Timeless

The newcomer introduced himself politely as Chancellor Neshi in perfect English. He interposed himself between Lord Maccon’s bluster and the customs official’s efficaciousness. Alexia saw her husband’s nose wrinkle in a telltale way and noticed that slight wince that he never could hide if he wasn’t anticipating a bad smell. She sidled up next to him, careful not to touch him just in case they needed all of his supernatural abilities.

“Vampire?” she whispered into his ear.

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of the stranger.

Chancellor Neshi said something in rapid staccato fashion to the officials and they instantly backed away and stopped fussing.

“This must be Lady Maccon? And the miracle progeny?” Their savior leaned forward a little too close for Alexia’s comfort, staring hard at Prudence, and then looked away as though he could not tolerate the sight of the child.

The toddler pursed her little lips in consideration. “Dama,” she said with certainty.

Alexia would wager her right glove that her daughter was picking up on the man’s vampire nature and utilizing the only word in her vocabulary capable of articulating it. So she said, “Yes, my dear, very like.”

Prudence nodded. “Dama Dama duck!”

“Queen Matakara has sent me to be your guide to Alexandria. One might say, perhaps, your dragoman. This is acceptable? I will see you through this business of customs and then safely to your hotel. I have arranged for your audience, and performance, later tonight. If that’s not too soon?” He looked at the actors around him. “This is the famous troupe, I take it?”

Ivy and Tunstell pushed forward.

Alexia said, “Yes, indeed, Chancellor. This is Mrs. Tunstell and Mr. Tunstell, owners, performers, and artists extraordinaire. Your queen is in for a treat.”

Tunstell bowed and Ivy curtsied. “She commands the performance right away? It is a good thing we have been practicing on the journey.”

The dumpy man took in Ivy’s hat and Tunstell’s trousers and could only nod. Ivy had selected a gray felt chapeau with steel braid around the crown, a long gray feather, and a turned-up brim that showed off a turban of striped surah silk wound underneath. That went around her head to form a bow over the left ear, ending in a fringe down the back. The hat, Ivy no doubt felt, went with the Egyptian aesthetic, and it was her way of honoring their host country. Although, Alexia thought, looking about at the peasants and dockworkers engaging in various tasks around them, it was a little off the mark. Tunstell’s trousers were, naturally, of a very aggressive purple and teal plaid and quite tight enough to be a second skin.

They were led into the custom house at that point and permitted to take seats in comparative comfort. Despite their objections, they then had to witness their bags, hatboxes, and trunks opened and examined in detail. The dragoman explained that it was best not to protest and that everything would be put back except for items of contraband. Apparently they were looking particularly for cigars and chewing tobacco, which was subjected to a high tariff. Prudence held on to the parasol firmly. No one gave it a second glance. They also did not check the gentlemen’s hats, which was where, Alexia had no doubt, her husband had stashed his sundowner and Madame Lefoux her more nefarious gadgets.

Madame Lefoux’s hatbox, full of tools and mysterious widgets, did cause some consternation. Until, with her usual aplomb, the Frenchwoman produced papers claiming she had special dispensation from the Pasha to work on water pumps in Asyut. The officials seemed either to not know or not care that she was a woman dressed as a man. The vampire dragoman referred to her as Mr. Lefoux and spoke and addressed her as though she were male. He also continually referred to her as a Hawal, whatever that meant.

Ivy’s many hats and some of the props and costumes came under close scrutiny, until the dragoman explained at great length about Queen Matakara’s request for a performance. Or Alexia assumed that was what he was doing. Queen Matakara’s favor acted as some kind of oil to soothe the balm of quarantine, for it was only another hour more of questions before they were permitted to leave. One of the younger officials was particularly taken with one of Ivy’s hats, a large straw affair, covered in silk fruit, grapes, strawberries, and a large knitted pineapple. He seemed to find it not so much suspicious as fascinating. Eventually, Alexia took off her own hat, a practical little brown bowler meets pith helmet, and put the fruity one on to demonstrate its proper use.

This gave the customs man in question a case of the giggles, and they were waved off with much good humor and goodwill. Alexia had a quick word with Ivy, promising reparations, and gifted the hat to the gentleman in question. Laughingly, he put it atop his own turbaned head. Then he bowed and kissed Lady Maccon’s hand. Alexia was left with the distinct feeling that she had made an ally for life.

The street outside was an entirely different world from the dockyard. It was bustling with humanity. People walked, talked, dressed, and interacted like no people Alexia had ever seen before. She had traveled through Europe, but this… this was a different world! She was instantly and completely in love.

Ivy was equally enthralled. “Oh my goodness, look at all the men in gowns!”

There were old-fashioned oil streetlamps about, and even a few torches, but no gas, and it was now dark enough to make any estimation of color difficult. Nevertheless, Lady Maccon had a feeling that the clothing about them was quite as colorful as the buildings were monotonously drab.

Lord Maccon sniffed and then gave a little cough.

Alexia’s own senses were so assaulted she could only imagine what her husband smelled. There was the intoxicating scent of honey, cinnamon, and roasted nuts. There was also a rather noxious gas emanating from various water-based smoking devices, hoarded by elderly men crouching on stone steps to either side of the narrow street. Underneath the other smells came the unmistakable odor of sewage, not unlike that of the Thames during a hot summer.

Conall turned to her with a wide grin on his handsome face. “That smells like you!” he said as though he had made some great discovery.

“Husband, I do hope you aren’t referring to that noxious smoke nor the scent of bodily waste.”

“Of course not, my love. Those pastries over there. They smell like you. Would you like to try one?” He knew his wife so well.

“Is Ivy fond of hats? Of course I would love to try one!”

The earl moved with alacrity over to the cleanest looking of the street vendors and in short order returned bearing a small sticky, flaky object. Alexia popped it into her mouth without hesitation, only to have her sense of taste assaulted by honey, nuts, exotic spices, and crisp flakes of some impossibly thin pastry.

She chewed in silence. It was far too sticky for anything else. “Amazing!” was her official pronouncement once she had finally swallowed. “Remember what it is called, would you, dear? Then I can order more when we arrive at the hotel. I’m delighted you think I smell like something so delicious.”

“You are delicious, my dear.”

“Flatterer.”

The dragoman took charge of their highly distracted and distractible party and shepherded them toward a long string of donkeys with companion donkey boys who stood waiting under a nearby awning.

“Oh, aren’t they perfectly sweet!” exclaimed Mrs. Tunstell.

“They are very fine donkeys, aren’t they, Ivy? Such long velvet ears. Look, Prudence.” Lady Maccon directed her daughter’s attention to the string.

“No!” said Prudence.

Ivy shook her head. “No, Alexia, I mean the donkey boys. Look at those lovely almond-shaped eyes and such thick lashes. But, Alexia, is their skin meant to be so dark?”

Alexia didn’t dignify this question with an answer.

At which point Mrs. Tunstell came upon a realization that proved even more startling. “Are we expected to ride those donkeys?”

“Yes, Ivy dear, I do believe we are.”

“Oh, but, Alexia, I don’t ride!”

Despite Ivy’s protestations, which continued vociferously, there commenced a great round of strapping bags onto donkeys and climbing aboard donkeys, while Alexia and the other ladies of the party attempted to negotiate sidesaddle. The toddlers were popped into woven baskets, which the donkeys wore like panniers. The Tunstell twins were suspended together in one set, and Prudence in another, counterbalanced by her mechanical ladybug, which peeked its little antennae over the edge of the basket coyly. Mr. Tumtrinkle went on one side of his donkey