Budur wandered away on her own, disturbed, saw Hasan on another terrace and went up to join the group around him, which included Naser Shah and the ancient grandmother from Kirana's class, looking at a loose end without her knitting kit in hand. It turned out they were brother and sister, and she the hostess of this party: Zainab Shah, very curt when Budur was finally introduced; and Hasan a long time family friend of theirs. They had. all known Kirana for years, and had taken her classes before, Budur learned from Naser as the conversations swirled around them.

'What bothers me is to see how repetitive and small minded he could be, what a lawyer '

'That's why it works in application 'Works for who? He was the lawyer of the clerics.'

'No writer, anyway.'

'The Quran is meant to be spoken and heard, in Arabic it is like music, he is such a poet. You must hear it in the mosque.'

'I will not go there. That's for people who want to be able to say, I am better than you, simply because I assert a belief in Allah." I reject that. The world is my mosque.'

'Religion is like a house of cards. One fingertap of fact and it all falls over.'

'Clever but not true, like most of your aphorisms.'

Budur left Naser and Hasam, and went to a long table containing snacks and glasses of red and white wine, eavesdropping as she walked, eating pickled herrings on crackers.

'I hear the council of ministers had to kotow to the army to keep them out of the treasury, so it comes to the same thing in the end '

' the six lokas are names for the parts of the brain that perform the different kinds of mentation. The level of beasts is the cerebellum, the level of hungry ghosts the limbic archipelago, the human realm the speech lobes, the realm of the asuras is the frontal cortex, and the realm of the gods is the bridge between the two halves of the brain, which when activated gives us glimpses of a higher reality. It's impressive, really, sorting things out that clearly by pure introspection 'But that's only five, what about hell?'

'Hell is other people.'

' I'm sure it doesn't add up to quite as many partners as that.'

'They've got control of the oceans, so they can come to us whenever they want, but we can't go to them without their permission. So '

'So we should thank our lucky stars. We want the generals to feel as weak as possible.'

'True, but nothing in excess. We may find it becomes a case of from the coffee pot to the fire.'

' it's well established that a belief in reincarnation floats around the world from one culture to the next, migrating to the cultures most stressed.'

'Maybe it migrates with the few souls who are actually transmigrating, ever think of that?'

With student after student, it's like a kind of compulsion. A replacement for friends or something like that. Sad really, but the students are really the ones who suffer, so it's hard to feel too sorry 'All history would have been different, if only.

'Yes, if only? Only what?'

'If only we had conquered Yingzhou when we had the chance.'

'He's a true artist, it's not so easy working in scents, everyone has their own associations, but somehow he touches all the deepest ones everyone has, and as it's the sense most tied to memory, he really has an effect. That shift from vanilla to cordite to jasmine, those are just the dominant scents of course, each waft is a mix of scores of them, I think, but what a progression, heart rending I assure you…'

Near the drinks table a friend of Hasan's, named Tristan, played an oud with a strange tuning, strumming simple chords over and over, and singing in one of the old Frankish languages. Budur sipped a glass of white wine and watched him play, forcing the voices talking around her from her attention. The man's music was interesting, the level tones of his voice hanging steadily in the air. His black moustache curved over his mouth. He caught Budur's eye, smiled briefly. The song came to an end and there was a patter of applause, and some of them surrounded him to ask questions. Budur moved in to hear his answers. Hasan joined them, and so Budur stood beside him. Tristan explained in clipped short phrases, as if he were shy. He didn't want to talk about his music. Budur liked the look of him. The songs were from France and Navarre, he said, and Provence. Third and fourth centuries. People asked for more, but he shrugged and put his oud in its case. He didn't explain, but Budur thought the crowd was simply too loud. Tahar was approaching the drinks table, and his group came with him. 'But I tell you, Vika, what happens is this ' ' it all goes back to Samarqand, when there was still 'It would have to be beautiful and hard, make people ashamed.' 'That was the day, the very hour when it all started '

'You, Vika, are perhaps afflicted with intermittent deafness.' 'But here's the thing '

Budur slipped away from the group, and then, feeling tired of the party and its guests, she left the party as well. She read the schedule posted at the tram stop and saw that it would be almost half a watch before another came, so she took off walking on the river path. By the time she reached the city centre she was enjoying walking just for itself, and she continued on out the jetty, through the fish shops and out into the wind, where the jetty became an asphalt road cracking over huge boulders that stood greenly out of the oil slicked water slurping against their sides. She watched the clouds and the sky, and felt suddenly happy an emotion like a child inside her, a happiness in which worry was a vague and distant thing, no more than a cloud's shadow on the dark blue surface of the sea. To think her life might have passed without her ever seeing the ocean!

FOURTEEN

Idelba came to her one night in the zawiyya and said, 'Budur, you must remember never to tell anyone what I said to you about alactin. About what splitting it could mean.'

'Of course not. But why do you mention it?'

'Well… we are beginning to feel that there is some kind of surveil lance being placed on us. Apparently from a part of the government, some security department. It's a bit murky. But anyway, best to be very careful.'

'Why don't you go to the police?'

'Well.' She refrained from rolling her eyes, Budur could see it. Voice lowered to a gentleness: 'The police are part of the army. That's from the war, and it never changed. So… we prefer not to draw any attention whatsoever to the issues involved.'

Budur gestured around them. 'Surely we have nothing to worry about here, though. No woman in a zawiyya would ever betray a housemate, not to the army.'

Idelba stared at her to see if she was being serious. 'Don't be naive,' she said finally, less gently, and with a pat on the knee got up to go to the bathroom.

This was not the only cloud to come at this time and drop its shadow on Budur's happiness. Throughout Dar al Islam, unrest was filling the newspapers, and inflation was universal. Military takeovers of the governments in Skandistan and Moldava and al Alemand and the Tyrol, very close to Turi, alarmed the rest of the world all out of proportion to their puny size, as seeming to indicate a resurgence of Muslim aggressivity. The whole of Islam was accused of breaking the commitments forced on them at the Shanghai Conference after the war, as if Islam were a monolithic block, a laughable concept even in the depths of the war itself. Sanctions and even embargoes were being called for in China and India and Yingzhou. The effect of the threat alone was felt immediately in Firanja: the price of rice shot up, then the price of potatoes and maple syrup, and coffee beans. Hoarding quickly followed, old wartime habits kicking in, and even as prices rose staples were cleared off the shelves of the groceries the moment they appeared. This affected everything else as well, both food and other matters. Hoarding was a very contagious phenomenon, a bad mentality, a loss of faith in the system's ability to keep everything running; and as the system had indeed broken down so disastrously at the end of the war, a lot of people were prone to hoard at the first hint of a scare. Making meals in the zawiyya became an exer cise in ingenuity. They often dined on potato soup, spiced or garnished in one way or another so that it remained tasty, but it sometimes had to be watered pretty thin to get a cup of it into everyone at the table.