Panther's Prey (14 page)

“This is a dangerous idea,” Malik said quietly. “Anwar has not been fond of you, he was against keeping you here from the start. Why would you take the chance of being caught in the city with me, a man with a price on his head? The accomplices of state criminals are not treated very well by the Sultan.”

“The same reason you’ll take a chance on going. It would be wrong to let Anwar die when I think I can save him. I have seen others in the same condition and if I get the medicine I need he has a chance. You don’t want to lose your friend, do you ?”

Malik thought about it. “If we’re stopped you must say that you’re my prisoner and I forced you to come with me. Your kidnapping is well known, they’ll believe you.”
 

Amy smiled at him. “It’s more or less the truth,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

He didn’t reply.
 

“Do you still have the clothes I was wearing when I came here?” Amy asked.

“What’s left of them,” he replied. “Why?”

“What about the little knit bag I was carrying, my reticule?”

Amy said.

“I think Matka put it away with the rest of your things,” Malik said.

“There’s a green bottle of medicine in it that was prescribed for me when my parents died. It’s laudanum. If Anwar takes some of that it will kill the pain and help him sleep, keep him comfortable until we get back.”

“Is it safe? Why were you taking it?”

“I had nightmares after my parents were killed, I took it to help me sleep. The spoon attached to the cap measures the right dose for me. If Anwar, who is bigger and heavier than I am, takes just that much at a time, every eight hours, he will be perfectly safe.”

“Anything else?” Malik asked, listening intently.

“Yes. There’s also a small wooden box in the reticule containing aspirin tablets. They’ll reduce his wound inflammation and fever until we can get back.”

“What’s aspirin?”

“It’s an acid the native people of my country used for many years. They boiled the bark of the aspen tree which grows in the American west and drank the liquid when they were ill. The Germans discovered its medicinal properties on their own about twenty years ago but American physicians still don’t use it.”

“Why not?”

“Malik, we’re wasting time. Can’t we talk about this on the way to the city?”

“I want to know why American doctors don’t approve of what you plan to give Anwar. Now.”

“Most Americans of European descent don’t respect herbal cures, they think herbalists are quacks.”

“What is a quack?”

“A charlatan.”

He smiled. “What is a charlatan?”

Amy smiled too. “A reckless experimenter who pretends to knowledge he doesn’t have. Don’t worry, I’ve taken aspirin and it works. It will help Anwar, I promise you. He should have a tablet every four hours.”
 

“All right. I’ll send Anwar’s sister for your bag and give her your instructions. She’ll be nursing him while we’re gone.” He watched as she recovered Anwar’s wound gently and then held the back of her hand to his burning cheek.
 

“When were your parents killed?” he asked.

“Two months ago, in a carriage accident in Boston. The court awarded me to my aunt, I was coming to stay with her when you... interrupted my journey.”

He offered her his hand and pulled her lightly to her feet. “So everything you told me that night in the woods was true?” he said.

“Everything I told you that night was true. I’m not a liar,
agha khan
.”
 

He shook his head, lifting the tent flap for her as they went outside.

“What?” she asked.

“My language sounds odd on your lips.”

“My language sounds odd on yours. You cannot imagine the effect of hearing Koroglu talking like an Oxford don.”

He looked at her in amazement. “What do you know about Koroglu?” he asked.

“He’s a Turkish folk hero, isn’t he? I read about him in the newspaper, the author was comparing you to him.”
 

He made a dismissive gesture “Writers have fanciful imaginations.
 
What I’m doing is not heroic but necessary. Go back to my tent and I’ll send Matka to you with the bedouin clothing.”

Amy did as he said and was soon dressed like a nomad, with long robes and a heavy veil and the yashmak covering the lower part of her face. Malik led two horses over to the tent, one loaded with blankets, a water bottle and his leather pouch.

“You told me you could ride,” he said to Amy.

“I can’t ride your horse,” Amy replied.

“True. I alone ride Mehmet.”

“But that mare looks gentle enough,” Amy observed.

“She is, her name is Dosha. Let’s go.”

He held out his arms, and she stepped closer so he could lift her onto the horse. Dosha danced a little and Amy reined her in gently. The horse settled down and began cropping grass.

“Good,” Malik said, and it was strange how that one small word of approval warmed her.

Malik gave a few instructions in Turkish to Yuri, who was standing by, his disapproval of their excursion evident on his swarthy face. Then they rode out of the camp as its inhabitants watched them go in stoic silence.
 

They traveled through the morning, coming down out of the hills and then riding across the sandy plain until the direct heat of the sun forced them to stop. Amy followed Malik into a small copse where the shade offered relief. Malik dismounted first and then held up his arms to help Amy dismount. She bent as his hands encircled her waist, and for a second she felt his breath fan her face as he swept her to the ground.

“Are you tired?” he asked, as she sat with her back to a tree and closed her eyes.

“I’m all right, I just haven’t been doing much riding lately. You’re the one who should be tired, you spent all night coming back to the camp and you were fighting in the Mahalle yesterday.”

He took a long drink from the water bottle and handed it to her.

“How do you know I was fighting in the Mahalle?” he asked.

“Risa told me.”

“Risa talks too much,” he said darkly.

“I asked her where you had gone. I was worried when I got up and saw that all the men had left.”

“I had advance word that the Sultan was planning a raid on the Armenian quarter, so we were there waiting when the janissaries arrived.”

“Did you win?”

“We won the skirmish, not the war.”

“Why is the Sultan against the Armenians?”

