Everyone laughed, and Arram laughed loudest. “You like stories of Baghdad, don’t you?” said the caliph. “Haroun al-Rashid, ruler of the city of Baghdad, Caliph of the Empire and Defender of the Faithful, May He Live for a Thousand Years, that Haroun al-Rashid?” said their host, a bald man who had once been a mamluk. “If I were not the caliph, would I have dinars in such abundance? “Well Arram, the morning is almost here. “Well, there is the tale of the hunchback and how seven different people confessed to murdering him, although in truth he wasn’t even dead.”
“Seven?” said the caliph. “What do you mean?” said Arram. And now boy, how would you like a real reward?” said the caliph. “He’ll recuperate.”
“Besides,” said Lien, “there’s our needs to think about too. Laying him back on the cushions, she anointed his temples with sweet-smelling oils and fed him sharbats of rose and sandalwood and sang with a sweet, mild voice while he admired her body.
