“Because you’re not going to get your statue. You’re not going to get to make a choice of alternatives. Varak is going to die, and everyone is going to know what you’ve done.” She was looking down at the trunk again. “I could tell them, couldn’t I? You’ve shared so much with me.”
“You? No one will believe you,” Zahra burst out. “Why would anyone pay attention to a little servant girl when she’s muttering lies against me?”
“Perhaps when they hear from your own lips that they’re not lies.” She reached down into the trunk and pulled out a disk lodged against the ornate side of the gold interior. “Your voice is very well-known, Zahra. Jill Cassidy thought that there would be no problem having it identified by experts.” Her smile was bittersweet. “It was her idea to put the recording device in this golden trunk. I wouldn’t have chosen it because the fear is still with me. But she’s kind, and she was upset when she heard about my hours in this cage.”
“You and that bitch bugged my conversation with Varak?” Zahra’s eyes were blazing. “It won’t do you any good.” She was moving toward Dalai, every step sleek, catlike. “Because you’re going to give it to me. Who knows? I might forgive this madness if you don’t make me more angry.”
“No, you won’t.” Dalai was backing away, slipping the disk into her jacket pocket. “I’ve gone too far. We both know it. You’ll have to stop me any way you can.”
“I want that disk,” Zahra said between clenched teeth. “Give it to me.”
Zahra jumped toward her.
Dalai threw her flashlight at her, and it hit Zahra in the mouth. Then Dalai dived behind a huge urn as the flashlight rolled across the floor.
“Hiding, little rabbit?” Zahra was half kneeling as she moved across the dim room. “How stupid to throw that flashlight at me. How are you going to see me? But I still have my flashlight, and I’m catching glimpses of you. Frightened? Look at you, dodging behind all those trunks and statues in the dark. I’m closer to you now. I can hear you breathing. And you said you weren’t afraid of me. Liar.”
Dalai froze behind a carved chaise. She could hear Zahra breathing. But Zahra sounded excited, and Dalai realized that she was excited, too. She wasn’t frightened as Zahra assumed. The blood was pumping through her veins, and there was no fear, only the rush of adrenaline. She felt…eager, her gaze on every move Zahra made.
She could see Zahra’s shadow behind the glare of her flashlight. She was reaching up to her chignon.
The ruby comb, Dalai thought. She had been expecting it.
She watched in fascination. Zahra was loosening the comb in her hair, getting it ready for the strike. “You’re right. You’ve gone too far,” Zahra said softly. “You went too far the moment you thought you could stand up and be anything but the slave you are. Slaves should always kneel, Dalai. You should have remembered that.”
Then she leaped. She was on top of Dalai. She hit Dalai’s head with the flashlight. Then she struck Dalai again.
Dalai rolled away from her, grasping the flashlight and using all her strength to pull it away from Zahra. Then she was frantically searching in her jacket pocket as she watched Zahra pull the ruby comb from her hair.
She was aiming the prongs at Dalai’s face! Dalai felt the prongs break the skin at her chin as she fought to push Zahra’s hand aside. Strong. Zahra had always been so strong…
“Yes,” Zahra said fiercely. Her eyes were gleaming down at Dalai. “That should be enough. You’ll feel the poison any second. You’re dead, Dalai. We both know it.” But the comb was moving again, raking Dalai’s throat, she could feel the blood flow…“But this is pure pleasure…” Zahra whispered: “I want more. I want to see you suffer. You thought you could hurt me? You betrayed me!”
Zahra was enjoying this too much, Dalai thought. If Dalai didn’t move quickly, Zahra might decide to cut her throat. Dalai’s hand closed on the switchblade knife in her pocket. Distract her. She gazed at Zahra frantically, pleadingly. “Please, don’t do—”
She rolled to the side, taking Zahra by surprise. The switchblade was out and open.
Dalai reached out and plunged the pearl-handled knife into the hand holding the comb.
Zahra screamed.
“What are you doing?” Zahra was staring at her hand in disbelief. “Why did you—You fool! It’s