The Serpent's Daughter (34 page)

Bachir held out both hands and patted the air, signifying that she should wait a moment. He pantomimed first his ascent, then reaching down from the top to give her assistance. Inez nodded. She didn’t really think she needed the help, but it occurred to her that it might not be dignified to climb with a strange Moroccan man peering up her torn dress at her underthings. Once Bachir made the ledge, he lay flat on his stomach, his left side pressed against the remaining rampart wall. He extended his right hand and waited for Inez to join him.

She climbed with the agility of a goat, ignoring the minor scrapes on her knees and her knuckles. Her pulse increased and she felt a flush of heat bathe her neck and face. She hadn’t felt so exhilarated in years, and it was the memory of first meeting Richard that reawakened it in her. She couldn’t wait to tell her husband. Better yet, she thought, maybe she’d show him.
First I’ll get on a horse and lead him in a chase up into the high country. And later? I wonder if that old hunting shack is still standing?
A fresh warmth blossomed up from her neck and she knew she was blushing.
Better focus on the hand grips, or there won’t be a “later.”

“
Alalla
Inez,” whispered Bachir above her. She tilted her head back enough to see his hand without throwing herself off balance, took a better grasp of the wall, and reached for him with her left hand. He gripped her wrist and pulled her up as she found new footholds. Once she made the narrow ledge, she hitched up her tattered dress and threw a leg over the top. Bachir wasted no time climbing up and was sitting on the wall as she scrambled onto her stomach. In the dark she could barely make out the ground below, but at least this spot had a garden on the other side rather than another wall.

“Lower me down,” she said in English, knowing Bachir wouldn’t understand the words as much as her actions. As she spoke she scooted her legs over the other side while she clung to the top. Bachir lay down on the wall and grabbed both her wrists. When she’d inched down as far as she could, she nodded for him to release her. Inez dropped the last few feet and landed on her backside.

Before Inez could regain her breath and her remaining shreds of dignity, Bachir stood beside her and was helping her to her feet. He grinned, his brown teeth barely visible.

“Jade,” he said, and pointed through the garden.

Inez swiped her hand across her rear end to brush off the dust. “Jade,” she repeated.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” asked Sam in a hushed voice.

Rather than head out in any sort of straight line, they’d followed the wall south, a garden of sorts to their left. Then they turned east with the wall until they reached what passed for a major street in this city. That meant it was not only straight for more than fifteen yards, it would also admit a donkey
and
a pedestrian at the same time.

Jade nodded once, then bobbed her head from side to side. “More or less,” she finally admitted. “But I needed to start out where I started the first time I came into the city.” She positioned herself with her right side to the wall and jerked her thumb to the right. “That big gate, the
Bab Agnaou
, is just around the corner. That way,” she continued as she pointed ahead of her, “is a mosque and some ruins of an old palace. Not far past those are some streets that run nearly north. Lots of palatial homes tucked away there. The one we want is off on one of the side streets.”

“Does this street have a name?”

“Probably, but,” she added with a grin, “I don’t know it. I imagine the French call it Rue something-or-other.”

“And I suppose you have some sort of plan in mind once you find it?”

“You bet your sweet ascot I do. Climb up to the roof of the house next door, go across to the intended roof, and go down the stairs into the courtyard.” She hesitated as she remembered the state of those stairs. “By the way, the steps are broken at the bottom so we will have to jump down the last couple feet or five.”

Sam sighed. “Great, more climbing and dropping. And once we’re inside?”

“We find Bennington.”

The streets ahead of them were empty now, with only a hint of music drifting down from the
Jemaâ el-Fna
. Everyone else was indoors, sitting down to their late suppers. They crept past the silent mosque and hesitated as the ruins of El Badi Palace loomed to their right. The
kee-uk
of a Little Owl echoed from the ruins, making it seem eerier. By day the vast site of broken walls and empty pools looked interesting. By night it appeared treacherous and haunted by every
jinn
known to man. As if to emphasize that last point, something rustled in the debris. A pair of eyes glowed from another corner and gave chase to the sound.

