Her sailors helped her back into the rowboat and cast off. Peter did not come to the rail to wave her off; just another discourtesy, not that she would have acknowledged him even if he had. As for Graff and Rackham, they'd soon enough be coming to her for funding--no, for permission to operate their little colony ministry.
> The dhow took her back to a different fishing village from the one she had sailed from--no point in making things easy for Alai, if he had discovered her departure from Hyderabad and followed her.
She rode a train back to Hyderabad, passing for an ordinary citizen--if any Muslim soldiers should be so bold as to search the train. But the people knew who she was. Whose face was better known in all of India? And not being Muslim, she didn't have to cover her face.
The first thing I will do, when I rule India, is change the name of Hyderabad. Not back to Bhagnagar--even though it was named for an Indian woman, the name was bestowed by the Muslim prince who destroyed the original Indian village in order to build the Charminar, a monument to his own power, supposedly in honor of his beloved Hindu wife.
India will never again be obliterated in order to appease the power lust of Muslims. The new name of Hyderabad will be the original name of the village: Chichlam.
She made her way from the train station to a safe house in the city, and from there her aides helped get her back inside the hut where she had supposedly been meditating and praying for India for the three days she had been gone. There she slept for a few hours.
Then she arose and sent an aide to bring her an elegant but simple sari, one that she knew she could wear with grace and beauty, and which would show off her slim body to best advantage. When she had it arranged to her satisfaction, and her hair was arranged properly, she walked from her hut to the gate of Hyderabad.
The soldiers at the checkpoint gawped at her. No one had ever expected her to try to enter, and they had no idea what to do.
While they went through their flurry of asking their superiors inside the city what they should do, Virlomi simply walked inside. They dared not stop her or challenge her--they didn't want to be responsible for starting a war.
She knew this place as well as anyone, and knew which building housed Caliph Alai's headquarters. Though she walked gracefully, without hurry, it took little time for her to get there.
Again, she paid no attention to guards or clerks or secretaries or important Muslim officers. They were nothing to her. By now they must have heard Alai's decision; and his decision was obviously to let her pass, for no one obstructed her.
Wise choice.
One young officer even trotted along ahead of her, opening doors and indicating which way she should go.
He led her into a large room where Alai stood waiting for her, with a dozen high officers standing along the walls.
She walked to the middle of the room. "Why are you afraid of one lone woman, Caliph Alai?"
Before he had time to answer the obvious truth--that far from being afraid, he had let her pass unmolested and uninspected through his headquarters complex and into his own presence--Virlomi began to unwrap her sari. It took only a moment or two before she stood naked before him. Then she reached up and loosened her long hair, and then swung it and combed her fingers through it. "You see that I have no weapon hidden here. India stands before you, naked and defenseless. Why do you fear her?"
Alai had averted his eyes as soon as it became clear that she was undressing. So had the more pious of the other officers. But some apparently thought it was their responsibility to make sure that she was, in fact, weaponless. She enjoyed their consternation, their embarrassment--and, she suspected, their desire. You came here to ravish India, didn't you? And yet I am out of your reach. Because I'm not here for you, underlings. I'm here for your master.
"Leave us," Alai said to the other men.
Even the most modest of them could not help but glance at her as they shuffled out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
The door closed behind them. She and Alai were alone.
"Very symbolic, Virlomi," said Alai, still refusing to look at her. "That will get talked about."
"The offer I make is both symbolic and tangible," she said. "This upstart Peter Wiggin has gone as far as he should go. Why should Muslim and Hindu be enemies, when together we have the power to crush his naked ambition?"
"His ambition isn't as naked as you are," said Alai. "Please put on clothing so I can look at you."
"May not a man look at his bride?"
Alai chuckled. "A dynastic marriage? I thought you already told Han Tzu what he could do with that idea."
"Han Tzu had nothing to offer me. You are the leader of the Muslims of India. A large portion of my people torn away from mother India in fruitless hostility. And why? Look at me, Alai."
Either the force of her voice had power over him, or he could not resist his desire, or perhaps he simply decided that since they were alone, he need not keep up the show of perfect rectitude.
He looked her up and down, casually, without reaction. As he did, she raised her arms above her head and turned around. "Here is India," she said, "no longer resisting you, no longer evading you, but welcoming you, married to you, fertile soil in which to plant a new civilization of Muslim and Hindu united."
She faced him again.
He continued to look at her, not bothering to keep his eyes only on her face. "You do intrigue me," he said.