nd was small enough to twirl into any imagined position。 Some were lush； others slender。 And they all giggled and pressed themselves against me； burying me in jiggling flesh and tugging me deeper into the room。
Someone asked my name。 〃Amalric；〃 I croaked。 〃Of the Antero family。〃 I heard a buzzing as my name was whispered around the room； and then I found myself sprawled among thick； perfumed pillows； a goblet in my hand filled with heady spirits and a naked woman to tempt me with candied delicacies from a silver tray。 Fearing any moment someone would shout fraud and drive me out of this paradise； I peered about； trying to behave as if this experience was trifling。
No one was paying me the slightest attention。 There were about twenty other men in attendance。 Rich men； important men； older men； laughing and talking amongst themselves。 Like me； they were lying on thick； richly brocaded pillows and tended by Melina's naked servants。 The room was large； with vaulted ceilings； and was pleasingly lighted。 Soft music stirred the silken curtains that covered an arched entryway to one side。 Beside the entryway was a large； golden statue of Butala。 Her form was more slender than the traditional image； more inviting of caresses。 Rugs from the western lands covered the floor。 I had never seen weavers' art like these。 Erotic figures curled and blended together。 The wails were ablaze with murals depicting wild orgies in every imaginable setting； from forest glens to the pleasure rooms of the gods and goddesses。 A heady incense burned in a copper brazier。 It produced the thick red smoke wealthy hetaerae used to inflame a man's imagination。 For me it was entirely unnecessary。 My imagination was already as white hot as a swordsmith's furnace。 The woman into whose charge I had been given lifted a slice of honeyed peach to my lips。 I obediently opened my mouth。
Then I saw Melina…and my mouth snapped shut。 I have already described her great beauty； her charm； her intelligence； and her skills。 But those are poor； weak words that cannot begin to illuminate the sensuous creature I saw that first time。 She was lounging across a low； gilded couch on the far side of the room。 The couch was raised on a rug…covered pallet。 Unlike her slave girls； she was fully clothed…maddeningly so。 She wore translucent pantaloons the color of hearth coals and a sheer blouse of the same shade； with a form…fitting； equally transparent jerkin over it。
The buttons were of rare； worked stones。 Her feet were bare and quite small； with red painted nails and gold anklets。 Her hands were slender； with long； delicate fingers tipped in red。 Each finger bore a glittering ring。 Expensive bracelets jangled at her wrists。 Long black hair tumbled to the curve of her waist。 She toyed with it as she listened to a plump man sitting on the floor next to the couch。 He was middle…aged and dressed like a wealthy merchant。 A half…dozen other men were also favored enough to sit close to Melina。
I hated every man in that room。 I could see that each only pretended interest in his panion's conversation。 The laughter was false； the talk chattering bravado。 In reality all they could think of was Melina。 Their eyes kept flickering toward her； greedy； devouring。 The naked flesh of those lovely slaves was nothing to them。 Just as it had bee nothing to me。 I had eyes only for the flash of those gold limbs beneath the sheer material of Melina's costume； the red…tipped breasts and the red glint of henna between those silken thighs。 The nakedness of her women intensified my desire to glimpse more…much more…of Melina。
Then my heart stopped。 The hatred was forgotten。 Melina idly lifted her eyes。 They met mine。 I felt as if I had been struck by a heavy； padded club。 I had never in my life seen such dark mystery。 Those eyes were slightly bored at first； then I saw…or prayed I saw…a spark of interest。 Full； hennaed lips parted。 A pink tongue flicked across them。 She looked me up and down。 Leego came forward to refill her goblet； and I saw her whisper and point。 She was pointing at me！
I thought my heart would burst at such good fortune。 Then I began to worry。 Had I somehow bee ugly？ Had I been cursed with warty features by some witch hiding on the awful staircase？ Had a bat shit in my hair？ I reflexively touched my head and realized what had caught her interest。 It was my hair。 In those days； before the winter of age； my hair was as bright as an Evocator's torch。 I was one of the very few men and women in Orissa with red hair。 Until this moment it had mostly served as a source of humor to my friends； as had the pale skin that displayed my every emotion。 Leego whispered。 My name； I supposed。 She laughed。 I felt my skin turn the color of my hair。 I was mortified； sure that； once again； my hair had transformed me into a jest。
To cover my embarrassment； I turned to the slave girl and accepted the peach slice。 My mouth was so dry I could hardly chew； much less swallow。 Then the music stopped； as did the chattering voices of the men。 I heard the sweet sound of strings being plucked。 I turned back to see that Melina had raised herself into a sitting position。 In her soft lap was a lute。。 Her lovely fingers touched strings； and the most melodious sound emerged。 But it was nothing pared to her rich voice when she lifted it in song。
Melina sang a tale of long ago。 It was the story of a young courtesan； sold into the guild by her impoverished family。 The girl fell in love with a handsome captain； off to the wars。 He promised he would make her his wife when he returned。 But he died in battle。 The young hetaera grew in beauty and her skills were acclaimed。 Many men came to her doorstep with rich gifts and richer promises。 She gave herself to them； as was her duty； and accepted their gifts。 But there was not one she could ever love。 For there was that secret place only the handsome captain had ever touched； a place where no other man would ever be permitted to venture。
When the song was done I could barely hear the applause of the others。 I felt tears scalding my cheeks。 I ached for Melina and the torment she must be suffering。 For I immediately made her the heroine of that song。 And I burned with the need to fort her and take the place of that handsome captain。 As did every other man in the room。
Melina； as I have said； was wonderfully skilled。
Her charming smile of thanks singled each of us out。 She leaned forward as if to speak； and the room was silent。 Instead； a graceful arm stretched out。 A perfect finger pointed to Butala。 An old woman； draped in a rich red robe； emerged from the curtained entryway beside the statue。 She wore a golden； tasseled sash about her waist。 She was one of the hetaerae guild's Evocators。
〃Greetings； my lords；〃 she said in a voice oddly youthful for such withered cheeks。 〃All praise Butaia。〃
〃All praise Butala；〃 we responded in the traditional return chant。 〃May our loins be strong； and the wombs of our women fertile and deep。〃
I glanced over my shoulder and saw with great disappointment that Melina was gone。 The Evocator's words brought me back。 〃You gentlemen will be pleased to know I have just cast the bones； and the omens are favorable： tonight will be a most special evening。 Butala is pleased with the worthiness and piety of the gathering。 She has signaled to me she will permit Melina to reveal a sacred dance few have been fortunate enough to witness。〃
〃All praise Butala；〃 we all chanted。 The voices of the other men were as thick as mine。 The Evocator slapped her hands together。 The statue of Butala moved； a graceful swivel of the torso； arms splaying wide； head going back。 A rich； colored liquid spurted from the statue's breasts。 Two slave women ankled forward； burnished hips swaying。 They caught the liquid in a large golden bowl。 In a few moments it was brimming； and the twin fountains stopped。 The women passed among us； offering the bowl to each man。 When it came to me I obediently bent my head； smelling a thick； pleasing； musky odor。 I drank。 The liquid went down smooth and sweet； lighting a warm fire in my belly。 The warmth spread； and I felt my blood stir and all my senses snap into full； clear life。
Another clap from the Evocator； and a