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said.
    “Yes,” he agreed, and rising, he led her from the dining room, back up the staircase to her chamber.

Chapter 2
    T he fisherman, casting his nets in the still, dark waters of the lake, peered curiously at the palace of the Grand Mughal’s daughter. He was quite near to it, perhaps closer than he should have been, but the fish were running into the shore tonight. Besides, Yasaman Kama Begum did not mind. Had she not personally given him permission to fish these waters by her home? He was the envy of all the men in the village, he thought, pushing his chest out with his pride; but had he not saved the princess’s cat from a watery death? A young creature of obviously little sense, it had unwisely leapt from the marble terrace in pursuit of a noisy, arrogant duck. He chuckled with the memory.
    He had seen the cat, an elegant beastie with long silvery-white fur, stalking the duck from the terrace top. The fisherman had assumed it was merely a feline exercise until the cat, perhaps taunted to rashness by the squawking duck, had leapt out high over the water, landing with a resounding splash and a howl of surprise which was half muffled by the water in its mouth. The duck, protesting this invasion of its territory, lifted itself off the lake with an indignant flap and flew away.
    Almost immediately a chattering monkey had appeared upon the terrace wall, to be followed by a young girl who shrieked her distress. The fisherman, who had daughters of his own, realized that this was a beloved pet. Diving into the calm waters of the lake, he hauled the cat out and dumped it in his boat, which was little more than a hollowed-out log. The cat, in its terror, scratched him badly. Without thinking, the fisherman cursed loudly, likening the cat’s mother to the bottom of a cesspit.
    “Mama Begum says that no one should use such language,” the girl said, but then she giggled.
    The fisherman was astounded to be addressed by the cat’s mistress. He did not need to be told who she was. She was the Grand Mughal’s youngest and, so it was said, most beloveddaughter. He dared not speak again, and climbing back into his boat, he cast his eyes down.
    “If you will row but a bit closer,” Yasaman Kama Begum said, “you can, I believe, hand Fou-Fou up to me.”
    The fisherman looked up and gaped at her foolishly.
    “The cat, good sir,” the princess gently explained.
    “The cat,” he repeated, and then looked down into the bottom of his vessel where the stupid creature crouched, eyeing him balefully and growling low. Yes, the cat! The fisherman realized that in being where he should not be, the sooner he departed, the less likely it was that questions would be asked of him. Stooping quickly, he reached for the beast which, with an angry hiss, struck out at him with a claw. Startled, the fisherman drew back.
    “Bad Fou-Fou!” the young girl scolded. “This man saved your foolish life and but wishes to return you to me.”
    The cat’s ears perked at the sound of its mistress’s voice, and looking up, it meowed piteously. The fisherman quickly lifted the diverted animal from the boat’s bottom and handed it to the princess.
    “Oh, thank you, good sir,” she said to him with a winning smile. “You must be rewarded for your bravery. My father would not have it otherwise. What is your name?”
    Allah help me! the fisherman thought. I will surely be punished now for fishing so close to the royal palace, but there was no help for it. “My name is Ali, great lady,” he said, bowing awkwardly, painfully conscious of his bare feet and dirty loincloth.
    “You should not have been fishing so near to my palace, should you, Ali?” the princess said wisely. “Had you not, however, I should have lost my dear Fou-Fou. He was given to me by my brother Salim, who will one day be Grand Mughal. Fou-Fou is a most important cat, and you are responsible for saving her life.” She smiled at him, showing perfect little white teeth. “Do you