In the Labyrinth of Drakes (27 page)

Guards still patrolled the site, although the Yelangese leader had apparently been the man Ascelin killed. I nodded a greeting to one, who surprised me by saying, “Is everything all right, Dame Isabella? You and Mr. Wilker are both out late.”

“Tom is up?” I said. “Do you know where I might find him?”

The soldier directed me to the pits that held the adult drakes. Arriving there, I saw Tom leaning against a railing, one knee bent, his foot propped on the lowest bar. He turned as I approached, and did not appear surprised to see me.

“I've been thinking,” he said.

I joined him at the rail. “As have I. But let's hear yours first.”

“The
Basilisk,
” Tom said. “We managed that voyage without any support from the Crown.”

He and I had known one another too long for me not to guess where his thoughts might be aimed. “A voyage of limited duration and an ongoing research programme are rather different things.”

“True. But that doesn't mean it's impossible.” He kept his voice low; Quinta was not far away, a dimly seen shape sleeping in her little cave. We did not want to rouse her. “Between the two of us, we correspond with just about every dragon naturalist in Anthiope. We're even friends with a few. The army wouldn't look kindly on other people getting involved just yet, of course—this is still their enterprise. But when they lose interest…”

My mind was already racing down the path he had revealed. We would have to lay the foundations ahead of time—that was certain. If we waited until the army closed Dar al-Tannaneen down, it would be too late; our adults would be slaughtered, our juveniles and eggs disposed of by one means or another, and everything here would have to start from scratch. If we already had interested parties lined up, though …

Then Dar al-Tannaneen might persist beyond this moment, and beyond our involvement.

It was not the peak we had set out to scale. But it was a worthy challenge, and one I could take pride in. If I walked away from Akhia knowing I had helped create something of lasting importance, I could rest a good deal better at night.

“What thoughts were keeping you awake?” Tom asked, when the silence had grown too long.

I shook my head, smiling. “They do not matter now. You have given me a solution already.”

Many people know that the International Fraternity of Draconic Research has its roots in the House of Dragons in Qurrat. I have long made a point of noting that it was Tom, not I, who first had the idea of transforming our military commission there into a collaborative research programme that would bring together naturalists from many countries. But very few people are aware that it began on a quiet night at the edge of Quinta's enclosure, when neither Tom nor I could sleep for uncertainty of what our future, and that of Dar al-Tannaneen, would hold.

I got very little sleep at all that night, my mind awhirl with notions of who to contact, already composing the letters in my head. It would not be easy, of course—but for the first time in months, I felt that my path ahead was clear.

I have never been very good at following a path.

*   *   *

Our second desert trip became the focus of my efforts, to the point where it bordered on obsession. I knew this might be the last bit of work Tom and I were able to conduct in Akhia, and I was determined that it would be as productive as I could possibly arrange.

The Jefi in summer, however, is not a place within human control. “You want to go back
out there
?” Andrew said, incredulous. “Isabella—you do realize it gets above forty degrees, don't you? Even as high as fifty, I've been told. And there's no water to be found anywhere.”

“Now
that
is preposterous,” I said. “There are oases in the Labyrinth.”

My brother made a strangled noise. “Wait. You don't just want to go into the Jefi … you want to go into the
Labyrinth of Drakes
?”

“Of course. Why do you think it has that name? There are drakes there, Andrew, and that is what I am here to study. They nest there, they lay their eggs there—”

“—they eat people alive there—”

“It is summer. They will be dozing in the heat. And when else am I to go to the Labyrinth? In the winter it was too dangerous because of the rains, and the risk of flood. This is much safer.”

“Safer” was, of course, a relative term. The Labyrinth is a treacherous place in any season. It is easy to become lost in its winding canyons; there are predators that view travellers as attractive meals, drakes not least among them. Oases exist, but finding them is more easily said than done. On paper that territory belongs to the Aritat, but at that time of year they are elsewhere, in lands that can support their herds of camels. The depths of the Jefi are abandoned to merchants and wild animals, the former tracing carefully defined routes from one water source to another, the latter often haunting the same spots.

