Page 105 of Dangerous

“Still down at the port. My men say it is a madhouse there and several other ships and crews are now involved. Ramsay’s ship is blowing holes in any vessel Assad was stupid enough to leave in the harbor.” Jibril’s eyes widened when he saw the bloody smear on the wall behind him. He went behind Adam. “A very nasty cut. You are more than a little lucky, eh, Stepfather?”

“I wouldn’t mind being luckier.”

Jibril lifted the lantern and looked closer. “One half is deep. I think we must give you a few stitches to stop it bleeding. Here—” He thrust a leather sack forward. “I found this food near the dead man who used to own this uniform. You can eat while I clean the cut and close it.”

“Close it with what?”

“My men always have a small kit with them for such matters.”

“I don’t suppose they keep any brandy in that kit?” Adam asked as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Bloody hell,” he hissed.

Jibril laughed. “No brandy. No tea and crumpets, either. There is water in the skin—give it to me first. I will cleanse the wound and you can fortify yourself with the rest.”

The following quarter hour was one Adam would not care to repeat. By the time Jibril had finished the stitching Adam didn’t think he’d be able to move.

“Here, chew on this.” The boy shoved something into his hand.

“What is it?” Adam studied the small gray pellet in his palm.

“It will make you feel better.”

“Yes, but what will it do for my sword arm?”

“Forget your sword arm. You have me to protect you now, Stepfather.”

Adam snorted and dropped the pellet into his pocket. He might need it later.

After a quick exchange with Jibril, the rebels hurried off down the corridor, leaving only one man behind.

“This is Muhammed. The others have gone to join the fighting at the slave gate,” Jibril said before turning back to the other man and asking him in French, “What did you find, my friend?”

“You are in no shape to fight,” Muhammed said in heavily accented French, his mouth tight as he took in his leader’s skeletal features. “Either are you,” he said to Adam. “We will take care of Assad’s men; you must find someplace to wait. I’m sure you have many hiding places in the family apartments?”

Jibril nodded.

“I will go with you in case you find trouble. I already told the men that any guards they didn’t kill they should send on a mad camel hunt to Al Mahbes.”

The two young men laughed heartily at some private joke.

“Gentlemen?” Adam reminded them.

Jibril nodded. “Are you ready?”

“Tell me again why we’re going into the heart of the palace?”

“To find the escape route my mother used.”

“Why don’t we just follow your friends?”

“Muhammed is right. Neither of us is in any shape for fighting.”

Adam sighed. “And you know where your mother’s escape tunnel is?”

Jibril grimaced. “I believe I can find it.” Adam stared and the younger man shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I can find it.”

“What happens if you can’t?” he asked icily.

“We fight our way out?”