Several streets, ranging from narrow covered alleys to open thoroughfares at least six feet wide, opened up to their left. Jade studied two in particular before deciding on one. A placard placed by the French proclaimed it as the Rue Riad Zitoun el Kdim. Jade pointed to it and whispered, “See? I was right.”

Sam pushed her ahead of him. “Move along, my little slave. By the way, your flashlight is on.”

Jade pulled the light from her pocket and slid back the metal switch. “Blast it. It must have come on when I jammed it in the pocket.”

They met very few people on their way north up the street. Only a few men passed them, hurrying home to dinner after having completed business or prayers. As one opened a door into a lamplit entryway, the scents of lamb and cumin drifted out into the night air along with the fragrant, clean smell of mint.

Suddenly Jade stopped, causing Sam to bump into her. She studied the doors of several houses on one side of the street, then crossed and examined those on the other, paying particular attention to the knockers. Three were large metal rings, one was shaped like a flat hand, fingers together, and another looked like a large insect cast from metal.

“This way,” she whispered, and turned down a narrow side street. As they wended deeper into the passages, Jade hugged the walls and skulked more than walked. Sam followed her lead and placed his right hand on his Colt revolver, ready to draw it if danger threatened.

Finally she stopped in front of a boarded door with hands painted across it. She pointed first to Bennington’s house. Next she pointed to the abandoned one, then up to the roof and over to Bennington’s roof. Sam nodded, but when Jade started for the door, he stopped her. “Me first,” he mouthed. He pushed in the door and crawled between the old barricades into the dark entryway. Jade followed, her flashlight on to light the way.

They moved left, then a sharp right again in the once beautifully enameled
chicane
. Dead silence met them, daring them to intrude into the shunned interior. Unsure how long her light would last, Jade wanted to get up to the rooftop as quickly as possible. “Hurry,” she coaxed as she led Sam through the dead courtyard to the back rooms.

They found the narrow flight of steps up to the second floor and again up to the rooftop, emerging in the cool, evening air. Overhead the first stars appeared in the sky. Sam gently took hold of Jade’s arm and stopped her from crossing to Bennington’s roof.

“Before we go in there,” he whispered, “I want to know your plan. Give me some idea of the layout of the rooms and where to go.”

“It’s designed just like this house,” said Jade. “We go down the stairs to the back rooms, a kitchen of sorts. There’s the central courtyard, but the fountain trickles there and some of the trees are still alive.” She traced out a sketch in the dusty stucco of the rooftop. “The room where I saw the bags was here.” She made an
X.
“It must have been some sort of bathing room at some time, a private
hammam,
but it’s dry now. This door over here”—she marked a circle—“is where I found Mother. The steps down into their dungeon are over here in this room.” Jade tapped the sketch and looked into Sam’s eyes, now as black as the night sky. “I have no idea where anything else is. None of the rooms upstairs looked inhabited.”

“So Bennington may not even be here,” said Sam. “The house may be empty except for the guard.”

“That’s right. I don’t expect to see de Portillo again until the shipment is ready to go. Since you’ve got the gun, I’ll leave the guard to you. Do whatever you have to do, Sam. I’ll hunt for Bennington and Mohan.” She gripped her knife. “That little Atlas weasel knows where the amulet is.”

Sam edged closer to Jade until only an inch separated their faces. “And what do you plan to do if Bennington isn’t here?”

Jade’s answer emerged from deep within, her low voice a predatory growl. “We wait!”

CHAPTER 25

—The Traveler

SAM AND JADE CREPT DOWN THE STEPS from the rooftop to the second floor. There they paused to reconnoiter and listen for voices, footsteps, anything that spoke of the occupants. All they heard was the soft, irregular padding of booted feet below them. Whoever paced, walked alone. Judging by the listless steps, frequent pauses, and random directional changes, the lone guard suffered from boredom.

