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her wrist were raw red welts: some the exact size and shape of fingers and one that was the perfect image of a pair of lips.
    Into the horrified silence, Arkady stammered, “I…I only seized her hand and k-kissed the back of her wrist. I meant nothing bad by it. I was simply happy that she would live.” He glared about him. “Anybody else would have done the same!”
    “Oh, you fool,” Surplus said.  

    It took some while to clear the house of all who did not belong there. By then, the Pearls were safely upstairs and the Neanderthals back on guard. Arkady had just been knocked to the floor for the second time by an angry blow from his father. There he lay, burning with anger and guilt and love-sickness.
    Surplus helped him to his feet. “Now you understand why we tried so hard to keep the Pearls away from men. They burn at our touch. The Caliph’s psychogeneticists implanted commands to that effect in order to preserve the young ladies’ virginities.”
    “They cannot be unfaithful to their intended groom,” Darger amplified. “Any male’s touch other than his, however light, blisters their skin. A kiss would char their lips to cinder. As for intercourse…well, they would be dead in minutes.”
    Koschei, who had been silent and watchful through the entire affair, now spoke. “I have salves that will heal the young woman. Though some discoloration may remain.”
    “Give them to the Neanderthals, who will pass them along to Aetheria,” Darger said. “You, being a man, cannot be allowed to touch her, of course, celibate though you presumably are.”
    Gulagsky sat down heavily in a green leather armchair and clutched his head in an agony of emotion. The others remained standing. At last he said, “Arkady Ivanovich, you are to be banished from your home for the period of one full year. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.” The young man stood stiff and straight.
    “These fellows are going to Moscow. You will go with them.”
    “No,” Darger said. “That simply cannot be allowed. The young man is still in love with Aetheria and her presence will be a constant temptation to him.”
    “You think I would knowingly put her life in peril?” Arkady asked, outraged.
    “I think your coming with us would not be wise.”
    “It might not be wise,” Gulagsky said, “but it is the only option I have. These are dangerous lands, and it will be months before the next wagon train of traders stops here. If I sent him out alone, it would be to his certain death.” He bared his teeth furiously at his son. “Death! That is what you have been playing with, you blockhead! Oh, how could I have sired such an idiot?”
    “As the new ambassador,” Surplus said, “it is my duty to act in the best interest of my charges.”
    “One ambassador has already died in my house. If you do not do as I say, a second may well follow.”
    They stared at each other for a long time, until finally Surplus concluded that the man was adamant. “I see we have no choice,” he said with a sigh.
    “We will depart in the morning.”
    “And I,” Koschei said, “will come with you, to look after the boy’s moral education.”
    “Oh, for the love of God!” Surplus exclaimed involuntarily. But a dark look and a clenched fist on Gulagsky’s part silenced any further exposition.
    “Precisely.” Koschei smiled piously. “For the love of God.”
    The caravans left at dawn. In stark contrast to their festive arrival, nobody turned out to see them off. Darger and Surplus rode horses, while Arkady and Koschei strode along on foot.
    Surplus cantered back and glared down from his mare at the strannik. “This is all your doing, you rascal! You manipulated Arkady’s exile in order to force us to take you to Moscow.”
    “Blame God, not me. He has work for me there. He made it possible for me to go. That is all.”
    “Pah!” Surplus spurred his horse forward again.
    Not long after, the caravan trundled past the field where Prince Achmed’s body had