"And they became dependent on you."
"I don't think so," said Alai. "They simply...respected me. They began to want me in meetings with the politicians and diplomats, not just the soldiers. And the politicians and diplomats began asking me questions, seeking my support for their views or plans, and finally choosing me as the mediator between the parties in various disputes."
"A judge," said Petra.
"A Battle School graduate," said Alai, "at a time when my people wanted more than a judge. They wanted to be great again, and to do that they needed a leader that they believed had the favor of Allah. I try to live and act in such a way as to give them the leader they need. Petra, I am still the same boy I was in Battle School. And, like Ender, I may be a leader, but I am also the tool my people created to accomplish their collective purpose."
"Maybe," said Petra, "I'm just jealous. Because Armenia has no great purpose, except to stay alive and free. And no power to accomplish that without the help of great nations."
"Armenia is in no danger from us," said Alai.
"Unless, of course, we provoke the Azerbaijanis," said Petra. "Which we do by breathing, I must point out."
"We will not conquer our way to greatness, Petra," said Alai.
"What, then, you'll wait for the whole world to convert to Islam and beg to be admitted to your new world order?"
"Yes," said Alai. "That's just what we'll do."
"As plans go," said Petra, "that's about the most self-delusional one I've ever heard of."
He laughed. "Definitely you need a nap, my beloved sister. You don't want that to be the mouth Bean has to listen to when he arrives."
"When will he arrive?"
"Well after dark," said Alai. "Now you see Mr. Lankowski waiting for you at that gate. He'll lead you to your room."
"I sleep in the palace of the Caliph tonight?" asked Petra.
"It's not much, as palaces go," said Alai. "Most of the rooms are public spaces, offices, things like that. I have a very simple bedroom and...this garden. Your room will also be very simple--but perhaps it will make it seem luxurious if you think of it as being identical with the one where the Caliph sleeps."
"I feel as if I've been swept away into one of Scheherazade's stories."
"We keep a sturdy roof. You have nothing to fear from rocs."
"You think of everything," said Petra.
"We have an excellent doctor on call, should you wish for medical attention of any kind."
"It's still too soon for a pregnancy test to mean anything," said Petra. "If that's what you meant."
"I meant," said Alai, "that we have an excellent doctor on call, should you wish for medical attention of any kind."
"In that case," said Petra, "my answer is, 'You think of everything.'"
She thought she couldn't sleep, but she had nothing better to do than lie on the bed in a room that was downright spartan--with no television and no book but an Armenian translation of the Q'uran. She knew what the presence of this book in her room implied. For many centuries, translations of the Q'uran were regarded as false by definition, since only the original Arabic actually conveyed the words of the Prophet. But in the great opening of Islam that followed their abject defeat in a series of desperate wars with the West, this was one of the first things that was changed.
Every translated copy of the Q'uran contained, on the title page, a quotation from the great imam Zuqaq--the very one who brought about the reconciliation of Israel and the Muslim world. "Allah is above language. Even in Arabic, the Q'uran is translated from the mind of God into the words of men. Everyone should be able to hear the words of God in the language he speaks in his own heart."
So the presence of the Q'uran in Armenian told her, first, that in the palace of the Caliph, there was no recidivism, no return to the days of fanatical Islam, wh
en foreigners were forced to live by Islamic law, women were veiled and barred from the schools and the roads, and young Muslim soldiers strapped bombs to their bodies to blow up the children of their enemies.
And it also told her that her coming was anticipated and someone had taken great pains to prepare this room for her, simple as it seemed. To have the Q'uran in Common Speech, the more-or-less phonetically spelled English that had been adopted as the language of the International Fleet, would have been sufficient. They wanted to make the point, though, that here in the heart--no, the head--of the Muslim world, they had regard for all nations, all languages. They knew who she was, and they had the holy words for her in the language she spoke in her heart.
She appreciated the gesture and was annoyed by it, both at once. She did not open the book. She rummaged through her bag, then unpacked everything. She showered to clear the must of travel from her hair and skin, and then lay down on the bed because in this room there was nowhere else to sit.
No wonder he spends his time in the garden, she thought. He has to go out there just to turn around.