Shadow of the giant

itself," said Alai,
"and Muslims never worshipped it. We only used it as a marker to remember
the holy covenant between God and his true followers. Now its molecules are
powdered and spread over the whole Earth, as a blessing to the righteous and a
curse to the wicked, while we who follow Islam still remember where it was, and
what it marked, and bow toward that place when we pray."
    It was a sermon he had surely said many times before.
    "Muslims suffered more than anyone in those dark days,"
said Peter. "But that is not what most people remember. They remember
bombs that killed innocent women and children, and fanatical self-murderers who
hated any freedom except the freedom to obey the very narrowest interpretation
of Shari'ah."
    He could see Alai stiffen. "I make no judgment
myself," Peter immediately said. "I was not alive then. But in India
and China and Thailand and Vietnam, there are people who fear that the soldiers
of Islam did not come as liberators, but as conquerors. That they'll be
arrogant in victory. That the Caliphate will never allow freedom to the people
who welcomed him and aided him in overcoming the Chinese conquerors."
    "We do not force Islam on any nation," said Alai,
"and those who claim otherwise are liars. We ask them only to open their
doors to the teachers of Islam, so the people can choose."
    "Forgive my confusion, then," said Peter.
"The people of the world see that open door, and notice that no one passes
through it except in one direction. Once a nation has chosen Islam, then the
people are never allowed to choose anything else."
    "I hope I do not hear the echo of the Crusades in your
voice."
    The Crusades, thought Peter, that old bugbear. So Alai
really has joined himself to the rhetoric of fanaticism. "I only report to
you what is being said among those who are seeking to ally against you in
war," said Peter. "That war is what I hope to avoid. What those old
terrorists tried, and failed, to achieve—a worldwide war between Islam and
everyone else—may now be almost upon us."
    "The people of God are not afraid of the outcome of
such a war," said Alai.
    "It's the process of the war that I hope to
avoid," said Peter. "Surely the Caliph also seeks to avoid needless
bloodshed."
    "All who die are at the mercy of God," said Alai.
"Death is not the thing to fear most in life, since it comes to all."
    "If that's how you feel about the carnage of war,"
said Peter, "then I've wasted your time." Peter leaned forward,
preparing to rise to his feet.
    Petra put her hand on his thigh, pressing down, urging him
to remain seated. But Peter had had no intention of leaving.
    "But." said Alai.
    Peter waited.
    "But God desires the willing obedience of his children,
not their terror."
    It was the statement Peter had been hoping for.
    "Then the murders in India, the massacres—"
    "There have been no massacres."
    "The rumors of massacre," said Peter, "which
seem to be supported by smuggled vids and eyewitness accounts and aerial
photographs of the alleged killing fields—I am relieved that such things would
not be the policy of the Caliphate."
    "If someone has slain innocents for no other crime than
believing in the idols of Hinduism and Buddhism, then such a murderer would be
no Muslim."
    "What the people of India wonder—"
    "You do not speak for the people of any place except a
small compound in Ribeirão Preto," said Alai.
    "What my informants in India tell me that the people of
India wonder is whether the Caliph intends to repudiate and punish such
murderers or merely pretend they didn't happen? Because if they cannot trust
the Caliph to control what is done in the name of Allah, then they will defend
themselves."
    "By piling stones in the road?" asked Alai.
"We are not the Chinese, to be frightened by stories of a 'Great Wall of
India.' "
    "The Caliph now controls a population that has far more
non-Muslims than Muslims," said Peter.
    "So far," said Alai.
    "The question is whether the proportion of Muslims will
increase because of teaching, or because of the slaughter and oppression of
unbelievers?"
    For the first time, Alai turned his head, and then his body,
to face them. But it was not Peter he looked at. He only had eyes for Petra.
    "Don't you know me?" he said to her.
    Peter wisely did not answer. His words were doing their
work, and now it was time for Petra to do what he had brought her to do.
    "Yes," she said.
    "Then tell him," said Alai.
    "No," she said.
    Alai sat in wounded