Waiting for a minute, a couple minutes, he finally slides the base of the fan across the wooden sill, against the edge of the window frame. The time�...�s arrived. Tiptoeing, lifting his left leg across the low wooden threshold, he silently crawls through the opening, still gripping the satchel in his other hand. The sound of the fan whirring, now was mixing with the steady patter of the increasing raindrops fill the background as he slowly, stealthily steps beside the bed. Looking down. The mother was EK0803, the Chief Eunuch did not usually think of hostesses except by their numbers; he assumed they had names but all his records were of numbers. The infant he did not bother to register, because she would be gone soon and when she was old enough to sell would be soon enough for registration.EK0803 was kitted out with the common dress of all the available women in the Emir's harem: a sleeveless brocade waistcoat, in the style of a western bolero, which did not meet across the. More

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