Night of a Thousand Stars (12 page)

Before I could respond, he pulled his hand away, smiling a devilish half-smile. “Now, let’s walk off this feast, shall we?”

We moved into the street where things were beginning to stir to life again. There was always a quiet period after the luncheon hour, but we had lingered so long with our coffee and biscuits that the merchants had returned to their shops and the artisans to their crafts. We wandered into a
souk
, and Hugh’s hand stole into mine.

He paused by another old woman making paper flowers and bought me a rose. “There,” he said in satisfaction. “A proper Damascene flower to wear in your lapel. May I?”

I let him pin it in place and took a deep whiff of the light rosewater scent. “I’ll press it in a book of poetry tonight so I will always remember this day,” I told him lightly.

He lowered his head so only I could hear. “I’d far rather you remembered it because it’s the day you decided you couldn’t live without me,” he teased.

“Hugh, I—”

He shook his head. “Don’t speak. Poppy, I know I am only a valet now, and I have no right to speak to you this way, but you must believe I am not what you think I am. Dash it all, I wish I could tell you the truth. No, don’t ask it of me. It would mean putting you in the gravest danger, and I won’t risk it. I can’t talk about it now, but one day, one day very soon, I won’t be a valet anymore. I hope then I can...well, dammit, a man can hope, can’t he?” he asked, his expression pleading.

I had just opened my mouth to respond when I heard a shriek, and then a horrific commotion as one of the braziers where the coppersmiths worked blazed up and out of control. There were shouts in a dozen dialects and pushing and shoving as people tried to get out of the way. Smoke billowed through the
souk
, thick and choking, and I blinked hard, wiping soot from my eyes.

I peered through the cloud and realised I had lost sight entirely of Hugh. Before I could panic, there was a tug on my skirt.

“Miss! Your friend went this way,” said a small boy, pointing towards a hole in the wall I had not noticed before.

I peered at it, but the smoke kept drifting into my face. I dug into my handbag for a handkerchief to wipe my eyes. They were streaming so heavily I couldn’t see a thing, and the boy reached for my hand.

“Come, miss. Shall I show you?”

“Oh, yes, please!” He towed me along, through the narrow doorway and into what seemed to be another alley. Here the smoke was thinner, but my eyes still streamed and I allowed my little guide to navigate our way through the market.

“Are you sure this is where my friend went?” I demanded. We had walked for some time and I had seen no sign of Hugh. I had seen little sign of anyone, I realised with alarm.

“Miss has red eyes. I am bringing you to fountain so you may bathe them and they do not hurt,” he told me solemnly.

“Well, that’s kind of you,” I managed. And just at that moment we turned into a small private courtyard where a fountain stood in the centre. He motioned for me to bathe my eyes, and I dipped my handkerchief into the water, pressing it to my face.

“I must look a fright,” I began, but as I looked around, I grasped that my little guide had disappeared. I assumed he had gone to find Hugh and settled down to wait, but as the minutes ticked past, I began to understand I had been abandoned—left entirely alone in a place I could not hope to find my way out of.

“Oh, this is maddening,” I muttered. Just then, I caught sight of something floating in the fountain. It was a little bird fashioned of paper, and as I watched, it floated near to me. I stretched out my hand for it, and it skimmed backwards, just out of reach.

But I forced myself to wait a moment, and the motion of the fountain pushed it back to me again. This time I waited until it was near enough to lift from the water, and to my astonishment, I saw that it was a bank note. A British bank note.

I unfolded it with trembling fingers. I was fluttering with excitement, and I was so persuaded I was on a great adventure, I wasn’t entirely surprised to find a message scrawled upon it.

FOLLOW ME.

I jumped to my feet, peering around, and just at the edge of the court, deep in the shadows, I saw a flutter of a white robe disappearing around a corner.

I took to my heels, running hard to catch up. I hurtled around the corner blindly, and just as I rounded it, I saw a door closing. I yanked hard, and it opened. I dashed inside, only comprehending what I had done when the door slammed shut behind me, and I heard the sound of a bolt thudding home.

