Chapter Forty-Three
“Remember, remember, the fifth of November.”
The whispered words, just inches away from her ear sent shivers up her spine. She recognized the voice. She gripped the rail and forced a scream of surprise back down her throat. She took several deep breaths before answering.
“You’re three months early, Captain.”
“I’m a year too late.”
She heard his regret and turned. He remained in the shadow of the pillar to her left.
“Can I see you, or have I finally lost my mind and need to remind myself you’re a ghost, a phantom conjured from my memory?”
She heard the rustle of fabric as he swung himself to the broad ledge beyond the balconet railing, then felt the warmth of his body as he embraced her across it. The tang of orange, cedar and his own unmistakable scent made Kit Hardacre even more alive to her. Sophia rested her head against his chest to count out the heartbeats. They were real; he was real. She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with him while his arms tightened their hold on her.
It was only now she could trust herself to look into his face, a final confirmation he was alive. Lit by just a sliver of moon, the sharp planes of his face were still the same and, yet, there was something different about him. She wished she could see his eyes more clearly. They would tell her the truth about him, but the light was too dim.
“Kit, we need to move.”
Elias! The shadows refused to give up their second secret. He remained out of sight. As though he read her mind, Kit answered. “Yes, bella. Jonathan, Giorgio, Marco, we’re all here. Get Laura – we leave now.”
Sophia shook her head. “She’s not here, she’s with Selim Omar.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Elias’ intake of breath. Kit’s night-darkened face revealed nothing. There was a pause, and Sophia imagined him considering and discarding options. Then he asked, “How free are you and Laura to move about the palace? Can you get to the women’s infirmary on the ground floor later today?”
Sophia nodded. She reflected on Laura’s pregnancy but thought better than to mention it now. “We can find an excuse,” she said.
“Good. Be sure you’re both there by the time they call the Salat al-Asr in the late afternoon.”
She felt Kit’s hands slide down her arms. He picked up her hands and brought them to his lips. The touch ignited warmth, awakening sensations she thought long dead. The darkness of night turned to grey. Hope, long caged in her breast, was now free, ready to sing like the arrival of the dawn chorus.
Kit drew a hand across her cheek, then withdrew it. In the emerging half-light of this new morning, she could see his eyes, and a year fell away in an instant.
“Kit.”
The single word on Elias’ lips broke the spell. She saw the Calliope’s first mate slip out of the shadows, his figure silhouetted in the brightening sky for a moment, then disappear from view as he shimmied down the pillar. The expression on Kit’s face changed and he became a stranger, breaking her heart once more. He followed Elias and, for a moment, Sophia stood in the silence and wondered whether she had dreamed the whole thing.
She peered as far as she dared out of the opening. She saw nothing. Just as she had decided she was ill and hallucinating, she tracked two shadowy figures in the courtyard below. They scaled a wall and disappeared over it just as the first cries of the morning prayers echoed.
Laura returned with the arrival of breakfast, but while others ate, she ignored the food, returned to her easel, and picked up a tin of paints.
Sophia approached. Her cousin continued with her painting without acknowledgement.
“Today is the day we leave this place.”
The paintbrush shook and Sophia knew she had Laura’s full attention. “I’m afraid to ask how.”
“Then don’t. Just listen to me. We have to be in the women’s infirmary by afternoon prayers. You will need to pretend to be unwell. Can you do that?”
Laura nodded.
“Good.”
This morning, in the absence of Yasmeen or, indeed, any further instruction, the girls wallowed in idleness. Laura returned to her watercolors and Sophia wished she had the same ability to concentrate. For the fourth time this morning, she gravitated to the window affording the best view of the harbor – and yes, the Calliope was there.
She turned to the sounds of squeals. Yasmeen had returned. Sophia caught Laura’s eye. Her cousin was as surprised as she was. The woman had always carried herself with poise, but her walk was stiff-legged and her generously full lips were drawn thin.
She’s in pain.
Sophia started forward then stopped. They never spoke of what was done to them by Selim Omar or by anyone else. To ask now would invite suspicion. A few moments later, Malik led a procession of servants with platters of food for their midday repast. Deep lines cut across his brow. He snarled uncharacteristically at one of the girls who nearly tripped. More than that, he made Yasmeen the center of his regard, orbiting her as the moon does the earth.
He’s in love with her.
Sophia took a deep breath and quelled her tears of sympathy. She brought a small plate over to Laura who looked disapprovingly at Sophia’s own lack of appetite.
“You encourage me to eat and don’t take your own advice.”
“Perhaps I’m not feeling well.”
That earned her a sharp look in response. To encourage Laura to eat, she picked up a date and nibbled at it. Yasmeen ate nothing. But when the platters were removed, Sophia noticed one of the knives missing. Yasmeen walked about the room and spoke to the girls where they had gathered in clusters to play games or gossip. Only just visible beneath her robe was the shape of the knife against her thigh. Eventually, the young woman made her way to where Sophia and Laura sat.
“It is the time for farewells.” The warm alto of her voice carried softly.
“Oh, Yasmeen, I don’t know what to say.” Laura’s voice was no more than a whisper, hoarse in her battle to fight back tears.