We could not take a large group. There is often safety in numbers, but not under these conditions; more people would mean more demand for water, and we could all too easily drain a spring dry, leaving ourselves to die of dehydration. We could not stay long in any one place, no matter what intellectual temptations we found. As soon as our supplies fell to a certain threshold, we must retreat, or face the consequences.

“At least it will be dry,” I said to Tom at one point, trying to make light of the dangers. “Perhaps I will finally get rid of the mold that coated me in Mouleen.”

Tom and I would go; that was certain. Andrew would go as well, despite my protests. “How am I to show my face at home if I don't?” he demanded. “Mother may not approve of your work, but she would approve even less of me abandoning you to die in it. No, much better that I should die with you than show myself anywhere near her afterward.”

We were not so stupid as to go alone, of course. Our guide would be al-Jelidah, the Ghalbi fellow who had assisted us during the winter. He knew the Labyrinth better than any man living: every sliver of shade, every crack where water might be found. With us would also come Haidar, who had assisted our efforts before. That made our party five, and on Haidar's advice, we should take no more than six.

I said to Tom, “I want our sixth to be Suhail.”

His expression showed wariness. “Is that wise?”

“I do not care if it is wise. I do not want to see the Labyrinth of Drakes—the site of so many legendary Draconean ruins—without him at my side.”

Tom was sitting on his haunches alongside Quartus' enclosure when I said this to him. He ran one hand through his hair, then wiped it on his trousers. Even this close to the river, we laboured under a constant film of dust and sand. It mixed with sweat to form a gritty paste that no amount of bathing could dispose of, for no sooner was one clean than the paste built up again. In the Jefi and the Labyrinth it would be worse, for there we would lack the water to bathe in. “You know what they will say about you.”

“They are already saying it. I do not
care.
” A tight sensation burned behind my sternum as I said this. My entire life I had gone back and forth between two extremes, the one disclaiming all concern for what people might think, the other carefully weighing the cost. I had spent eight months here in Akhia listening to the second voice. My patience for it was wearing thin.

Tom said, “
He
might care.”

“For his own reputation? Or for mine?” I put up a hand before Tom could answer that. “He has been in the desert before—in the Labyrinth itself. I trust him to bring us out of there alive. Al-Jelidah I do not know, not truly; Suhail I do. He has saved my life before.”

I gave Tom some time to consider this. It was, after all, not only
my
reputation I would be endangering, or even Suhail's. Tom had fought to have me included at Dar al-Tannaneen, when he could have taken the opportunity for himself with far less struggle. What I did here reflected on him, too.

“Ask him,” Tom said at last. “It isn't our decision to make—not alone.”

“Thank you,” I said in response to his unspoken agreement. “I am sure we can find a way to make this work.”

 

EIGHTEEN

A perfectly respectable meeting—Obstacles—A solution—“Why?”—Revenge upon my brother—Cautions to the reader—Various reactions—That night

I thought about approaching Mahira for aid. She had assisted us before, arranging that meeting in the garden; she might do so again. But such an approach smacked of the clandestine, which would not serve my purposes at all. There was nothing to be ashamed of in recruiting the aid of an experienced desert traveller. If it was permissible for me to work with al-Jelidah and Haidar, why not Suhail?

Our enterprise had a small stock of official letterhead, which I appropriated for this task. That very afternoon, before I could begin to doubt myself, I wrote a message and sent it to the sheikh's household, requesting Suhail's presence at Dar al-Tannaneen at his earliest convenience.

A reply came back before sunset, saying he would come the following morning. I notified Tom of this, so that he might be in attendance for the meeting—I did not use the word “chaperon”—and failed almost entirely to sleep that night.

The next morning I rose and dressed with more care than usual, as compensation for my poor rest. I made my rounds of the site while Tom made his and, having finished before him, went to the office to await the day's next task.