I was in a small room, deep in the heart of the
souk
. The shutters were closed tightly, and not even a sliver of sunlight penetrated them. The floor and walls were stone, and the room was bare save for a table and a single hard chair. The sole light was a bowl of oil with a rag for a wick, heavily shaded so that only a sliver of light shone around it. Feeble as it was, the light from it dazzled my sore eyes, and I scurried to put the table between me and the figure that had just bolted me inside with him. He wore native robes, with the traditional headdress pulled low over his brow. The end of the headscarf had been draped over his face and pinned in place, throwing his face into darkness. He wore only black, and the impression he gave was of a shadow come to life.

The shadow spoke in a low, rough voice, heavily accented in the Damascene dialect.

“Please, make yourself comfortable and sit.”

I did as he told me for the simple reason that it didn’t seem as if anyone advising me to make myself comfortable would be intent upon killing me—at least not immediately. I was afraid, of course. Anyone who had just been abducted in a strange country would be. But I was not bound or gagged, and the feeling I had from the shadow was not one of menace. In fact, there was something rather thrilling about it all, and I didn’t stop at the time to think how unspeakably stupid it was to find it exciting. I was as bad as my Aunt Julia.

So I sat down and folded my hands in my lap.

“Do you think I might have a glass of water?”

“Not in this city,” the voice said tartly. “Or haven’t your travelling companions taught you anything?”

“You know Colonel Archainbaud? And Mr. Talbot?”

“I know all,” said the shadow.

“Really? I doubt that,” I said, thinking of Masterman and our quest to find Sebastian.

“I know that you have come to this city to seek something...someone to be precise. And I am telling you to seek no more.”

I caught my breath sharply. “Why don’t you want me to look for what I came for?” I demanded.

“Because there is no need. Your friend is safe and well and that is all you need know. He would send you his regards if he could.”

“If he could! There, you see, he is not safe and well or he could speak to me himself.”

The shadow made a little noise of exasperation. “It is not possible. He has business here and you must not interfere. It might be dangerous.”

“I’m not worried about danger to me,” I said proudly, tossing my head.

“I mean danger to him.”

My hands fisted at my sides. “If you have harmed him, I promise you there aren’t enough devils in hell to protect you from me,” I swore.

The shadow laughed. “He is entirely unharmed. I give you my word, and in this city, my word is worth a great deal.” He paused a moment. “But why should you care so much what happens to the Englishman you seek?”

“He—he is my friend,” I said simply.

“Ah! So you have known him a very long time, then?”

“No, not exactly.” I hesitated, suddenly understanding how utterly stupid it sounded to say it aloud. “We’ve only met once.”

The shadow laughed again. “And yet you come all this way to seek him out?” He made a tutting sound. “The women of this country would scorn you for such unladylike behaviour.”

“I don’t care about being unladylike,” I told him, my temper rising. “I owe a debt.”

The shadow tipped his head. “What debt? Do you owe him money?” he asked eagerly. “I could convey it to him.”

“I should hardly trust an abductor with my money,” I returned tartly. “But no, nothing like that. It’s a debt of honour. I owe him for rescuing me.”

The shadow gave a little snort. “Rescuing you? What sort of peril do you have in England? There are no desert bandits there to carry you off, no brigands to steal your purse or your virtue.”

“You haven’t been to the docks,” I told him, remembering a similar conversation with Masterman. “But it wasn’t like that, either. I was running away and he helped me.”

“Here it is a criminal thing for a girl to run away from her family.”

“Yes, well, then I’m bloody glad I’m an Englishwoman.”

The shadow laughed again. He seemed to be enjoying the abduction thoroughly, and I wondered if he made a career of it.

“So the Englishman helped you to run away? This is the great act of heroism that caused you to chase him halfway around the world?”

