"The traitorous Moroccan sultan has sided with the French," Ben Hamadi explained to her. "The sultan has denied Abdel Kader refuge in Morocco any longer and has even threatened to drive our leader out by force. Abdel Kader must decide whether to fight the Moroccan army as well as the French."
Alysson met Jafar's eyes across the low table. "Do you mean to go to his aid?" she asked, her throat hoarse.
"He has not yet called upon his followers," Jafar said carefully.
"But you will go."
"You know I will."
She fell silent. She wanted to argue, to plead with him to reconsider. But she knew nothing she could say or do could persuade him differently. He would never give up his struggle. Not as long as his sultan needed him. Not as long as his country needed him.
Jafar skillfully changed the subject then—perhaps, Alysson thought despairingly, because he still suspected her of trying to discover the Arab army's plans so she could report back to Gervase.
Her thoughts bleak, she was not aware at first that Ben Hamadi had addressed her. "I am certain you are relieved now that your fiancé, Colonel Bourmont, has been released, Miss Vickery."
Released? Gervase had been released? Shocked, Alysson turned to stare at Jafar. "Gervase is free?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.
Jafar gave her an enigmatic glance. "Yes. He was exchanged for some two dozen other prisoners of war last week."
"But you didn't tell me."
"I only just received word. My lieutenant, Farhat, returned yesterday with news of the success."
Alysson regarded him in consternation. "Then you will let us go now?" she asked raggedly.
Jafar's mouth tightened. "As I have said before, you will remain here to allow your uncle's wounds time to heal."
"They have healed well enough for him to travel."
"Indeed," Honoré asserted. "I may not be able to sit a horse, but if you would allow me the use of the litter, I could manage adequately.''
Alysson started to agree, but Jafar gave her a quelling look. "We will discuss this later, Ehuresh. "
It was a direct command to drop the subject, and she knew argument would be fruitless. The company resumed the meal then, but Alysson's heart and mind were in such turmoil that she couldn't eat.
Eventually the conversation turned to the local tragedy, and how best to kill the lion that roamed the hills. Politely, the general described to Alysson the two usual methods of lion-hunting in Barbary.
"One is to dig a deep pit and cover it with brush, and tie a live kid or calf to a nearby tree. The hunters then watch, concealed, till the sacrificial prey attracts the lion. The second, mademoiselle, is for scores of hunters to form a wide circle around the lion's usual poaching ground, then close in. The footmen advance first, rushing into the thickets with their dogs and spears to flush out the beast, while the horsemen keep a little behind, ready to charge."
Honoré spoke up again, his tone one of derision. "I fail to see why you must make all these elaborate preparations. My niece has hunted tigers in India armed only with a rifle."
Ben Hamadi, a self-professed avid sportsman, gave Alysson a look that was both curious and disbelieving. "Is this true?"
Alysson sent her uncle a distracted glance. She had once killed a Bengal tiger single-handedly, under the direction of her Uncle Oliver, but destroying such a magnificent animal was not something she was particularly proud of. "Yes, Excellency, it is true," she answered with reluctance. "Another uncle of mine is a hunter renowned for his marksmanship. He taught
me a great deal about hunting game in the wild."
The expression on Ben Hamadi's dark, sharp-featured face turned admiring. "No woman of my country has such courage or skill.''
"But then Miss Vickery is not of our country," Jafar interjected coolly.
Alysson might have retorted that the women of his country were given little opportunity to exhibit either courage or skill, but she bit back the remark. "My skill is meager," she said instead, with an Eastern display of humility.
The khalifa, however, seemed intrigued by her revelation. He stared at her thoughtfully while he stroked his beard. After a brief glance at his host that might have been called sly, Ben Hamadi addressed Alysson again. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate this skill, Miss Vickery. No doubt Jafar el-Saleh would be pleased to be rid of this scourge that is menacing the population. If you could kill the beast, perhaps the saiyid would be grateful enough to offer you your freedom."
She couldn't believe Jafar would consider such a proposition. Would he really agree to see her free if she could rid his land of a man-eating lion? She turned to him, her gray eyes questioning. His jaw was set, his expression guarded and watchful, like one of his hawks. She was not surprised when his refusal came.
"I could not allow Miss Vickery to put herself in such danger, Excellency," Jafar replied firmly, holding Alysson's gaze.