It was not long at all before Lieutenant Marton tapped on the door and opened it, saying, “Dame Isabella, Hajj Suhail ibn Ramiz is here to see you.”

The distracted thought went through my mind that I ought to tell the poor lieutenant he need not be so formal with me anymore. I did not follow through on this, however, because the rest of me was occupied with a more pressing matter. “Where is Tom? He was supposed to be here.”

“I'm sorry, Dame Isabella.” Marton shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I think he's been caught by some business outside.”

(“Caught by some business,” indeed. Had I known at the time what was transpiring … in truth, I do not know what I would have done. Perhaps it is better that I did not.)

I wavered. Should I ask Suhail to wait? It would be the proper thing to do, and yet—“Show him in,” I said. As I had told myself before: there was nothing to be ashamed of here. We were conducting official business. If any prying eyes or ears spied on our interactions, they would see nothing worthy of gossip.

The formality of the entire thing had Suhail's eyebrows up as he came in. He gave me a very correct greeting, though, not even touching his heart, which might have signaled inappropriate warmth. When that was done, he said, “I understand from Haidar that you are going back out into the desert.”

“Yes, in late Messis—earlier if we can manage it. And that is why I've asked you here today.” I tucked my hands beneath the edge of the desk, where no one could see if I fidgeted. “You have traveled extensively in that area, have you not? The Jefi in general, and the Labyrinth of Drakes specifically. In the summertime, no less, so as to avoid the risk of flood.”

Suhail nodded. “I would be glad to offer any advice I can.”

“I intend that you should have every opportunity to give us that advice. I would like—” I caught myself, cursing inwardly. “That is, Tom and I have discussed it, and we would like you to accompany us.”

He had guessed it before he even came there. He must have, because his head began to shake even before I finished my statement. “Umm Yaqub … that will not be possible.”

“Why not?” I pressed my lips together, not continuing until I was certain I could do so without my tone growing too sharp. “We shall have Andrew with us. Is that not enough to make everything proper?”

“Propriety is not the problem.” Suhail bent his head, looking as if he wanted to press his fingertips to his temples, banishing a headache. “Rumour is.”

I gritted my teeth. “We have done nothing to encourage that.”

“Nothing?” He laughed, and it carried a rueful edge. “Had I gone home immediately after you arrived in camp, that might have been true. But I did not want to flee the moment you appeared, so I stayed a few days. Then the Banu Safr stole our camels. So I went to get the camels back. While I was gone, the Banu Safr stole
you
. So I went to get you back. And now every last member of the Aritat in the desert and the city alike is reciting that damned poem, about how I crept into the enemy camp in the dead of night to rescue a lady in distress.
You
have been admirably disciplined, but I…” He stopped, shaking his head.

Although he no doubt intended “admirably disciplined” as a compliment, I found myself regretting what I had done to deserve it. I could not keep from sounding plaintive as I said, “Must that get in the way? As near as I can tell, your actions against the Banu Safr have won you acclaim, not censure. I understand that your brother is concerned for your family's image—but surely it does you more good to assist in this work, upon which he has staked the Aritat reputation, than to sit idle just to avoid me.”

He did not answer immediately. The silence weighed upon me, until I voiced a bitter addendum. “Or is that the precise issue? Not propriety, nor even the general weight of rumour. Me, myself. I am a scandal at home; I carry that scandal with me here. Were I another woman—one whose reputation was not in doubt—then perhaps other factors could prevail. But I am not, and so a decent man may not associate with me.”

The fury and shame of it burned within me. I was so very tired of being judged in such fashion; and yet, being tired of it achieved nothing. Whatever my feelings on the matter, I must endure. The only way to escape would be to surrender, to retreat into obscurity and never show my face again … and that, I would not do. The path I followed had brought me to Jacob, Tom, Lord Hilford, Suhail himself. I would not surrender the hope of this man's companionship, not if there were any possible way to keep it.