“I didn’t chase him,” I corrected. “I thought he was in danger. I still think it,” I added. “You haven’t exactly convinced me, you know.”

He spread his hands. “You must forgive the melodrama. But these things are sometimes necessary, dear lady. And I am sorry I have not persuaded you. It is the truth—your English friend is alive and well and wishes you to be the same. You must not seek him further, I beg you. And he begs you, as well.” The shadow’s voice was low, almost pleading.

“But he’s my friend,” I said simply.

The shadow nodded slowly. “Yes, it is good to have friends. I hope that you will believe me when I tell you that your Englishman is also a friend of mine. And I will convey your concerns to him. But you must not seek him further.”

He gathered his robes and prepared to rise. “I do not propose to warn you again. If you disobey me, there will be consequences.”

“Consequences like these?” I asked, spreading my hands to indicate the barren room.

“Oh, these are not consequences, my lady. They do not leave marks.”

I gave a squawk of alarm. “Are you threatening me with violence? I’ll have you know my grandfather was the Earl March, and my stepfather—”

He rose to his full height, looming over me. “Do not threaten me, my lady. Beyond the walls of this city lies the
Badiyat ash-Sham
, the great Syrian desert, where a person could be left alone to wander until thirst and madness claim all life and the sun bleaches the bones from now to the end of time itself. I think you would not like to find yourself there.”

My breath caught in my throat and I sat, paralysed as a rabbit in front of a snake as he stepped backwards into the shadows.

“Now you have heard my words. You are free to go,” he said, lifting one hand in a gesture of farewell.

I scurried past him and out the door before he could change his mind. The room gave directly onto a small alleyway, part of a vast complex of buildings, each looking very like the others. I started forward, then understood I would never find my way back to this room again. It was too similar to the others, and the passages were labyrinthine, twisting back on themselves and making it impossible to know one from another. I had to discover whatever I could about my abductor, and this was my only chance.

I turned back to the room. I had the element of surprise and I meant to use it. He could not have left—the windows were barred and there were no other doors. And despite his threats about the desert, I did not think him a killer. He had had the chance to do me any number of mischiefs when I was in his power and he had not taken it. If I could just peer through the door, he might reveal enough to show me some distinguishing feature, something I could use to identify him again.

I crept back, my shoes silent on the stones. I put my eye to the keyhole, blinking hard. The little flame still burned in the crude shaded lamp, and the table was precisely where I had left it. The windows were still barred from the outside and nothing had been moved.

But the room was completely empty.

* * *

To my relief, the boy appeared again then, and even though I gave him a tongue-lashing that ought to have blistered his skin, he kept a cheerful smile as he led me through the
souk
. After several minutes I rounded a corner to find he had disappeared again, and just as I opened my mouth to scream in outrage, I understood where I was. The scorched façade of the coppersmith’s shop was in front of me. He had delivered me to the precise location he had found me, and as soon as he had, he melted away again into the crowded
souk
.

A hand clamped around my arm and I let out a shriek.

Hugh crushed my arm as he whirled me around. “My God, where have you been? I’ve been frantic!”

I gave him a feeble smile. “I got lost in the commotion,” I told him. “I followed a little boy, who took me to a fountain to bathe my eyes. I couldn’t see anything in the smoke.”

It was almost entirely true, but his eyes narrowed. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. Let’s go.” I was only too happy to oblige, and as soon as we arrived back at the hotel I went straight to my room to take off my sooty frock and have a good scrub. I went to unpin the paper Damascene rose Hugh had given me, but when I looked, there was nothing left but a slender stem, each petal having been torn off in the drama of the day.

Ten

The next day the colonel was feeling peevish and absolutely not inclined to settle to work. I looked in on him after breakfast, but he flapped a hand at me as if he were shooing away a goose.

“Go and amuse yourself, my dear. Talbot will attend me.”

Hugh said nothing, but I could tell from the set of his shoulders as he tidied the colonel’s room that he was irritated. I gave the colonel a quick smile and darted away, as anxious to avoid Hugh as I was to meet up with Masterman.

