saw the thick-bladed hunting knife sheathed on his belt. She didn’t like that either.
“Well, they’ll be coming sooner or later,” Qhora said. “If Magellan wants you dead, then he’ll find a way to make it happen. His officers are thieves and liars. And I’ve heard that he employs Italians and Hellans to train his sailors. What sort of man, what sort of patriot, hires foreigners to rebuild his military?”
The big Mazigh grinned. “One who wants to win.”
Qhora glanced at him coldly. “Exactly.”
Lorenzo shoved his hair back. “This is all very interesting, captain, but you’ve come at a bad time, not that there would ever be a good time to harbor fugitives from the military. I don’t have the resources to protect you here or on the road. I’m not sure I can help you.”
“Good God!” snapped the ugly Italian in brown. “It’s perfectly simple. Give us some food, give us some horses, and we’ll be on our way. As soon as we get out of this God-forsaken country, we’ll send you some money in return. Or is that too complicated for you people to work out among yourselves?”
The tall man in blue cleared his throat. “I think what my countryman means is that whatever small assistance you can give us would be greatly appreciated. We have nothing. Absolutely nothing. If we don’t resort to stealing food by the end of the day, we will be dead by the end of the week.”
Qhora squinted at the tall Italian. He looked and sounded rather effeminate. She didn’t like that either. Why can’t anything in Europa be simple? The politics, the religion, the food, and even the clothes are all ridiculous. And now the men and women are starting to look the same?
Lorenzo spoke to the captain. “Food I have in abundance. You can have all you can carry. But horses are dear, and I’m taking all of mine north this afternoon. And I can’t allow you stay here to rest even one night. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t jeopardize the safety of my students and servants to shelter you.”
“I understand,” said Captain Ohana. “The food will be fine, and directions to Tartessos. We’ll leave within the hour, I promise.”
Qhora stood aside as the six ragged travelers filed into the house and the students drifted away across the yard to talk or spar with sticks in the snow. She considered going back to the stable to steal a few moments alone with Atoq and Wayra, but she went back inside the house instead.
She hovered outside the kitchen until Lorenzo was finished telling the cook what to feed their guests now and what to pack for their immediate departure. When he stepped out into the hall, she followed him. “What am I supposed to do when Magellan’s troops show up looking for them? Do I say I never saw them, or admit to feeding them and sending them on their way?”
He sighed. “Tell them the truth. We fed them as we would feed any hungry travelers, and then we sent them off. But there’s no need to mention that we know the pilot, or that they’re going to Tartessos, not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Oh, Enzo, how can you still be so naive? She grabbed his arm and pulled him into his study. “Do you really think that will be good enough? Magellan shot them out of the sky just for being near this warship of his. If he’s willing to kill them, what are the odds he’ll leave us in peace?”
Enzo shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re right though, it’s too dangerous. As soon as the Mazighs are gone, I want you to get the rest of the boys packed up and take them to my father’s house in Gadir. We’ll call it a winter holiday or something. When the soldiers come, they’ll find no one here.”
“Won’t that look suspicious?” she asked.
“Better to look suspicious, my love, than be arrested or worse.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll meet back here in a few weeks when this has all blown over. It’ll be fine. It will. You’ll see. And you can spend some time where the weather isn’t quite so harsh.”
“I don’t care about the weather, Enzo, I care about you. And you’re not taking this business seriously enough.” She gave him a little shove. “I’m coming with you to Zaragoza, and wherever else you’re going. Those boys don’t need me to get to Gadir or anywhere else. They know the roads better than I do, they’re bigger and stronger than I am, and they’re almost as old as me besides.”
Lorenzo smiled. “I love sparring with you. It’s so reassuring to know who the winner will be from the outset every time. North it is.”
Chapter 8. Taziri
Lunch consisted of roast beef stew, boiled potatoes and carrots, and all the hard black bread in the country, as far as Taziri could tell. The only spice on hand was salt, and plenty of that, too. It was a flavorless feast compared to the simplest cafe lunch in Marrakesh, but after two days of hard marching and two nights almost without sleep, the Espani fare was a feast all the same.
After she had wolfed down two bowls of stew and half a loaf of the crusty bread, Taziri left the table in search of her host, hoping to apologize for Dante and maybe negotiate with Don Lorenzo for something more than a bag of food, something like clothes and boots, and even some Espani reales in exchange for her pocketful of Italian florins. She moved warily through the old house, intensely aware of the fact that she was snooping through her savior’s home, when she heard the hidalgo’s voice and she entered the open doorway of a small office with a few hardwood shelves bearing a dozen or so books. Don Lorenzo and his wife turned to look at her. His last words hung in her mind. North it is.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” Taziri said. “But I was hoping to have a word with you about our arrangements.”
“I’m having my people put together some bags for you with food for the road,” he said. And then he smiled broadly. “And I’ll see if I can find some better clothes for your Italian friends. I don’t think those fancy outfits of theirs were meant for long strolls in the snow.”
Taziri smiled back. “I asked them about it. The girl, Shahera, was only visiting Italia for a short time and she was going to miss Carvinale, so she got the costume anyway and her tall friend indulged her by getting one as well. They were planning to buy more clothes in Tingis as soon as we landed.” The pilot shook her head. “It was just a silly impulse, and it almost got them killed walking here. They both could have frozen in the night.”
Lorenzo nodded. “Again, I’m sorry to be hurrying you back out onto the road again, but as I said, I’m responsible for quite a few people here, and even if I wasn’t, there’s very little I can do against the military. The rank of hidalgo protects me from the tax collectors, but not from soldiers.”
“I understand perfectly,” Taziri said. I’m not asking you to fight a war for me, just to help me get my people to safety. Why is that so difficult? “I’m sorry, but I heard you speaking just now. You’re heading north today?”
“I am. A training expedition for my students, and I’m also hoping to do a little research of my own. The roads will be unpleasant, but we’ll all be safe from Magellan’s people, should they come looking for you here.”
“Safe.” Taziri nodded. “In your opinion, how difficult will it be for us to cross the Strait of Tarifa back into Marrakesh?”
The hidalgo glanced at his wife, his eyes dark with doubt. “If you could get there quickly enough, no trouble at all. But if Magellan is looking for you, then as soon as his messengers reach the ports, everyone will be looking for you. Even so, I suppose if you could find a little village on the coast and a fisherman willing to make a very long detour, you might slip across the water undetected. Maybe. For a price.”
“What my husband doesn’t want to say is that you’ll probably be caught,” the little woman said. The peacock feathers arrayed around her collar shimmered and swayed with every tiny movement of her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Three Mazighs traveling with three Italians? You’re far too conspicuous. And now, in the dead of winter, there will be plenty of hungry people willing to tell Magellan where you are in return for a handful of reales.”
Taziri exhaled slowly. She tried not to think of her husband and daughter in Tingis, just across the Strait, who expected her home two days ago and still wouldn’t hear from her for God-only-knew how long. No one back home knows where I am. Italia? Numidia? The bottom of the sea? And no one could seriously hope to find us even if they came looking, which they won’t. “If they capture us, what will happen to us?”
Lorenzo shook his head. “Magellan has a reputation. When I lived in Tartessos, I heard his name almost every day at court. He climbed the ranks by stealing others’ successes and passing off his failures on his rivals. He’s a hawk. Whenever he came to court, it was always to argue for more ships, more troops. A friend of mine once said
