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choose anything else.”
    “I hope I do not hear the echo of the Crusades in your voice.”
    The Crusades, thought Peter, that old bugbear. So Alai really has joined himself to the rhetoric of fanaticism. “I only report to you what is being said among those who are seeking to ally against you in war,” said Peter. “That war is what I hope to avoid. What those old terrorists tried, and failed, to achieve—a worldwide war between Islam and everyone else—may now be almost upon us.”
    “The people of God are not afraid of the outcome of such a war,” said Alai.
    “It’s the process of the war that I hope to avoid,” said Peter. “Surely the Caliph also seeks to avoid needless bloodshed.”
    “All who die are at the mercy of God,” said Alai. “Death is not the thing to fear most in life, since it comes to all.”
    “If that’s how you feel about the carnage of war,” said Peter, “then I’ve wasted your time.” Peter leaned forward, preparing to rise to his feet.
    Petra put her hand on his thigh, pressing down, urging him to remain seated. But Peter had had no intention of leaving.
    “But,” said Alai.
    Peter waited.
    “But God desires the willing obedience of his children, not their terror.”
    It was the statement Peter had been hoping for.
    “Then the murders in India, the massacres—”
    “There have been no massacres.”
    “The rumors of massacre,” said Peter, “which seem to be supported by smuggled vids and eyewitness accounts and aerial photographs of the alleged killing fields—I am relieved that such things would not be the policy of the Caliphate.”
    “If someone has slain innocents for no other crime than believing in the idols of Hinduism and Buddhism, then such a murderer would be no Muslim.”
    “What the people of India wonder—”
    “You do not speak for the people of any place except a small compound in Ribeirão Preto,” said Alai.
    “What my informants in India tell me that the people of India wonder is whether the Caliph intends to repudiate and punish such murderers or merely pretend they didn’t happen? Because if they cannot trust the Caliph to control what is done in the name of Allah, then they will defend themselves.”
    “By piling stones in the road?” asked Alai. “We are not the Chinese, to be frightened by stories of a ‘Great Wall of India.’”
    “The Caliph now controls a population that has far more non-Muslims than Muslims,” said Peter.
    “So far,” said Alai.
    “The question is whether the proportion of Muslims will increase because of teaching, or because of the slaughter and oppression of unbelievers?”
    For the first time, Alai turned his head, and then his body, to face them. But it was not Peter he looked at. He only had eyes for Petra.
    “Don’t you know me?” he said to her.
    Peter wisely did not answer. His words were doing their work, and now it was time for Petra to do what he had brought her to do.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Then tell him,” said Alai.
    “No,” she said.
    Alai sat in wounded silence.
    “Because I don’t know whether the voice I hear in this garden is the voice of Alai or the voice of the men who put him into office and control who may or may not speak to him.”
    “It is the voice of the Caliph,” said Alai.
    “I’ve read history,” said Petra, “and so have you. The Sultans and Caliphs were rarely anything but holy figureheads, when they allowed their servants to keep them within walls. Come out into the world, Alai, and see for yourself the bloody work that’s being done in your name.”
    They heard footsteps, loud ones, many footsteps, and soldiers trotted out of concealment. Within moments, rough hands held Petra and were dragging her away. Peter did not raise a hand to interfere. He only faced Alai, staring at him, demanding silently that he show who ruled in his house.
    “Stop,” said Alai. Not loudly, but clearly.
    “No woman speaks to the Caliph like that!” shouted a man who was