Xavier was surprised, but he said nothing, nor did he move.
“To the front,” Kadar said, his tone becoming dangerous. “Someone has paid well for your welfare, Blackwell—but you know that already, don’t you? To the front. Where it is safest.”
Xavier walked grimly to the front. Did Kadar know that the bedouin boy was a woman? Did he know her real identity? He was grim. Alexandra might be working for Britain or France, but Jebal undoubtedly believed her to be his wife, and if her activities were ever discovered, she would be in serious jeopardy. Kadar could be bought far too easily. And even though he told himself that her fate was not his concern, he was disturbed. Somehow her fate was his affair, and he did not wish to see her die—the victim of a barbaric Moslem prince.
He moved forward and found a place close to Timmy. At least this way he could keep an eye on his cabin boy and first mate, protecting them if need be.
All the men were in the traces, braced against the leather harnesses and ropes. The whips cracked. The Turks shouted commands. The slaves grunted and groaned, straining to move the sledge forward. For many moments, the sledge with its twenty-ton block did not budge.
“Harder, heave harder,” Kadar commanded, whips sounding.
Everyone cried out, pulling hard, and the huge wheels of the sledge suddenly turned. The sledge rolled forward.
The slaves had to move faster now as they pulled the sledge, which began to gain its own momentum.
There was a small incline ahead. Xavier judged it quickly, and decided it would not be a problem, as long as the slaves kept up a fast pace. He glanced at Timmy’s bright red face. “How are you doing, laddie?”
“Good,” Timmy huffed.
Xavier regarded Tubbs.
“Fine, sir, all thin’s considerin',” Tubbs replied.
The sledge moved a little faster now, but so did the herd of slaves pulling it. Xavier’s pulse roared. They were halfway down the incline—there was not going to be a problem.
And then Timmy tripped.
Out of the corner of his eye, Xavier saw him stumble and begin to go down. He moved like lightning. Acutely conscious of the mass of men behind him, and the sledge with its twenty tons of stone, Xavier stooped, reaching for Timmy, to drag him upright. The slaves behind him ran into him, causing Xavier himself to stumble slightly and miss Timmy, who fell to the ground.
Xavier saw it all then, the boy in the dirt, freckled face half-turned, raw fear in his eyes, and the thundering mass of humanity, which could not stop. “Timmy!” He righted himself while reaching down again.
“Cap’n!” Timmy screamed.
Too late. The men behind Xavier pushed him forward—while Timmy was trampled to death.
22
“THERE WAS ANOTHERaccident at the quarries.”
Alex froze.
Murad laid his hand on her shoulder. They were in her bedchamber. “No, Alex, not Blackwell. The boy. His cabin boy. He’s dead.”
Alex’s heart began to beat again and she began to breathe. Then she recalled the child, a freckled nose, blue eyes, and carrot red hair. Exchanging a glance with Murad, she sank down abruptly on the bed. “Dear God.” It was all she could manage.
And she was filled with guilt, because she was so damn grateful that it was not Blackwell who had died. “Murad, the sooner we can escape the better.”
Murad stiffened. “It’s all easier said than done, Alex.”
She waved at him. “I know, I know, it’s practically impossible. Well, if I take a defeatist attitude, then we will fail.” She stared at her knees. “I wish he would tell me what he’s planning.” She thought of the dead boy again. “I have to go to him. Murad. I know he must be upset. Grief-stricken.”
“It’s obvious that he doesn’t trust you and he doesn’t want to see you, Alex.”
“Yes, that is obvious.” Alex stood. “But I have to try to comfort him.”
“Don’t do this again. We barely made it back into the palace the last time. Alex …” “Blackwell needs me.”
“No, Alex,” Murad said tersely. “You need him.”