I snatched up my trusty Baedeker and hurried down the stairs and out the lobby only to find the
comtesse
’s motorcar waiting at the kerb.

Faruq was waiting. “Good morning, miss,” he said serenely.

“Good morning, Faruq.” I made to go around him, but he stepped neatly in front of me. For such a large fellow, he moved surprisingly fast.

“I am under orders to take you wherever you would like to go,” he told me.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary,” I protested. Once more I tried to step around and once more he blocked me.

“It is the wish of my mistress, the
comtesse
. I must obey.”

“Well, naturally,” I said, giving him a wide smile. “But surely someone else will have greater need of you. It seems silly for you to spend your time hauling me around.”

He did not answer. He merely walked to the door of the motorcar and opened it for me. He stood aside and waited, and with a sigh I got in.

“Where to, miss?”

I gave him the address of the Turkish bath Masterman had set as our meeting place.

“Very good, miss.”

He said nothing more. I stared at the back of his sturdy head as he deftly navigated the motorcar through the narrow streets and rolled to a stop in front of a high wall. There was a wooden door but no sign and Faruq got out to open my door.

“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked.

He inclined his head, and I pulled a face. Faruq was clearly never going to be one for conversation.

I went in, noting the shabbiness of the exterior and wondering exactly what I’d got myself into. But the anteroom alone took my breath away. It might have been a rich man’s home at one time,
must
have been, I decided with a glance at the gilded ceiling overhead. The floors and walls were tiled and the air was thick with steam that smelled of cinnamon and cedar and something else I couldn’t quite identify. An attendant hurried forward and led me to the disrobing area where I was stripped and given a small towel to cover myself with. From there I was guided to a small room with a low ceiling where I was told to sit and breathe in the billows of steam caused by another attendant whose sole job was ladling water onto hot coals strewn with herbs. I was utterly relaxed and rather light-headed when they took me to the next room—so light-headed I didn’t even protest when they slathered me in a mixture of hot beet sugar thinned with lemon juice. They applied thin muslin strips then, rubbing them firmly over the syrupy concoction before tearing them off, taking the sticky solution and other things with it. I gave a little shriek of protest, but they paid me absolutely no attention, and what they did next did not bear thinking about.

When it was finished, they rubbed me down with scented oils, stretching my muscles until they were sleek and gleaming. They wrapped me in wet sheets and beat me lightly with herb branches before scrubbing my hair and fingernails until everything shone. When they were finished with their elegant tortures, they sent me into the main bath to recover.

I tottered to one of the pools and slid in. The water was heavenly, warm and gently scented from the flowers that floated on the surface. There were several women already there, as naked as I and completely unconcerned with it. I thought of hiding behind a convenient lily, but there seemed little point. The women enjoying the baths came in all shapes and sizes, from a tiny teenage bride preparing for her nuptials to a great-grandmother whose breasts stretched down to her hips. Nobody else seemed to mind, so I gave myself up to the experience and floated as lilies bobbed past.

After a long while, an attendant prodded me, and I climbed into the dry sheet she held. She guided me to a divan and thrust a glass of mint tea into my hands. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so utterly unconcerned with anything at all, and my head was nodding a little as I noticed a woman leaving one of the baths. She had a spectacular figure, and she moved slowly and gracefully, rising from the perfumed water like Venus emerging from the foam. The water broke over the curve of her breasts, rolling back from a long, smooth expanse of stomach and lapping at a pair of beautifully rounded hips and shapely legs. I blinked through the steam.

“Masterman?”

The vision gestured towards an attendant for a dry sheet and came towards me. Her hair was hanging loose, waving damply about her shoulders.

“Hello, miss. Enjoy the bath?”

I blinked again. Without her severe hairstyle she looked years younger, and I gaped at the long, supple limbs and spectacular breasts.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Masterman, how old are you?”

