The young tribesman smiled. The Pearl of Perfection was covered now only by a gauzy strip of silken cloth at her loins. She was perfection indeed, and her honoring him in this way was singular. The young man reached down, with one swift and powerful motion drew her up so they were both standing, and kissed her. The audience cheered at this and voiced lewd comments — except for the Shah Kufteer, who was livid and scowling, and Omar, who had pushed his way through the crowd to a position next to the pair. The gross Kettite swung his sweating hand toward the girl, but the blow never landed, for the tribesman's hand moved more quickly, stopping the thrust and holding the fat man's wrist in a viselike grip. The young man swung his other hand around, fist balled, and caught Omar flush in his copious gut. The Kettite's knees buckled as he clutched his stomach, and by the time he hit the floor he was nothing more than a mountain of quivering blubber.

Now it was time for Shah Kufteer to take matters into his own hands — or, more properly, put the task into someone else's. "Kill that dog!" shouted the enraged Jakifi. "He dares to defile my chosen concubine, and he must pay with his life!" A dark, evil-looking man at his side leaped up, snarling.

The men between the shah's bodyguard and his target stepped aside, none of them wanting to get in the man's way — all except for a small easterner who not only stood his ground but actually took one step toward the bodyguard, as if to make his intentions unmistakable. The short, tan-skinned fellow was clad entirely in black leather, attire that made his cold, gray eyes stand out as he gazed upon the man who stood less than ten feet in front of him.

Shah Kufteer's lieutenant didn't know, or care, if the shorter man was Velunese or some other sort of foreigner.