“Are they still detained in the bagnio?” Xavier had been told his men were in prison, which in Tripoli was called the bagnio—even though it had nothing to do with Tripoli’s common baths.
Jovar nodded. “Do not fret. At least they live.” Jovar’s smile flashed. “They are fed and watered and they are allowed an hour of exercise every day,” he said. His eyes glinted.
“Like dogs,” Xavier commented, hiding his rising fury.
“Like the American dogs that they are,” Jovar replied calmly.
“At least they are not Scot snakes,” Xavier said as dispassionately.
Jovar jumped to his feet, drawing his long dagger. “Get up,dog,”he growled.
Xavier was also on his feet, but he had no weapon, so he stood lightly, tensed, ready to fight.
The bashaw, Jebal, and Farouk stood instantly, while soldiers stepped forward, their hands going to the hilts of their scimitars. “Stop this at once.” the bashaw cried, enraged. “Jovar, sit!”
Jovar stared at Xavier with blazing eyes, then, slowly, he sat.
The bashaw breathed. He smiled at Xavier. “Rais Blackwell, forgive my impudent, stupid servant. He shall be punished for his lack of wits and manners, have no fear.”
Xavier glanced at Jovar, who was seething and flushed. “There is no harm done.”
“How generous you are. Please, sit, eat.” The bashaw sat back down. Everyone sat, including Xavier.
“So.” Farouk smiled. “Have you decided to join us, Rais Blackwell?”
All conversation abruptly stopped. Xavier shifted, wishing it were less warm in the room. He felt all eyes turn upon him. “I have been put in a very difficult situation.” Xavier began. “I am a patriotic man. Nevertheless, I am vastly honored by your faith in me.”
“But surely you understand the alternatives?” Farouk persisted.
Jovar leaned forward. His eyes gleamed.
“I need more time,” Xavier said calmly. “To give up my faith, my country, my allegiance, I need to think very carefully. This is a very difficult decision to make.”
“Two days is plenty of time in which to think,” Jovar interrupted. Anticipation shone in his eyes.
“I have many responsibilities at home,” Xavier said.
“Here you will have many new responsibilities. We will give you a healthy, beautiful young wife, we will build you a big, new home.” Farouk smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
The bashaw stood up. All heads swiveled toward him. “You are with us or you are against us,” he said, his eyes dark now with building anger. “You are a strong, clever man, Rais Blackwell. What decision is there to make? You have no choice.”
Xavier said nothing. He wondered if he was about to lose his life.
“I will even offer you more than I have ever offered any rais, including Jovar—who is the admiral of my navy,” the bashaw said abruptly. “I will give you gold beyond your wildest dreams.”
Jovar turned white beneath his perpetual sunburn. His blond hair was sticking to his forehead.
“Fifty percent,” the bashaw said. His black eyes gleamed. He stared Xavier down. “Half of every prize. Thefirsthalf,” the bashaw said. “That is how badly I want you, Rais Blackwell.”
Xavier slowly rose to his feet. “I am flattered,” he lied. He stared at the bashaw, who was nothing more than a thief and a pirate—who had murdered his own father and brother to take power for himself. Who was, ultimately, responsible for Robert’s death. Xavier hated him far more than he hated Jovar or Farouk.
The bashaw began to smile. “So we agree.”
“No,” Xavier said. He would not even consider a double cross. He was gambling now, that they would not kill him, in the hopes that he would ultimately change his mind.“No.”
The bashaw gaped. Jovar and Jebal were also standing—everyone was standing, and every man in the room except for the slaves had his hand upon his dagger or his scimitar.
“What?!” the bashaw roared. “You dare to refuse me?!”
