In the time they spent at the Pearl Kiosk they were provided for and waited on by an army of invisible servants who saw to every need. Delicious meals magically appeared, as did fresh clothes. When they desired to hunt, their horses and cats awaited them at the Kiosk front. Hot, scented baths were ready upon their return. Every- thing was done to make this time together perfect.
On the night before their return she lay half awake, exhausted by their lovemaking, content to listen to Khalid’s even breathing. Sud- denly she was aware that she had never been so happy. He surrounded her with love, security, everything she could want. Why was it, then, that she could still not give him her heart?
They rode back into the city of Algiers on the following morning. They were dressed identically in white. The sleek black panthers were by their sides, leashed, but nonetheless causing a stir as they moved through the crowded streets of the lower city. That same day, when they had resettled themselves, Khalid el Bey took his wife into the library where Jean sat working.
“Ho, Jean! I bring you a pupil.”
The little Frenchman looked up with a smile. “Welcome home, my lord Khalid! Welcome home, my lady Skye! Who is to be my pupil, and in what?”
“I want you to teach the lady Skye the intricacies of my business. Should something ever happen to me she would be helpless without a thorough knowledge of it. Since she can already read, write, and speak in four languages it should not prove difficult as long as she can grasp simple mathematics.”
“What are mathematics?” asked Skye.
“Here, mistress,” Jean wrote a simple sum on a parchment. “If you take one hundred dinars and add to them another fifty dinars you have-“
“One hundred and fifty dinars.” replied Skye, “and by the same token if you have one hundred and fifty dinars and take or subtract from them seventy-five dinars you will have remaining seventy- five.”
The two men looked at each other in complete surprise, and Skye said, “Is that not correct, Khalid? Have I made an error?”
“No, my Skye, you have not made an error. You are quick and quite correct, is she not, Jean?”
“Indeed, my lord. Indeed!”
The bey laughed. “I think I leave you in good hands, my love. Do not be too hard on my good Jean, for he is invaluable to me.” Khalid walked from the room, laughing softly to himself.
Skye seated herself demurely at the library table, looked expec- tantly at Jean, who was suddenly a little fearful that he had that rarest of creatures on his hands-an intelligent woman. Drawing a deep breath, he plunged into the business at hand.
For the next few weeks Skye spent most of her days with Khalid and Jean, closeted in the library, and she suddenly understood the true nature of her husband’s business. She was shocked for a while. Then, realizing that Khalid had not invented prostitution, she ac- cepted it.
She quickly understood that each house Khalid owned had to be treated as a separate entity. Those located on the waterfront, serving sailors of all nations, were provisioned far differently from the House of Felicity. The waterfront brothels served only beer, but in the House of Felicity and its two sister houses, the menu was quite varied. Even the women varied with the different establishments. On the waterfront, pretty but sturdy peasant girls were the choice, girls who might easily service two dozen men a day without ill effect.
Young women bought for Khalid’s more elegant brothels were all beauties carefully schooled in proper Arabic and French so they might converse well. They were also taught good manners, hygiene, and elegant ways of dressing. Their sexual skills were excellent. The men who bought their company bought it for an entire evening.
All of Khalid el Bey’s waterfront brothels worked their women five days a week and allowed them rest for two days. This neces- sitated keeping records on who was working and who was not. Each of these women received a hundredth portion of the fee collected for her services each night, and at the end of five years was given her freedom and the monies accrued. Most married and settled down. Some, however, took to the streets and were quickly lost. Others hired themselves out to lesser brothels and quickly found themselves overworked and disease-ridden. Most brothel keepers were not as careful with their women as Khalid el Bey, who kept two Moorish doctors on his staff and had his women checked weekly for the pox.
All of this meant voluminous records, and Skye found herself becoming very interested in her husband’s business dealings. His brothels involved not only the care and well-being of people and property but the provisioning of those people and the upkeep of the oroperty.
Problems were tripled in the more elegant brothels, for the women here had to be exquisitely clothed and jeweled. They needed oil baths and wore only the finest perfumes. But despite his vast outlay, Khalid el Bey was a rich man. Profits far exceeded expenses. And these profits had to be invested.
This was the thing that interested Skye the most, the investment of her husband’s funds. Some of the money was placed with a goldsmith, Judah ben Simon. Some of it had been put into portable wealth such as loose gem stones. The rest was invested with the adventure ships belonging to an Englishman called Robert Small. It was shortly after their return from the Pearl Kiosk that Skye met this bluff sea captain.
One night as she and Khalid sat listening to love songs sung by a sweet-voiced slave girl, an uproar ensued from the courtyard of the house. Her husband leaped to his feet laughing and Skye could hear a booming voice saying, “Now, laddie, your master may be a-laying,with one qf his fancy pieces, but believe me, he’ll stop to see me. Out of my way! Damme, Khalid, you old Moor. Where are you?” The door to the chamber flew open and’ a tiny-legged man strode into the room.
He was a most fantastic sight. His colorful clothes included puffed and slashed red velvet breeches, black silk stockings, a red velvet doublet embroidered in gold and silver thread, a long cape, and a flat hat with an egret plume. On a tall man the clothing might not have been so fantastic, but Robert Small stood only five feet tall. Powerfully built, he had sandy-brown hair and his eyes were a snapping blue. His round, weathered face was mischievous and kindly while also being the homeliest Skye had ever seen. The little man was as freckled as a thrush’s egg. “Ha! There you be, Khalid, and as usual you’ve got some rare beauty by your side.”
“Robbie, you’re a wicked old man, and so I’ve no compunction in springing this surprise on you. The ‘rare beauty’ is my wife!”
“God assoil my soul, Khalid el Bey! True?” The bey nodded, and the Englishman bowed low to Skye. “My humblest apologies, madam. I hope you’ll not think ill of me.” Then, realizing he’d spoken English, he said, “Khalid. I know not what language your lady speaks. You’ll tell her for me?”
‘There is no need, sir,” said Skye sweetly. “I fully comprehend you, and am not in the least offended. It’s quite natural you should think me a whore, considering the nature of my husband’s business. Now, however, you will excuse me, for I imagine you’ve much to talk about with my lord.” She rose gracefully and, smiling mis- chievously, left the room.