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The two figures crept down the dark and dingy alleyway, dodging all manner of unspeakable rubbish along the way. Further down, a door opened spilling light into the dank space and they froze, crouched in a shadowed passageway, silent as thieves. They looked hard at one another, trying to communicate with their eyes, but it was no use. They hunkered down further and waited, each hoping the door would close again soon, all the while looking over their shoulders for their pursuer. From within the house a child screamed, the interloper turned and went back inside, and they ran like their lives depended on it.
On and on they went through the old city, certain of a tail but never catching sight of it until they burst into Ezbekiye Place. The gardens, so elegant in the daylight, were quite different at night. Street urchins played and begged for baksheesh, those who sold sex called out to passersby, men who weren’t ready to go home and didn’t have the money or inclination to visit a coffee shop or opium den lingered, and those whom their father would describe as the ne’erdowells, skulked.
The two children hid behind a tree, taking it all in. Across the garden stood Shepheard’s Hotel, their home while in Cairo. Get there, and they were safe. It was the getting that was the problem.
“Let’s just run for it!” whispered Ramses. “We’re almost there.”
“Ssssshhhh,” hushed Hatshepsut. She indicated with her chin and Ramses looked. His eyes widened at the pair of men obviously searching for them. He looked back to his sister who was fastening a long scarf around her blonde head. “We’ll go around - they’ll never see us. Pity we didn’t bring gallabias but we’ll have to make do. Ready?”
Ramses nodded and they were off, dashing between trees, walking quickly when in the open. They made it to the corner and were just waiting for a break between the carriages and carts when strong arms caught them around their waists, hands coming up to clap over their mouths.
Hatshepsut acted instantly. She bit the hand across her mouth hard and it let go. Over the Arabic curses, as well as the acute shaking that followed, she bellowed, “FATHERS”, at the top of her prodigious lungs.
Two heads popped out of an upper story window. The blond one called, “Oh for goodness sake, you two,” while the brunette roared down in Arabic, “Who dares interfere with the children of the Father of Curses? Unhand them instantly or I shall come down there and throttle you, you sons of bedevilled cobra spawn!” With that, the heads disappeared.
The whole garden had gone silent and people began to approach the attackers with grim looks. Teach’s reputation for violence preceded him but to be on his good side carried great weight. The Father of Curses was kind and generous to his friends.
Hatshepsut was still struggling mightily, throwing elbows, kicking legs, and swearing like a donkey boy (from whom she learned the colloquial words in the first place) while Ramses calmly rested in the arms of his attacker. Very slowly, he withdrew a short blade from a hidden sheath and stabbed it into the leg of his captor.
The man screamed in agony as Ramses landed gracefully, turned, pulled the knife from its target and thrust it into Hatshepsut’s attacker. The chorus of screams was discordant and the two children turned to look at their victims. Though they attempted to stumble away, the crowd had surged around them, taking them prisoner.
Satisfied, the two turned to go to Shepheard’s when they were scooped up into warm, loving, and yes, scolding arms. “Alma Hatshepsut and Louis Ramses, what on earth were you thinking? We were due at dinner half an hour ago and you’re filthy!”
“Now, now, Bonnet. You’re upsetting the children! They’ve been attacked, haven’t you, my dears? Where are the scoundrels who did this?”
The kids pointed into the crowd who had proudly trussed the men up. Teach smiled fondly at the group and addressed them again in Arabic, “Salam alaikum, my friends! You have the thanks of the Father of Curses and Gentleman Doctor, the Sayyid Hakim. Should you need a favour from us in the future, seek us out.”
Then turning to his husband and finding him missing, shouted, “BONNET? BON-NET!!! WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Right here, Teach. I’m just speaking with the constable. I’ll only be a moment,” and slapping his evening gloves into his palm, shook the constable’s hand and rejoined his family. “Ready. Let’s get these children up to bathe. I’ll speak with Herr Baehler about having dinner sent up.”
“Father? Papa? I believe that if you give me the opportunity I might be able to shed some light on the situation at hand. It’s likely more serious than even you thought, though I know you to be well versed with this particular brand of danger.”
Rolling his eyes and with enduring annoyance, his father replied, “Really Ramses, I’ve had quite enough of delay tonight. Whatever you and your sister were doing out there can wait until we’ve had our dinner.” With a quick step, he was off toward the hotel.
He’d reached the steps when Hatshepsut spoke up, “It was the Master Criminal, Father. He’s back and he’s looking for these.”
From her flannel belt, she unwound three small ushabti in exceptional condition, and held them up for her fathers to see.
“What in blazes?” roared her Papa, then looked around quickly. “Wrap them up again and get inside before anyone sees you.” He looked to his husband and understanding passed between them. He grasped him by the waist and pulled him into a crushing embrace, “They’ll never take you from me again, my dear. I’ll destroy them first.”
Stede put his arms around Ed and hugged him back, eyes squeezed shut, “I know, my love. I know.”