The priest shook his head and continued to extend his hand.

"Suppose I don't like any of them?"

"Your money will be returned," the priest told Muslak. In this and in everything, the priest seemed neither angry nor eager; his eyes showed neither disgust nor fear. I admired him for it.

"All right," Muslak said at last.

The coin changed hands. Smiling, the priest left us and strode to a small gong near one wall. He struck it twice, and returned to us.

"What about you, Lewqys?" Muslak grinned at me. "Want a singing girl?"

I shook my head.

Soon we heard the murmur of voices and the shuffle of bare feet on the stone pavement. Five young women joined us. All were comely, with shapely legs and high breasts. All wore black wigs, as all but the poorest women do in this land. Two bore instruments.

The priest asked Muslak if he wished to hear them sing.

Muslak nodded and pointed.

"They will all sing," the priest said, "then you can quickly choose her whose voice you think sweetest." He signaled to the women, and they sang at once. I could catch only a few words of their song, but their girlish voices were lively and merry. Those who held instruments played them with a will.

"Her," Muslak said.

"With the lute?"

He hesitated. "No, the one next to her."

The priest gestured. "Come, Neht-nefret."

She came forward smiling and took Muslak's hand.

"This trader is going to Mennufer on his own ship," the priest explained. "When his business there has been completed, he will return here. You will be his wife until you return."

Neht-nefret said softly, "I understand, Holy One." She is indeed tall for a woman, but no taller than some others.

The woman with the lute, shorter it might be by twice the width of my thumb, came forward too, taking my arm and rubbing her soft flank against mine.

"That trader does not wish a wife," the priest said severely.