Pachtal's vicious expression, the agony as he had twisted herarm. "How can I get out of the house without him seeing me?"
"It's too late."Zabrie grasped her wrist and dragged her toward the door across the room."He'll probably search the place for you, but I'll try to keep him awayfrom here."
"How?"
