Releasing Henry. Sarah Hegger
sun rose and brought with it the heat of the day, he and Newt worked side by side.
“You.” For a big man, Bahir moved lightly on his feet.
Henry straightened from stowing a tightly wrapped bale.
Looking pained Bahir gestured to him and Newt. “I would speak with you.”
Just because it galled the big man, Henry took his time joining him near the empty litter.
“We have a problem.” Bahir folded his arms. “The captain tells me we are at low tide and must wait for high until we sail.”
“How long?” Henry didn’t need him to spell it out for them. Whoever had attacked in the desert might be looking for such an opportunity. It must infuriate Bahir to approach them with this. It made Henry a lot more amenable to helping.
“An hour after noon.” Bahir frowned up at the sky. “He insists that is the earliest we can leave.”
No doubt, were it within Bahir’s power to command the sea, he would have bent it to his will already.
“The escort will stay with us until then, but…” He glanced about him.
Alexandria’s harbor had woken in a teeming cacophony of sound, people and smells. Spotting a foe in this melee could prove impossible. A young beggar slid closer to them, wheedling for food.
Bahir sent him about his way.
“A fast camel will have reached Alexandria hours ahead of us.” Henry spoke his thoughts aloud.
“And the captain is well known here.” Bahir nodded. “It would not be hard to find us.”
“We’re sitting here like blind men.” Henry wanted to punch something. Bahir’s face tempted him.
“Well.” Newt rubbed his hands together. “Allow Harry and I to shed some light.”
“Harry?” Bahir frowned down on Newt.
Newt jerked his head toward Henry. “Henry, Harry to those who know him well.”
“Or those I like.” Infantile and strangely satisfying especially when Bahir’s shoulders tightened.
“Nobody is looking for us.” Newt glanced between him and Bahir. “And harbors are great places if you have your ears wide open.”
Bahir shifted, and his eyes narrowed. “You will gather information?”
“Aye.” Like a dog with a bone Newt perked up. “It would help if there was someplace around here where a man could wet his throat.”
“You speak of intoxicating drink.” Bahir curled his lip back.
“A man with a tankard in his hand is more inclined to share.” Newt nudged Henry. “And I wager it’s been a while since you got a little something down your gullet.”
Bahir pursed his lips, glanced from Newt to Henry, and then nodded. “I will ask the captain. This port is filled with all sorts from all parts of the world.”
* * * *
Henry pushed away his tankard of ale. Three years since his last drink, and this horse piss didn’t come close to tempting him to lose his wits.
Of the three taverns Bahir had directed them to, Newt had chosen this one only after carefully considering the other two. What he looked for, Henry knew not, but Newt had slithered his way through the roughest parts of London and knew his way around the shadowed fringes of any city.
The tunic Newt had forced him into itched in a way that made him not want to enquire after the source. Although he had grown accustomed to the stink of it, the way people walked a wide path around him assured him it remained.
“Eyes down, ears open.” Newt had instructed him as they had made ready to enter Hektor’s Harem. Hektor, a thick-armed brute, leant his elbows on the bar and yelled at his weary-looking wenches. As far as Henry could see, Hektor scowled and the wenches worked.
Tallow smoke oozed along with the stench of greasy goat meat and the fumes from myriad pipes in an eye-searing layer above his head. The noise near deafened him. A babble of languages from every corner of the world and all of them near shouted at their companions.
Looking perfectly relaxed, Newt had his paw around his tankard as he yelled good-natured insults with some fur-shrouded trader from the east. Henry had never known there existed so many things that could be done to a man’s mother. They’d now progressed to each other’s dubious bloodlines.
“Wench.” Newt pounded the rickety table, and Henry grabbed his rocking tankard. “Bring my camel-tupping friend here a drink.”
Off they went again, Newt and his new bosom companion.
So far, Henry’s open ears hadn’t caught much. Mostly whining around the new tariffs the harbormaster had put in place.
“…Genovese blood…”
Henry searched through the noise, trying to locate the source.
“…good money.”
Newt clinked tankards, spilling beer all over him and his friend, but beneath the table his boot nudged Henry.
Aye, they’d both heard it. Beside the oilskin-covered casement two men huddled over a table.
He strained to hear over the other conversations.
“…called himself Alif Al-Rasheed but I recognized the sod right off…got me a nice fat purse…”
Newt pressed his toes.
“…bitch went missing.”
A sudden lull in the conversation around him, and the next words reached him clear as a bell. “She has to be in Alexandria.”
Newt lurched to his feet, and grabbed his crotch. “Need to piss.”
“Jesu.” Henry grabbed him by the tunic front. “You’ll piss all over yourself. Come on.”
“Harry.” Giving him a toothy grin, Newt patted his chest. “Wanna hold my rod for me? Maybe give it a stroke?”
Huge guffaws greeted him, along with a thump on the back from his drinking partner that sent Newt stumbling into him.
With a rough jerk, Henry yanked Newt toward the casement.
They drew closer to the men. With a masterful stumble, Newt crashed through a bench and landed nearly at their feet.
The tavern noise dimmed and then resumed.
“Hey!” Hektor’s bald head gleamed as he straightened. “You’ll pay for that.”
Henry motioned that he’d heard and handed some coins to the nearest wench. He doubted all the benches in this place together amounted to the money he gave her.
Using the table, Newt swayed to his feet.
He spoke so quietly to the men at the table Henry almost missed it. “Word is you’re looking for some information.”
The men tensed. The bigger one went for a knife at his belt.
With that puckered scar dissecting his face, the bigger man looked to be a nasty sort. Henry slapped his hand on the long dagger at his waist and shook his head.
Sneering, the man kept his hand where it was. “Word is wrong.”
“A pity.” Newt pushed away from the table. “Because I have some to sell.”
“Get away with you, you drunken sot.” Not quite as broad, the man with his back to Henry shoved Newt away. “You have nothing I want to hear.”
“Huh.” Newt blinked at him. “Guess I must not have seen a caravan come in from Cairo this morning.”
Henry dragged him into the street. “What, in God’s name, are you doing?”
Newt