She gave me a slow, heavy-lidded stare. “Forty, miss.”

I swallowed hard. “Golly.”

“Golly?”

“It’s American,” I told her. “It’s one of those words you use when you don’t quite know what to say. Masterman, I think Sebastian isn’t the only one hiding a light under a bushel.”

“Miss?”

I waved a hand in her general direction. “You’re stunning. You just need the right clothes. Those dark tweeds you wear don’t do a thing for you. And that hair—you need to have it cut right off. I’ve never noticed your cheekbones before, but you could cut glass on them.”

She looked down her nose. “I think not, miss.”

“But it’s true. You just need a little help. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to dress. Green, I think. We’ll find you something in green to bring out your eyes. And maybe some heels. You always wear those awful clumpy shoes but you have perfect ankles.”

Masterman tucked her feet underneath the divan. “I am quite satisfied with my appearance, miss.”

“That’s because you don’t know the power of a good frock,” I told her seriously.

“Perhaps not, but I’m satisfied just the same. And you never answered. Did you enjoy the
hammam
?”

I narrowed my eyes again. “Most of it was utter heaven. But you might have warned me about that sadist with the beet sugar.”

Masterman grinned. “It does take one by surprise, doesn’t it? Now, what have you discovered?”

Over more tea and sherbet I related the events of the previous day in the
souk
. She grew pale and then dark red by turns as I told her about my encounter with the shadow.

“I don’t like it,” she said flatly.

“Don’t like it? Masterman, it’s our first real clue!” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper.

“You were warned off by some strange shadowy figure that can apparently disappear into thin air to stop looking for Sebastian.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And I think you should listen to the shadow.”

She gestured for more mint tea, heavily sweetened, and watched as I drank it all. “It’s good for shock.”

“I haven’t had a shock,” I protested. “I’ve had an epiphany.”

“You are not normal. A normal girl would have swooned or gone into hysterics.”

“I’m made of sterner stuff,” I said proudly. “Remember I told you about my Aunt Julia? She once confronted a murderer—”

She held up a hand. “I’m not interested in any more of your family’s tall tales.”

“They aren’t tall tales,” I told her sulkily. “They’re memoirs. They’re perfectly true, I’ll have you know. My Aunt Julia was a proper detective at one time. And my father, as well.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about their experiences in espionage, but I wasn’t certain how many people knew of their exploits, and a little discretion for once seemed prudent. “It’s in my blood. I’m cool in a crisis and I have excellent deductive skills.”

“And these deductive skills have led you to believe that Sebastian came to the aid of his
inamorata
Evangeline Starke when she went missing in the desert?”

I shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as any. And it suits his character. He came to my aid when I needed him. Perhaps he has a complex of sorts.”

“A complex?”

“Psychological complex. Some sort of disorder where he has to help ladies in need. What do you suppose such a complex would be called?”

Her expression was dark. “I’d call it a Galahad Complex.”

“Galahad! Yes, that’s it precisely. He was the youngest of Arthur’s knights, wasn’t he? And the only one to achieve the Grail?”

“And a virgin,” she added. I looked closely to see if she were joking, but not a muscle of her face twitched.

“Yes, well, he is a clergyman, so one would presume his conscience spotless. Although I suppose he can’t be entirely like Galahad if his quest is a glamorous widow instead of the Sangreal, but the similarities are there. And I am convinced that glamorous widow is the one responsible for my warning from the shadow yesterday.”

Masterman gaped at me while I gave her a smug smile in return. “How do you account for that, miss?”

“It’s quite simple. If the message were from Sebastian himself, why not just come and say ‘Hello, I believe you’re looking for me. I’m quite all right. Cheerio then,’ instead of all this melodrama? Because it didn’t come from him at all,” I told her, warming to my tale. “It must have been her. She somehow deduced I was following him. Perhaps he spotted me in Damascus and made mention of the fact that he helped me to run away or something. Her jealousy is piqued. Determined to get rid of me, she hires someone to play the role of the shadow and give me that warning to leave Sebastian alone.”