Jade crept to the latticework railing and peered through the decorative curves and loops. She saw the guard from his chest down, his upper torso out of view. The man was inspecting a ripened orange on the gnarled tree. He turned and continued his listless patrol towards the front. She sniffed, searching for the scent of a meal under preparation. The air was dry and musty. Not even the cleansing scent of mint reached her.

Sam joined her and they watched for a few moments more to determine the guard’s movement pattern. In that time the guard strayed from the front entry to the middle of the courtyard, but no farther back than that. Jade pointed to the steps leading down to the ground floor and led the way. She sensed more than heard Sam pad behind her, his clean scent of leather and natural musk a soothing reminder of a strong ally.

Sam
. A part of her still couldn’t believe he was here, that he had come all this way to save her. It was a very flattering thought, one that brought a pleasant tingle to her back and arms and made her pulse quicken. Another part of her wondered what her mother thought of him and his rescue. The sound of the approaching guard shoved such matters back. She held up her hand for Sam to stop. Below her the steps gave way to emptiness. They couldn’t drop down until the guard went back to the front.

The guard didn’t go back. For several minutes he stood by the tree. Jade had spent many hours waiting in a cramped blind before, silently watching for wildlife and hardly daring to shift position lest she scare off a potential meal or photograph. But this was different. Now she was hunting a human and there was no blind to hide her. If he should choose to wander farther back, they would be found.

Beads of sweat formed on Jade’s forehead and upper lip. She became painfully aware of her heartbeat, which now sounded like a kettle drum hammering away in her chest. Still she remained frozen in place on the last step before the drop. Like the lioness whose nickname she bore, her muscles tensed to pounce if the guard should discover them. Had he heard them? Was he waiting for them to slip up and make a sound?

Something small plopped onto the hard floor of the courtyard, followed by the sound of slurping.
Sweet Millard Fillmore on a pogo stick. He’s eating the blasted orange
.

It occurred to her that this was actually the ideal time to get him, while his hands were full and his attention elsewhere. She pointed to herself and the opposite corner of the courtyard, then to Sam and the nearer corner. She’d jump down and distract the guard’s attention while Sam did his best to slip behind him.

She squatted down and sat on the bottom step. Then she grabbed hold of the step and slid off. Sam shoved his pistol in his holster before she made the drop, and he knelt down to take hold of her wrists. When she hung suspended a foot off the ground, he bent over as far as he could and lowered her softly to the floor. She waited for Sam to get ready, then ran to the opposite corner of the courtyard.

The guard was her old friend from the dungeon, the one she’d bested and later scarred by the shrine. He recognized her immediately, a fact plainly registered by the glowering brows and sudden intake of breath. But the element of surprise played into Jade’s hands. With that inhalation came a segment of orange. The man’s futile grab for his lone flintlock pistol was aborted by a fit of choking. Jade ducked behind a corner pillar in case he managed to squeeze off a lucky shot. The guard, red in the face and still coughing, pulled his weapon, but the click of the hammer he heard came from next to his ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Sam, his Colt revolver pressed against the man’s temple. “Hand it over.” The guard dutifully placed his weapon in Sam’s palm while Jade pulled the man’s new dagger from his sash.

“Miss me?” she asked. The guard glared at her. “Glad to see you got a new knife. I sort of lost the old one.” She slipped it into her boot sheath.

“You will pay for this, infidel woman,” he said, spitting the words out along with an orange seed.

“Easy there, pal,” said Sam. “I’d rather not shoot you, but I will if you insist on this kind of rowdy behavior. Now put your hands behind your back for the nice lady.” He pushed the Colt against the man’s head for emphasis. The guard complied.

Jade relieved him of his long, colorful silken sash and sliced it in half along the width. She used one strip to lash his wrists together, palms up, making certain to keep the knot below his hands where his fingers couldn’t work them. Enough remained of the lengthy sash to bind his hands to his ankles once they had him in the cell. She used the other half for a gag. When she finished, she took the guard’s flintlock pistol from Sam and stuck it into her waistband.