“Then say nothing, friend. To know you care for me means more than words can express.”
“You have been so good to us. We owe you a great debt.” Laura stepped away from them, looking for something to wipe the tears.
Sophia took Yasmeen’s hands and squeezed them, then stepped closer to prevent being overheard. “Are you set on your course of action, knowing it will only end in your death?”
She had expected to see surprise, not the unmasked resolve in the woman’s features. “You were always the most observant woman here. You do not need your eyeglasses to see what other people do not.”
“Would you reconsider?” Sophia hesitated a moment. “If there was a way to get out of here, to be free?”
Sophia felt the other woman study her.
“I do not believe I am the only person who will risk much this day.” Yasmeen glanced at Malik who had taken his customary position as guard to the main entrance of the harem. “Thank you, Sophia. If it were for me alone, I might impose on your good fortune, but alas…”
She hugged the woman. “I only wish–”
“There is no place here for regrets. Just survival and, if not survival, an honorable death.”
Laura returned to embrace their friend as well. “God bless you.”
Yasmeen backed away, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her eye.
“Malik!” Yasmeen called and the big man stood to attention. “It is only right that I bid farewell to Sheik Selim Omar before I go.”
With all the dignity of a queen, Yasmeen swept from the room. Two slaves followed behind carrying a wicker basket that contained the sum total of Yasmeen’s possessions.
Sophia turned to Laura. “We still have a few hours to wait. Let’s rest now. There will be much to do this afternoon.”
*
“Marco’s ready at the warehouse by the dock.”
Kit slapped Giorgio on the shoulder. “Good, get back to the ship. Now we wait.”
The man nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving only Kit and Elias in the semi-darkened space of the disused room. Located on an outer wall of the casbah, it provided a hiding space in which to wait for the afternoon.
Kit settled himself into a corner and squeezed the hilt of his knife to reassure himself of its presence before closing his eyes. He listened to Elias pace the room for a few minutes.
“Save all that nervous energy for this afternoon. You’ll need it,” he said without opening his eyes. The pacing stopped. “And stop worrying about Laura, there’s nothing you can do.”
He heard Elias sigh and the rustle of fabric as the man lowered himself to sit on the floor as Kit himself did.
“I keep thinking about her ordeal and the possibility she might be with child…”
“Does it make a difference to how you feel about her?”
“No. But it does complicate things.”
Kit admired his friend’s steadfastness and honesty. There would be much to overcome if Elias had his heart set on making a life with Laura. She might want to return to England, to her own family. And there were the Labors of Hercules to endure before that was even possible.
“What of you and Sophia? Do you not fear…” His words trailed away. Kit reflected that perhaps Elias remembered what Kit, of all of them, had suffered. He squeezed his eyes tight, pushing those memories away. He had allowed himself only a momentary celebration in finding Sophia. She was alive and that was sufficient for now. There would be time to further reflect on his good fortune when he put a good deal of sea between them and the Tunisian coast.
“I’ll worry about it tomorrow,” he answered.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
He heard Elias settle himself to rest, and stretched his right leg, forcing the cramp out. It hurt. In fact, the leg always hurt but less than it had six months ago when he’d first been able to put his full weight on it without screaming. Now he knew how young Marco had felt. He massaged the aching limb. Kaddouri may be gone, but he wouldn’t be forgotten.
One day at a time. One job at a time. Bringing Sophia home was his priority. If he could find that snake Sharrouf and slip a knife between his ribs, as well, that would be a nice bonus.
*
Sophia was pulled from a nightmare of snakes, swords, blood, and death by the sound of screams. She gained her feet and dragged Laura up with her.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Sophia answered, “but we’ve got to get away from here now.”
She grabbed Laura’s hand. While the rest of the harem women surged forward toward the sound, the cousins circled to the back of the room towards the second, smaller entrance that would take them down towards the kitchen and to the women’s infirmary.
Two eunuchs with scimitars drawn barely spared them a glance as they rushed past into the harem, wails of grief and mourning tailing behind them.
“Someone’s died,” Laura whispered.
Two have died, Sophia thought, though she didn’t venture her opinion out loud. There would be time enough for that when they escaped. If they escaped.
*
Dressed in abayas to hide their identity as well as their sex, Kit and Elias entered the women’s infirmary. Beneath the voluminous robes, he and Elias dressed as the local men did, wide, loose trousers and long-sleeved tunic tops, and added fabric scarves around their necks which they used to hide their lower faces.
At Elias’ insistence, they were here early. The risk of discovery in this place deemed a small price to pay for channeling the man’s energy into something useful. To his surprise, the infirmary was deserted.
“A bit of luck?” asked Elias.
“I don’t like that kind of luck. Something’s happened.”
Elias and Kit separated and circled the room. Kit paused near the entrance to the women’s quarters and listened. Elias peered through a screen to an inner courtyard.
“There’s no one out here, but I think I can hear sounds of wailing from the rooms beyond.”
Kit nodded through his black head covering.
Running footsteps!
Kit hissed to attract his first officer’s attention. He reached into his robes to ready the knife in his hand and saw Elias do the same as the footfalls became louder.