“They are separatists who want their own country, and my men don’t want the country they now have. So for the moment we are allies, since we share the same oppressor.” He grinned. “The Armenians dislike paying the Sultans taxes as much as we do.”
 

“And who are the janissaries?” Amy asked. “Everyone seems afraid of them.”

“
Yeni ceri,
” Malik said, giving her the original Turkish phrase as he removed a wedge of cheese from his pack. He offered it to Amy, who shook her head. “Conscripted men. They compose the Sultan’s private army, soldiers taken from their homes as young boys and trained in his service. Their duty is to keep Hammid alive, the penalty is death for any one of them who fails in it. So they generally succeed.”

“They have no choice about joining his service?”

Malik gave a short bark of a laugh, cutting a slice of cheese for himself. “No, the Sultan doesn’t offer many alternatives. But the janissaries are selected from the Christian peasants who usually have too many children to feed anyway, so it’s really the army or starve. In the Empire, choice is a luxury most people cannot afford.”
 

“But you want to change all that,” Amy said.

He looked up at her tone. “Do you think it’s just a dream?” he asked, removing a wheel of barley bread from the pouch and breaking off a piece of it.

“It seems like the odds are against you,” Amy answered him quietly.

“It will happen,” he said. “I may not live to see it, but my actions today will pave the way for those who do.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“It has to be. I won’t live a slave’s life. If I die young at least I’ll die like a man.” He passed her a handful of olives and she set them on the ground.

“Will you please eat something?” he said. “We have another four hours to ride.”

“It’s too hot to eat,” Amy said, removing the yashmak and fanning her face. “Are you sure we’ll get there before the bazaar shuts down for the night?”

He nodded. “I’ve made this trip many times. You’ll have half an hour before sunset to buy what you need and get back to Anwar.”

“You’re very fond of Anwar, aren’t you?” Amy said.

“We grew up together in a
koy
not too far from here,” Malik said.

“Koy?”

“A farming village too small to have a name. Anwar has been like a brother to me since we were both five, my right hand since we took up arms against the state. His life is as important to me as my own.”

“Then we should go,” Amy said, standing. “Time is crucial in fighting a fever. Anwar could dehydrate or develop a secondary infection...”

“Have you had enough rest?” Malik asked, rising in one motion as he interrupted her, not wanting to hear what else might happen to Anwar.

“I’ll rest when we get back,” Amy replied.

He put the unused food in the bag and hung it and the bottle back on his saddle. He then helped her onto Dosha, waiting until she was seated comfortably before he vaulted onto his own horse.

“Replace the veil,” he said, “in case we run into anyone on the road.”

Amy obeyed.

“How is your back?” he said. “If you haven’t been riding for a while you’re sure to feel it.”

“It hurts a little,” she admitted.

“It will hurt a lot more tonight,” he said, and kicked his horse’s flanks.

Amy followed him out of the trees and back into the desert heat.

* * *

“Father, you promised me you would let me ride Khan this afternoon,” Tariq said, tugging on Kalid’s sleeve.

Kalid put down the book he was reading and said, “Khan is getting old now, Tariq, I’m not sure he can handle you.”

“But you promised!” Tariq complained, sticking out his lower lip.

Kalid looked at Sarah, who was correcting a mathematics paper from her class. She held up her hand as if to say, Leave me out of it.

“I believe I said that I would think about it, which is not exactly a promise,” Kalid said sternly.

Tariq waited tensely, his dark eyes watchful, unsure which way the wind would blow.

Kalid shook his head and rose. “All right, run down to the stables and tell Aleph to saddle him. I’ll be along in a few minutes, we’ll take a few turns around the paddock. I want to make sure you don’t kill my old friend.”

The boy charged out of the room as Sarah said, “You spoil him, Kalid.”

“I can’t understand why he’s so fascinated with that horse,” Kalid observed.

“You can’t?” Sarah replied, staring at him. “You’ve told him so many stories of your exploits on that animal I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping in the stable with it.”

Kalid grinned. “Are you suggesting that I have exaggerated my glorious past to my son?” he said.

Sarah threw a gum eraser at him.

He caught it in midair and then crossed the room to sit at the table with her. He took her free hand in his.

“Can you stop for a moment?” he said. “I want to tell you something.”

Alerted by his serious tone, Sarah pushed her stack of papers aside and sat forward, looking into his eyes.

“I have been waiting all morning to talk to you, but one of the children was always around,” he said.

Sarah nodded.

“I have transferred a large sum of money to a bank account in London,” Kalid said, “and this evening I will give you the papers and the name of the man in Lincoln’s Inn who will be handling my affairs there in future. I want you to be able to take the children and leave here at a moment’s notice if it becomes necessary. All you have to do is get to England and you’ll have enough to take care of all of you for the rest of your lives.”
 

“I won’t leave without you,” Sarah said.

“Yes, you will,” Kalid said firmly. “If the time comes you will do exactly as I say with no argument.”

Sarah released his hand. “There’s no life for me without you, Kalid.You know that.”

“Then think of the children,” he said gently.

Sarah swallowed. “Are things that bad, Kalid?” she asked quietly.

“Not yet. But they could be. I just want to be ready.”

“I thought the problem was solved. I thought Malik Bey said he would turn Amelia over to you when you asked for her.”

“Bey did say that, but the Sultan is another story. He’s volatile, unpredictable. His men are dealing with new outbreaks of rebellion every day, and Hammid blames Bey for all of them. The janissaries were roundly trounced in that raid in the Armenian quarter and Hammid knows the Armenians are Bey’s allies. If he manages to kill Malik before I redeem the girl I don’t know what will happen to her.”