“I am.” Qhora relaxed at the sudden change in the older lady’s demeanor. What just happened? Did she decide to befriend me, or not? Perhaps I can test her. “Although, I must confess, I had heard stirring descriptions of the wealth and power of her country, but thus far have not seen the same country that was described to me. The explosion at the train station, the bandits on the highway. You understand, of course.”
“Of course.” Lady Sade nodded knowingly. “These are difficult times, but all transitions are difficult. You must tear down the old to make room for the new. Everything in Marrakesh is changing, and for some people it is changing too rapidly. The cities, the factories, the jobs. It can be a bit overwhelming.” She smiled. “I know just the thing. I will invite several of my friends to supper with us tonight and we will show you the real Marrakesh, the Marrakesh of the future. And then tomorrow I will escort you myself to Orossa to introduce you to Her Highness. You will arrive refreshed as well as enlightened.”
Qhora smiled in return, but not too brightly. Almost too good to be true. She wants to give me everything I want, everything I might have asked for. Have I found a friend or just another sort of thief, another liar, another viper? Well, if so, then at least this viper doesn’t know that my fangs are sharper than hers. Qhora said, “I can’t thank you enough, my lady. You are as thoughtful as you are generous.”
A few minutes later, the coach rumbled to a halt and the driver opened the door to reveal a paved courtyard bordered by thousands of flowers blooming in freshly mulched beds and on blindingly whitewashed trellises. The house itself walled the courtyard on three sides and rose three stories above the street, three stories of pale granite and gleaming windows crowned with arched red roof tiles. Lady Sade led the way into the house and Qhora followed through room after room of marble tiled floors and lush Persian carpets, slender Hellan columns and dark hardwood stairs, enormous stone and iron fireplaces from Espana, stained glass doors and paper-thin screens, and more types of chairs and tables than she could name. The governor of Arafez deposited her guest in small bedroom on the second floor, promised to send refreshments and her hidalgo as soon as he arrived, and left her to stare at the plush upholstery surrounding her.
Qhora sat down on the edge of the bed, noting the five or six layers of blankets, each of a different color and cloth. Her body sank down into the bedding and she lay back and closed her eyes. Well, perhaps some of these people are wealthy after all.
Chapter 18. Syfax
Black slime and green moss covered the bottom half of the high stone walls of the Zemmour Canal. A golden sun hung high in the sky, bleaching the heavens into pastel blues and yellows. And while there was no spray from the ferry’s huge paddle wheel, the smells of salt and dead fish and wet birds were everywhere, sometimes faint but often with burning acuity. Only a handful of the other passengers had left the main cabin to walk about outside between the warm spring sun and the cold sea breeze, including quite a few elderly couples slowly pacing the length of the deck, their bare feet slapping softly on the warm metal deck plates. Syfax leaned forward on the rail and watched the foamy waves sliding past the steamer’s hull.
“So I’ve been wondering,” Syfax said. “Should I snap your wrist and arrest you now, and sit on you until we get to Nahiz, or should I just stand here and act scared of your little toy until we arrive? I’m not a big fan of babysitting.”
“Of course not.” Chaou stared out across the grassy fields beyond the canal walls. “You’ll do your duty, which leaves me to decide what to do with you now. I don’t want to kill you, major. I hope you believe that. I extended my offer to you more out of hope than anything else. Usually we approach people much more gently and carefully, developing a rapport over time. You understand. More diplomatically. But this has all been a complete fiasco. It’s all the Espani’s fault, really.”
Syfax tried to focus on anything other than the ambassador’s voice. Over the past hour, he had heard the same self-pitying whining and excuses again and again. Hamuy, politics, the queen, the Espani, the weather, the harvest, wages, strikes. At first he had hoped to coax out a few names or dates or plans, something specific so he could round up a few more of her friends, but so far she had been very careful in choosing her words and now Syfax was ready to dump her on someone else. As he listened to the endless shushing of the water against the hull and the low huffing of the steamer’s engine, a distant whine caught his ear. He looked up to the west and saw a small dark shape approaching high above them. “Here comes the cavalry,” he said.
“Probably not. And the next time I need an airship captured I will have to send more capable persons.” Chaou peered up, her hand still resting lightly on the major’s. “I’m sure the maneuver would be quite spectacular if attempted, but no airship could ever hope to land on a moving boat. At most, they could try to lower someone down with a rope, or lift you away with one, but that would mean flying very low and very close to this large pointy boat and all these trees for several minutes. No, I don’t think your comrades will risk that.”
Syfax glanced once at the small woman and then focused on the airship. What is Kenan up to? The airship continued to grow in size and detail, and attracted the excited waves and shouts of several children standing near the stern of the ferry, but as the minutes passed the Halcyon made no sign of descending or even angling toward the ship. It passed overhead half a mile to the north and proceeded east, the drone of its propellers fading as it cruised over a low ridge on its way to… where? Are they going to Nahiz or straight on to Khemisset?
“You see?” Chaou leaned against the rail, a gentle smile curling the corners of her mouth. “They must be going ahead to Nahiz to intercept us. It’s a small town, with no real means for us to blend into a crowd, so to speak. Especially if they’re standing on the pier, watching us disembark.”
“Yeah, well, unless you plan to hijack the ferry, it looks like your little adventure’s almost over, lady.” Syfax studied the older woman, wondering if she might actually try to hijack the ferry. The longer he looked at the grim-faced ambassador, the less ridiculous it sounded.
Chaou gestured to the people in the cabin. “And inconvenience all these hard-working women and men? Families and business travelers? I wouldn’t dream of it. No, the ferry will reach Nahiz on schedule. I shall simply have to arrange some other means of transportation before we arrive, that’s all.”
“Sure you will.”
“I’ll just have to make do with whatever is at hand.” Chaou turned slightly to study the little crane mechanism holding the ferry’s lifeboat just a few yards away.
Now she’s really getting squirrelly. Time to wrap this up. Syfax whipped his hand free of her grip and lunged at the bulge of his revolver in the ambassador’s coat pocket. His fingers fumbled against the hard edges of the grip, and then a brilliant spidery arc of light struck his arm. He pulled back, whipping his stunned hand to beat the feeling back into it.
“I’m running out of patience, major!” The little woman’s eyes flashed with rage, her lips trembled as she extended the two fingers tipped in copper. “You’re not special, you’re not clever, and you’re not going to trick me or even overpower me.”
Syfax beat his tingling hand against the metal rail and the feeling began to return. “Seriously, lady? I have bowel movements scarier than you. You really think you’ll make it past the marshals, and the police, and the Royal Guards? Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve heard all of your speeches before, from other killers and delusional psychopaths. You’re not the first person who wanted to kill the queen.”