The House of the Falcon
Ohé—Alai Bala! My parrakeet, my soft pigeon. Have you forgotten the voice of your friend and father?"
He stepped into an arched hallway leading into the rear of the shop. At a curtained recess he paused prudently. Timan was a Bokharan, and the rooms beyond were those of his women: Even though the two were firm friends-which was the case—it would have been a mortal offense for the visitor to enter the space beyond the curtain where the women lived. To speak as he did was daring enough. Abbas heard Timan curse in his beard, and grinned softly.
"Alai Bala," he called, "be kind to your new master. He is a righteous man. Verily, an honorable man. Abide here and think not of the hills and pathways of the uplands."
Leaning forward, he listened shrewdly. He heard a half-sob, then the growl of a man's voice in an angry whisper. The whimper of Alai Bala came to him faintly.
"… you swore … we were mounting to ride to the hills … I would ride to the hills and the valleys of Khorassan …"
"Kaba-dar" (have care), grumbled the heavy voice of Timan.
"Dance lightly for Timan, my delightful pigeon," added Abbas. "Bathe in musk for his pleasure and scorn not the kohl. O weep not, for I said to Timan that you were a rose of beauty. But now we go—the effendi and I—to take another rose." He muttered to himself as he slipped away from the curtain: "May you cost the Bokharan a pretty penny for your opium—that he suspects not. However, a bargain is a bargain." Whereupon he slapped his girdle and listened
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