security. Gregg, Tachyon, and the other political members of the junket were in attendance. The aces and (especially) jokers were elsewhere in Damascus, as President al-Assad toured the city with them.
Kahina herself was a surprise. She was a small, petite woman. The ebony eyes above the veils were bright, inquisitive, and searching; her dress was plain except for a line of turquoise beads above her forehead. Translators accompanied her. In addition, a trio of burly men in bedouin dress sat nearby, watching.
"Kahina's a woman in a very conservative Islamic society, Senator," John had said. "I cant stress that enough. Her even being here is a break with tradition, allowed only because she's the prophet-twin of her brother and because they think she has magic, sihr. She's married to Sayyid, the general who masterminded Nur al-Allah's military victories. She might be the Kahina, and she's had a liberal education, but she's not a Westerner. Be careful. These people are quick to be insulted and very long on holding a grudge. And-Jesus, Senator--tell Tachyon to tone it down."
Gregg waved to Tachyon, dressed outrageously as usual, but with a new twist. Tachyon had abandoned the satins, too hot for him in this climate. Instead he looked as if he'd raided a bazaar in the suq, emerging as a movie-cliche vision of a sheikh: red, baggy silk trousers, a loose linen shirt and jacket with intricate brocade, bead and bangles jingling everywhere. His hair was hidden under an elaborate headdress; the long toes of his slippers turned up and curled back. Gregg decided not to comment. He shook hands with the others and seated Ellen as everyone found chairs. He nodded to Kahina and her entourage, who tore their gazes away from Tachyon.
"Marhala," Gregg said: "greetings."
Her eyes gleamed. She inclined her head. " I speak only a little English," she said slowly in a heavily accented, quiet voice. "It will be easier if my translator, Rashid, speaks for me."
Headsets had been provided; Gregg put his on. "We're delighted that Kahina would come to make arrangements for us to meet with Nur al-Allah. This is more honor than we deserve."
Her translator was speaking softly into his headset. Kahina nodded. She spoke in a stream of rapid Arabic. "The honor is that you have even gotten this close to meeting him, Senator," Rashid's husky voice translated. "The Qur'an says: `For those who disbelieve in Allah and His apostle. We have prepared a blazing fire."'
Gregg glanced. toward Tachyon, who raised his eyebrows slightly under the headdress and shrugged. "We'd like to believe that we share a vision of peace with Nur al-Allah," Gregg answered slowly.
Kahina seemed almost amused by that. "Nur al-Allah, for this once, has chosen my vision. On his own, he might have stayed in the desert until you were gone. . ." Kahina was still speaking, but Rashid's voice had trailed into silence. Kahina glared at the man, saying something that made him grimace. One of the men with Kahina gestured harshly; Rashid cleared his throat and resumed.
"Or... or perhaps Nur al-Allah might have followed the advice of Sayyid and slain you and the abominations you bring with you."
Tachyon pressed back in his chair in shock; Lyons, the Republican senator, blustered, leaning over to Gregg to whisper, "And I thought Barnett was sick."
Inside Gregg, Puppetman stirred hungrily. Even without a direct mindlink, the surging emotions could be felt. Kahina's attendants were frowning, obviously upset by her candor but afraid to interfere with someone who was, after all, part of the twinned prophet. The guards around the wall tensed. The UN and Red Cross representatives consulted in whispers.
Kahina sat calmly in the middle of the turmoil, her hands folded on the tabletop, her regard on Gregg. The intensity of her stare was unnerving; he found himself struggling not to look away.
Tachyon leaned forward, his long fingers interlaced. "The `abominations' are blameless," he said bluntly. "If anything, the responsibility should be laid at my feet. Your people would better serve the jokers with kindness than scorn and brutality. They were infected by a blind, horrible, and undiscriminating disease. So were you; you were simply lucky."
Her attendants muttered at that, darting angry stares at the alien, but Kahina answered calmly, "Allah is supreme. The virus might be blind, but Allah is not. Those who are worthy, He rewards. Those who are not, He strikes down.' 'And what of the aces we brought with us, who worship another version of God, or perhaps none at all?" Tachyon persisted.