he enfolded her in muscular arms. She sensed the change in his energy as he steered her through the inner courtyard and into her chamber. “A flagon of Laodicean wine!” he ordered Mandakini. The Maharaja’s eyes gleamed in the half-light as he stared out the open window, a sardonic smile played about his mouth. Reaching into the pocket of his robe, he drew out a conical clay pipe around which was coiled a wonderfully crafted golden serpent with gleaming emeralds for eyes.

“What is that, my lord?” Ishvari whispered, her heart pounding.

Takshak squeezed her right buttock with his free hand, chortling at her gasp of pain. “A chillum—not a device your holier-than-thou gurus spoke of, I’m sure. Nevertheless, tonight we shall employ it to kiss heaven.” He grinne...

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