Desert Rogue. Erin Yorke
or relocation of the sale.”
Dropping her eyes to the ground, Victoria tried not to acknowledge her fear as the guards led her forward. The lounging men awaiting their own purchase by others continued to watch her every move, devouring her pale flesh with their ravenous eyes, despite her escorts’ cursing and shoving them out of the way.
In front of the interior gate, she stood silently, searching for some chink in the security, determined to find a means of escape. If she could rally the other women, perhaps they could break and run when they were led to the market.... They couldn’t all be docile when it came to being sold into slavery.
“A word of advice, do as you are told or you will know pain,” said the leader of Zobeir’s contingent as he released her arm. “If you listen to your master, you may find your life not too unbearable, though I expect you’ve many more lessons to learn before that happens.”
Then, with his hand at the small of her back, he pushed her through the gate and signaled that it be shut.
The area was much the same as the men’s compound. Women of various shades, though none as light as Victoria, paced uneasily, apparently too nervous to stay still.
Victoria was the first white woman any of them had ever seen, and some of them crowded around her, reaching out to stroke her skin, only to pull back in fear when they saw her blue eyes.
“It is all right. I am a woman like you,” she assured them, holding out her hand to display its color. If she could convince these women that they had something in common, there might be a chance. “I am here against my will, just as you are, but I am not ready to be sold. What about you?”
But the women had withdrawn from her, eyeing the pale witch with suspicion and giving no indication of whether they had understood. Once more she was alone to contemplate her future.
* * *
In the short while they had been inside the city, he and Ali had learned a lot, Jed realized with satisfaction. The hardest part had been restraining himself from beating the hell out of his spurious captor to put a stop to that sand rat’s lordly manner.
If the damned Egyptian didn’t watch his step, Jed just might consider leaving Ali Sharouk behind when things started heating up and it came time to flee the city. But even as the temptation crossed his mind, Jed knew he would never do such a thing. Unaccustomed as he was to working with a partner, he and Ali were in this together, and Jed Kincaid was, if nothing else, an honorable man—at least of sorts.
A snap of the halter around his neck caused a resentful Jed to hasten his steps and struggle to keep his demeanor docile as he followed Ali along a dark, narrow alley.
Their path ran along the outer wall for a short distance, past a minor gate, Jed noted, surreptitiously raising his eyes to take in every detail while he planned their escape route and alternate ones, as well. Then the narrow street turned in upon itself, and shifted direction once more.
The slave block was located at the center of this maze full of twisting turns and forbidding passageways so that it was hidden from prying eyes. Slavery might be an accepted way of life in Khartoum, yet it appeared the local citizenry was smart enough not to want to offend the sensibilities of visiting Europeans, especially when one of those foreigners was occasionally placed on the block. From what he had heard about Khartoum, its foreign residents ignored the trading in human flesh that took place here, pretending it existed only in the realm of rumor. Nonetheless, they kept their women close at hand, knowing they would be lost forever if they disappeared into the serpentine streets of the city.
Jed’s thoughts ended abruptly as the alleyway left the darkness behind and spilled out into the strong, oppressive heat of a sunlit marketplace. Realizing danger surrounded them, the American felt a rush of excitement course through his blood. Ali had been right. Jed Kincaid needed adventure like this as surely as he needed air.
Anxious to set things into motion, Jed nonetheless patiently allowed Ali to lead him around the perimeter of the bazaar, the Egyptian stopping often to talk to Khartoum’s inhabitants in Arabic. Within a short time, Jed had discerned the layout of the pens, chosen the partially concealed spots in which to plant the explosives, and stealthily accomplished the task while Ali stood in front of him, presenting a shield to anyone who would be curious enough to observe them.
Still, they had yet to uncover the slave merchant mentioned by the kidnappers at the oasis. And without locating him, Jed couldn’t be certain Victoria Shaw was anywhere near Khartoum’s infamous marketplace.
“Time’s growing short, Ali. Find Zobeir,” Jed commanded with whispered authority. The Egyptian’s only response was to pull Jed behind him as he approached an ancient water seller.
This was hardly the time to get thirsty, Jed thought in disbelief when the old man, his back bent under the weight of the large, long-spouted cask he carried, leaned forward to pour Ali a cup of the precious liquid.
“I will have some more, grandfather, along with information,” Ali said, pressing a coin into the gnarled hand. “I need advice on how to sell this worthless slave. Can you direct me to a knowledgeable man, a slaver who knows what needs to be done in order to get a decent price for such poor merchandise?”
“The most celebrated of all is Zobeir. There he is, the fat one sitting in the midst of the others. It is he who can best advise you. And for such a pretty man as this, he might offer to purchase the slave himself. It would save you the auctioneer’s fee.”
Pretty man! a ruffled Jed balked in quiet indignation. He wasn’t at all sure he liked the water seller’s words as Ali thanked the elder and then crossed the compound, keeping the American tightly in tow.
“Es-salam ‘aleikum,” Ali called in greeting, nearing the men and dragging Jed none too gently.
The Egyptian hunkered down next to the others. With the rifle the ransom money had brought cradled in his hands and the glowering look he sent in Jed’s direction, Ali Sharouk seemed more like a formidable desert dweller than a harmless city shopkeeper. The journey from Cairo had hardened him, and Jed found no fault with Ali’s appearance while they waited for the slave merchants to acknowledge their presence.
“U ‘aleikum es-salam warahmet Allah wabarakatu,” one of the men finally replied, uttering the usual response to Ali’s greeting. He eyed the unknown pair suspiciously all the same.
“Can you tell me if there is to be an auction soon? I wish to earn some gold and at the same time shed this burden,” Ali stated with a jerk of his head in Jed’s direction.
“You are Egyptian, aren’t you?” the rotund figure identified as Zobeir asked shrewdly.
“Yes. My family roams the southern lands near Berenika,” a nonchalant Ali replied.
“And you came here to sell a slave?” inquired a third slaver, assessing the man tethered at the end of the rope.
“It is said that such a task is easier to accomplish and much more rewarding in Khartoum than in Egypt,” the newcomer said, his expression daring the others to contradict him, “especially when the slave is white.”
“Still, for a man living in a land ruled by Europeans rather than the khedive, who possesses a title and little else, selling a Caucasian is an audacious undertaking,” Zobeir stated quietly.
“Not as bold as the crime this jackal has committed,” Ali asserted, his face set in hard lines as he forced Jed to his knees and struck him harshly.
Son of a bitch! I owe you one, Jed thought savagely, resenting the need to cower under Ali’s blow.
“And that crime was?” Zobeir inquired politely.
“He approached my wife,” Ali announced through clenched teeth, telling the tale Jed had concocted. “I vowed before Allah that this heap of camel dung would pay for his transgression. Death is too easy for him. I would rather he know misery for years to come. Besides, I like the idea of filling my purse at his expense. Now, is there to be an auction or must I seek a