“It does make a certain ridiculous sort of sense,” Masterman allowed.

“Of course it does. And what’s more, I’ll lay money on it being correct.”

Masterman sighed. “As a matter of fact, you’re not correct. I had a reply to my inquiries this morning. Mrs. Starke left Damascus in the company of her elderly aunt. Before we arrived.”

I gaped at her. “Are you quite certain?”

“Quite. I heard it from three sources just to be sure.”

“Drat,” I said, sulking a little. “It was such a pretty theory, too. Now I don’t have the vaguest notion of who the shadow might have been.”

“Don’t you? I mean, if you put your imagination to work...” she said, trailing off.

I thought a moment. “As I said before, it can’t be Sebastian or a friend or he wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of the theatrics. No, it must be someone who is a third party. An enemy would hardly take those sorts of pains to—” I drew in a sharp breath. “Unless he is working with Sebastian’s enemies and wants to keep us away because he knows we’re here to help. He doesn’t want to harm us because we’re Englishwomen and that would create a terrific international incident. So, he stages that ridiculous bit of mummery to get our attention and persuade us to give it all up. It was meant to frighten us off so he can get back to his filthy plan to harm Sebastian.”

“What filthy plan?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

I flapped a hand. “The one we don’t know about. But he must have one, otherwise why trouble us?”

Masterman looked doubtful. “Say for a moment you’re right,” she said slowly. “What now?”

I shrugged. “I go on until I’ve found Sebastian.”

Masterman gritted her teeth. “But the shadow said he was fine.”

I looked at her through narrowed eyes, my tone pitying. “Masterman, the shadow is in league with a villain. How do we know he is telling the truth? No. Until I see Sebastian for myself, I cannot simply take the shadow’s word for the fact that he is all right. I will go on searching until I find him.”

She made a gesture of surrender. “Very well. And so long as you are searching for him, I will help—you know that. Someone has to keep an eye on you,” she added with a sour smile. There was the old Masterman, I thought with a grin. The hectoring, bossy lady’s maid still lurked under the exquisite skin of this lovely woman.

She looked around at the bath, from the tiled floors and gilded dome to the clouds of perfumed steam. “I’m glad you enjoyed this. I thought it might prove informative.”

“Informative?”

“This is the
hammam
where Evangeline Starke bathed just before she went off and disappeared in the
Badiyat ash-Sham
.”

I stared at her in astonishment. “Is it? How very extraordinary.”

Masterman shrugged. “I thought perhaps we might discover something useful. I asked around before you arrived. The attendants remembered her, but she didn’t come back.”

“You might have asked without going through all of this,” I pointed out, gesturing towards the elaborate setting. “I think you hoped to be struck by inspiration, a bit of lightning to illuminate the way.”

“Perhaps I did,” she said slowly.

“Then you’re a revelation, Masterman,” I told her. “You’re far more fanciful than I anticipated.”

She gave me a sad, faraway little look. “Some would consider that a failing.”

“I think it makes you human.”

She grinned in spite of her moment of melancholy and rose, adjusting her sheet so that it fell in stately folds. “I shall go now, miss. I’ll be in touch. Give me a quarter of an hour’s start, then dress and leave, if you please.”

I waved her off. I was perfectly happy to recline on my divan and order another glass of sherbet. As I was swallowing the last of it, I watched another woman emerge from the pools. Women had come and gone as Masterman and I had talked and I’d taken little notice of them. But, like Masterman, this woman seemed to command attention. She emerged on the far side of the bath with her back to me, moving gracefully up the steps, and if I’d thought Masterman was stunning, she couldn’t hold a candle to this woman. Long black hair waved to a narrow waist, stopping just above the point where her hips flared, lush and shapely. Her thighs were long and slender and the backs of her knees were dimpled. She turned then, the water cascading down her smooth flesh, and I gave a little gasp.